Deborah Lipp

I got nominated by Evn for an award. As if sending me shirts isn’t enough! But anyway, it comes with rules.

1. Put the logo on your blog.

2. Link to the person from whom you received the award.

3. Nominate at least 7 other blogs.

4. Put links to those blogs on yours.

5. Leave a message on the blogs nominated.

There have been blog love memes that I’ve participated in before, so I’m trying to pick seven here that I never have done this with. But I’m going from memory so I might be wrong. So, here are seven blogs that I love in random order:

1. Shakesville: This is a big, famous blog that has been really instrumental in getting me to blog. It gives loves to little bitty bloggers like myself, and Melissa really celebrates the diversity of the blogosphere in a way that has taught me SO much. Feminism, politics, teaspoons, geekiness, OMG shoez.

2. Shapely Prose: I love Kate, with heaps of cuddly love. Also, I’ve learned so much from her about size acceptance. I mean, I had a sort of consciousness about being fat and loving myself, but she has pushed me hard into seeing the insidiousness of size hatred in its many forms.

3. Pandora’s Bazaar does the personal Pagan blog thing without being smarmy or squishy, which is kind of hard to do.

4. Felix Leiter.com: For the single-mindedness. This is what you call focus.

5. The Comics Curmudgeon makes me laugh very hard. Sometimes stuff comes out of my nose.

6. I Expect You to Die is probably the best James Bond blog that I don’t write.

7. Rich Sommer: The Blog is just the sweetest blog ever. Rich is a supporting actor on the show Mad Men, and blogs a little about acting and mostly about how cute his daughter is.

Cleaning out my spam folders places me in a position to see all this horrible stuff. Not that I click on it, buy I see it. And it places me in the center of an ugly world.

It is not a big secret that I have kind of a dirty mind. I am not unfamiliar with the sexier side of life. But that’s not what you see in your spam. You see single-topic obsessions that are often violent or racist or both. You see the dirty underbelly of people’s desires.

Spam goes out to particular fetishes because it sells, because those fetishes exist. And fine, I’m all in favor of everyone having the consensual, non-harmful fetish of his or her choice. But these bald lists of urls feels like I’ve read the diaries of a dozen strangers. Uck.

Mad Men, Season 2, Episode 1: For Those Who Think Young 9/10It’s Valentine’s Day, 1962 and we catch up with the characters last seen Thanksgiving of 1960. Don Draper resists change and reads poetry; Harry’s wife is pregnant and Pete’s is not. Peggy is a successful if put-upon copywriter, and Betty’s lack of sexual fulfillment begins to leak out inappropriately.

This has been Hell Week at Basket of Kisses. My weekly news roundup feature was daily. It was impossible to keep up. So last night, we had a Laptops-and-Martinis season premiere party at my sister’s, and I am tired and fascinated.

For a viewer new to the series, the characters were introduced in almost rapid-fire fashion, many at the height of emotional expression, but I cannot say if the introductions were intriguing or confusing. For me, the groundwork for a fascinating season 2 was laid, but as a standalone epiosde, it was unsatisfying. I never felt that way about any season 1 episode, each of which was a movie in miniature.

Still, there is plenty to latch onto. Don lives in a space of sorrow and contemplation, while virulently resisting change at the office. Betty longs for sexual fulfilment, giving her husband a sexy Valentine’s surprise, but real connection is unavailable for her. She is becoming interested in observing those who misbehave, and makes you wonder how long she will keep herself from misbehaving. She views herself as old, past “all that,” but she is frustrated and full of longing. Horseback riding as a new hobby is symbolism not lost on me. Meanwhile she reconfirms her commitment to making sure her daughter has an eating disorder ASAP.

Peggy is the subject of gossip and conjecture. Thin again, the office wags wonder if she had a secret pregnancy, and only Pete seems clueless. But her writing is excellent, and the intensity of her mentoring relationship with Don is riveting.

Trudy weeps for the pregnancy that isn’t happening. Those of us who saw season 1 know that Pete doesn’t shoot blanks. Why is Trudy so delicate (other than that marriage to Pete cannot be good for one’s self esteem)? Was there a miscarriage?

All in all, an excellent establishing-the-season episode, but I’d have preferred something more self-contained.

Pickled garlic.

How did I never know about this? So yummy, so scary to look at, so thrilling to eat.

