Amber

Back in 2006, a group of students at Xavier High School in New York City (one of whom, "JT," submitted this letter) were given an assignment by their English teacher, Ms. Lockwood, that was to test their persuasive writing skills: they were asked to write to their favourite author and ask him or her to visit the school. Five of those pupils chose Kurt Vonnegut. His thoughtful reply, seen below, was the only response the class received.

Transcript follows.

(Letter kindly submitted by JT; Image: Kurt Vonnegut, via.)



Transcript

November 5, 2006

Dear Xavier High School, and Ms. Lockwood, and Messrs Perin, McFeely, Batten, Maurer and Congiusta:

I thank you for your friendly letters. You sure know how to cheer up a really old geezer (84) in his sunset years. I don't make public appearances any more because I now resemble nothing so much as an iguana.

What I had to say to you, moreover, would not take long, to wit: Practice any art, music, singing, dancing, acting, drawing, painting, sculpting, poetry, fiction, essays, reportage, no matter how well or badly, not to get money and fame, but to experience becoming, to find out what's inside you, to make your soul grow.

Seriously! I mean starting right now, do art and do it for the rest of your lives. Draw a funny or nice picture of Ms. Lockwood, and give it to her. Dance home after school, and sing in the shower and on and on. Make a face in your mashed potatoes. Pretend you're Count Dracula.

Here's an assignment for tonight, and I hope Ms. Lockwood will flunk you if you don't do it: Write a six line poem, about anything, but rhymed. No fair tennis without a net. Make it as good as you possibly can. But don't tell anybody what you're doing. Don't show it or recite it to anybody, not even your girlfriend or parents or whatever, or Ms. Lockwood. OK?

Tear it up into teeny-weeny pieces, and discard them into widely separated trash recepticals. You will find that you have already been gloriously rewarded for your poem. You have experienced becoming, learned a lot more about what's inside you, and you have made your soul grow.

God bless you all!

Kurt Vonnegut

For the New Yorker, B.J. Novak writes about the guy who invented the calendar.

February 1st-Another small fuckup: I put an extra "r" in all the copies of the calendar I handed out, even though I already told everyone the next month coming was called Febuary. But Alice came up with the best solution! She said, "Just tell everyone it's spelled 'February' but pronounced 'Feb-u-ary.' That way, they'll feel stupid!" Alice is the best.

February 14th-Alice stuff weird. Tonight we were having a nice dinner at the same place we always go, but she was unusually quiet. Finally, I asked if anything was wrong, and she said, "Do you know what day it is today?" I said, "Yes, of course I do, I invented the calendar. It's February 14th. Why?" She smiled a really tight smile, said, "Yes. Yes, it is," and then walked out. What's that about?

February 15th-So cold.

February 28th-I hate this month. I can't take one more day of it. This month will just have to be shorter than the rest, and if people don't like it they can go fuck themselves.

Tags: B.J. Novak   time

A mouse finds a cracker about his own size and thinks, "this is great, I'll be able to eat for a week!" But he can't quite get the cracker up and over the short ledge that leads back to his hole. But he doesn't give up that easily:

(via ★interesting)

Tags: video

Hiramasa with ponzu at Sushi Sono

When I wasn't looking, my "Best of Howard County" posts have become a tradition.

This is the sixth year that I have tried to collect recommendations about local food into a week of posts.  I don't know what you love, but I know that you can find wonderful food out here in the suburbs.  And more is coming.  Cindy Wolf, Whole Foods, and the folks behind the Ambassador all want a piece of Howard County, and that must be good.  

This is my "Best Of" list.  These are places where I'd tell you to start if you want something delicious.  In 2012, I literally wrote "where to go" advice for someone just moving to Howard County.  This week of posts is more of an annual writing exercise where I think about stuff I have found and try to spark a little conversation with other eaters.

by Christa

Maybe it was better when I just didn’t see.

Preschool

Me: “Mom, being a boy is better than being a girl.” Mom: “If I was God and could change it, would you want to be a boy?”
Me: “No. I just want to do all the boy things.”
Mom: “You can. Here is a woman who is an astronaut. A doctor. A teacher. A dog sled musher. It wasn’t always true, but now you can do anything you want to.”

I believed her. I could be everything.
Maybe it was better when I just didn’t see.

