Of course this sign was preceded by an earlier sign, one that said "For Sale." The fact that the first sign was up for a mere month before the "Sold" sign was posted made me REALLY happy.

The fact that there has been this signage outside my house helps explain, I hope, why I haven't been as prolific a blogger recently as I've at other times in my life--OK, I've posted a lot of entries, but they've been short. Because, you see, there's been painting going on. And regrouting. And selling furniture. And lots and lots of cleaning. And getting the hell out of the house so complete strangers can walk through it and look at my stuff.

But that is all over, and I'm moving--soon. Which means posting may be even more sporadic until I get where I'm going and get settled.

Wish me luck!

I went looking for info on ape language after that, and found this fascinating video, which I hope you will enjoy.

When I noticed the problem, I called the phone company from my cell phone, who said that the diagnostic tests they ran revealed that the line was fine, so it was probably a problem with my house, and I should unplug all my phones from the phone jack and the electricity, leave them unplugged for five minutes, and then plug them back in and see if they start working, which seemed like bullshit to me but I did it anyway.

That didn't help, so then they told me to test a plain old phone that I knew worked at the "gray box" outside. Turns out I don't have a gray box outside; I have a gray box inside my basement, and it took me forever to find it. But find it I did, and I plugged a regular old phone into the test jack, and heard nothing, which meant it was the phone company's problem, and they'd have to fix it.

Now, because I have a cell phone, I could live without a land line--people do it all the time--but my internet service is through my phone, so I was not connected to the world. I couldn't check my email. I couldn't blog. I couldn't google anything, damnit! I couldn't look at the weather forecast. It SUCKED.

It sucked all the more because I had originally planned to spend the week at home, completing a couple of big projects. I work from home a lot, and I need to check my email and google stuff--at home--for my work. But eventually I went to the public library, which has free wireless, so I could at least see if I'd received any important email and update my Netflix queue.

And then Saturday rolled around, and some guy named Tim showed up to restore my phone service. Because my gray box is inside, he had to come into the house, and when he first showed up, he was friendly and polite, and wanted to chat a little. That was fine. Several houses in the neighborhood were for sale; we talked about the real estate market, blah blah blah, after I showed him the box in the basement. I went upstairs to wash dishes and he went to work on diagnosing the problem, etc. He spent about five minutes downstairs--and then he came upstairs and asked me what I do for a living.

I told him I'm a writer and an English professor; he told me he never did well in English, he majored in engineering; he liked nonfiction. I said I liked nonfiction too, that it was the main thing I studied, and that I also liked history. He said he liked military history; I said I did too, etc etc. Then I had to hear all about his years in the army, as well as all sorts of details about his daughter the supply sergeant. He spent 20 minutes in my house, telling me about this crap. My patience started to wear thin. I started to hope he'd just get out of my house and fix my phone and go the hell away.

Finally he went outside to fix stuff; then he had to come back in and put my gray box back together. And when he came in, he was on the phone with his wife--why he couldn't stay outside until he was done talking to her is beyond me--and then he had to tell me about the conversation. And then he said, "You know how I was talking about how I like history? I wanted to show you a book that's the most important history book I've ever read. I wish I had discovered it years ago. It has helped me understand things I never got before."

And he opened this zippered bag and pulls out some book on Jesus.

So I handed him A History of God by Karen Armstrong, but he wasn't interested in that, because in addition to a cross, on the cover was the star of David and the moon of Islam.

And he stood there and told me how great this book was, on and on, and about all the other books on religion he has read, and the church he goes to, and I just wasn't going to go there. Finally he ran out of things to tell me about, so he went downstairs and repaired whatever he needed to repair.

And then he came back up and spent another 20 minutes telling me about his educational history and about his son's plans for college and about how people he finds that people tend to remember, for years, perhaps because he has "good people skills."

I kept thinking, "At what point do I tell this guy he has to leave? He's boring me out of my mind and I've got shit to do." But he clearly thought this was a very interesting conversation, and he was a good-natured guy so I didn't want to insult or embarrass him. But I did feel my hospitality had been abused. I'd engaged in some polite conversation with the guy when he first showed up just to be nice, just to be friendly, but that didn't mean I wanted to discuss my career with him, or hear about how much he admired Jesus.

Finally the technique of nodding and smiling when he said something but not adding anything to the conversation worked, in that it convinced him to move to the front door, where it still took another five minutes to actually get him out the door--he had to remind me again who wrote the book on Jesus, and tell me about his attitudes towards various social issues, and wish me luck for the future, etc.

I was very glad to have my phone service restored, but I want to say that the repair was not free; I paid very dearly for Tim's repair work. I have thought about calling Verizon to complain about Tim but I know it would astonish him and hurt him--he really thought it was nice conversation. I just hope I never see him again myself.

