Only in America

I am a thrifty Yankee, which is just my fancy way of saying that I like saving money. Don't get me wrong -- I love SPENDING money (as my checking account balance will tell you). Spending that money, though, brings an even greater thrill to me if I am saving in the process -- getting a bargain, using a coupon, that sort of thing. It is not unusual to find me spending a Saturday going to multiple grocery stores to take advantage of the sales each one offers. (And yes, I realize I'm probably blowing any savings in gas used, but hey! Don't rain on my parade!) My friends often tease me that any display of a new item is usually followed by a reporting of where I got it and how much I saved on it. There are times, though, when I draw the line.

I encountered just such a line Friday afternoon. I was at my local Hy-Vee taking advantage of an amazing meat sale they were having. (All the meat and cheese you could fit in a bag -- 15% off. I bought roughly 20 meals worth of meat for $50 and that $50 included buying a pint of raspberries, a pint of blueberries, curry powder, and seasoned salt called for in a recipe I have planned for later this week -- and the thrifty Yankee in me knows that Hy-Vee is the BEST place to buy spices for a reasonable price!) I stocked up on pork chops, steaks, and some organic chicken breasts.

As I headed towards the front, I happened to notice that there was a coupon on the front of the chicken announcing $1 off. My heart skipped a beat -- not only was I saving 15%, but now I could save yet another couple dollars? SWEET! Well, it was sweet until I looked closer at the coupon, and that's when I literally laughed out loud and marveled at the insanity of food consumption in our country.

Only in America, you see, would you be able to save a dollar off organic chicken . . . IF . . . you buy . . . a box of Velveeta shells and cheese.

Yes, the coupon was essentially encouraging you (and giving you a pretty nice little incentive) to pair this delicious, nutritious, healthy chicken breast with what is probably the most processed brand of macaroni and cheese you can get. In other words, be healthy but don't go crazy there!

It reminded me of a conversation my friend Danielle and I have had before. Both of us make concerted efforts to eat healthier and to buy healthy, nutritious foods. We often bond over the kind of smug self-satisfaction we both feel at the grocery store when we're loading up the conveyor belt with fruits and vegetables and healthy food rather than all sorts of junky, unhealthy foods like chips and candy. (Okay, yes, I still buy chips, but I go for fat free Pringles and have finally reached a point where I can make one tube last more than a week rather than one sitting!) Danielle says that she always feels like she's "sticking it to the man" in those moments.

Friday, it became clear that the man was "sticking it" back. Clearly, the producers of less-than-healthy foods are not going to take it sitting down when people opt to eschew their foods for better options. The Velveeta people made their appeal in the way most likely to get them some success -- offering money off. Organic chicken breasts are not cheap. The price can often be a bit prohibitive to people on a budget. Saving a dollar makes the cost much more appealing -- and closer in price to non-organic breasts. So let's "reward" them for both buying organic AND buying processed junk at the same time. People can leave the store feeling like they've done their part for the earth, for their health, and for their wallets, and the makers of Velveeta keep injecting their nastiness into American diets. Win-win.

I'm onto you, though, Mr. Man. I did NOT buy Velveeta Shells and Cheese, but I did buy plenty of organic chicken and other healthy foods. Keep it coming, though, Mr. Man. I welcome your challenges to my fortitude as well as your appeals to my thriftiness. Don't forget, though, that while I am a thrifty Yankee, I'm also a stubborn Irish girl, and this will is hard to shake, pal!

My Self-Evident Truths

There are some things that I know are true about myself. I know that I have patience issues. I know that I could be more frugal. I know I'm a nerd. And I know I could not live a life without certain "basic" luxuries we take for granted.

This last truth was driven home over the course of this week as I decided to honor the birth of our nation by watching HBO's brilliant mini-series John Adams. First of all, I want to re-iterate that this mini-series is brilliant. The performances given particularly by Paul Giamatti and Laura Linney are a thing of beauty. I felt as if I was completely in the palm of their hand as they moved through their parts with such nuance and grace. Truly inspiring stuff!

Because Giamatti and Linney imbued their parts with such pitch-perfect realism, it allowed me to become just as engaged in what was the reality of John and Abigail Adams. At one point, I even thought to myself, "How on earth did people LIVE like this?" This was a time when your best bet for communicating with someone who was away was to hope you ran into a mutual friend who happened to be heading there. Abigail Adams entrusts letters to her husband with George Washington, knowing he will deliver them safely and that her words of chastely beautiful love won't fall into the hands of the British who would use them to mock Adams. For a lengthy stretch in their fifty-four year marriage, Adams was in Europe working to acquire much-needed allies and funding for the infant nation and his wife was home in Massachusetts raising their four children, tending their farm, and feeling very much abandoned by her husband who never wrote. Today, of course, the Adamses would have shot lengthy emails or spent late nights on Skype or even engaged in some randy sexting. How much easier would those years have been on Abigail and her children if they had had the ready access to communication that we have today?

