guilty pleasures

Alyssa over at Kind of a Mess has an ongoing series on her blog she entitles Dirty Little Secrets.  It’s fantastic, right?  Because we all have them.  Our guilty pleasures.

One of my guilty pleasures is Glee.  Now, FYI, I’m not writing this to steal from Alyssa.  I’m linking to Alyssa because, quite frankly, her blog is super fun and you should be reading it if you aren’t already.  It was just that, my 3 hour DVR Glee Marathon made me realize that certain TV genres are my guilty pleasure.  Specifically, sci-fi/fantasy (Joss Whedon, I’m looking at you, son), crime dramas, and, apparently, musical comedies.  (There’s only one on the air, but if there were more, I’m sure I would adore them too.)  I actually DVR Glee, and haven’t watched it since Christmas, so there were four episodes languishing on my DVR (along with a slew of episodes of V and House – because sarcastic Aussies are a weakness, too).

The thing is, I haven’t really felt in the mood to watch Glee.  Truth is, I never am.  I usually force myself, on a Saturday morning while C is still sleeping, to go through the DVR and watch these episodes.  It’s usually because C has scolded me for filling up the DVR and is worried about having room for his Bundesliga games and his episodes of NOVA Science NOW.  Anyway, after a “The DVR is at 86%, so I really need you to watch your TV this weekend,” lecture last night, I made my coffee and plopped on the couch for a Glee marathon.  And, as during every self-imposed marathon, I am totally sucked into it.

It’s actually kind of annoying this season – last season was filled with classic showtunes, 80’s hair bands, pop divas, and classic rock.  I spent a fortune on iTunes downloading all of the songs.  This season?  Justin Bieber and Katy Perry.  *barf*  I mean, I get it – clearly, last season was targeting the Gen X demographic, and this season is focusing on Millennials (which, actually, is appropriate), but really now?  AN ENTIRE EPISODE dedicated to The Biebs?  Ew.  (I mean, at least, Lea Michele can carry a tune, so even though they had the stupid Firework song, I hate the fact that it’s sung off-key more than I hate the song itself, so that wasn’t so bad.  But Justin Bieber is kinda creepy, folks.  Like, Hanson creepy.)

As I was fast-forwarding thru the teeny-bopper garbage, I got to enjoy Rachel and Mercedes Diva-Off.  (Sorry all, wanted to embed it, but it was disabled, and you really need to see the video, not just a picture of a slushie.)

Now, see, I love when Rachel sings showtunes; when she channels Idina Menzel (did I eat up the episodes with Idina as Rachel’s mom?  Yes, yes I did).  I love RENT, in part because I love La Boheme.  So – Rachel and Mercedes channeling Idina channeling Musetta?  OMG, I am in GLEEK HEAVEN.

And this is why I keep coming back to you, Glee.  Like a bad penny.

But, this is also why I will only watch you on DVR.  So I can fast forward through your poor decisions.

Catholic Guilt

I’m putting my Catholic Guilt to good use this year.

I grew up Catholic.  I’m currently non-practicing, and not necessarily just because I don’t feel like it, or getting up early on a Sunday is not for me.  On the contrary, I used to love going to the early early Mass each week.  It was quiet, it was solemn, it was austere.  When I did go to church, I preferred quiet contemplation.

It wasn’t until a few years ago that I finally reached my breaking point with the Church, and nothing to date has changed my mind.  I cannot reconcile the Church’s view on gay marriage and reproductive rights, and if my Church leaders do not want me to call myself Catholic because of this, I’m not going to force myself on them.  However, there is a certain mysticism underlying in Catholicism that I just find lacking in other Christian denominations that I am more aligned with politically.  I’ve thought about attending the Unitarian services in Albany, but as I said before, I enjoy quiet contemplation.  I went to Mass for me, not to feel as if I was a member of a community.  Going elsewhere just does not fit for my spirituality.

I worried about how my mother would take it when I told her I was not going to get married in a Catholic Church.  She has similar political beliefs, though still feels strongly about identifying as Catholic.  When I was baptised in 1982, in Brooklyn, one was not allowed to schedule a baptism other than in your Parish, and Parish was decided by geography.  The Church my mother grew up in, where she went to high school, was not an option, but instead it was St. Vincent’s.  Considering what St. Vincent stands for, what came out of this priest’s mouth was unconscionable.

He said to my mother, a single parent, all of 24 years old and just a little over a year out of college, still struggling to find a job, “I hope that you have asked God forgiveness for your mistakes.”  He said this while looking down at me.

My mother flew into a rage.  “I know I’m not perfect,” she said. “But don’t you DARE call my daughter a mistake.  My daughter is NOT a mistake.  And another thing – it’s priests like you who drive women like me to have abortions.”

He shut up and continued the baptism.  My mother never stepped foot in that particular Church again. 

Despite her own checkered feelings about the Church, I still worried about telling her that I wouldn’t get married in the Church.  Considering the rocky relationship my mother and I had in the early months of my engagement to C, I wondered if this was just another battle we were going to have.

“No,” she replied. “I get it.  I completely understand.”