I'm talking firecrackers. I HATE firecrackers. Fireworks--you know, the big light shows costing lots of money and staged by professionals--are great, though I've seen enough in my life that they don't really fill me with excitement, and they certainly don't arouse the wonder and awe I feel for my favorite light show, the Milky Way.

But firecrackers, the little containers of explosives whose purpose is to make noise and leave a nasty smell, I just can't stand, and I can't stand people who go out in the street and set them off at all hours of the night. I am glad that I spent most of my life in states where the damn things are illegal, and look forward to leaving the one I currently live in, where they are legal. Which, if you ask me, is one more reason Pennsylvania is just back-ass-wards, along with its bizarro liquor laws and the fact that it elected Rick Santorum as its senator.

I rarely cook something that requires a lot of planning or preparation. There are really only two situations in which I do: if I'm feeding guests, or if I am making huge batches of some elaborate meal or dish which I can then freeze in individual servings, so that later, I can just microwave it and have a meal ready. I don't want more than 20 minutes to elapse from the moment when I decide I'm hungry enough to make a meal, and the point at which I sit down to eat it. I also don't want to wash too many dishes afterwards.

By those standards, this recipe for green beans should be something I don't make--and truth be told, I rarely make it. It's not that it's hard; it just takes a lot of time to cut up all the beans, and it involves dirtying a lot of dishes. But it's so good that I go ahead and do it anyway from time to time.

I will say that these beans are really good left over and chilled--if you can make enough to have them left over. When I make them for guests, there are never any leftovers--and when I make them for myself, well, I still manage to eat a lot of them.

Wash the green beans and cut them into bite-sized pieces. (That's my least favorite part. I don't know why I find it so annoying to cut up scores of green beans, but I do.) Put them in a steamer and steam long enough that they're hot but not so long that they get tender--they should still be crisp. (In other words, three or four minutes after water begins to boil--certainly not more than five.) Heat one tablespoon olive oil in a heavy skillet over medium high heat. When oil is hot, add minced garlic and fry for about 30 seconds--just until oil becomes fragrant. Dump in green beans and saute until coated with the garlicky oil. Turn off heat and squeeze a tablespoon or so of fresh lemon onto the beans. Then season with salt and pepper, and, as a final step, add a liberal dose of grated parmesan--do this last when pan is still very hot but no longer on an active flame, so the cheese doesn't get gummy.

I've tried cooking the beans entirely in the skillet, but they get too oily. I've tried just adding a little garlic infused olive oil after steaming them and not sauteing them, but the flavor isn't the same, and the cheese doesn't melt as well if you don't stir it into a hot pan.

So I do it the way I've discovered works well, and deal with the fact that I have all these pots and pans to wash just for one vegetable dish, because as I said, the real pleasure afforded by cooking occurs at the table, and for that, you have to sacrifice from time to time.

First of all, the sort-of good news: a graduate student named Sezgin Cihangir cares enough about sexism to study it and its effects. His doctoral dissertation concludes that "Women suffer more as a result of subtle sexism than as a result of blatant gender discrimination. The subtle forms of discrimination affect one's self-image, which lowers performance. Victims can come to think that they have been justifiably rejected." The findings aren't good news, but the fact that he has documented this phenomenon IS good news.

Now on to the bad news: Katha Pollitt writes about the Backlack Spectacular against women and feminism that she is seeing in the US, citing evidence including the fact that Washington University has given Phyllis Schlafly an honorary degree, that the supreme court denied women the right to sue over unequal pay, and women's shelters are closing left and right for lack of funding.

Kira Cochrane writes about the backlash in the UK, citing the unbelievable statistic that "the rape conviction rate in Britain has plummeted from 33% in the 70s to just 5.7% today, and that the 14,000 rapes reported each year are thought to be the tip of the iceberg - Solicitor General, Vera Baird, suggested that only 10%-20% of all cases are brought to the attention of the authorities." She also writes that

In interviews earlier this year, Alan Sugar, Amstrad founder, Apprentice star and government business adviser, repeatedly challenged a law instituted more than three decades ago. This law was one of the big wins of the 1970s feminist movement, making it illegal for women to be asked at interview whether they plan to have children, on the grounds that it is clearly discriminatory: a chance for employers to weed out any woman who wants to combine a family with work. "You're not allowed to ask, so it's easy," said Sugar, "just don't employ them."

Yeah. I have to go iron someone else's shirt now.

Pretty soon, the drink (my favorite term, by far, for the sea) in general might just well be neat. As in, all the ice at the north pole just might melt this summer.