Once Adams returned to the States, there were even more little glimpses of how I would never survive in post-Revolutionary America. To move from place to place, the only means of transportation available were riding horseback or riding in what looked to be a hideously uncomfortable carriage. Remember, too, that this was before such a thing as paved roads. Watching John Adams wedged in between the clearly unwashed masses in a crowded carriage as he left the White House for the last time, I could imagine the smell and discomfort and thanked the stars for my Chrysler Sebring and vowed to stop complaining about all of its faults (which are principally that I have not yet paid it off and it is not a Toyota Prius).

Of course, I have yet to hit on the medical advances I take for granted -- like anesthesia and toothpaste. As the Adamses aged, their teeth showed the ravages of time, becoming progressively black and gnarly looking. Even worse were the scenes where the Adamses daughter Nabby was diagnosed with breast cancer. Initially, I was a bit shocked that doctors in the early 1800's knew what cancer was. For some reason, I thought it was one of those 20th century "discoveries." Slowly, though, the horror of Nabby's diagnosis settled in when the doctor announced that the young woman's breast would have to be removed to fight the cancer -- and I realized that this surgery would take place with no anesthesia, nothing to dull the horrific pain outside of a stick wrapped in cloth for her to bite down on when the pain was overwhelming. Nabby Adams Smith went through a mastectomy wide awake to the pain and horror of it. It was like a Saw movie brought to life and who knows how many women endured such torture for years before medicine advanced enough to at least knock them out for the surgery.

Of course, in the absence of all these things we take for granted, I also couldn't help but once again marvel in the miracle that was the birth of this nation. Perhaps one of the most moving scenes for me came in the moments following the Continental Congress's vote to declare independence from England. I imagined a scene of whooping and rejoicing -- a complete embodiment of the revolutionary spirit. Instead, the men sat there in silence with this look on their faces that basically said, "Good Lord, what have we just done?" The weight of their vote clearly sat heavy on their shoulders as they came to terms with just what their vote meant -- the death, the sacrifice, and the danger that was ahead for them and all they held dear.

And they did it all without Facebook and toothpaste. Miraculous!

Happy Birthday, America

I'm not one of those people who wears her patriotism on her sleeve. I don't own any flag pins or patriotic t-shirts. I don't fly a flag. I've never once uttered a phrase like, "Love it or leave it." I never copy and paste the pro-America Facebook statuses that my friends often implore me to do. Being a liberal, I'm sure it would be easy to even question my patriotism since I've never been shy about voicing my disgust with choices made in the government. Yes, I get frustrated. I get angry.

And yet, I am a patriot.

Flaws and all, I love this country. I love that I get to wake up every morning and make choices that others don't get the opportunity to make. I love that I have opportunities available to me regardless of my gender, skin color, or religious beliefs. I love that I can say what I think without fear. I love that I am protected from tyranny. I love that I live in a nation where culture can thrive, where intellect can prosper, and where choices are abundant.

As you celebrate the birth of our nation today, I encourage you to think about what an amazing thing this birth was 234 years ago. A group of people decided that enough was enough and sat down and created an amazing document -- the Declaration of Independence. Click that link and read that document and think about what a bold and brave thing these men did. They stared into the face of the most powerful nation in the world (the U.S. of its time -- perhaps even mightier) and said, "Fuck you!" They had had enough of the King's tyranny, and they had an idea that maybe they could create something better. When push came to shove, they just wanted to live their lives freely and not have to wake up worrying what new hassle the King would present them. They wanted to govern themselves and not be subjected to the whims of the King. They wanted independence and so they sat down and declared it. Not only that, but they had the balls to actually sign their names to what could easily have become their own death sentence. They were willing to lose everything -- their lives, their fortunes, and their honor -- in order to insure freedom. It's a thing of beauty, and I never fail to get a lump in my throat when I read those words and think about the hope that emanates from every word on the page -- the hope that things will get better.

Today, I will spend my Independence Day the way many Americans are. I'm going to go to a movie. I'm going to grill out with some friends. I'm going to watch fireworks. But I'm also going to spend a little time thinking about the amazing, courageous, rebellious spirit that ignited 234 years ago and made it possible for me to do all those things. Let's keep the hope alive that we can continue in our pursuit of life, liberty, and happiness for many more years to come.

