Over the years I've noticed that male chauvinism tends to be fairly prevalent and consistent among most fundamentalist groups, regardless of branding. I've seen it with Christian, Muslim and Jewish fundamentalist groups. There's a kosher restaurant close to my house that I enjoy. It's owned by an orthodox Jewish guy. The owner is always polite to me, but one of his employees is a complete jerk. I've noticed he's rude to most of the female customers. He knows exactly how I like my falafel pita prepared and yet he never makes it the way I want it. As a result I (who rarely complains at restaurants) have stopped allowing him to touch my food. I found out recently that said jerkoff is getting married soon. Before I had the chance to ask who on earth would marry that moron, I was told it was an arranged marriage. I immediately felt sorry for his soon to be, extremely sexually frustrated and miserable, wife.
However, I can say that regardless of the fact that the owner is nice there are little things which make me realize the owner is a chauvinist too. They have 2 bathrooms. The men's room is the larger of the rooms and has it's own sink. The women's room is barely large enough for the toilet and women must use the sink in the hallway.
There are a number of orthodox Jewish women who frequent this restaurant with small children. In addition, it's a very basic scientific fact that due to physiology, women are going to get their hands messier in the restroom than men do. But the moron who owns the place gave the guys the larger restroom with the sink.
I remember going there one day for lunch when my son was about 6 months old. I had my boy bundled up in a sling. As I approached the door there were about 5 orthodox Jewish men blocking the entrance. I said, "Excuse me" about 3 times and finally one guy moved himself...less than a foot away from the door. I had to shove my way through. Now if I were in front of a door and someone was approaching with their hands full, regardless of whether or not it was a man or woman, I would open the door for them. It's just simple common courtesy. But there I was, with my arms full of a baby (yes he was in the sling, but I was still holding him) and the jerks couldn't even move their asses away from the door.
On the flip side, across town there is another kosher restaurant, with a similar menu. I actually like that place better but it's further from my home, so I don't go there as much. It's also family owned, by Jews. (I should probably clarify that I am, in fact, Jewish-although I'm reformed almost to the point of non-practicing.) At that restaurant the wife plays a strong role in running the place and I'm treated much better there. I think they treat women in general better; it definitely has a more egalitarian atmosphere. I'm fairly certain they aren't quite as religious as the owner of the other place.
Either way, it really irks me that the first restaurant treats women with such disdain. It really makes me feel like my business is not appreciated and it pisses off my feminist side. I think of all those bumper stickers that say, "What would Jesus do?" and it makes me wonder-what would Gloria Steinem do?
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
At the local cat shelter
As I mentioned, after a month or so of pondering, I had my cat of 12 years put to sleep. Even before I made the decision I knew I would want to get another cat. It's still too soon, but I know it will happen at some point. So this afternoon, out of curiosity I decided to check out a local cat shelter. I found out about them online. They specialize in cats and they have a lot of animals at their shelter. It was a nice place and it seemed that all the cats were well cared for. As it happened, most of the cats there were adults. Adults are harder to find homes for. But I specifically wanted a young adult.
I explained to the ladies (they were all volunteers) about our family and household dynamics and what kind of animal I was looking for and they immediately thought of one big boy. He was about 2 years old and was a huge tabby. He probably weighed close to 20 pounds! He let me hold him and then I set him down and started petting him. After a few seconds he started to lick my hand. When a cat licks you like that it's a pretty clear sign of approval. When I stopped petting him to talk to the volunteers he meowed at me for more attention. He would have been a great match for us. He was a sweetheart; very outgoing and affectionate. As I walked around the place he followed me. Just the kind of cat I want. And definitely big enough to hold his own against a rambunctious 5 year old child.
Then the volunteers started asking me more pointed questions. When we discussed Moe they started to frown. The conversation went downhill from there. I honestly told them that our condos official policy is no pets, but unofficially it's a kind of "don't ask, don't tell". We had Moe here for 7 years and everyone (including management and the condo board) knew. But we were discreet and responsible and no one minded one bit. The cat ladies didn't like that at all. The main woman in charge all but accused me of putting my cat to sleep for absolutely no reason. "13 isn't old for a cat; 20 is old for a cat." She made me feel horrible and made it pretty clear I wasn't good enough to adopt one of her cats.
Making the decision to put your cat to sleep is an agonizing and horrible choice to have to make. It was bad enough to have to do that, but to be treated like that was just awful. I shouldn't have to justify it to anyone.
