It’s been a while. I’ve been busy and when I have had time to sit down and write, somehow I find my mind drifting to other things with nothing left to trickle from my fingertips. But Thursday was the first really gorgeous day of the year, and it was a day that made me feel like just about anything was possible, so here I am.

The last month has been full of changes. I slowly quit just about all of my writing gigs and downright abandoned this space here for far too long. I was sad to leave MamaPop; so many current and former writers are truly my blogging tribe, but I think the door is always open there should I determine I need more weekly time with the Real Housewives. I’m also cutting back on my shifts at the kitchen shop; I absolutely love working there and being around people who are really into food, so I want to stay on as long as I can. I just don’t have as much time, especially during the day, any more.

The tiny flicker of our school is starting to catch fire. We have a building, and we have an office up and running. We have actual students enrolled. Families believe in what we’re doing enough that they’re willing to trust us with their child’s education. We’re hiring teachers–exciting, talented, passionate teachers. And, most importantly, we have a neighborhood.

Friends who’ve been close to this process know I was in love with a building in Tower Grove South that didn’t work out for us due to circumstances beyond our control. Our Plan B was a temporary fix; an old Lutheran school sitting empty just two blocks north of Arsenal on the corner of Pestalozzi and South Grand. We can stay here for two years; hopefully we’ll outgrow it after that, and we’ll move to our permanent home. But I can already say with certainty that I hope we move somewhere close. We’re so lucky to be a part of the South Grand neighborhood.

We know our student population is going to be incredibly diverse. Our neighborhood is mixed-income and pocketed with thriving immigrant communities: Bosnian, Hispanic, Nepalese, Bhutanese, and Vietnamese, to name a few. Our office window overlooks Tower Grove Park. Within walking distance is sushi, Vietnamese, Thai, Afghan, Mediterranean, a diner, Italian, and Middle Eastern restaurants. There is a public library six blocks away. Health clinics. Churches. International markets. A bookstore. We are part of a real, thriving, diverse community.

I keep saying “we”, because I’ve accepted a position with our school. Two weeks ago, I started working on a contract basis with the school. I have a desk and keys to the building. My “stuff” is there: my files and professional books and such. As of last Thursday’s  board meeting, I am officially working as the Director of Curriculum and Instruction of South City Prep. I can’t tell you how thrilled I am to get to continue the work I’ve been doing for over a year, but with an actual paycheck. Since then, I’ve spent a ton of time doing staffing. Processing resumes and moving forward (or not) through the hiring process is really time-intensive. We’ve had a very wide pool–no surprise due to the economy and the fact that almost every district is laying off teachers–but that pool has been much deeper than I initially thought it would be. I’ve talked to so many amazing people I would be privileged to work with.

Speaking of community, I am humbled by the outpouring of support we’ve had from our friends and family and even strangers who are just behind what we’re trying to do. Those aren’t just words. Our trivia night, which is the first fundraiser we’ve done, sold out in less than two weeks–without us even needing to put out the flier that Iron Stef designed for us. We’re at capacity for the venue. Almost all of our needs for the event have been graciously donated by friends, including so much from the food and restaurant industry here in town. Someone donated all staff and office furniture for the school. Another person donated tons of copies of Office. Organizations have approached us to provide our after-school and school break child care/enrichment needs at no cost. Over a dozen people came and canvassed businesses for us on a Sunday, an event that Jaelithe organized. My good friend Meghan has designed all our promotional materials. Other friends have graciously donated their time for whatever we need. Literally, multiple friends have said “I’m broke, but put me to work”. Friends volunteered to paint classrooms after construction. Another friend volunteered to paint a giant crest for our entryway. A work colleague wants to teach our kids how to cook and garden. All of our PR has been donated by Nick Sargent at Standing Partnership, who has taken us on as a pro-bono client. It’s just so fucking fantastic to have people believe in what we are doing enough to contribute, and my faith in humanity has been restored by the generosity of St Louisians.

Listen, I know this post makes me sound like I’ve turned downright optimistic. Where’s the outraged, pissy, sarcastic KBO of yore? Oh, she’s still here. Trust me. And my “boss” is down with the B-L-O-G because he’s also down with the Constitution. But I feel good. I feel like this is what I’m supposed to be doing right now. I feel like I did “before” depression. So in the face of asshole politicians kicking democracy in the nuts here and abroad, I’m choosing to celebrate the democracy we’re exercising by starting this badly-needed school. I’m sure I’ll rail against the patriarchy, evil corporations, religious zealots, and pretty much everyone else trying to keep the middle and working classes down again soon, but for now, I feel good.