Junior High

Ms. G: “Has anyone figured out the pattern in who I’m calling on?”
Me: “No”
Ms. G: “One girl, and then one boy.”
Me: “Why?”
Ms. G: “Because studies show that girls don’t get called on in school as often as boys do, and that makes them think they’re not as smart as boys.”
Me: “That’s dumb—no one actually thinks girls are bad at chemistry anymore. I’m going to be a scientist just like you.”

I believed in myself. I could be anything.
Maybe it was better that I just didn’t see.

Undergrad

Prof W: “No one will listen to you on a job site unless you’re wearing heels and a bikini. I’m sorry, but it’s true.”
Me: “Pssh, I’m not going to work in construction. I’d have to listen to guys like you talk about football and pornography. I’m studying structural design, which is more interesting than construction anyways.”
The only female professor in my engineering department was denied tenure at a different school. Maybe it was because she is a woman, but maybe it was because her research wasn’t getting enough grant money. Soil research isn’t very exciting, you know, and I can do better.

I can be better. I will do something worthwhile.
Maybe it was better that I just didn’t see.

Graduate School

Why do the men in my grad program give so many more talks about their research than me? Why are they on a first name basis with the dean and I’m not? Maybe their work is better. Maybe they deserve it. Maybe I need to be more self-confident. Maybe it’s because I don’t play racquetball with the guys.

I didn’t want to learn that being a girl matters, but maybe it does.
I can be better. I can try harder.
Maybe it was better when I just didn’t see.

A Wedding

Why do I have to do all the work? Why won’t vendors call and ask for him? Why do I have to worry about changing my name and he doesn’t? I have exams to pass. Why is planning a wedding my job and not ours?

I can be better. I can try harder.
Maybe trying harder isn’t working.
Maybe it was better when I just didn’t see.

Pregnancy

Why am I hoping I’ve managed to look fat and not pregnant at a job interview? Why am I told to be scared of losing my looks, and he’s reassured that the extra responsibility will look good for promotions at work? Why am I mad at my spouse because I’m scared his career will get better treatment than mine?

Maybe I just need to be better, and I’ll be respected too. Maybe he’s really smarter than me, and that’s why it happens. Maybe if I’m back at work two weeks after giving birth, they’ll believe I deserve to the new job.

Maybe it was better when I just didn’t see.

It’s hormones.
Women are so emotional.
Just be more comfortable asserting yourself.
It’s true, there aren’t many women faculty here, but we just haven’t been able to find qualified applicants.

Because now that I see, I’m angry.
And being angry doesn’t help.
Maybe it was better when I just didn’t see.

Photo by APW Sponsor Lisa Wiseman

David Sedaris remembers, in a way, his sister Tiffany, who committed suicide earlier this year.

Compared with most forty-nine-year-olds, or even most forty-nine-month-olds, Tiffany didn't have much. She did leave a will, though. In it, she decreed that we, her family, could not have her body or attend her memorial service.

"So put that in your pipe and smoke it," our mother would have said.

Tags: David Sedaris

Quick post today to let you in on some breaking news: I am officially addicted to Trader Joe’s frozen Vegetable Masala burger. How do I know it’s official? I bought a 4-pack on Saturday and they were all gone by Monday. The count: One for Andy in between soccer games on Sunday; one for me for a quick work-from-home vegetarian lunch on Monday; one for Phoebe’s afterschool snack a few hours later; and one last night, for a standing-at-the-counter dinner after coming home late from Luisa’s panel with Deb and Amanda. (Can you say Dream Team?) I bought a pack on a whim a few weeks ago after tasting a sample — I’m such a sucker for those samples — expecting the usual over-spiced, mysteriously textured veggie burger. Instead, I couldn’t believe how subtle and natural the flavor was — and how small (and recognizable) the ingredient list was. Did you guys know about these? And if so, pray tell, WHY didn’t you enlighten?

I like to eat my Masala burger in a pita topped with a mixture of plain yogurt and coriander chutney (Swad brand, found at any Indian grocer).

Related: Mastering the Weekly Shop; My Trader Joe’s Hit List; Packaged Dinners You Can Feel Good About

by Rachel Wilkerson, APW Writing Intern

After Eric and I had been living together for a little while, I realized I just couldn’t be responsible for all the meal planning and the majority of the cooking; even though I genuinely enjoy cooking, I had other shit to do. And since eating tons of takeout was neither affordable nor particularly healthy, I suggested that we split the cooking. We’d divide Monday through Thursday nights and each of us would be responsible for taking out the dogs and cooking on two of those nights. We could each choose the recipes we made on our nights. Meanwhile, the other person could go to the gym, work late, or go to happy hour on the “off” nights. On the weekends, we’d either get takeout, alternate nights again, or cook together. This system turned out to be wonderful in a lot of ways, but in the beginning, Eric was skeptical. Because for it to work, it meant he’d have to really learn to cook. But that was OK, because I knew how and I was willing to teach him.

