14 posts from 2007

well, I've been posting back on blogspot (tankardoftea.blogspot.com)
I can't decide between Blogspot and Vox now....
so I'll let you know if/when I come back here.

But for now, I'm over there.

Since I've been married I have taken care of all the house work, because I've been working part time.  My husband faithfully takes out the trash, because that's something I've never been good at, but that's it.

Now that I am working full-time again, I'm sure we will share the house work more evenly.  And I'm sure some people will take issue with that.

I think modern egalitariansm has crept into our thoughts, that we consider the "despot" of the "oikos" must physically do all the house work in order to be a godly wife.  These younger, modern marriages, which share housework evenly, we conservatives think, are not quite biblical.

Just as a man is charged with educating his children, so a woman is charged with running the home.  A man may chose to delegate his educational responsibility to education experts in prearranged schools, rather than teaching the children himself.  Likewise, a woman has a plethora of ways to successfully, biblically, manage her home that do not involve her doing every last ounce of labor herself.

Personally, I have servants.  They are dishwasher and washing machine, and running water and electricity.  They are immeasurably useful to getting my job done.  They allow me free time in which I may do more refined sorts of home-making, like painting, photography, refinishing furniture, and gourmet cooking. 
I delegate other things.  I am not so handy at making suits for my husband, so I purchase them pre-made.  In fact, I purchase most all of our clothes pre-made.  I do not do all the physical labor myself because, at this point in our lives, I have bought a vineyard I must manage and work in to contribute to the nest egg.  My husband and I work equal hours out of the home, and in the home.  God is in favor of sharing labor.  It is a foolish husband who expects his wife to equal him in the business world, but maintain the home without his help.  It is a foolish wife who does not delegate some things to him in such a situation.

Especially crippling is a home-maker who does all the physical labor herself, that is, her children do not share the load.  They must!  What will happen to a young man's marriage if he never learns how much effort it takes to cook and clean for him?  He, later on as breadwinner, may eventually stop appreciating what his wife does all day futzing around the house.  And there is only a short step between undervaluing her work, and undervaluing her self.

So wives, do us all a favor and delegate.  Make your sons work.  (Let the fathers lead them by example)  Wash, sweep, cook, iron, scrub, mop.  Make them work so hard, that when they cease being sons, and are heads of their own household, they deeply appreciate what their wives do as they tend their home; even if just out of relief not having to do it themselves any more.

Since I've gotten married, my husband and I have both marveled at how much smaller my clothes are than his.  Not just his being bigger in body than I am, but actual fabric considered necessary.  Undergarments for him have practically a whole yard more fabric than mine do.  Laundry is suddenly piles of undershirts.  He wears suits to work; my suits are much smaller.  For a formal event, also, full suit for him, and little dress for me, perhaps with shawl.
When I fold laundry, his items account for two times the amount of space mine do.

And yet, women always need so much luggage. 

I made candied orange peel the other day.  Yum.

The Secret History of the Pink Carnation
or "I'm sorry, Liz"

Aside from the fact that I figured out who the Pink Carnation was by the end of the prologue, which was not actually revealed until a healthy two-thirds of the way through the book at the end of chapter 28 (and you're expected to share her surprise?), this book is utter rubbish.  If it weren't for the sex scenes that give it a bit more than a PG-13 rating (in my opinion), I would have thought it's target audience was pre or early teenage girls.  This watered down bodice-ripper (literally at points... ugh!) quickly destroys any mistaken impression that it is either a mystery or a historic novel.  It is a romance, plain and simple, heavy handed and blandly written at that.  How many times can you say "his green eyes darkened with emotion".  *BLEH*  I'm puking!

Summary: Silly teenage girl traipses off to post-revolution France in hopes of joining heroic Purple Gentian to exact her revenge on the people who guillitined her parents, and assumably, in her mind, to simultaneously have the Gentian fall in love with her. 

Such a plot truly is appropriate for an early teen.  Accordingly, her regular references to works of ancient literature are commendable for the first three chapters, but become tiring when they fail to achieve anything more than the appearance of "cleverness" to someone in a high-school-level English class.

Beyond the specific greviances as I have listed above, this entire genere of "novel" is so utterly repulsive to me I cannot refrain from defaming them.  To place such a book in any female's hand is to encourage romantic flights of fancy, daydreaming of the dangerous sort, and general silliness.  To give such a book to any girl under 20 is like giving them stupid pills in their Vente Latte: this book is filled with lies.

Lie number one: even if you're silly and ignorant and a lousy spy, things will work out for you, so charge ahead. Indeed, you can be the "heroine of a silly horrid novel running pell-mell into disaster" (pg. 364).
After all, three such inexperienced women are quite smart enough to identify, within a week or two of entering French society, the number one most wanted by all English spy.  Boy, would the French commander of police like to befriend those clever women!  But oh no, their on the spy's side, and so their not telling; clever, clever women.

Lie two: if no one is watching, it's not improper and doesn't affect your reputation a bit.
I personally say, things done in secret with a young man, that would never be done in front of friends, generally should not be done.  I'm not talking about the evening kiss while saying goodbye.  I'm referencing the mind set that, as long as we're both consenting adults, and no one finds out, it's ok to do things that would be highly inappropriate if anyone knew.  And with a stranger.  Because it feels right.... to a nineteen-year-old girl.  Paragon of good judgement, there.

Lie three: Romance really is that marvelous, all the time, and makes you forget everything bad; or sensible.  And that completely excuses doing senseless things.