Last week, a team from SCP, including myself, visited three high-performing charter schools in the New Orleans area. Because of the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, New Orleans has a huge charter school populations. More than half of their public schools are charters. We saw some downright awe-inspiring schools getting incredible results, and I left feeling really inspired and motivated about what’s to do to get ready to educate kids.

I have learned so much through this process, particularly during our visits to high-performing schools.  I’ve seen, over and over in our visits, programming implemented the right way, with all stakeholders intensely-committed to educating kids.  I’d seen bits and pieces tried elsewhere, never with the dramatic results these schools are getting. I’m completely rethinking how I think we educate teachers. Before, I knew that we were doing it wrong, but I didn’t know exactly how I would train teachers differently.  This is something I could expound on at length but I’ll still stand by what I’ve said before, which is that it should absolutely be harder to become a teacher. I’ll also say these schools weren’t perfect, but there’s a lot we can learn and play with when designing programming for our school.

While in New Orleans, also got to scout some eatin’, and I would highly recommend Cochon if you are in New Orleans. We had an outstanding meal that surpassed my expectations, and I would undoubtedly visit again when I return to the city. You should go there if you get the chance. It’s a great place for people really into food to take their less-adventurous friends and have a meal that satisfies everyone. Totally approachable food that was still exciting.

Unrelated to anything serious, I’m a finalist for the RFT’s Web Awards in the category of Best Personal Blog. I’m going to lose to up against my friend and fellow Church of Burger Priestess Stef Pollack of fantastic The Cupcake Project. So many of my friends are up for awards, which makes me a member of the cool nerds, I guess.

Thank you so much to whomever nominated me, unless this is some weird elaborate prank to humiliate me, like on Carrie. Because if it is, me and my dirty pillows will have no problem sourcing heritage-breed pig blood that I can and will telepathically hurl at my would-be humiliators. I also still have a pig head. So, basically, JUST TRY ME.

Check back next week to see if I “win” or not. I hope, like all situations I find myself in, it involves a giant check.

1. Coasting down a slight decline on my bike.

2. With a slight buzz.

3. While eating a Gus’s pretzel.

4. Surrounded by friends.

5. On a cool, gorgeous, autumn day in October, leaves falling around us.

Did you read the Vanity Fair article “Sarah Palin: The Sound and the Fury“? This article bummed the hell out of me. Not because Sarah Palin is a corrupt, greedy, power-hungry, Machiavellian, sociopath of the first order. I already knew that. But because people are still thinking she’s relevant and somehow has something of substance to offer our nation and are embracing her anti-intellectual posturing while simultaneously lining her pockets with PAC money for giving canned speeches. Wake up, Palinites: she wants to stay folksy so you’ll stay stupid enough to keep giving her money for doing nothing.

I’m frustrated that the right wants to subscribe to the “screaming banshee” method of discourse, seeing who can interrupt more and shout irrelevant talking points louder instead of actually backing up assertions with logic, facts, and rational thought. I’m disillusioned that Glenn Beck and his ilk are going after “social justice” as some kind of code word for tyrranical kitten killing as opposed to dismantling systemic oppression perpetrated by wealthy white men for ten thousand years. I’m disillusioned that education of any type other than homeschooling or private religious education is portrayed as indoctrination into socialism and unworthy of any funding at all while at the same time denigrating what education can and does do for citizens of this country. I’m pissed off that those on the right who have brains and intelligence have been shut out of discussions of what could be bipartisan solutions to our country’s myriad problems in the name of the screaming banshees. I’m really fucking sick of tea party nutjobs acting as though they have sole claim to “liberty” and “patriotism” while they conveniently ignore those parts of the Constitution that don’t serve their agenda, all while propping up this document most of them have never read.

If you think I’m exaggerating, you must not live in a city where the tea party gets a disproportionate amount of coverage in the local news.