So my sister and I are having a little soirée, and I said I’d bring the drinks, and the first store I went to didn’t have cocktail onions. Because why? Anyway, the world needs something for people who don’t like olives. So I tried a more exotic and expensive store. And I found all this cool stuff. Cocktail onions. Giant capers the size of olives. And pickled garlic. Great honking cloves in basil & brine.

Also, Havarti cheese.

So that was dinner. Cheese and crackers. A little lunchmeat. And garlic pickles.

Stand back.

So, in case you’re wondering, I got the bad photo software uninstalled, and the good photo software installed, and then I was too tired to fuck around with pictures of the Gang of Two.

They’re still cute.

Anway, I saw a bug. This is not, like, a major event. It was very small; so small it was hard to tell what it was. It was black and somewhat ovoid and it hopped a little like a flea, only it wasn’t a flea because if it was a flea I wouldn’t be calming describing it, I’d be FREAKING OUT.

It was, as I said, miniscule, and hoppy. And in my bathroom, showing very black indeed against the cream tile. So I tried to kill it. (And if you have a soft heart for this sort of thing, keep in mind, in my bathroom. This is a home invasion and I have a right to defend myself. Just saying.)

I reach out with my foot. Hop away. Reach again. Hoppity. Try with my thumb this time. Hop hop hoppity disappear.

So now this is interesting. It knows I’m after it. How does it know? Does it see a shadow? Sense temperature or movement? It’s the size of a pencil erasing, where does it store this sensory system?

Obviously, entymologists know all about these things. I don’t. I have never studied or, indeed, been remotely interested in, little bug brains. But now I am. Because the little bug is outsmarting me. And his little outsmarty brain takes up very little room and in fact is small enough to hide under my tile. Necessitating a future engagement with its little bug brain.

All solved, well done!

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You know, sometimes when women are pregnant, people say inappropriate things. Maybe give too many scary details about labor or tell them “you’ll never sleep again” and other things that are kind of overwhelming to someone who’s already committed. I’ve probably done that myself more than twice.

But you know what people don’t do? They don’t say “You will hate it,” “You will wish the baby had never been born,” “You might consider open adoption instead,” “I heard about this woman who killed her baby,” “He’ll undoubtedly disappoint you once he’s born,” “You’re going to screw this up.” You don’t hear that so much.

When people get married, again, lots of unsolicited advice, some of which is wildly inappropriate, but mostly not “Well, when you get divorced, you’re going to be pretty fucking broke for a while, so maybe you should learn some rice and beans recipes now.”

But that feels like ninety percent of what people say to me when I tell them my son is going into college. I mean, I posted here about my leap of faith, and the comments were fucking scary. No one said, “yay for faith” or “congratulations” or “you must be so proud,” and I really would have liked to hear that. I’m almost afraid to tell anyone now, because I hear all that scary stuff every day, from all manner of people.

Truly I don’t get it. I know it’s scary. And I know people are just sharing their own experiences and I appreciate that. But this is a vulnerable transition for us, a life passage, a time of celebration and rebirth and yes, fear. And damn if I wouldn’t love some support. And I have no right, really, to post my business all over the Internet and then scold people for their responses, but did I mention how I also blurt inappropriately? Yeah. So this is maybe one of those. But I just don’t understand why people are SO negative. Like it’s a mistake to go to college. Or to pay for it. Or to be excited about it. Or something. And this is like pregnancy, people. If you keep telling me this shit, the baby’ll be born cross-eyed or something.

I’ve been doing the meditation series for two years. At this moment, I feel like I don’t have that much more to say on the topic.

I would like to keep Sundays for Pagan-oriented topics. This is a mixed-use blog, and I do personal, movie, and political stuff, as well as Pagan stuff, during the week, whenever I feel like it. But I do feel it’s good for me and good for my readers to have at least one very Pagan post every week.

If there are any requests, I’m delighted to hear them. I was thinking, I dunno, spells, or folklore, elemental stuff (an elemental concept, association, etc.), gods, etc. Any of these might make a robust weekly topic for the next two years.

Let me know what you think.

Okay, I don’t have all the details yet, but everything went really, really well. She has a skull. The surgical team says they’re DONE inside her head. Like, done. There was very little bleeding, so healing should be fast. I’ll get this out to my mailing list later.

Thank you all for your help.

Christine has written today’s diary here.