In all honesty, teaching people can be a pain. It’s time consuming. It takes patience. And having to teach someone else to do something you feel they should have learned years ago feels unfair. WHY IS THIS MY PROBLEM? WHY DIDN’T YOUR PARENTS TEACH YOU TO DO THIS? WHY ARE YOU MAKING ME GET OFF THE COUCH? I’LL JUST DO IT MYSELF. Believe me, I get it. But the thing is, someone has to teach people to do stuff. Most of the time, parents and teachers do it. But sometimes they don’t, particularly if they don’t know how, or if they subscribe to old-fashioned gender stereotypes about what a young person should be taught. So then the teaching falls on another member of society. Is this fair? No, I suppose it’s not, but until we raise a new generation who knows how to do things that aren’t tied to gender stereotypes, there will be stragglers. And, turns out, we can’t raise that new generation if we don’t all know how to do stuff. So do it for the greater good. (And because it will likely benefit you in some way in the long run, and you’re selfish like that.)

Today, I’m going to teach you to teach someone else how to do something: cook. I chose cooking because it’s often loaded with gender stereotypes, and also because it’s something I’m good at. If you and your partner have cooking figured out, you can replace “cook” with anything else you may need to teach a person, from “clean a toilet” to “change a tire” to “do your taxes.”

Start small. Right after my mom moved me into my first apartment when I was 18, she taught me to cook by teaching me one thing: how to cook ground beef. She taught me to make five recipes with ground beef: chili, tacos, sloppy joes, hamburgers, and spaghetti. She also taught me to grill chicken, but it’s more difficult to cook through so it freaked me out, and I quickly gave up on it. If she had started with that, I’d probably still be relying on takeout. But ground beef was so easy to cook ; I stuck to those five recipes for a while…and that gave me the confidence to try new recipes.  Slowly but surely I learned how to make stir-fry and baked mac and cheese, and now I feel confident beating egg whites into stiff peaks and making a turkey roulade. (I do still avoid grilling chicken though.) And it all started with ground beef.

Give them plenty of chances to practice. Another reason my mom’s lessons were so helpful was because after she taught me, she went back to Michigan. I was on my totally own. I had to get resourceful and, you know, look on the Internet. But really, that space allowed me to try new things and experiment. With some chores, you really only get better at it through practice, which is one reason I suggested we alternate nights. Cooking together or just having Eric cook on occasion wouldn’t have had the same effect.  Sometimes, you just need to be alone with a pot, a knife, and a bunch of vegetables.

Be willing to answer questions… but also share other teaching resources. Even though she left me on my own, my mom was always around to answer questions. (She still is.) So when Eric is cooking and I’m around, I answer questions. I come look at something to tell him if I think it’s done. If he asks me when I think he should start the green beans, I tell him. When I’m not around…he figures it out. When I learned to cook, I didn’t have the advantage of Google and YouTube; now, when I don’t have time to help him, I often remind him to look something up. After all, I didn’t learn to chop garlic properly until I saw Rachael Ray do it on TV.

Don’t freak out when they do it “wrong.” One of the beautiful things about cooking is that there are a lot of ways to do it; some ways allow you to develop your own style and even a new recipe, while other experiments will seriously screw things up. The good news is, you’ll know pretty quickly whether that new thing you tried is the end of the world. So you can say, “Hey, I’ve found that cutting peppers for fajitas works a little better if you do it like this,” and then show them your method quickly before handing the pepper and the knife back… but to continuously get pissed about their pepper-chopping technique and snatch the pepper and the knife away every time is not good for morale, or the development of pepper-chopping skills.