I’m also sick of those attempting to turn this country into a theocracy through a combination of legislated religious dogma and downright bigotry. I have no interest in becoming a handmaid, and it is downright shameful that in 2010, citizens of this country are legally discriminated against and lack the same civil rights as the hegemony, hiding behind YET ANOTHER document, this time scripture, that they pick and choose to use based on their desires.

I’m tired of a ideological strategy that involves being so fucking ridiculous that the other side bangs their collective heads against a wall until they are unconscious, or at least too dazed to wade through arguments not based in reality. I’m tired of smug talking heads being deliberately obtuse in order to stick to their message, spouting the party line while wearing a shit-eating grin and playing an only-slightly more sophisticated version of I Know You Are But What Am I.

I’m disillusioned because one of my Canadian friends told me they (and by “they”, I mean Canadians in general) think our whole country must be high since Sarah Palin continues to be relevant. Worst high ever, let me tell you, if that’s true.

And, most of all, I’m pissed that being on the ground, working for positive change in our communities, has little-to-no impact on the local and national dialogue. If the people doing the real work in this country, trying to fix our schools, our health care, and our communities were the people doing talking heads on CNN, instead of pundits looking for ratings or career politicians seeking reelection or insanely lucrative work in the private sector after they’ve used and abused America, this country might look different. Hell, I’m pissed at how many of my so-called progressive friends aren’t doing shit to make our world a better place besides maybe giving money to this campaign or that.

Fuck this shit, I'm going to DC. Time to take back sanity.

]]> http://southcityconfidential.com/2010/09/22/599/feed/ 11 http://southcityconfidential.com/2010/09/14/kickball-aging-and-a-stream-of-semi-consciousness/ http://southcityconfidential.com/2010/09/14/kickball-aging-and-a-stream-of-semi-consciousness/#comments Tue, 14 Sep 2010 15:06:08 +0000 KBO http://southcityconfidential.com/?p=586 New readers may not know that I play kickball for Team Awesome, a motley crew of Busch-swilling hardcore fans and the various people associated with them, including most of my St Louis girlfriends at one point or another. We used to be pretty good, but we’re old now. We even have team members who have kids and bring strollers and such to games. We’re losing our edge, I tell you, although there’s still plenty of mid-game smoking, boss tunes as at-bat anthems, and jorts-wearing. One dude wears manpris. We won’t discuss it. In any event, I know it’s a lame hipster whatever, but we have a good time and I fool myself into thinking it’s exercise. Except it becomes exercise sometimes.

The fall season started Saturday, and I was woefully unprepared. We only had five women during the first game so we all had to play the whole first game and most of us played the whole second game. And I didn’t run or stretch before the games because I was wrangling Neko, trying to get her comfortable with large group situations. Ten years ago, warming up was for suckers and grandmas. In 2010, at age 30, it’s crucial. You wouldn’t think that you would do, like, actual physical activity, but I played first base the whole time and we scored lots of runs both games, so I had to run more than these lungs are used to. That night, after our doubleheader, a bunch of us were drinking beer and eating tacos at Rev Em’s house and we were already creeping around like we had all run a marathon that day. So I knew I was in trouble.

Fun fact: I minored in exercise science in college. Strange combo, the English major/ex-sci minor. In fact, I was the last one, because they discontinued the minor after I declared it and I was grandfathered in. ANYWAY, that means that on Sunday, when I woke up stiff and sore, feeling like a ball crumpled up tinfoil, I was fully aware that Monday would be worse because of Delayed Onset Muscle Soreness, or DOMS, which is basically the idea that the lactic acid buildup in your muscles (that which causes you to feel sore) is at its worst 48 hours after a workout. Considering that Sunday I felt like I’d gone ten rounds with Leila Ali, Monday called for a visit to a chiropractor, a masseuse, and maybe a professional stretcher. I heard Dara Torres had a full-time professional stretcher in her entourage and she won a bunch of Olympic medals at, like, 40. Clearly I need both an entourage and a personal stretcher in said entourage. I would also like KDiddy in my entourage as my spiritual guide and life color-commentator. Since I’m broke, none of these things happened. I had to settle for Neko walking on my head at 6:30 AM which, no offense, DID NOT DO THE TRICK. STILL FEEL LIKE AN OLD LADY.

