Have you been in the kitchenette at work recently? Seen the mess of coffee cups? Thought that you really wanted a clean cup, not some half-washed skeevy cup?

Yes? Me too. And I work at home.

This cup is lockable. So it’s MINE all MINE. You don’t hold the key. No coffee for you! I wash, I clean, I drink, I lock.

As you probably suspect, the kitchenette, and other shared spaces, exemplify some of the challenges of working in a group. This is the space in which you see exactly who can’t clean up after herself, who can’t remember that he has twenty lunches in Tupperware in the fridge until they are thrown out and he runs in yelling, “NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” and who exactly can’t remember to wash her own coffee cup. The kitchenette brings out the inner child in many of us, and that inner child wants mom to clean up. But, as the sign says, Mom does not work here anymore.

Read more at Gommeh, which I found via TreeHugger. I’d forgotten how much I liked industrial design. I’m not procrastinating. Really.

I’m not a giant fan of Sunday afternoons. Wait, that’s an understatement. I actually hate Sunday afternoons.

I think it might be a holdover sensation from being in school when Sunday afternoon meant that Monday was right around the corner. But I haven’t been in school for years and Sunday is still tinged with dread for me.

I’m finishing up some projects now so that Monday won’t be too terrible, but I thought I would open it up to suggestions for Sundays (and Monday mornings) to feel less dreadful.

Like many women, I have a hot and cold relationship with women’s magazines.

The hot part is that I realize they are one of the primary print tools to communicate with literate women in the western world.

The cold part is that the messages they send to women often suck. And by suck, I mean that they often suggest that with the right hair cut, right eye shadow, right flirting technique, right sex moves, you’ll get what you want. And that’s just nonsense. My hair cut never got me a job. (But my eyeshadow, on the other hand….that’s landed me any number of opportunities. That was a joke.)

But CosmoGirl seems to have started a professional networking club to put young women in the White House. It’s called Club 2024.

Based on my limited experience teaching high school and even working with my assistant over the summer, I think a networking club for girls is an excellent idea.

As you probably know, if you don’t talk to kids about college, it doesn’t appear on their radar. Lots of research suggests that most kids know by sixth grade if they’re going to college. Sixth grade! Likewise, if you don’t talk to girls about opportunities in the higher eschelons of politics and business, it will never happen.

I’ve joined their club. I’m probably the oldest member.

Via Girlistic and check out The White House Project

I’ve been thinking a bit about the Reverend Ted Haggard, as has just about every other religion/spirituality blogger.

It seems that under the name of “Art,” (and, oh, how I find the name ironic and amusing) he may have bought gay sex and meth from a prostitute. At least he admits to “massage” and “purchase” of said drugs, but not to whatever he thinks constitutes sex and to use of drugs.

And normally that would just be par for the course in terms of relevations about officials were he not one of the most powerful evangelicals in the country, a man on weekly conference calls with the president. (Though I see that the White House now says they scarcely knew him. Yes, just like Jack Abramoff.)

Now when I was young and immature, I generally thought that most people who were homophobic (and homophobic seems too mild a word for evangelical attitudes toward gayness—perhaps hateful is more accurate) were just ignoring a part of themselves that was inclined toward gayness. (But then I actually found some research that suggested that). And, I wish that I had been proven wrong, but again and again these folks in the public arena who quote from the Bible in order to take away basic human rights seem to be easy to topple.

David Kuo seems inclined to accept and move on past the politics as we are all fallible. And I would agree that all Christians fall short of living up to the perception of Jesus.

But I’m angrier than David. Ted Haggard wasn’t some powerless hick yelling bigotted remarks as two men walked by holding hands. He was built a systematic approach to denying basic human rights by launching an anti-gay marriage initiative. Now whether that’s because he himself didn’t want to be marginalized, or felt the need to hate, or was afraid of his own sexuality—none of these reasons for denying human rights matters to me, really. I’d like the evangelical movement to do some soul searching, some careful reading of the Bible with, say, modern interpretations of what “abomination” means (not anti-gay, but anti-rudeness to strangers in desert culture), and I’d like them to knock off the anti-gay rhetoric.