Don’t freak out when they do it right. Not only is an overly-enthusiastic “OMG GOOD JOBBBBBBBBBBB!!!!” with every bite condescending, it also acts like being a grown-ass adult who can do grown-ass adult things is special, and, frankly, it’s not. I mean, I still feel awesome every time I successfully iron something (because it basically never happens) but I don’t need anyone giving me a participating trophy and telling all their friends about it like I’m an elephant who can paint or something. Being able to do things that adults need to be able to do is normal. Crossing gender stereotypes to do it needs to be normal. So be grateful, eat the made-for-you-with-love-dinner (or pee in the cleaned-for-you-with-love toilet) and know that even if they thought cilantro and parsley were interchangeable, they are learning.

Photo from Rachel’s personal collection

by Mike Dang

On Saturday, an old man set up a stall in Central Park near Fifth Avenue selling “spray art” for $60 per canvas. He was able to sell a few canvasses to three tourists for a total of $420—which isn’t so bad for someone selling street art. Graffiti artist Banksy revealed that the stall was actually a one-time pop-up shop that belonged to him, and the New York Post reports that the art could be worth as much as $31,000. Talk about windfalls! If I had passed by that stall, I probably would have kept on walking, to be honest.

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by Sarah Lazarovic

 

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From Drinks

[Photograph: puuikibeach on Flickr]

Can you enjoy drinking booze while staying health-conscious? Personally, when I'm sipping a great cocktail, I'm already thinking of it as a splurge and a few more drops of sugar ("Whoa, can you use Splenda syrup instead of simple syrup, please? Mmkay thanks") aren't going to bother me.

But the growing trend in products marketed around low-cal drinking (like MGD64, and the entire Skinny Girl lineup) suggests that some folks are looking for lower-calorie booze.

But do the calories in alcoholic drinks work the same way as the calories in food we eat? Any time you talk about food or drink and its effects on the body, it's almost impossible to make bulletproof conclusions. But consider this article a short primer on what little we do know.

Here's how the industry calculates calories:

Imagine a reinforced steel oven. Inside, pressures reach levels 30 times atmospheric pressure. Instead of propane, an electric spark ignites special fuels that burn food so completely, not even ashes are left. A device like this is called a "bomb calorimeter."

On a nearby computer, a display shows the exact amount of energy released, be the sample potato chips, coca cola, or a shot of bourbon.

When ethanol is burned in a device like this, about 7 kilocalories of energy per gram of booze gets released.

So assuming that the majority of calories in beer come from alcohol, to find the calorie count of a beer, you can simply multiply the amount of alcohol (in grams) in that beer by seven.

The calculation is simple, precise, and wrong.

*What we normally call "calories" are actually kilocalories, or 1,000 calories.

Here's how you should be calculating calories:

Imagine what would happen if you ran the calorie test above on, say, a hunk of pinewood. You'd get a pretty high reading, right? I mean, wood does burn pretty effectively.

Let's say, for argument's sake, that the sample registered 100 calories.

Does that mean you can eat a chunk of wood and get as much energy from it as 25 grams of chicken breast?* Of course not.

The primary carbohydrate found in wood is lignin, an extremely tough starch that humans can't digest (though apparently termites find it delicious).

On the flip side, if you were to drink 100 calories of sugary soda, that sugar in the soda would be almost 100% digested, so you would actually be getting close to 100 calories from the soda. How many calories we get from a food or drink all depends on digestion.

So how much energy do we get from drinking alcohol?

*Chicken breast has about 4 cal/gram.

How humans digest alcohol

Machines burn alcohol efficiently. Human beings do not digest alcohol efficiently.

As I'm sure we've all heard at some point in high school health class, alcohol is a toxin. And our bodies work actively to excrete toxins. As Wikipedia helpfully explains, the metabolism of alcohol is a complex, multi-stage process that takes place mostly in the liver and kidneys, not in the intestines, where normal digestion occurs.*

More significant to the current discussion, the Wikipedia article explains that alcohol is almost never fully metabolized, but rather excreted as acetic acid (because it's a toxin and we want to get rid of it, remember?). This implies that we are getting far less than the theoretical maximum of 7 calories/gram from alcohol.

However, the prevailing knowledge in health and nutrition circles seems to contradict this assessment: nutritionists are taught to assume that the energy stored in alcohol is almost 100% available to the body.¹

*The references for the Wikipedia article aren't great, but the info found in this book on nutrition and alcohol seems to back up what Wikipedia says.
[1] Frary, Carol D. and Johnson, Rachel K. "Chapter 2: Energy" in Krause's Food and Nutrition Therapy, 12th ed. 2008. pp. 35-36.

Why the difference?

The answer is complex and remains the subject of some debate, but I'll try to summarize the facts here.