So here it is, Tuesday, and Neko is at the vet getting her ladybits altered, so I am probably going to take this opportunity to do some much-needed stretching of the body. I’ve been stretching my mind like whoa lately, what with reading the lyrics to “Party in the USA” on video and watching reality television. NOT REALLY, I’ve been hard at work on charter school stuff, my fall class (Biography and Leadership…Genghis Khan bio that’s a snoozer of epic proportions thus far), and trying to devour several works of fiction while I have the appetite for them. Are you my friend on Goodreads? You should be if you are not, unless you only read crap books or are a crazy stalker, in which case, disregard that invitation.

Speaking of children’s games commandeered by adults sports, I owned at fake football this week, winning both of my matches, one a veritable ass-kicking of my husband, the likes of which I may never experience again, so let me own it a bit, will you? And, I must point out that my beloved #9 Iowa Hawkeyes kicked the shit out of cross-state rivals the Iowa State Cyclones on Saturday and I even got to watch the game here in St Louis, AND the Hawks game against Arizona (gay marriage vs immigrant rights?) will be on ESPN so Hawkeye Nation is slowly creeping south.

Anyway, I’m off to go stretch. It will hurt and yet feel oh-so-good. I reckon I’ll be just easing off the pain when Saturday rolls around again.

So, what’s reminding YOU that you’re aging?

LouFest is an unfortunately-named first-year music festival held in St Louis’s crown jewel, Forest Park, where Chris and I got married. The lineup was impressive (She&Him, Broken Social Scene, Lucero, Built to Spill, Jeff Tweedy), but not packed with bands we actively follow and love. Normally, we would have totally been down for going both days, but we ultimately decided not to spend the money on two-day passes for both of us. It seemed like my entire Twitter feed was going, though, and Friday I just decided to go for it and told my boy Mike D. that I was going to join him on Saturday.

I’m glad I did. I’ve been to festivals before, and this one had many small touches that made it truly enjoyable.

• First off, no fees for tickets. At all. I don’t care if they folded whatever fees they had into the costs, I appreciate the fact that if the one-day pass was listed at $38, that’s what it cost me. Fuck Ticketmaster and their “convenience” fee, because anyone who has ever dealt with Ticketmaster in the last ten years knows it is anything but convenient.
• The organizers purposely made the festival grounds larger than the expected attendance so the festival wouldn’t feel crowded. THANK JEEBUS. I hate crowds, and at festivals, I think you should absolutely be able to spread out a blanket on the perimeter and chill out without some dirty hippie hitting you with their devil sticks. My anxiety thanks you.
• Speaking of dirty hippies, this was far and away the cleanest festival I’ve ever been to. Long story, but I had blisters on my feet, so I decided to give it a go barefoot, and it was no big deal, at all. I stepped in beer once. That was it. The port-a-potties were new and clean and there were few, if any, lines. There were copious recycling booths, manned with staff, for both recycling and composting, and I’m pretty sure people actually used them.
• Also speaking of dirty hippies, I witnessed no tomfoolery of the obnoxious kind at all. I didn’t seen obnoxiously drunk people who were harshing others’ mellow. I saw no folks makin’ sexy time in public. There were no devil sticks or hacky sacks or meatheads or creepers. I didn’t see one security person have to swoop in and bust anyone. I don’t know that I noticed one security person, period. People acted like grown folks. In fact, there were many children there and they didn’t even annoy me once, mostly because I wish I was a cool enough seven-year-old to be rockin’ a Wilco shirt and giant noise-muting headphones while playing with dinosaurs at a music festival. Rock the cradle, bitches.
• The vendors were great. Food was from actual restaurants in St Louis, some I frequently patronize like Local Harvest. There were tons of vegetarian options, and much more than just fried monstrosities. Not that I don’t enjoy fried monstrosities, but not on hot days unless I’m at the Iowa State Fair or another place that offers deep-fried cheese curds. There were crepes and tacos and gazpacho and gyros and many other food items. And sushi, which I would never eat at a summertime music festival, but that’s me.  Beer was reasonable, too, at $5 for Schlafly, which is cheaper than the ballpark, for sure.

Basically, the organizers decided to make a music festival that eliminated all the things I hate about festivals. Epic win. The music was boss as hell. Lucero proved how hardcore they are and Broken Social Scene melted my face off. Same old, same old. I saw about a million people I knew, most from the innerwebs. Hey, everybody! I’m glad I saw you. Or, I’m sorry I didn’t see you. Next time!