Adventures in Culinary Bravery

I've never been what you would call an adventurous eater. The list of foods I hate/refuse to eat is embarrassingly long. Sadly, the foods I eat quite regularly tend to be the kinds of things that aren't particularly good for me -- my love affair with cheese alone should be proud of the jiggly thighs. I've always wished I was more adventurous, but then I'm faced with some foreign or "icky" food and I dive right back into the potato chips. Face it -- I often have the appetite of a seven year old, right down to my belief that chicken nuggets just may be the perfect food.

As I've dug into my summer resolution to develop healthier eating habits (and hopefully lose at least a fraction of that thigh jiggle), I've had to face some foods I've always swerved around at the grocery store and give them a whirl. So far, I have to say that the courage has paid off in that I've found myself eating and enjoying some foods I never imagined I would.

Like zucchini. Before this summer, I'd maybe had zucchini once or twice without much enthusiasm. Suddenly, it seems like every recipe I'm making lately calls for zucchini -- and I love the stuff. I put them in fajitas last night with some red pepper, freshly diced tomato, and steak strips, and it was out of this world. They were also good in quesadillas we made over the weekend.

Another "discovery" was an affection for asparagus. Asparagus was a beloved feature of many family meals growing up -- well, beloved by my dad. I always thought that asparagus was disgusting -- until I roasted it over the weekend with some sliced garlic and a little basil balsamic vinaigrette. Delish!

While there will still be foods that will always be outlawed from my plate -- I'm looking at you, pickles -- it's nice to see my culinary repetoire expanding in a healthy direction rather than towards foods that will only add more jiggle. My challenge to you, dear readers, is to find the time this summer to break your own eating ruts and try something healthy and new -- whether it's a new recipe or a new menu item at your favorite restaurant. Your horizons will be expanded, and your tummy just may thank you.

You're My Best Friend

One of my students recently posted this article from the New York Times. He was horrified by the Orwellian overtones of the piece -- the notion of Big Brother stepping in to discourage kids from developing significant "exclusive" friendships.

On initial reading of the article, I have to admit there was a part of me that could see the logic of encouraging kids to socialize in larger groups. I've often struggled in larger group situations, particularly if there are people in the group I don't know well. It may come across as snotty or aloof, but it's really just about me not being comfortable. Maybe if I had been thrown into these larger group situations as a kid, I'd be more comfortable as an adult.

And yet, there is a whole lot to be said for having that one special person. My childhood is a bit littered with best friends. Many close friendships were extinguished by people moving or being stuck in different classes -- ultimately opening the door to new friendships. I was an awkward, nerdy kid, so it was nice to find fellow nerds with whom to bond as a child. Even though the friendships didn't necessarily last for decades, I am filled with warm memories of riding bikes, slumber parties, secret sharing, and crazy adventures. I can remember sitting in the backseat of my 6th grade best friend Alicia's mom's car refusing to speak anything but Valley Girl speak. (This was the year Moon Zappa's "Valley Girl" came out -- and the year Square Pegs was our favorite show on tv.) I think fondly of sleepovers at the home of my freshman year best friend Keri giggling for hours because we thought they were singing "I like it kinky" in Simple Minds's hit "Alive and Kicking." I think of the excitement when my friend Jenny (best friend sophomore year) got a VHS copy of Top Gun -- and we would watch the volleyball scene over and over and over again. And don't even get me started on the beauty of breakfasts and dinners spent in the kitchen of my high school best friend Caity -- I've never met a better cook than her dad.

For the past twenty-one years, though, I have been blessed to have one best friend. We met on my first day of my freshman year of college. We bonded over a shared love of James Dean. I remember thinking that I wanted to be her friend but was sure that someone so cool would never, ever give me the time of day. Danielle seemed like one of those girls I had admired in high school -- the girls who seemed smart and funny and totally cool and usually pretty nice but not the kind of person with whom I would be good friends. Thank the stars I was wrong. Over the course of the years, Danielle and I have grown closer and closer -- this despite the fact that we've only shared the same zip code for five of our twenty-one-year friendship. Danielle inspires me on a nearly daily basis -- whether it's to be brave and try something new, to take better care of myself, or just find the good in any situation.

True, I am blessed to have many friends -- friends from college, from work, from theatre -- but there is nothing like that one best friend who knows all the secrets, who knows where the bodies are buried, and has the photographic proof that will always keep you from running for office. I feel sorry for this new generation of kids, for while they may have the ease in groups that I still lack at 38, they don't have that soul mate who is that first call you make in triumph or tragedy, the best friend who for some reason seems to love you no matter what. I wouldn't trade that friend for anything.

... And the Livin' Is Easy

In honor of summer, I've decided to go with a little re-design here at the Files. Enjoy!

