PSA: you are probably a feminist

I saw that today is International Women's Day. I can't say I even know what that is but it got me to thinking about how often I hear people (usually women) say, "Well, I'm no feminist, but..."

So: feminism is the belief that women deserve to be treated equally to men, with the same rights and opportunities. Unless you believe that women are inherently inferior to men and do not deserve to be, for example, paid the same wage for doing the same job, YOU ARE A FEMINIST.

preserved lemons

I've seen recipes for preserved lemons on various websites and even in the NY Times over the past couple years, and always thought it might be interesting to try. I have never had one, but by all reports they're delicious, so I look forward to finding uses for them.



For the first month or so after finding out I was pregnant, fruit was pretty much the only thing that sounded good to me. For someone who cares a lot about sustainable eating, craving pineapple in January is a problem. I caved and bought a lot of pre-cut fruit, mostly mediocre, and I think I've eaten at least 20 pounds of grapes. However, the one thing that's been in season is citrus, and those tiny clementines have been a real treat. Even if they aren't local, at least they're coming at the right time of year!



Eating organic food is important to me normally, and now that a baby is growing in me it seems even more important to avoid pesticides and other chemicals in my food. When it comes to preserving food with the skin on, though, it's imperative. These lemons will be eaten whole, so I've kept my eyes open for the past month or so and was excited to finally see a bag of organic lemons at the grocery store last night.

There doesn't seem to be an exact recipe, but you basically just smash a bunch of lemons into a jar with a ton of kosher salt, and let it set on your counter for 3 days to a month (depending on who you believe) and then keep in the fridge for 6 months to a year. I can't wait to taste them in a month!

it makes you NOT believe trolls don't live under bridges!

-a very animated man yelling into a cell phone in Foley Square

I've been overhearing a lot of interesting snippets of conversation lately, but this was the first that wasn't too vulgar or offensive for me to repeat.

i like my coffee like i like my women... covered in bees!

Just a little Eddie Izzard quote for you guys.

I just signed up for a beekeeping class! I'm SOOOO excited!

africa

married people, a photo by sarahs_and_aarons on Flickr.

Aaron is in South Africa this week for a school project. We have a lot of experience being apart but this time is a little weird because I'm pregnant (!)

It's not like I can't take care of myself but I am pretty exhausted and it's been nice to sometimes just lay on the couch while he brings me oranges and glasses of water and scissors (the 3 things I request most).

He did get me a webcam so we can skype though, so I might officially be the last person in the world to learn to do that. Isn't he nice?

citybear

citybear, a photo by sarahs_and_aarons on Flickr.

getting right back on the horse

I spent most of last night trying to brainstorm different ways I could avoid ever being at the pool at night again. My schedule would make morning swimming really difficult to pull off though.

Suddenly, around 4pm today, my experience from yesterday was still bothering me so much I decided I needed to just go swim again and try to write over the bad feelings with some good ones. Hardly anyone was there today and it worked! People were even civil on the subway ride home.

mad

I'm having a frustrating day, I'm angry that I still can't run after 4 months off, and angry that the people at the pool I joined to try to get SOME exercise are all just awful. I have been swimming since I was 10 and I have gotten into maybe 2 arguments in a pool. Until now... in the past month I've gotten yelled at by 3 people, all men, and as far as I can tell, all were being assholes because they had their ego bruised that a girl was faster than them.

What's ironic about it (or is it?) is that I'm NOT even fast, at all! At any of the other pools I've swum at I've been pretty much in the middle. I just feel like I can't win because if I try to pass someone, they try to speed up and make it into a race and I'm left in the middle of the lane, in "oncoming traffic" so to speak, which is dangerous, or they freak out because they don't know that passing is a normal thing. If you just wait behind someone hoping they will notice you've caught up to them and let you pass at the wall, you will be waiting all night long. If you gently tap on someone's foot, they pretend not to notice, and if you tap harder or touch another part of their body while turning (say, shoulder) to get their attention, they act like you assaulted them (this was the cause of the 3 yelling fights, but if you didn't want me to have to tap your shoulder or leg maybe you shouldn't have ignored me when I was being nice?) And people are going slow enough that you have to get by them somehow. Today was so bad I just got out and left after swimming only 800 yards, what a waste of a shower. I don't want to ever go back there.

Anyway, whatever. Really I just feel like I can't win because my body hates me and New York hates me and I hate it too. I spent the past 10 years getting into excellent shape and feeling invincible and now I feel very, very vincible indeed.

weekend knitting

There aren't that many places to sit in our apartment - really, just two uncomfortable tall bar chairs and a couch. So me and Bleecker have to share a lot.



She usually starts out sleepy and gradually becomes more interested in the yarn until she can't stop herself.



I managed to finish the chrysanthemum mittens in spite of her, but I'm not sure I really like them. They're too pointy. They need to be blocked, so maybe I'll do that first. I have small hands so I could rip out the point and make it flat on top, and still have plenty of room. I just wanted to be done!

comparisons

Today I went to interview a client in jail. There are lots of jails but this was at the most ominous-sounding one: The Tombs (also known as Manhattan Detention Center).

Anyway you give them your special pass and they give you a different pass and you lock all your things in a locker and go through a metal detector, etc. As I was leaving I handed back my jail pass and he puts it in the slot that matches it, and pulls out my ID, and looks at the picture, and says, "This isn't you, is it?"

Is it a girl thing that I wondered if he thought I was uglier than the picture, or the picture was uglier than me?