I probably should have headed up there Sunday, too, but I hadn’t seen Chris in forever, so we, along with our friend Josh, went to the Festival of Nations in Tower Grove Park.

We went to the Festival of Nations to eat some food, period. But, holy shit, I could not believe how many people were at the park. It was insane. It was not a situation where you could eat and stroll comfortably. I was totally overwhelmed by the options for food. The various meats on a stick alone were enough to boggle the mind. We consumed plenty of that, as well as fruity beverages otherwise absent in our everyday lives. I won’t opine on the details of our culinary adventure other than to say this: Chris ate some Thai chicken satay (his first Thai ever) and said it was good and he would go eat Thai if he could have that.

DUDE. THIS IS MONUMENTAL. I love my husband and he generally humors my monumentally more-adventurous palate to make me happy. But this is an entire new cuisine he will eat! We can go eat on South Grand! It’s a gateway drug into Vietnamese and then PHO VIETNAMESE COFFEE BANH FUCKING MI. Happy day, indeed.

So, yeah, braving the crowds, along with seeing some old guy in a KU hat scream and berate his wife in front of 10,000 people, was worth it if it means that my husband and I can eat Basil Spice together. And, yes, I almost kicked a dude in the junk when he yelled at his wife, with his finger in her face, “GO GET YOUR FOOD AND MAKE IT SNAPPY”. He actually said that exact thing. Fucking piece of shit asshole. Instead, I kicked myself for not having any of the little Safe Connections cards I have for this very situation to give this lady so she would have a place to get help if she was ready to leave. I had to settle instead for loudly talking about the guy as we stood two feet from him. I doubt it did much good. Any dude that would talk to his lady like that anywhere, let alone in public, is probably pretty oblivious to reality.

Other than that incident, I will say that the Festival of Nations was a fine example of how large, diverse, crowds composed of people of all ages and from all walks of live, can act responsibly and respectfully. I didn’t see any hooliganish behavior, only people eating and smiling and sweating. This weekend was a nice counterpoint to the comments section of any Post-Dispatch article, which is usually made up solely of people like the guy who yelled at his wife. It’s also an example of how food can bring people together. You know, it’s a lot harder to dehumanize and label people as “illegal” or “aliens” or “foreigners” when they openly and happily share their culture with you, particularly if said culture is tasty food. There’s room on the rock for everyone, people, and I, for one, welcome anyone to our particular corner. Except you, Glenn Beck. Please stay in your hole far away from me.

1. The work is straightforward. There is a list of things to do. I do them. While wearing Crocs.
2. I get to be around food and kitchen supplies. It’s hard not to ogle various pieces of Le Creuset and other tools I desperately NEED to achieve culinary greatness in my own home.
3. This is complicated by the fact that I get a nice discount. This is further complicated by the fact that Chris is adamant that I quit accumulating tools in the kitchen until we have more space.
4. I get to eat food. Generally, we get to eat whatever is being cooked in either kitchen classroom. During my first shift, I ate cheddar soup, stuffed peppers, cauliflower, shrimp and crab, apple pie, and four different pastas. I anticipate gaining back all the weight I lost in the last six months. We also get to take home leftovers.
5. We can take classes we’re not working for free. Which, um, AWESOME. Yes, I would like to learn how to butcher a pig.
6. I get to meet awesome chefs. Many chefs in St Louis teach classes here, and I will get to learn from them while helping them, as well as work with my many friends who teach classes here.

Yeah, I KNOW. It’s a pretty sweet deal, until someone my friends and I have offended comes in and uses every dish in both kitchens just to teach me a lesson about destroying businesses by tweeting about subpar food. The only downside is that most classes are on nights and weekends, which means less time with Chris, since he’s got work and school and it feels like he’s never home. I’m working tonight, he’s got his fake football draft all day tomorrow, I work Monday night, he’s got class Tuesday night, etc, etc. We’re like two ships passing in the night. <tear> I’m also waiting to hear back about another gig, so I might just be a working machine.

Anyway, I hope y’all get to enjoy gorgeous weather over the weekend. I’ll be heading to the Festival of Nations to get me some more tasty vittles. Because I love to eat.