You want to know who’s harming America? It’s not anti-war activists, gays, and people accused of helping terrorists because they checked out a library book. It’s parts of the Evangelical movement, who have entered the public forum intent on denying basic human dignity and rights.

Read the full story on BBC News.

I just registered for the Arizona State University Desert Nights, Rising Stars conference, despite its name, which I find reminiscent of Ali Baba.

I’m taking a Fiction 1 workshop with Kevin McIlvoy. Small group workshops have only five people in them. Both Katrina Denza and Cliff Garstang spoke very highly of Kevin McIlvoy as their workshop leader at Breadloaf, so I’m thinking this will be great. I’ve read The Complete History of New Mexico, which Myfanwy sent me, and it was stunning. Then later I read The Fifth Station, his novel about the relationships between three brothers, and was equally impressed.

I’m looking for other people to go. Please.

Don’t make me take Fiction 1 alone. I realize no one else that I know even vaguely qualifies for Fiction 1, but there’s Fiction 2 and Nonfiction and Poetry too, and perhaps you could take Fiction 1 and focus on teaching style. It’s really a mini-workshop. Only four days, with only three for workshopping. Sort of a long weekend. I’m trying to coerce my family. Apparently I don’t like going to writing conferences alone. Perhaps the dog would like to attend and hold my hand with her paw. Wait, she seems interested. No, no. False alarm. Apparently, “Would you like to go to a writing conference?” sounds a lot like, “Would you like to go for a walk?” and, indeed she would.

Here’s the registration information.

You can search my blog and 50 other blogs on the Unitarian Universalist Blog Search. Some of my favorite blogs are listed: Philocrites, Arbitrary Marks, Peace Bang (I’m a particular fan of Peacebang’s Beauty Tips for Ministers), but I’ve also discovered Sex and Religion. I’m going to be busy.

Photo by Wise Gorilla (Click on the photo for the full reverse effect)

If you were dead and allowed back on earth for one day, what would you do?

You’d visit the folks you loved and share a meal.

That’s why every altar during Day of the Dead has critical elements for a meal: water for thirst, salt for flavor, and bread for sustenance. Marigolds and sugar skulls are often left at the altar.

Day of the Dead is traditionally celebrated in Mexico, but it’s also celebrated in the United States. It’s not a morbid or sad holiday. It’s about celebrating the lives of those who have passed on.

Resources
Food for the Ancestors
Misconceptions about Day of the Dead
Photos of Day of the Dead in Mexico
The History of Day of the Dead
Food as Culture for Day of the Dead

We are deep into the celebrations and appreciations of our brief time of earth. It’s my favorite time of year.

However, last night, Halloween, I experienced a strong sense of existential dread and we fled our house rather than encounter trick-or-treaters. Yes, we also took the dog. Upon reflection, I’ve realized that while I like candy and thinking about death and even being scared sometimes, I’m not partial to a. drunk neighbors, b. tiki torches, c. little kids coming to the door threatening to sue if we didn’t fix our stoop (yes, it happened, and yes, we fixed it) and d. the righteous indignation of a father when we did not realize that his daughter was Dora the Explorer. I think he even said, “No, duh!” when we apologized for not recognizing Dora. Sometimes holidays are better spent away from the neighbors.

In Western Christian traditions, such as Catholicism, today is All Saints Day, a celebration of saints and martyrs, the faithful who have died. (The Eastern Orthodox and Greek Orthodox churches are celebrate All Saints Day on the first Sunday after Pentecost). But today can be a righteous celebration, including Mass, if you are Catholic. No one in our neighborhood apparently is.

Tomorrow, of course, is Day of the Dead or All Souls Day. So gather your sugar skulls, marigolds, and make an altar for those who have passed. It’s party time. (Yes, I did just say, “It’s party time.” I know I sound like a dork. I’ve learned to live with this. You might as well too.)

I’m developing the posture of a troll. To be more precise, I would say the posture of an overworked troll hunched over her laptop as if it’s the last piece of cheese.

In case anyone else is, I’ve found some resources for postures to do at your desk at Everyday Yoga. These seem excellent and I feel much less troll-like.

I also found some Carpal Tunnel Syndrome and Repetitive Stress Injuries Exercises at the same site.