First things first

Honestly, I can’t imagine how anyone can say this is a bad thing. Seriously–what arguments can possibly be made against this ideal?

I’ve signed the charter. I hope you do, too.

Today is the 200th anniversary of the births of both Abraham Lincoln and Charles Darwin. I didn’t know until recently that they were born on the exact same day. This connection makes sense, given their shared staunch opposition to slavery. Today is also the 100th anniversary of the founding of the NAACP.

For much of my childhood in Illinois, Lincoln’s birthday—not Washington’s—was a no-school holiday. (”Land of Lincoln,” you know.) I was a little sorry to see it merged into President’s Day: Lincoln was pretty amazing and deserves his own day, I think. And it goes without saying (*cough* last eight years *cough*) that some presidents don’t merit much celebration.

So as you move through today, pause for a moment to reflect on the efforts of those who have worked to dispel prejudice based on so-called race*. We’ve got a long way to go—but we’ve come a long way already, and that gives me hope.

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*As an anthropologist by training, I have to mention that race is a social construct, not a biological fact.

Watching: Iron Man (finally), which I thought was just awesome. I love the ending. At last, a superhero whose conflicts and enemies aren’t based on the utterly predictable trope of needing to maintain a secret identity.

Reading: Feet of Clay, by Terry Pratchett.

Ordering: Seeds for this year’s garden, from Pinetree Garden Seeds (who sells seed packets with quantities and prices that are sensible for home gardeners. We’ve used their seeds for years. I really like this company.

Knitting: A new buttonband for my B.O.B. Sweater. And I need to shorten the hood on Jan’s Wonderful Wallaby. I finished that last fall, and he’s been wearing it ever since, but somehow I ended up making the hood deep enough to suit a Jedi.

Eating: Quesadillas made by Sylvia. Except she likes to call them “tortitos” (and, occasionally, “tornadoes”).

Thinking: About how our eight-year-long national nightmare is over. Oh sure, Obama will definitely do stuff I don’t agree with. But it’s really hard to imagine how he can be worse than his predecessor.

If you showed your political colors via a pumpkin, your sign can go into a compost bin when it’s no longer needed. But if you opted for one of those lawn signs, composting is not an option.

You could, like a few homes I see in my area, continue to display your sign. At this point, though, that smacks of schadenfreude. I think it’s best to have your Schadenfreude Pie, then move on.*

You could just throw it in the trash. But if just thinking about that triggers your want-to-save-the-planet reflex, then try this instead: turn it into a birdhouse. Looks pretty easy to do!

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*The creator of this pie, John Scalzi, has this to say about the pie he made last week: “One of the reasons I love this pie I have invented is that it is perfect for what it’s supposed to be, which is something rich and dark and bitter that you better not have too much of. Last night and this morning, each time I took a slice of it, I took ever-so-slightly more than I should have, and now both times it’s sat in my stomach, threatening reflux. It’s a moral lesson, really: Like this particular pie, too much gloating invites payback. It’s nice to have a physical lesson to go with the existential one.”

It’s been a busy weekend. October ended with a Halloween double-whammy: Sylvia’s first holiday celebration at school (complete with a parade of costumed kids, followed by a concert of songs sung by the kids for their parents—and their camcorders, of course), and trick-or-treating. Sylvia chose to be a “flower fairy” this year (completely her own idea), so we put together an outfit made up of stuff she already had in her closet: tutu, fairy wings, polka-dotted tights, purple shirt, cardigan handknitted by me, black shoes. Jan and I made her a flower wreath (out of pipe cleaners, florist tape, artificial flowers, and ribbons) and a wand (out of a dowel, plus everything that was in the wreath except for the pipe cleaners). She loved it. We spent about five bucks, and she got a costume that was totally unique. Awesome.

Yesterday we headed to the Adventure Aquarium in Camden, New Jersey. Tickets for the three of us were priced at $53. Thanks to one of Jan’s coworkers—who is a long-time volunteer there (he scuba dives into the shark tank to clean it)—we had free passes for the day. WOOT! When we told Sylvia where we were going, she wasn’t really into the idea…until we described the aquarium as “like a zoo for fish.” Then she couldn’t wait to get there.

We had a great time there. The giant tanks are just amazing. They’re well lit, located in dark rooms and (of course) covered with glass, so most of my attempts at photography didn’t turn out too well. One of the best pictures I took was this one, in the area two hippopotamuses (the singular of which is not, as Allan Sherman sang, “one hippopotami”) and an African porcupine share with lots and lots of bird.

This morning we went to church (where the minister talked about the Unitarian and Universalist legacies of working toward justice and urged everyone to vote on Tuesday*), then headed to Winterthur, one of the DuPont estates in northern Delaware. We met up with some friends who live in the D.C. area, and our three kids had a ball running around together. (How is it that two-, three-, and four-year-olds can play outside in not much more than long-sleeve shirts and pants while their parents—bundled up in coats, hats, and gloves—and freezing? Seriously—I wonder if there’s been any scientific research on age-related temperature tolerance.) The fall colors were at their peak. In another couple of weeks, I suspect most of the trees there will be bare.

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*She used an interesting device: an imagined conversation among the ghosts of Joseph Priestly, Dorothea Dix, Robert Gould Shaw, and other prominent, dead Unitarians and Universalists. I wish the wrap-up section had been more…well, more exhortation and less purple prose. I can appreciate the UU unwillingness to tell anyone what to do, but in this case I would love to hear someone stand up and say, “Hey! If you’re here because you believe in justice and human rights and the inherent value of all people and beliefs and want to save the planet, then you need to vote for the candidates and proposals that support your beliefs!” Obviously, a minister can’t tell you to vote for a particular candidate or party, but he or she can certainly prod you more engagingly—more energetically and strenuously—to vote for your beliefs. I went away from the service feeling not particularly inspired (even though I’m certain my minister and I are on the same page politically)—in agreement, but not fired up.