In the meantime, Chris started school again this week, so I’m getting into a new routine without him and with these three animals. Neko believes that her role in my life is to supplant my alarm clock, and I awaken each morning to a 55-lb pitt mix sitting on my head, trying to gnaw my White Girl ‘Fro. Luckily, the heat has broken, at least temporarily, so each day starts with a walk. This allows the dogs to run their crazy off so when we come home, they are knocked out and I can get something done while my body absorbs the methane steadily leaking out of sleeping dogs’s asses, which I prefer over incessant barking at phantom menaces like the dishwasher, the television, and sunflowers.

Here’s another question for you wise readers: I’m fairly certain that this blog and my blogging in general is going to come up at some point in this charter school process. The people I work with on our team are already aware of how I roll. I might not be their cup of tea, but they’ve known for a while that I do this, and it hasn’t been an issue, at least that I’m aware of. But I’m not naive, and I know people who are evaluating our plan probably do at least a little Googling.

My opinion is that my writing persona (which is damn close to my regular persona), no matter how opinionated and curse-y I am, shouldn’t influence my ability to kick ass in the professional world. I feel very, very strongly about that, because I know that I am knowledgeable in my field and I am more than capable of contributing to my field in ways that will benefit the community I serve. If people have a problem with the fact that I publicly talk about dog farts in my free time, I argue that they must not care too much about providing quality schools for kids, because I can do that, and do it well. While I recognize the need for relative discretion, I’ve also been in the position of having to delete and entire blog in order to protect my employment and I vowed I would never, ever let someone take my words away from me again. Plus, I’m in too many places to try to cover my tracks at this point. I’m slutty like that.

Then again, I may think I’m edgy, but someone on the charter school side of things told me I was “Stepford-ish” in our mayor’s presentation, so I guess I can’t win.

Your thoughts? If a stakeholder brings up this facet of my “public persona”, how should I deal with that?

ANYWAY, apparently the class at this particular parish is led by a nice married couple who asked the class what were the three ways a couple could avoid conception. According to the people teaching the class on the sexin’, those methods are:

1. Abstinence (no surprise here)
2. Hysterectomy
3. Vasectomy

Whaaaaa?  What about our good friends Oral and Anal? Or Mutual Masturbation? Are those tools of the Devil Gays? I mean, I get that the church is against contraception because they want to keep their legion strong or whatever, but two of the three options are INVASIVE SURGERIES. It’s like they’re trying to scare you into procreating.

My friend claimed the whole time she just wanted to yell “BUTT SEX” but she thought that maybe that might draw attention to the fact that her fiance was slumped over in boredom during the whole class and then they might not be able to get married in the church.

This got me thinking about Catholicism. I am not Catholic. My husband is a “recovering” Catholic. Pretty much almost all my friends, for the most part, were raised Catholic and are in varying stages of current practice, whether that be deeply spiritual or culturally obligated. Because at least half of the weddings we go to are Catholic, I’m fairly familiar with the requirements to get married in the Church as so many of our friends have fulfilled them. And pretty much all of them have either:

1. Agreed that the natural family planning sessions spread misinformation about sexual health.
2. Lied copiously on the questionnaires they must complete, usually regarding premarital sex or cohabitation.
3. Admitted that they were only doing it “for our parents”.

So my question is this: why would rational, non-practicing, sexually-active adults choose to go through all the bullshit? I mean, most of my friends going through these classes never go to church. Ever. And they’re probably admitted secular humanists, truth be told. Then again, people’s spirituality is quite private, and I would never assume that a friend thought one thing or another unless they specifically told me, so maybe I’m completely reading the situation wrong, but I don’t think I’m that far off in regards to many people I know.

I don’t mean this as an affront to anyone’s faith, and I’m truly not judging those who go through this process or any other sacrament. I am genuinely interested in this aspect of Catholicism. I can’t imagine that the priests or lay leaders who conduct these sessions think that no participants engage in premarital sex. If there’s a mutual acknowledgment of lying, but that lying is about rigid church dogma, isn’t the lying just as reprehensible as the act of, say premarital sex, or “butt sex”, or (GASP) PREMARITAL BUTT SEX (traffic, please!)? Are the priests and the participants are participating in a rouse in the name of church tradition, or are priests just that naive about young people today? (hold your jokes, I’m getting to that)