It's shaping up to be a bit of an odd summer. We've had days and days of rain here, which has made getting outside a bit of a challenge. I know I have tons of work to do in my little veggie patch that's growing away outside, but whenever I even think about setting foot out there, a deluge of rain falls from the skies. Today, in about 20 minutes, we got 1.5 inches of rain. Seriously!

One thing I do really love about summer, even when the weather is perpetually dreary, is that little bit of extra time I get. One of my big goals for the summer (as is true of just about every summer) is to eat healthier. I know what constitutes healthy eating, but sometimes it's just easier (and less time consuming) to drive through and get a burger or throw a frozen pizza in the oven than to cook a truly healthy meal. All this week, I've been making a concerted effort to cook truly healthy meals and to try a bunch of new recipes. Sunday, I made a delightful chicken marsala and had the most amazing mushrooms ever. I sauteed them in a little red wine. Even my sis who is frequently a little iffy where mushrooms are concerned (she does not share my love affair with the fungus) was in awe of these things. Last night, I made a delicious balsamic pork dish that again had my sis in heaven. Tonight, for the very first time, I made meatballs. I found this recipe that "hides" carrots and zucchini in the meatballs. I popped them in the crockpot with tomato sauce and let them cook all day. I'd only ever had meatballs as a kid, and I hated them. My mom was not the most skilled cook -- a fact I'm becoming more and more aware of as I get older and become a more talented cook myself. So because my mom's meatballs were, frankly, pretty gross, I always thought that all meatballs were so vile. WRONG! As my sis said tonight, too, it's nice to get a feel for what recipes would work during the school year so that we don't slip back into the pasta-hot dog-frozen pizza rut we often get into when I'm in the midst of speech and theatre season.

One thing that continues to strike me as kind of funny is how, when you're making the attempt to eat better, food becomes kind of the center of your every thought. It seems as if I'm constantly thinking about eating, planning what to eat, or getting ready to eat. As I made the meatballs this morning, I was pondering what I would eat for lunch, what snacks I would schedule in and when I would schedule them. When I'm not paying attention to what I eat, food fades more to the background of my thoughts because I just kind of eat whatever whenever. Somehow, it feels like it should be the other way around.

(PS -- Today's picture is dedicated to my friend Debbi who introduced me to this classic documentary when we were in college. I saw it as a delightful drinking game -- take a chug of Boone's Farm wine every time they say, "Wave!" She saw it as a serious documentary ... and maybe a life to which she aspired. I hope she's finally forgiven me for laughing through the whole movie, particularly the warning about the stone fish. Step on one, and you're dead in 15 minutes!)

Tag! You're It!

Friends, I am a fan of the Facebook. We know this. I could waste hours chatting with friends, tending my farm on Farmville, playing games. I often wonder how we functioned without the ability to write on each other's walls for so many centuries.

Recently, though, I've kind of felt a certain level of discomfort with the lack of privacy Facebook presents. Now, I'm not complaining about the ever-changing security and privacy settings the company has. Instead, I'm talking about the power we have to violate the privacy of our friends without even batting an eye. We can post secrets, create groups, and put embarrassing photos up with the click of a button.

I woke up this morning to an email from my best friend with the subject line, "OMG!" It turns out that during the night, a Facebook friend had posted a group picture that included me -- a picture in which I look dreadful, a picture I would have burned if I had a physical copy. I'm not a particularly vain person, but I also hate the idea of pictures that I'm not comfortable with how I look being out there for the world to see -- that my best friend in Ohio was able to see the picture before I did and realizing that any of my friends would be able to see the picture since I had been "tagged". My students would be able to see it! My co-workers!! I have to admit that part of me was really angry that this picture had been put out to the world without my permission. I guess you could argue that I gave my consent by posing for the picture. But what if I hadn't posed? I confessed to my friend that I felt a little violated that the picture was out there without me knowing it. Luckily, she told me how to untag myself, but many mutual friends (and my sister) are tagged in the picture, so there's still tons of access for people I know to see this picture.

The Internet has been a real blessing in our society. We have access to so much information, and I truly believe deep down that this access will eventually make us a little bit smarter. The problem becomes the many pitfalls that the Internet poses. It becomes important for us to make some choices about what we put out there. Before I post a status update on Facebook, I think long and hard about what I'll say. I censor myself as carefully as I can. I'm not perfect. I've certainly posted things that I've regretted later (including a really unfortunate joke about being bi-polar that offended FB friends dealing with that disorder). When I post pictures, it's typically stuff from school plays and the kids know that the pictures will be posted so they can have access to them and their permission is clearly implied. (I should note I also try to be careful not to post pictures that would make the kids look bad or embarrass them.)

In the end, it all comes down the the wise words of Uncle Ben -- with great power comes great responsibility. The Internet gives us tremendous power. We just have to be responsible in how we use it.