Maybe a new presidential candidate would cheer you up. Take your pick.

I’ve been wearing a “Cthulhu for President ‘08″ t-shirt since early summer. But I think Han Solo and Chewie wouldn’t be bad, either.

Dear Senator Clinton:

Just stop it, already.

Seriously. Whether I support you or another candidate is irrelevant at this point. You are not going to win the Democratic nomination.

Some of your supporters and staff call your tenacity admirable. I call it selfish and incredibly destructive. Do you think that your stubbornness-turned-stupidity is actually going to win you more votes? Do you not realize how much your shenanigans are strengthening McCain’s campaign and detracting media and public attention from far more important issues?

Right now you can gracefully bow out of the race with your dignity and reputation intact. But if you wait until summer starts—or even until the convention—all that the public will remember is a kicking-and-screaming departure. To be honest, judging by your behavior lately I think it’s quite possible that the kicking and screaming will be real and not just figurative.

So, please. Do your supporters a favor. Do the Democratic party a favor. Do the nation a favor. Stop pursuing the nomination.

Sincerely,
A voter who’s really fed up with you

Girls Rock!

Indeed they do!

Wow, doesn’t this look like an amazing film? The trailer alone is impressive. How fabulous to see adolescent girls feeling confident and empowered—and not because of what anyone else tells them but because of what they accomplish and how they themselves feel about it.

Here is the website for the film (which hits theaters on March 7), if you’re interested in more info.

Today is Super Tuesday. It’s very likely that after today we’ll know who the parties’ candidates will be or at least have a pretty good idea of what the ballots will look like.

Via Franklin at the Panopticon, Dolores has announced her own candidacy and platform—which, as you might expect, is very knitting-oriented.

I have nothing against pro-yarn proposals, but I do expect a bit more depth from any politicians I choose to endorse. So I was pleased to see, at the Park Bench, a political platform I like. To paraphrase William Shatner, “I can get behind that!”*

My favorite points are “Mary McDonnell will be named Secretary of Education…just in case” (BSG, anyone?) and “We all will be issued jet packs and robots.”

I mean, really—who couldn’t use a jet pack and a robot? I’m convinced that if everyone had them, the world would be a much better place.

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*If you’re looking for a music recommendation, I can say that Shatner’s Has Been truly is terrific. It’s great in all that ways that his Transformed Man—which I admit to owning as well—is bad. Then again, The Transformed Man was so bad that it actually transcended its own awfulness and became kind of good…

I’ve mentioned before that I have a very good friend who lives in Australia. She and I have been pen-and-paper penpals since January 1993, and when we first started corresponding, she lived outside Montreal. We’ve never met, but she’s one of my best friends–maybe one day we’ll meet, maybe not.

Our daughters were born three days apart, so it’s been fun to swap parent talk with her. (She has a son who’s three years older, so this isn’t her first time around with diapers and toilet training.) She recently told me how much she liked some of the clothes Sylvia wears (lots of earth tones and simple lines) and mentioned how difficult it was to get non-pink, non-girly stuff where she is. We chatted back and forth about this, and the upshot is I volunteered to do some end-of-season hardcore sale shopping for her kids–just a few things, whatever I could find that was ridiculously inexpensive–and send them to her.

So a few weeks ago, in about an hour I managed to score some great, high-quality, non-girly stuff for her kids–for almost nothing. Seriously. Something like five shirts and two pairs of pants came out to under twenty bucks. (Clothing is cheap in this country!) The best part is I bought summer stuff that was on clearance because summer is over…here. It hasn’t even begun where she is, so these items would arrive just in time. I wrapped it all up in the smallest possible bundle (brown paper secured with packing tape–not even a box or envelope) and took it to the post office.

I handed over the package and the customs form I had filled out at home. (Pet peeve: people who take up time at the counter filling out postal forms, and the postal employees who don’t attend to other customers while waiting for said forms.) “This can go surface mail. There’s no hurry on it.”

The man behind the counter shook his head at me. “There’s no more surface mail. Only air mail.”

“Are you kidding? When did this happen?”

“Mother’s Day. Wasn’t making any money.”

“Hmmm. Okay, then air mail it is, I guess.”

“That’ll be thirteen dollars.”

*gulp*

Um, hello? That’s almost the value of the contents! I took my package home, deciding to send it when I had more things to add (since the first chunk of postage is the most expensive, a slightly larger package shouldn’t cost a lot more to send).

Now, I’ve been pretty good about defending the USPS in the past. When I was in college, a friend of mine told me about the time he got a letter addressed simply to “Todd Davis, Belleville, Illinois.” That’s it. It was for him, and it arrived something like two years late, but it did arrive. And on the envelope, some postal employee had written “Are we good or what?” Wow.

In light of that–and in light of the stellar service I’ve gotten from the USPS–I’ve been a bit of a fan. Rate hikes have been mildly annoying, but I didn’t mind them that much. (Postage in the USA is still pretty cheap.)

And then the employee at the local post office hassled me when I tried to send a package without a return address. (This was for my first Secret Pal swap, SP8.) Okay, this wasn’t really the fault of the USPS. I blame this one on the Bush-Cheney war on American civil rights, er, I mean the war on terror.

The rates hikes earlier this year didn’t bug me much, until I found out that the international postcard rate was going from 70 cents to 90 cents. Whoa! What’s up with that? That’s one heck of a jump–and since then my Postcrossing has ground to a halt (a temporary one, I hope).

But completely scrapping international surface mail? USPS, you’ve really let me down now. For shame, USPS. For shame.

P.S. You can try to suck up to me by issuing a set of knitting-themed holiday stamps, USPS, but it won’t work.