Lie three: A woman can orgasm lying in the bottom of a boat, with a boatman watching, with a thrilling stranger you've kissed twice whose touching you in a way you've never been touched before, just hours after fighting for your life to get away from being raped.
I don't mean to be offensive, but it's in the book and I was appalled.  If I weren't so appalled, I'd be amused.  Did a man write this?  You wish!  Has Lauren ever had a boyfriend? (from this type of writing, I would guess not, or at least, not for long)

Lie four: Young men spend that much time agonizing over young women, and in exactly the same way young women agonize over young men, analyzing every slightest action and deriving nuances from everything.

Lie Five: Everyone in post-revolution France behaved regularly like a sixteen-year-old girl.  Including Napoleon Bonaparte, who is much more like a streak of Looney Tunes Tazmanian Devil, clad in red velvet, than one of the more infamous conquorors of all history.

I cannot go on, it's too, too painful.

Oh, swear to me women give up this type of silly romance wishing by the time they enter their twenties, swear!

MSN recently ran a little article "how not to cry when you're at work" in their "Career Building" section.  Perfectly nice little article.

Now, clearly, this article is for women.  I doubt there are many men who struggle with this dilema; or realize this is something every woman has thought about.

My question is why not to cry at work?

I'm not personally the "weepy" type, but life prevails and sometimes I am reduced to tears regardless of location.  I also believe that it is healthy to just "let it go" for a few minutes, cry a bit, and feel better.  I would even go so far as to say this is part of the female make-up.  We cry.  It helps.

So why not cry at work?  If you are able, step into the bathroom, give yourself five minutes, regroup and be unapologetic.  "Excuse me, I just needed a moment to myself, thank you for waiting."

Is it unprofessional?  Unacceptable?  Weak and therefore bad?

Why?

Amazed!
Trash the Dress

(I always find it amusing when that's quoted in English)

So we hit up Sonoma last night (I'm fascinated with their tap system) and stumbled across the most marvelous "round, long finísh, full body reds": from bin 42 TRUTH “lindsey’s cuvee” 05- cabernet sauvignon : syrah : petit verdot - california.  Very tasty.  The quintessential red, in my mind.

We also had a bit of the "hudson valley camembert, new york, creamy, soft, sweet, milky" which was suPERb.  The waiter asked if we were into something "a bit funkier" and this was his recommendation; although, I've met funky cheese, and I didn't consider this one.  Anyway, we will certainly be popping by Cowgirl Creamery to pick up something along these lines again.

Last week J brought home some Leinenkugel's Honey Weiss Bier, which I absolutely love.  He also picked up their Sunset Wheat which neither of us had tasted before.  It has a surprising amount of blueberry flavor, but not sweet or "fruity", and we both now love it.  We will certainly be adding them to the "favorite brewer" list, and sampling all they have to offer.  (I particularly appreciate the food pairings they suggest with each beer on their website; nice!)

Had the Bronte sisters written Pride and Prejudice, this is what it would have looked like.  Kiera Knightly (Elizabeth Bennet) may have physically smiled more than her predecessors in that role, but the film itself had a grave undertone that is untrue to the spirit of Austin's original work.

The casting is a diverse and masterful collection of talents, and yet the acting leaves much to be desired.  Bingley is dopey-ly-charming as ever, but full young, as are the Bennet girls, giving the over all impression that mariage is the result of a whimsical crush, rather than a balanced combination of reason and affection.  The brevity of the film, and the necessity to cut much of the book, only substantiates this feeling.  There is too little material to base an "ardent love" on, particularly between Darcy and Elizabeth.  Knightly is not up to the task of playing Elizabeth Bennet's sharp wit derived from deep observation and balanced with affection; Darcy looks more like a lost puppy dog than a young but experienced gentleman.  Mr and Mrs Bennett are adorable in their own ways, lessening the impact of their "position" on the entire plot.  Bingley's sister is too snooty to feel pity for.  Even the ever fabulous Dame Judy Dench is not enough to save this film.

As unexciting as the acting was, I believe the director is responsible for this flop.  So unfaithful was he to the true tale, he makes his audience fall in love with a story that doesn't exist.  I would go so far as to say that someone wholly unexposed to Austin would be disappointed with the book if they fixed their heart on this film.  I hope it would be otherwise though.

For starters, the lines are horribly sliced up and re-distributed to different characters and at all the wrong times.  But I'm sure the reason behind this alteration stems from the director's desire to cast them in different light than previously seen; too different, I'm afraid, to be faithful to Austin's clear depictions of them.

The most material loss is that you don't see our Elizabeth, or Darcy for that matter, learn any great lesson.  She is simply a silly, uneducated girl who makes a simple and willful mistake in judging character; if even is a mistake, by this representation.  There is no moral character for young viewers to strive for.  No maturity gained through following in the footsteps of Elizabeth's experience.  Indeed, she seems fully capable of making that mistake again, and again, and again.

In fact, I would go so far as to say, the director seems to have taken all "sin" out of the story.  The mother is excused for her marriage-obsession and impropriety on the grounds that it is prudent underneath.  Mary is actually a very sensitive girl, her father truly caring and in tune with his family, and above all, Lydia is just an imaginative little innocent with an addiction to "romance"; without indication of the deep social harm that arose from her sickeningly selfish "elopement", or behavior in general.  In the end everything is represented as being harmless, but to my eyes it seems more than that.  Or less I ought to say, for it seems like nothing has changed by the end of the film.  Indeed, it is all so "watered down", there is little plot left besides guy-meets-girl; which is probably all the director think this story is anyway.  Austin is much better than that.

So, while Austin enthusiasts like myself will automatically embrace anything with her name on it, this modern version has utterly failed to capture the hearts of us all, and the famed 6-hour, A&E version still reigns supreme as undoubtedly the best Pride and Prejudice thus far produced.