I was somewhat floored.  There was a point in time where I wanted a full mass, and she had said she would be disappointed if I didn’t get married in the Church.  However, my mother knows me, and she knows I don’t make decisions like these lightly.  She knew that if I was making this decision, it was not because of convenience or aesthetics, but because I had thought it through on a deeper level.

Catholicism is very cultural for many of us who grew up with the religion.  There are certain rituals that I still find comfort in, and one of them is the practice of giving something up for Lent.  I find it to be more effective than a New Year’s resolution.  I choose something to better myself, and it is time-limited.  I have a goal in mind, and I know it’s not for “forever.”

This year, despite the fact I haven’t gone to Mass since the 2008 election season, I am giving up shopping for Lent, and will be doing the 30 for 30 challenge.  (A shoutout to Alex in the Soleil for introducing me to the challenge and inspiring me!)  Obviously Lent is more than 30 days, so I am going to participate Monday-Friday from Monday, March 14th (the Monday after Ash Wednesday) thru Friday, April 22nd.  I have planned to skip Thursday, March 17th, as that is a day to wear kelly green.  🙂  However, to ensure I have 30 days, I will do a make-up on Saturday, March 19 (we have plans to attend The Lion King at Proctors, so it is a good day).  I’m in the process of selecting the pieces I will rotate, and I’ve also been purging my closet for clothes that don’t fit or that I don’t care for anymore.  Also, in preparation, I just ordered a bunch of clothes from New York and Company – I know, I know, but they were having a good sale with free shipping, and I had a coupon and a gift certificate, so I actually only spent $0.21.  (Yes, you read that correctly.  Not bad, eh?)  Like Alex, I’ll be posting my progress on here.

The challenge only forbids you from shopping for clothes and accessories, however I am taking it a step further and doing no unnecessary purchases.  I’ll buy things that I need if I run out of them, and I will buy things for other people if an event calls for it, but no frivoulous purchases.  I know this is going to be harder than it initially appears, however I think it will be a good thing.  If anything else, it will teach me to be a more mindful consumer, something that I’ve been working on but really struggling with.

And, this is the purpose of Lent, right?  To use the time to cut something unnecessary out of your life to make you reflect on what is important, and to hopefully make you a better person afterward.  Going back to basics.  I remember, as a girl in Catholic elementary school, we were “required” to give something up for Lent, and finding it to be an annoying chore.  The nuns alluded that it was something to suffer over, as Christ did.  I don’t think Christ wants us to suffer just for the sake of suffering, but I DO think he wants us to take time to reflect on our actions and how they impact us and those around us.  I wish it had been explained to me better as a child.

Lent, like everything else with the Catholic Church, seems to mean something different for me.

Jury Duty

A few weeks ago, I was called for Jury Duty, to report on February 7.

I remember when C was called for Jury Duty a couple of years ago.  All he did was complain about it.  I lectured him about civic duty, and he responded, “Easy for you to say.  YOU didn’t get called.”

“I know,” I replied. “But I really want to get called!”

He sighed.  “Of COURSE you do.”

I’m a civics geek.  OF COURSE the idea of jury duty had me very excited.

Anyway, I stuck the notice on my fridge and completely forgot about it until the morning of.  Roscoe, my cat, was mewing and looking expectantly at me to give him some treats, so I reached to the top of the fridge (where I keep them, so the little snot doesn’t eat into the bag on his own), and while doing so, my eyes grazed the notice.

Oh crap, I thought.

I called in to find out my instructions, then from there I took a picture on my phone of the notice and emailed my boss.  I called work as I was boarding the bus downtown.

I was armed with my Kindle and a crossword puzzle book to pass the time as we waited.  We were informed that there were two cases, and if we had read the front page of the Times Union that morning, we should let them know because we would be ineligible for one of the cases.

Ooooh, I thought. That’s the GOOD one. That’s the one I hope I get called for!

To my delight, that IS the one I was called for.  We entered the courtroom, and the case was mentioned along with the witness list.  The expected dates of the trial were told to us, and anyone with conflicts of any kind were invited to come forward to be excused.  Then, they called names and numbers to go up to the jury box.  And I was called.

Clearly, I was beyond excited at this point.

It was then that I learned what the case was about.

As many of you know, my mother works for The Office for the Prevention of Domestic Violence, and prior to that, she worked for a county social services office doing, among other things, Child Protective Services.  She now trains child welfare workers in counties and nonprofit agencies how to deal with cases of domestic violence.

Because of her work in CPS, she was friendly with a number of police officers, one of whom married her best friend a couple of years ago.  We attended their wedding, and they came to ours.  My brother-in-law is also a police officer.

The case?  A police officer was accused of beating his girlfriend.  And, from the questions the attorneys were asking us, it appeared that the physical evidence was sketchy at best, as was the girlfriend’s past.

Oh.  Oh dear.

I was going to have an issue with this case, if chosen for the jury.  I already felt the battle of wills in my head:  my moral position (that it is more likely for a woman (or man) to lie and say she (or he) is not being abused when he/she is in fact being abused rather than the reverse; that it is also common for abused partners to wait to come out and report after the fact, particularly when they think no one will believe them because their partner is a respected member of the community (such as a police officer); etc.), vs. my ethical position (that one is innocent until proven guilty beyond a reasonable doubt).