Remember that the body wants to get rid of alcohol because it sees it as a toxin. One way to get rid of alcohol is to use it for energy. But, your liver can only process so much alcohol as energy before the body has to start dumping the excess as urine.

Basically, from a physiological standpoint, if you have one drink slowly, you'll probably digest most of the alcohol as energy. Drink heavily, and the calories don't "count" as much, because you'll end up excreting them.²

[2] Alcohol, Overweight and Obesity (2013)

So which drinks should I drink if I'm watching my weight?

As far as published research is concerned, it doesn't really matter what you drink if you drink in moderation: a few drinks has no long-term impact on weight. In addition to the work cited in [2], other studies have shown that moderate consumption of alcohol (1-2 drinks per day) results in insignificant weight gain.³ These studies tested both traditional drinks, like beer⁴ and wine, as well as controlled doses of straight ethanol.⁵

Since the published research doesn't offer any clear link between moderate alcohol consumption and weight gain, the next culprit to consider is sugar. Sugar contributes the most calories to drinks (after alcohol) and most nutritionists do agree that excess sugar intake results in long-term increased risk of overweight and obesity.

How do different drinks stack up, sugar-wise?

Sweetened liqueurs (and cocktails that use them) contain the most sugar. Sweet wines come next. Dry wines, on the other hand, can contain very little residual sugar.

Beer is tricky. Whereas it's relatively easy to tell if a wine is low in sugar by simply tasting it, there's no easy way to avoid sugary beers. That's because many beers contain non-sweet sugars like maltose or low-sweet sugars like glucose and those sugars can be hidden by beer's bitterness while still packing a significant caloric punch.

Finally, most distilled spirits contain almost no residual sugar, so there's always that option, as long as you don't mind sipping them neat.

Do these differences in sugar levels between drinks matter? That's up to you. Personally, I'd always choose the tastier drink, even if it means doing a few extra situps the next day.

Does calorie count factor in to your imbibing choices?

[3] Alcohol Intake and body weight: a paradox. (1999)
[4] Beer and obesity: a cross-sectional study (2003)
[5] Is Alcohol Consumption a Risk Factor for Weight Gain and Obesity? (2005)

About the author:Kevin Liu likes to drink science and study cocktails. Wait, that's backward. Ask him geeky food and booze questions on twitter @kevinkliu. While you're at it, check out his book about cocktail science.

by Meg Keene, APW Executive Editor

The Same, But Rearranged

Last week, ten months postpartum, I got back to my pre-baby weight. And suddenly, I was having a hard time.

I put on almost half my body weight in pregnancy. Each prenatal doctors appointment would have a moment of tension. The stress didn’t come when I got on the scale, because what the hell? I was pregnant; I was supposed to be gaining weight. It was the moment when they’d tally my weight gain. “Hum.” They’d say. “You’re not on target for a thirty pound weight gain.” Which was a nice way of putting it, since I’d put on thirty pounds by twenty weeks, so no shit. It was all healthy (I had a ten pound baby that would hit twenty pounds in six months, so my body knew what it was doing), but the medical establishment doesn’t allow for a ton of flexibility around pregnant bodies. Which is, now that I think of it, something of a harbinger of things to come.

But all of that weight gain made the postpartum process easier for me. My body didn’t look anything like it normally did, and I considered myself on a journey back. And the thing about taking a journey is that you just go step by step, imagining what the destination will look like. When I’d complain about my stomach, David would offer to do crunches with me, if I wanted. And while I never took him up on it, the idea was that if I didn’t like my situation, I could just do something to change it, or that it would slowly change over time.

And then I hit my normal weight. And in the moment I grabbed the golden ring that everyone (plus US Weekly) really wants you to grab, I realized that what I didn’t have was my pre-baby body back, and I never will. My boobs are not the same. My stomach is not the same. And while I’m the same weight, everything is oddly rearranged: smaller feet, broader hips, and all that hair that fell out is now growing in like a pixie cut underneath my long hair. But all of this is really just physical manifestation of the bigger picture: I’m the same as I ever was, but not. I’m me, but rearranged.

No Toys On The Floor/Motherhood Contains The Secret Of Life

David and I will celebrate our ninth (non-wedding) anniversary as a couple in a month. When we got together we were shiny young twenty-somethings with the world on a string. Sure, we were broke (in my case very broke) and confused about what on earth we were going to do with our lives. But we were bright and had nothing but hope. The charm of getting together at twenty-three and twenty-four is that on some level, that remains at the core of your relationship. Things move and shift, but together, you’re still the two kids that stayed out till three in the morning flirting with the world and talking theatre and politics.