Meanwhile that lady has a shelter full of animals who need homes. Most of which are adults and will be very difficult to adopt out. The one I liked had been there for a year. They told me they have to cage him at night because he didn't get along with the black cats. (Apparently he had a bad experience with a black cat when he was younger and kept his guard up.) I could have given him a happy home and instead of sleeping in a cage he could have slept in my bed. But I wasn't good enough. They feed him generic grocery store cat food. Over the years I fed my cat Iams, Nutro and Science Diet. It's been my experience that cats usually have a fantastic ability to judge character and in the most successful adoptions it's the cat that chooses the owner, not the other way around. He would have been quite pleased to come home with me. But no, my "excuse" for putting Moe to sleep wasn't good enough for them.
They completely ignored the fact that I was (am) extremely concerned about making sure that we and the cat are matched up well. They ignored the fact that I made it clear that this would be a strictly indoor cat who would have access to a screened patio (perfect for bird watching). They completely disregarded the 12 years I had with Moe. No, I put my cat to sleep so I was an "undesirable".
Oh and interestingly enough, they aren't opposed to declawing, as long as it's a young cat. I thought that was weird for an animal rights group; a bit out of character for cat lovers. I'm not going to cast judgment against anyone for declawing their cat, I know it's something some cat owners feel is necessary, particularly when they have small children in the house. It's just something I would prefer not to do to my own pet given a choice. And the majority of cats in that shelter were overweight. There were very few lean and athletic cats there. Now I happen to like fat cats, but I did think it was a bit odd to see so many of them in one place. I thought it was a sign that they have been there entirely too long.
Ok, so they are making sure the cats aren't destroyed by the humane society or animal control. But how fair is it to the animals to be so incredibly stringent in your adoption guidelines that you effectively rule out people who really would be loving and responsible owners? How fair is it to keep them in a shelter rather than get them into safe and caring homes? A bit more subjectivity would be appropriate and in the best interests of the cats. And in my case the experience just taught me to lie to the next shelter. "No, I haven't had a cat since I last lived with my mom. Sure, my condo association allows pets." Honestly should be the best policy, but apparently that's not always the case.
I explained to the ladies (they were all volunteers) about our family and household dynamics and what kind of animal I was looking for and they immediately thought of one big boy. He was about 2 years old and was a huge tabby. He probably weighed close to 20 pounds! He let me hold him and then I set him down and started petting him. After a few seconds he started to lick my hand. When a cat licks you like that it's a pretty clear sign of approval. When I stopped petting him to talk to the volunteers he meowed at me for more attention. He would have been a great match for us. He was a sweetheart; very outgoing and affectionate. As I walked around the place he followed me. Just the kind of cat I want. And definitely big enough to hold his own against a rambunctious 5 year old child.
Then the volunteers started asking me more pointed questions. When we discussed Moe they started to frown. The conversation went downhill from there. I honestly told them that our condos official policy is no pets, but unofficially it's a kind of "don't ask, don't tell". We had Moe here for 7 years and everyone (including management and the condo board) knew. But we were discreet and responsible and no one minded one bit. The cat ladies didn't like that at all. The main woman in charge all but accused me of putting my cat to sleep for absolutely no reason. "13 isn't old for a cat; 20 is old for a cat." She made me feel horrible and made it pretty clear I wasn't good enough to adopt one of her cats.
Making the decision to put your cat to sleep is an agonizing and horrible choice to have to make. It was bad enough to have to do that, but to be treated like that was just awful. I shouldn't have to justify it to anyone.
Meanwhile that lady has a shelter full of animals who need homes. Most of which are adults and will be very difficult to adopt out. The one I liked had been there for a year. They told me they have to cage him at night because he didn't get along with the black cats. (Apparently he had a bad experience with a black cat when he was younger and kept his guard up.) I could have given him a happy home and instead of sleeping in a cage he could have slept in my bed. But I wasn't good enough. They feed him generic grocery store cat food. Over the years I fed my cat Iams, Nutro and Science Diet. It's been my experience that cats usually have a fantastic ability to judge character and in the most successful adoptions it's the cat that chooses the owner, not the other way around. He would have been quite pleased to come home with me. But no, my "excuse" for putting Moe to sleep wasn't good enough for them.
They completely ignored the fact that I was (am) extremely concerned about making sure that we and the cat are matched up well. They ignored the fact that I made it clear that this would be a strictly indoor cat who would have access to a screened patio (perfect for bird watching). They completely disregarded the 12 years I had with Moe. No, I put my cat to sleep so I was an "undesirable".