It's one kind of neat, but not another. In fact, this kind of neat in this context SUCKS, literally, in that it sucks heat into a dark liquid ocean and warms the planet up even more.

Yeah. That totally sucks.

But all his nasty pins insulting Hillary and her gender? Those you can still buy.

Well....

Turns out a couple in Utah created an Obama sock monkey doll, but these Utahns claim the doll isn't racist. No! Aimed at Obama supporters, it's "a charming association between a candidate and a toy we had when we were little," and something that helps us "really try and transcend still existing racial biases." They're shocked and hurt that so many people are REALLY offended by this horrifically offensive doll, and have concluded sadly that "there is an element of naviete [sic] on our part, in that we don't think in terms of myths, fables, fairy tales and folklore."

The one bit of good news in this particular story is that according to the company's website, they will not proceed with the manufacture of this toy.

I don't want to ignore the fact that this toy is REALLY gross. But I do want to point out that the reaction to the toy supports Katie Couric's contention that truly egregious racism against Obama isn't tolerated by the mainstream, while truly egregious sexism against Hillary is shrugged off as no big deal. (You paying attention, Mr. Nighttime?) As she says, if Obama regularly confronted attacks equivalent to those Hillary endured, "the outrage wouldn't be a footnote; it would be front-page news." Indeed the sock monkey story was the lead story for the ABC news station I link to, and at the time I'm writing, the video of the news clip is the website's most popular clip.

There is one, uh, mainstream-ish venue, however, where racism is tolerated: the Texas Republican party. At the state convention, you could buy a button reading, "If Obama is President... will we still call it the White House?"

The answer to the question, is, of course, obviously YES. I mean, despite all the blockheads who've worked in the Pentagon, it's still referred to by a name denoting its five sides.

I don't know what to say about Nicholas Kristof's editorial on rape as a weapon. Of course I've known about things like this for ages; of course my understanding that this sort of thing happens is one reason I'm a feminist. I guess I'll quote a passage:

it has become clear that mass rape is not just a byproduct of war but also sometimes a deliberate weapon.

“Rape in war has been going on since time immemorial,” said Stephen Lewis, a former Canadian ambassador who was the U.N.’s envoy for AIDS in Africa. “But it has taken a new twist as commanders have used it as a strategy of war.”

There are two reasons for this. First, mass rape is very effective militarily. From the viewpoint of a militia, getting into a firefight is risky, so it’s preferable to terrorize civilians sympathetic to a rival group and drive them away, depriving the rivals of support.

Second, mass rape attracts less international scrutiny than piles of bodies do, because the issue is indelicate and the victims are usually too ashamed to speak up.

I guess I'll say this:

Violence against women is a continuum. The treatment of Hillary Clinton in the recent campaign was not, of course, equal to a rape camp in Darfur, but it was born of the same hatred and contempt for women, as well as the belief that when sexuality or gender is used against women, it's not violence, it's sex: a Hillary nutcracker is appropriately funny, because it shows how Hillary is threatening or unappealing to men. Who cares about the fact that it actually involves violence against an image of Hillary, forcing something large and hard between her legs before you squeeze them as hard as you can? Men's sexuality and well-being is what has to be defended, and it's OK to attack women's sexuality in order to do that.

In fact, to some, it's OK to attack and/or exploit women's sexuality in order to give men anything they want: an orgasm, offspring, an income (WHEN did it become so cool to be a PIMP, for god's sake?), control of a particular region of the world. Women's sexuality is always fair game, and women's attempts to control their own sexuality must always be resisted, despite the fact that the world would be a better place for ALL OF US if women controlled their own sexuality and reproductive rights.

If you can't acknowledge that this is an attitude that persists in the world, you can't acknowledge something fundamental about the world we live in, and you're not really all that interested in justice or freedom or human rights. This is why I got so fed up when Mr. Nighttime (he of the endless ellipses........) discounted Katie Couric's pretty damn mild critique of the sexist treatment Ms. Clinton received from the media. (Every so often I wonder about when she stopped being Hillary Rodham, the name she went by until her husband began campaigning for president, and when she stopped being Hillary Rodham-Clinton, the name she went by when he was first elected. Obviously, our country couldn't even handle a female figurehead who didn't buy into all the trappings of conventional marriage, including giving up her maiden name.)

So the next time someone complains about sexism or misogyny, listen. Don't deflect the issue; don't try to discuss some other form of oppression. Don't be as slow on the uptake as the UN and its members, which are only now "recognizing the fact that systematic mass rape is at least as much an international outrage as, say, pirated DVDs."

Because systematic mass rape isn't some new invention or strange aberration. It's an extreme expression of an attitude towards women that exists everywhere on our planet.