This week, as I’ve started to return to myself, I’ve had to realize that things have rearranged. I don’t have twenty-four-year-old boobs anymore. I also don’t have my favorite bar down the block. Instead I have toys spread out on my living room floor, a family and staff to provide for, and a husband who has to meet a billable hours requirement of seven and a half hours a day for his job. I also have a fantastic kid, the money to buy a really nice bra, a career I love, an excellent liquor collection, and nine happy years under my belt. And I’m a little confused about all of it, because quite honestly, the description I just typed sounds nothing like me (other than the bit about the booze).

Women seem to fall into two camps about prospective motherhood: “I won’t change, I’ll just be me with a baby” and “Everything will change. Everything.” I fell into the former camp, but the heart of the problem is that neither statement has a chance of being accurate. You’re always going to just be you, but if having a kid doesn’t change you a little, you’re really taking your eye off the ball.

The changes that come with motherhood mean that I may never fit into my pre-baby jeans again (the bone structure of my hips is too wide). But it also means I don’t have a core group of people I fit in with anymore. I can’t meet the expectations of the friends who want me to not have toys on the floor and always get a babysitter when we go out to eat. And there is no way I’m going to join other friends at baby playgroups at 9am on a Saturday to sing “The Wheels on The Bus.” (Why can’t I just sing Queen to the baby over a scotch at home?)

There are days that I feel like I’ve rearranged into a person that fits in nowhere: the mom who really wants to hang out with her kid, who works full time as a creative, and who feels more comfortable in skinny jeans than in business casual or mommy-and-me clothes. The advice for new mothers is always to “find your pod,” but the reality is that my pod is a messy mix of friends with no kids and no patience for nap time, friends who parent totally differently than me, friends who get it but are not going to have kids for years, and friends who parent exactly like me and live way too far away. As for doing a lot of work to find the exactly right pod of mothers for me, right here, right now? Well. I am a terrible misfit at mothers groups, I like the friends I have, and I would rather use my limited spare time having a drink with my husband or going to the damn gym to have time to myself. If that mythical pod of parents is out there, they’re doing Queen sing-alongs without me. (Call me, maybe?)

It’s Okay To Be A Hater?

It seems like the cool way to be a mom these days it to proudly admit that motherhood is a messy pain in the ass, and make sure everyone knows that having a clean house, a kid you enjoy, and a career you love is a myth. Which makes it tough if you, you know, enjoy your kid and your career and your relatively tidy house. I mean, motherhood is a pain in the ass, don’t get me wrong, but life is a pain in the ass too. Nobody particularly enjoys being thrown-up on, but nobody really digs cleaning the toilet either. Luckily, both situations are improved by changing your clothes directly thereafter.

Someone in my social network recently shared “To My Post-Partum Self: Things I Wished I’d Known.” I bit, because hey, I remember postpartum like it was yesterday (it was). It was one of those articles that was clearly supposed to speak to me, the no-bullshit modern mother. And then I got to this part, “Be a hater. And those moms who appear to have it all together? The size six supermoms who appear perky and well-rested? The ones who haul big designer diaper bags brimming with healthy snacks and water and sunscreen and extra outfits and hand sanitizer? It is okay to wish them small misfortunes, like fecal incontinence or eye herpes.”

Well fuck me.

Even if we ignore the angst that hit when my jeans fit, and the fact that my designer diaper bag is the best gift I’ve ever been given—even ignoring that, I’m apparently still not in the club. My bag is currently packed with organic baby puree (simply because it turns out that we are disappointedly too lazy to make our own), extra outfits, and two hand sanitizers. I’m lazy but organized, and apparently doing it wrong.

It turns out, in motherhood, someone is always ready to point out that you’re doing it wrong. You’re working too much, or have given up your career and ambition. You’re a disorganized mess, or you’re a perky asshole. You’re finding motherhood too hard, or too easy. You’ve changed too much, or you haven’t changed enough. And meanwhile, you’re circling and circling around your twenty-four-year-old self, trying to figure out how you’ve grown and rearranged, and how to balance in this slightly new body.