Of course, then I start thinking about the sex scandal surrounding Catholic priests, and how molestation of children by priests was not only an epidemic, but the church itself made a concerted effort to coverup the abuse allegations, allowing priests to continue to remain working in parishes and abusing children. If you haven’t seen Deliver Us From Evil, the documentary about a particular priest’s case, it’s on Netflix Watch Instantly, and I encourage you to watch it.  What struck me about this documentary was the idea of disillusionment. There was an interview with the parents of a child who suffered years of abuse at the hands of a priest who, once the allegations came to light, was simply shuttled from parish to parish, leaving many children in his wake. I had never considered how this type of abuse can emotionally damage all involved, not because the abuse itself is horrific for the families involved (it obviously is) but it damages the fundamental core of these families.

Imagine: you’re a devout Catholic, and your spiritual leader commits a horrific crime against your child. The church, to whom your faith is absolute, to whom you’ve entrusted your entire spiritual destiny, your immortal soul, not only refuses to make things right, but allows the same thing to happen to countless other families without any type of resolution, or explanation, or reparation. This has to completely shatter a person to the very core of what they believe alongside the damage done to a family when a child is abused.

Not all priests are like this. Not by a long shot. And I can’t imagine that parishioners weren’t outraged. So I wonder what kind of dialogue happened between archdioceses, priests, nuns, lay leaders, and parishioners surrounding the sex scandals. Were accountability measures taken? True accountability measures, not just ones to quell dissent? Is there even room in the Catholic church for dissent and subsequent change? And if the answer is no, how and why do devout Catholics continue on as parishioners?

There are still people my age who feel they have to go through the sacraments either because their families insist on it or because they want to save their immortal soul, even if they aren’t really sure they have immortal souls or that Catholicism is the way to save one. When we were planning our wedding, it was never a question whether or not we would be married in the church. I’m not Catholic, and I’m not going to pretend to be one or go through rituals that are meaningless to me for my spouse’s family, and Chris would never ask me to. This was a bone of contention with a (very) few members of Chris’s family. One went so far as to say that she did not view our marriage as valid. But this is just our experience, and I can’t judge others who make different decisions. I just want to know what about Catholicism, with all it’s obvious flaws and faults and hypocrisies, still has a pull on people my age who see through the dogma. As an outsider immersed in a city entrenched in Catholic culture, I can’t help but ask questions about these things.

Is anyone willing to talk about this? I ask that the discussion stay civil in the name of discourse. Of course, kid-touching priests are fair game, but other than those fuckers, let’s keep it respectful.

Life’s really not like that anymore, unless you’re the idiot STILL trying to pick up 16-year olds in chat rooms, in which case, you get what you deserve when you find out that 16-year old tartlet is really a paunchy cop.

Today I saw a commercial for Match.com that said that 1 in 5 couples meet online. Chris asked if I thought that was true, and I do. There’s not the stigma attached to online relationships (dating or otherwise) that there used to be. While Chris and I met the good old-fashioned way (drunk at a friend’s party), I have many, many friends I met via the internet that I regularly hang out with in real life, like most of my food friends. I also have many, many friends whom I have never hung out with in real life, but have epic plans to do so at BlogHer, an annual blogging conference I’ll be attending in August for the second year in a row.

Last year, BlogHer was in Chicago, and I hosted a pre-conference meetup for those in the area who were going so everyone would have a friendly face to turn to at the conference. This year, I’m doing the same. This ain’t nothin’ fancy. Basically, I just named a day and time (Saturday, July 24th at 3PM) and a place (Schlafly Bottleworks) and made an Eventbrite invite. It’s a chance to meet other St Louis ladybloggers whether you are going to BlogHer this year or not.

This will be a casual, friendly, welcoming cocktail hour(s). There will be nametags that you are not obligated to wear. If you’ve never gone to any type of meetup of online acquaintances, this is the perfect event for you because we don’t bite unless you are into that sort of thing, in which case, THINGS CAN BE ARRANGED, if you know what I mean.

Plus, Bottleworks has one of those Dyson hand dryers in the bathroom, the ones that ACTUALLY DRY YOUR HANDS!  It’s been there for a few years and I still get a kick out of it.

You don’t have to RSVP, but please do if you know you are coming so we both can get a sense of who will be there. You know you want to Google stalk first.

ANYWAY, I hope to see you there, then at Art of Food, an event for Slow Food St Louis, later that night