Oh and interestingly enough, they aren't opposed to declawing, as long as it's a young cat. I thought that was weird for an animal rights group; a bit out of character for cat lovers. I'm not going to cast judgment against anyone for declawing their cat, I know it's something some cat owners feel is necessary, particularly when they have small children in the house. It's just something I would prefer not to do to my own pet given a choice. And the majority of cats in that shelter were overweight. There were very few lean and athletic cats there. Now I happen to like fat cats, but I did think it was a bit odd to see so many of them in one place. I thought it was a sign that they have been there entirely too long.
Ok, so they are making sure the cats aren't destroyed by the humane society or animal control. But how fair is it to the animals to be so incredibly stringent in your adoption guidelines that you effectively rule out people who really would be loving and responsible owners? How fair is it to keep them in a shelter rather than get them into safe and caring homes? A bit more subjectivity would be appropriate and in the best interests of the cats. And in my case the experience just taught me to lie to the next shelter. "No, I haven't had a cat since I last lived with my mom. Sure, my condo association allows pets." Honestly should be the best policy, but apparently that's not always the case.
Monday, January 21, 2008
RIP Moe
12 years ago I brought home a beautiful long-haired black cat. His name was Moe. He was a year old when I adopted him. He was an absolute sweetheart, incredibly affectionate and he had character. He was so cool. He was rather vocal when he was younger and I could have entire meowing conversations with him. He had a loud purr too. He was a big cat; at his largest he weighed close to 18 pounds! He usually slept on my bed. He hogged the bed. I don't know how he did it, but when the weather was cool he somehow managed to get into the very center of the bed and shove us to the sides. My husband and I would wake up only to discover Moe, spread eagle, in the middle of the bed, wrapped in the comforter. We would barely have a scrap of blanket. If he wanted attention he would do the dog thing; that is, he would tap you with his paw. When you rubbed his head or his back he would reciprocate by licking you. He greeted us at the door when we came home, he came when we called him, and when he was younger he did some really funny stuff.
One time he managed to get himself stuck in the drop ceiling in the kitchen of our previous home. I remember I couldn't find him. As far as I knew, he had disappeared. I was frantically searching the house for him. Right in the middle of a panic attack-wondering where my baby was-I stood in the kitchen and looked up, as if seeking divine intervention. When I saw a big black shadow appear in the plastic ceiling tiles. And then he meowed. I realized he must have climbed on top of the fridge and while exploring, found his way inside that drop ceiling, but couldn't figure out where the exit was. He seemed to have lost interest in sitting on top of the fridge after that.
Over the past few years he noticeably aged. Some relatives were in town about a month ago. They hadn't seen Moe in about 2 years and they were shocked at how shabby he had gotten. I guess I didn't notice it so much because I was around him every day. He had always been very proud of his silky, long fur. He spent hours grooming himself. But over the past few years he just didn't have the energy anymore. He was having serious digestive problems. Rather than going into icky details, suffice it to say it was getting rather messy and smelly around here. I don't think anyone could go through that without serious discomfort. Beyond that I could tell he hadn't been happy for a long time.
Today I brought him to the vet knowing I might not be bringing him home. After I explained his symptoms, she thought he might have thyroid problems. So she suggested running a series of blood work. The thing is, if the tests came back positive for a thyroid condition he would have had to be medicated for the rest of his life. There was no guarantee that medication would clear up his "messy" problems either and even if it did, it wasn't a cure. I really felt like that would just be prolonging the inevitable. He was sick and would only get sicker. So I asked her about putting him to sleep.
As it happens, I have an online friend who had a cat that had been in a similar situation and suffered so severely from thyroid disease, that he ended up having a seizure that killed him. She said he wasted away to skin and bones. She couldn't bring herself to put him down and he suffered for it. She was very supportive about my decision to put him down.
He went out very quickly and peacefully. I held him while he left. He didn't suffer as I know he would have if I had kept him alive, but medicated. I cried the whole way home. I knew it was the right time for Moe, myself and my family, but that's never a decision anyone wants to make. Despite my husband and my son, the house feels strangely empty; as if someone is missing. I kept his litter box in the cabinet under my bathroom sink. It's so weird to look at that cabinet with the door closed. I keep having this nagging feeling that I'm supposed to open it for him, yet he's not around to use the loo.