Eyes On The Prize

My early months of motherhood were spent trying to keep up appearances. The toys were picked up religiously, so you wouldn’t think a baby lived here. I dutifully hired a sitter, even when I really didn’t want to. I worked hard to say the right things around the other new mothers, even when I didn’t have a clue what the right things were.

And then I realized it didn’t have to be so hard. Or maybe I just ended up with less energy for bullshitting. My job is simply this, in no particular order: keep myself happy, do what’s right for my kid, take care of my partner, and do the best job I can do at work. And if I’m hitting those marks, I need to try to do the best I can for my community. Everyday I get the balancing act a little wrong, in this new body. But I try to smoosh and cuddle that kid as I go, and to not be embarrassed about my damn diaper bag.

And hey, we bought a greatest hits of Sesame Street record this weekend, which seems like progress. While it’s no “Wheels on the Bus,” Ernie sings some pretty complex music, just like me.

Photo: Me at twenty-three weeks. Personal for APW.

Meg Keene, APW Executive Editor

A few weeks ago, we got this question in a Happy Hour:

I’ve never had a women’s studies class, or known any feminists, but I’d really like to educate myself on feminism… What books do you wise women recommend?

I was all in. Feminism is complex and multi-faceted, and the best way to find your own place within it is to read multiple viewpoints, and ponder things slowly. If you’re just getting started, I wish I could tell you that there is one go-to book to explain feminism to you, but of course there isn’t. The minute I think I understand my own feminism, I read something new and it all changes, again. All the best things are complicated like that.

I asked the APW staff why they thought that doing some feminist reading was a good idea, and Rachel said, “For a budding feminist, it’s easy to feel overwhelmed or clueless when you’re on a feminist website. You’ll often hear terms like ‘rape culture,’ ‘the patriarchy,’ ‘choice feminism,’ and ‘intersectionality’ in posts and in the comments and not know what’s going on—and you may be too intimidated to ask, so you just check out. So it’s good to do your own research so you can form your own conclusions and have a voice in these conversations. And it also helps you have a voice in non-feminist conversations. There have been so many times when being able to cite one of these wise books has helped me immensely when dealing with people who are up to non-feminist no-good.” Reading about feminism doesn’t mean signing on the dotted line of mainline feminism (God knows I dropped out of my women’s studies minor because some of that shit just tired me out). But it does mean informing yourself, so you can decide what you care about, and what you really think. In the comments on my opening post of feminism month, I noticed commenters saying that they couldn’t consider themselves feminists because other commenters had offered up visions of feminism that they didn’t agree with. But in what other part of our life do we let other (random) people set the terms for engagement? I might not agree with your definition of democracy, but that doesn’t mean I give up and think we should just slide into a dictatorship. No way. I just agree to disagree (and maybe argue about it with you over a drink). Feminism is the same way. If you’re in for women having the vote, wearing pants, and having equal rights, then it’s your job to inform yourself enough that you can form opinions, and disagree with others over a beer. The good news is informing yourself can be a lot of fun.

To get you started with your learning, we put together an APW staff roundup. Since the staff all explores feminism in different ways, not everyone is represented here. Maddie, who could teach a seminar on sexuality, hasn’t read a lot of feminist books, so she’s not on the list. The rest of us have suggestions that are all over the map: Feminist classics! Books about stripping! Fantasy YA! Dystopian novels! The works! My challenge to you is to figure out a book you’re interested in (there is bound to be at least one), and get reading. After you do, you’ll be better equipped to argue with people at Happy Hour, which is all that I wish for all of us.

Here are our suggestions. I can’t wait to see yours in the comments.

Meg, Executive Editor:

How to Be a Woman, Caitlin Moran
Given that I hosted an APW Book Club for this book before it even came out in the US, it’s no secret that I’m pretty in love with it. I can’t think of a funnier, wittier introduction to what feminism is and why you should care. And if (like me) you’re already an avowed (if non-academic) feminist, it still gives you plenty to think about, and giggle over.

Cunt: A Declaration of Independence, Inga Muscio
This is the book that inspired the Reclaiming Wife section of APW. In mulling over my new role as wife, I decided that much like the word cunt, wife needed a good feminist reclaiming. I haven’t read this since college, but it’s obviously stuck with me. It’s angry and a little new age, and isn’t my brand of feminism now, but it was damn important in shaping my feminist worldview.