Surprisingly, though I was asked if I had any close ties to law enforcement (yes) and if I  or anyone I was close to had been the victim of domestic violence (also yes), I was never asked about whether or not I or someone I was close with worked in the domestic violence counseling or prevention field.  Because it was not asked, I did not disclose it, and I do feel a bit guilty about that.

I then thought of all the people who stretch the truth about whether or not they’re “comfortable” serving on a jury based on the case, etc., so they can get OUT of jury duty.  Was I really able to separate this and be a good juror, or was I just telling myself this because I really wanted to be on a jury?  I do like to think that I could have separated it and made the right decision, but my gut was telling me that it was likely this jury was going to have to acquit, and that I was going to have a very difficult time with that.

In the end, I was not selected.  I wasn’t told why, though I assume it was because I raised my hand on both the law enforcement question and the domestic violence question.  So, the first thing I did when I got home?  I read the story in the Times Union.

On Thursday, I saw that he was acquitted, just as I suspected he would be.  My stomach turns when I read the story.  Obviously, this was an unhealthy relationship for a vast number of reasons that have little to do with domestic violence, but I can assure you that many of the jurors agreed to the acquittal not because they didn’t believe her, but because they couldn’t say beyond a reasonable doubt that he didn’t do it.

Or, maybe, that would just be me.

I look forward to being called again in six years.

Addendum

Remember the post I wrote last week about it being open season on brides, with no end in sight?

For the record, this is NOT what I meant.

THIS IS.

In my comment*, I said, “+1, ESB.”  I really should have said, “+1000.”

 

*Please forgive the typos in my comment. I was posting from my Kindle, as I was in a waiting room to serve jury duty** today. It’s not the easiest device to type on. It is good to know, however, that I can surf the web on that little device, as I was unaware of this until today.

**Post on this experience is forthcoming.

Remedial Cooking

Have you ever seen the show, Worst Cooks in America, on the Food Network?

Yeah.  I’m thinking it may be time to send in an audition tape to get myself a slot in Kitchen Boot Camp.

I’m NOT a good cook.  I can generally make things that are palatable if it comes in a box, but C and I really don’t dig meals out of a box.  For a while, I got into the McCormick seasoning packets.  Slice some onions and mushrooms, get some top round beef, throw in the crockpot with water?  Voila!  Stew.  Roast up some potatoes to eat with it? Even better.  Chili?  Just take a seasoning packet, ground beef, canned beans and tomatoes, and toss in the crock.  At least the seasoning packets weren’t a total abomination.

Even still, we like fresh ingredients.  So, I’ve been trying.  But really, cooking is just SO intimidating for me.  I don’t come from a long line of women who have a secret sisterhood of great recipes.  I have a friend whose mom is trained as a creole/cajun chef, and she’s been taught a lot of tricks and recipes.  Not so with me.  And, what’s worse is, I’m a Type-A Overachiever, so the fact that I am less than adequate in the kitchen is frustrating and humiliating.  It makes me not want to cook.

Anyway, C saw this really tasty looking chili recipe in Bon Appetit.  “Huh,” I thought.  “I can do that.”

So, I spent a small fortune buying ingredients for my chili at the Honest Weight Food Co-Op.  I subbed out the canned chipotles for dried chipotles, because that would give it a spicy kick, right?  Right.  We already had chili powder at home.  ACTUALLY, we had one better – this deliciously spicy chili powder from the Asian market.

I couldn’t wait.  This was going to be an AWESOME chili.

I will admit, I did have some apprehension when the smoke in the kitchen made me cough and my nose sting.  I was a bit nervous that when I blew my nose chili powder was coming out.  But, well, this was supposed to be liked this, right?  I mean, the bulger and the butternut sqaush would absorb that.  It would have kick, certainly, but we like kick.  It was going to taste great!

It did taste great.  If you got past the fact that it was fiery enough to be a Man vs. Food challenge.  C, whose system is more sensitive than mine, spent all day yesterday with a stomachache.  My intestines weren’t exactly thrilled with me, either.

At first, we thought it was the dried chipotles that were my downfall.  However, upon discussing substitutions he suggested fresh habaneros.

“Habaneros?  Those AND chili powder?  I think it would be too spicy.”

“Eh, chili powder really isn’t all that spicy.”

“Sure it is.  That Asian chili powder is spicy!  That’s what I used in the chili.”

His eyes got wide as saucers.  “How much?”

How much?  2 1/2 tablespoons.  Way too much.  Because, you see, that “Asian chili powder” is actually dried chiles, crumbled.  Sure, it’s CALLED “chile powder” on the pouch, but it is quite obviously not the same thing.  At least, obvious to C.

C:  “This is totally a Worst Cooks in America mistake.  Could you see Robert Irvine’s face, while he watches you add dried chiles to your recipe!”

Me:  “Yes, but I wouldn’t be eliminated, because it tasted good!  You said so yourself!”

C:  “It made me sick!”

Me:  “Not til the next day.  They wouldn’t know that before judging!”

I think I need remedial cooking before Kitchen Boot Camp.