He was my companion and my first baby before I even met my husband. He kept me company when I was sick or upset. He gave me his stamp of approval when I met my husband. He actually peed on my guy in the first few weeks we were dating to "mark" him. It definitely wasn't done as an insult either; he was staking his claim on my soon to be husband. Thankfully my guy had a great sense of humor about it. Moe was a fantastic judge of character. He was a wonderful cat. Rest in peace my beautiful Moe.
One time he managed to get himself stuck in the drop ceiling in the kitchen of our previous home. I remember I couldn't find him. As far as I knew, he had disappeared. I was frantically searching the house for him. Right in the middle of a panic attack-wondering where my baby was-I stood in the kitchen and looked up, as if seeking divine intervention. When I saw a big black shadow appear in the plastic ceiling tiles. And then he meowed. I realized he must have climbed on top of the fridge and while exploring, found his way inside that drop ceiling, but couldn't figure out where the exit was. He seemed to have lost interest in sitting on top of the fridge after that.
Over the past few years he noticeably aged. Some relatives were in town about a month ago. They hadn't seen Moe in about 2 years and they were shocked at how shabby he had gotten. I guess I didn't notice it so much because I was around him every day. He had always been very proud of his silky, long fur. He spent hours grooming himself. But over the past few years he just didn't have the energy anymore. He was having serious digestive problems. Rather than going into icky details, suffice it to say it was getting rather messy and smelly around here. I don't think anyone could go through that without serious discomfort. Beyond that I could tell he hadn't been happy for a long time.
Today I brought him to the vet knowing I might not be bringing him home. After I explained his symptoms, she thought he might have thyroid problems. So she suggested running a series of blood work. The thing is, if the tests came back positive for a thyroid condition he would have had to be medicated for the rest of his life. There was no guarantee that medication would clear up his "messy" problems either and even if it did, it wasn't a cure. I really felt like that would just be prolonging the inevitable. He was sick and would only get sicker. So I asked her about putting him to sleep.
As it happens, I have an online friend who had a cat that had been in a similar situation and suffered so severely from thyroid disease, that he ended up having a seizure that killed him. She said he wasted away to skin and bones. She couldn't bring herself to put him down and he suffered for it. She was very supportive about my decision to put him down.
He went out very quickly and peacefully. I held him while he left. He didn't suffer as I know he would have if I had kept him alive, but medicated. I cried the whole way home. I knew it was the right time for Moe, myself and my family, but that's never a decision anyone wants to make. Despite my husband and my son, the house feels strangely empty; as if someone is missing. I kept his litter box in the cabinet under my bathroom sink. It's so weird to look at that cabinet with the door closed. I keep having this nagging feeling that I'm supposed to open it for him, yet he's not around to use the loo.
He was my companion and my first baby before I even met my husband. He kept me company when I was sick or upset. He gave me his stamp of approval when I met my husband. He actually peed on my guy in the first few weeks we were dating to "mark" him. It definitely wasn't done as an insult either; he was staking his claim on my soon to be husband. Thankfully my guy had a great sense of humor about it. Moe was a fantastic judge of character. He was a wonderful cat. Rest in peace my beautiful Moe.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Waste of a day
Jury duty are the two key words here. A few weeks ago I received a summons for jury duty. I thought, "Oh bummer." A day or two later I received a duplicate summons. I suppose they started sending everyone duplicates to send a clear message that they mean business.
Everyone gave me advice on what to say to get out of it. I heard some crazy stuff too! "Tell them you're studying pre-law." "Tell them you have a good friend who's a cop and that you are very pro-cop." "Tell them you think the system is bust and you don't trust it." Yada, yada, yada. The thing is you actually need to find yourself in a courtroom to have the opportunity to say any of those things. One lady today actually told the jury coordinator that jury duty was "against her religion". Another moron first claimed he was sick (he actually brought a medical mask with him) then later claimed he was a student. Nope, if you have a conflict of interest or some other problem it's not relevant until you are actually in a courtroom.
My summons informed me that I was to check in no later than 8:30. I arrived early to the jurors room. At around 8:45 we received jury duty "orientation"-which was a joke. I took Civics in middle school and American Government in high school, so I understand how and why our government is set up the way it is. Although I suppose if you slept through all of your social studies classes you just might need the crash course in civics.
After the "orientation" (read-waste of my time) they started calling people for cases. Then they stopped. And I sat...
...and sat,
...and sat,
and then I did something really original...I sat some more. I read the book I toted to the courthouse. I actually dozed off for a while. Then around 10:40 they started calling people for more cases. Finally at 10:45 I was called!
