Cranberries

Thanksgiving.

Here it is.

I can hear Billie Holiday playing from down in the kitchen. It's my Tony Bennett Pandora station. I'm up in my office. Because I needed a minute. Or ten. Or maybe longer. I'd like to blame it on the bourbon but, it's not that. It's Thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving was my dad's favorite. He loved turkey. Like, holy hell, did that guy love turkey. Old Man Parker, you'll get worms, level of turkey love. It was like religion to him.

He wasn't a foodie, no, not at all. He wasn't a snob about food. He was a comfort food guy. Meat, potatoes, sweets. He would have had no use for artisan ketchups or any other Portlandia food item. Food carts? No, not for him. Turkey and potatoes and stuffing. And, cranberries. Not fresh. Not cooked on a stove. Just, from a can. Shaped like a can.

This is our fifth Thanksgiving without him. And, the fifth time I've eaten cranberry sauce from a can. I'm not sure why I never tried it. All those years, I think he was the only person who ate it. It was sliced up on a plate, sitting on the table. Just for him.

And, every year, I ignored it. I passed it by. I'm certain I made fun of him for it. I mean, come on, it's not even really food. It doesn't even require chewing.

It's things like that that you miss the most. The things you think will never end. Giving him a hard time over cranberries. One year you do, the next year you can't.

So, this year, I sliced up that can of Jellied Cranberry Sauce and ate three slices. And, tomorrow, I'll eat the rest. I'll think of my dad. I'll think of the littlest details. Like how that guy could eat pumpkin pie with a pile of whipped cream and turkey sandwiches for days.

I'll be thankful for the time we had.

I'll make sure that my kids know how much I love them.

I'll work on being thankful. For the littlest things.

Like cranberries.

And, memories.

Woman's Work

I don't write political posts. Not my deal. And, this isn't a political post. This is a why this is a big fucking deal post. The votes are in. The voting is over. I, and the rest of America am exhausted. But, this is a big deal. My team lost. We don't have the first woman president. This time. The fact that it will be more than 240 years and 45 men to get there is disheartening. It's upsetting that the women before us had to fight and were literally attacked and jailed fighting for the right for us as women to even vote just 94 years ago. That some people thought the best way to get their candidate in this year was to repeal the very amendment that our grandmothers fought for.

I'm heart broken. It's not that I wanted Hillary Clinton because she was a woman. I felt and still feel that she was the best candidate. She also happens to be a woman. We've come so far and yet, not far at all.

I'm not a man hater. I don't want anything special. I want crazy things like equality and respect.

This is a big fucking deal for me, the nine year old who wanted to play the drums in the band and was told 'drums are for boys'.

This is for me the 10 year old who couldn't play soccer on the co-ed team any more because 'they were too rough'. Instead of encouraging me to push back or fight harder, I just wasn't signed up again.

This is for me the 15 year old who's first job was at Dairy Queen where girls were required to wear long skirts and panty hose. At Dairy Queen. Where I watched the much younger perennially pregnant wife of the owner work her ass off while being submissive to him. I learned a lot from them. Probably not the lesson they were hoping for.

This is for me working at a grocery store and being told that 'women just don't make good managers'.

This is for me who worked for two years with a man who never looked me in they eyes as he was constantly focused on my chest. When I went to my male manager to complain, I was told that there wasn't really anything he could do and that 'he's been like that for years'.

I've been sexually harassed, sexually abused and minimized. I've been told to dress appropriately so that I am not raped. I've listened as people who I love and admire say things like 'she was asking for it' or 'well, look how she was dressed'. Because when women are attacked, it's somehow our fault.

This is for me who went to a hardware store, explained what I was building and what I needed to buy and was asked who was helping me then told that it was a big tool 'for a girl to handle'.

This is for me who was asked just the other day if I needed to check in with my husband before signing off on a repair. (Um, there isn't a husband...)

This is for me, who was guided by someone well meaning to learn all the 'business machines' I could in school because being a secretary 'is a good job'. I'm sure it is, I'll go ahead and manage an engineering team at one of the largest corporations in the world. In a male dominated profession. Where I actually work on a team where I am the only woman. And can hold my own.

This is for me and all the girls, ladies and women out there who are pushing for equality, speaking up, and breaking through glass ceilings. This is for the parents raising children to be whatever they want. That there is no such thing as 'girl jobs' or 'boy jobs' that you can be anything you want - even the President of the United States. Someday. We'll get there someday.

I'll keep speaking up, even though I'm often referred to as a bitch or that I get feedback for being blunt or too intense.

I'll take it as a compliment when I'm told I have 'big balls'.

My response is usually 'I know. Brass ones.'

But, really, I'm happy with my va-jayjay. It's far more powerful.

100th times a charm!

Well, this is it. My 100th post. And, guess what? I have nothing to say.

Not literally. I generally have something to say... but, it's the height of the election season. I don't write blogs about politics which removes a lot of material...

I've had a bitch of a cold for the last week. I've barely left the house. For someone who tends to write observational stories, being stuck in the house for four days is a total downer. Not only stuck in the house but yesterday I accidentally took a four hour nap. I must have needed it but was totally shocked when I looked over at the clock and it was 1:27...

I took an actual sick day today. Normally when I'm sick, I still call in to meetings and respond to emails but this morning, when I could barely pick up my head I thought a sick day was in order.

So, I sat with the television on. All day. While texting a number of friends. Sorry friends... I was bored...

Watched a lot of news, finished up Stranger Things on Netflix. Pretty good show. Sort of weird to see a cast of average to homely looking people. I think they are actually made to look homely... It's set in 1983 and looks just like a lot of my old family photos. We've all gotten better looking with time. Although, I'm guessing that in 30 years, we'll look back at photos and shows from now and think, 'wow, we had terrible taste, we look so much better now!'

I do have some high hopes for the future now that I've watched that series and spent some time remembering my childhood home.

So much nope. 

1) That appliances are never again avocado green or harvest gold.
2) That carpet remains neutral. There is no need to have an orange floor. Especially one that is shaggy. Who thought that was a good idea? Don't even get me started on carpet on walls...
3) Wood paneling should be banished forever.
4) Couches do not need to be adorned with velvety wagon wheels.
5) Wall paper need not have velvet nor foil.
6) The waist of the jeans shouldn't touch your bra.
7) The ankle of the jean not be as big as the waist.
8) Ruffles should not be required on the shirt collar.
9) The frames of glasses should be less than 25% of the face.
10) Perms on men. I'd like to say comb-overs but I still see those from time to time. Especially on orange people.

I'm sure there are more. Many, many more... but, that's enough for now... and not really how I thought my 100th post would go... I guess I imagined it as something profound and thoughtful.

No, seriously.