...and my group was informed that the judge wanted us to take a lunch break and come back at 1:15. Yes-we were told to take a 2 1/2 hour lunch break. So I wandered the downtown district aimlessly for a bit. I had lunch. I unfortunately found the worst Starbucks in town. (Seriously! I always get a decaf-Cafe Mocha. They screwed it up not once, but twice! It tasted bitter, like burnt coffee. ICK!) And then eventually meandered back to the courthouse.
My group came back at 1:15...and sat around for another half an hour until finally the bailiff called us all into the actual courtroom. The judge then gave us his spiel about why jury duty is important to our justice system. Like I said, I took civics so none of it was news to me. Then just as we were about to get down to business the bailiff said, "Excuse me, we have a verdict!" Apparently the defendant copped a plea-at least I assume. Then the judge asked us all to wait in the hall. We sat there for another half hour only to come back...to be sent home.
I really had much better things to do with my day. What a waste of my time and energy.
Everyone gave me advice on what to say to get out of it. I heard some crazy stuff too! "Tell them you're studying pre-law." "Tell them you have a good friend who's a cop and that you are very pro-cop." "Tell them you think the system is bust and you don't trust it." Yada, yada, yada. The thing is you actually need to find yourself in a courtroom to have the opportunity to say any of those things. One lady today actually told the jury coordinator that jury duty was "against her religion". Another moron first claimed he was sick (he actually brought a medical mask with him) then later claimed he was a student. Nope, if you have a conflict of interest or some other problem it's not relevant until you are actually in a courtroom.
My summons informed me that I was to check in no later than 8:30. I arrived early to the jurors room. At around 8:45 we received jury duty "orientation"-which was a joke. I took Civics in middle school and American Government in high school, so I understand how and why our government is set up the way it is. Although I suppose if you slept through all of your social studies classes you just might need the crash course in civics.
After the "orientation" (read-waste of my time) they started calling people for cases. Then they stopped. And I sat...
...and sat,
...and sat,
and then I did something really original...I sat some more. I read the book I toted to the courthouse. I actually dozed off for a while. Then around 10:40 they started calling people for more cases. Finally at 10:45 I was called!
...and my group was informed that the judge wanted us to take a lunch break and come back at 1:15. Yes-we were told to take a 2 1/2 hour lunch break. So I wandered the downtown district aimlessly for a bit. I had lunch. I unfortunately found the worst Starbucks in town. (Seriously! I always get a decaf-Cafe Mocha. They screwed it up not once, but twice! It tasted bitter, like burnt coffee. ICK!) And then eventually meandered back to the courthouse.
My group came back at 1:15...and sat around for another half an hour until finally the bailiff called us all into the actual courtroom. The judge then gave us his spiel about why jury duty is important to our justice system. Like I said, I took civics so none of it was news to me. Then just as we were about to get down to business the bailiff said, "Excuse me, we have a verdict!" Apparently the defendant copped a plea-at least I assume. Then the judge asked us all to wait in the hall. We sat there for another half hour only to come back...to be sent home.
I really had much better things to do with my day. What a waste of my time and energy.
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
Never piss off your hairdresser
I saw something recently that reminded me of the movie "Sixteen Candles". You know, that Molly Ringwald teen flick from the mid 1980's. There is a scene in the movie where the quintessential "popular" girl is completely trashed. The girl is so far gone that she really isn't aware of what is going on around her. Her hair gets stuck in a door and someone takes a scissor and simply hacks her hair (instead of trying to get the door unlocked). Surprisingly, over the past few months I've seen an increasing number of women with that hairstyle. For the life of me I cannot figure out why someone would ask a hairdresser to deliberately fuck up their hair. But apparently some people think it's a good idea. I mean...why would you want to walk around looking like you got into a fight with a lawnmower...and lost?
I think if I asked my hairdresser to do that she would check my temperature to make sure I was alright. It's possible she would simply ask me if I'm on drugs. She just might even try to Baker Act me. However I always try to be especially nice to my hairdresser (& my mechanic). There are certain people in your life who you simply should not piss off; you hairdresser and mechanic being among them. They're entirely too important!
I think if I asked my hairdresser to do that she would check my temperature to make sure I was alright. It's possible she would simply ask me if I'm on drugs. She just might even try to Baker Act me. However I always try to be especially nice to my hairdresser (& my mechanic). There are certain people in your life who you simply should not piss off; you hairdresser and mechanic being among them. They're entirely too important!
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