The Feminine Mystique, Betty Friedan
This book arguably kicked off second wave feminism when it was published in 1963. I read it last year, expecting a period piece, and came away with a gripping understanding of what feminism was still about. It’s dense and long, but if you skip around a bit, it’s still a page-turner.

The Song of the Lioness Quartet, Tamora Pierce
This young adult series defined feminism for me at twelve. Get it for all the young women in your life (disclosure, there are sex scenes—make sure that will pass parental approval), and read it before you wrap up the present. And then maybe buy it for yourself.

Promiscuities, Naomi Wolf
Next up, the book that defined feminism for me at seventeen. This highly personal book about women’s sexual coming-of-age is an interesting read for anyone growing into their sexuality. Again, the perfect gift (and read it before you wrap it). I still keep my marked up copy on my shelf in tribute.

Strip City: A Stripper’s Farewell Journey Across America, Lily Burana
Look. I actually took my share of women’s studies classes in college, and as a result, I’m tired. I like my feminist books entertaining not theoretical, and Lily Burana’s first person exploration of stripping is just that. Powerful too. For the sex positive feminist, this is good, good stuff.

Why Have Kids?: A New Mom Explores the Truth About Parenting and Happiness, Jessica Valenti
I wrote a full review of Why Have Kids right before I…had one. It’s a damn good, damn smart book, and it explores why—though I’ll never tell another feminist what to do—choice feminism just doesn’t do it for me, at the end of the day.

Bad Mother: A Chronicle of Maternal Crimes, Minor Calamities, and Occasional Moments of Grace, Ayelet Waldman
Ayelet Waldman has such a fearless way of saying all the things we’re not supposed to say. This book of essays about motherhood does just that. Speaking of, I should give it a reread, now that I have a kid.

Anything by Anne Lamott
I mean, let’s just leave it at that. You all read her stuff, right? It’s smart, enjoyable, and it guided me through my twenties.

Elisabeth, Writing Intern:

The Bean Trees: A Novel, Barbara Kingsolver
This is the book that cracked it all wide open for me. I first read it as a high school freshman and still have that tattered copy on my bookshelves. The pages are littered with highlights and the best piece of marginalia I’ve written to date: “Feminism…Learn More.”

Women, Race, & Class, Angela Davis
This, from a class I took in college called “The Politics of Patriarchy” is another one of those books I’ll carry around forever. This taught me that it’s not enough to just say you’re for equality. It’s a good companion to Mapping the Margins by Kimberle Crenshaw, which is fantastic but academic.

Next Time, She’ll Be Dead: Battering and How to Stop It, Ann Jones
Okay, this one is a bit of a downer. But it’s another book I’ll remember forever—the first time I really thought critically about victim-blaming and the idea that the media perpetuates violence against women.

Killing Us Softly, video series by Jean Kilbourne.
The first video in this series about gender representation in advertising is from 1979, but it hardly seemed dated when I saw it in high school, and the series still nails it. This helped me put words to how the media and popular culture actively perpetuate (some might say encourage) violence against women.

Rachel, Writing Intern:

Kiss My Tiara: How to Rule the World as a SmartMouth Goddess, Susan Jane Gilman
I don’t remember ever not identifying as a feminist, but this book reawakened my feminist spirit when I was fifteen. I passed it around to the other girls at my Catholic high school (I was a feminist pain in the ass like that), hoping it would inspire them to fight the good fight with me.

Ain’t I a Woman: Black Women and Feminism, bell hooks
As I said in a recent comment, feminism has a serious issue with race right now. If you’re looking to understand that better, or you’re a black woman feeling like feminism isn’t for you, this is a great place to start. 

The Master’s Tools Will Never Dismantle the Master’s House, Audre Lorde
For further reading on why we need intersectional feminism, read this essay (right now!).

A Room of One’s Own, Virgina Woolf
I read this essay in my Women’s Authors class at MSU, and still think about it regularly. As a writer, I think about having a room of my own often, and it’s something I hope all women feel empowered to fight for. (This is another one you can read online for free right now!)

The Handmaid’s Tale, Margaret Atwood
Honestly, this dystopian novel wasn’t my favorite book, but I’m on board with the overall message, and enough feminists connect with it strongly that I feel comfortable calling it a must-read, especially in the context of the way women’s rights are slowly being eroded around the country.

Female Chauvinist Pigs: Women and the Rise of Raunch Culture, Ariel Levy
This quick and easy read is a good starting point for understanding women’s participation in “raunch culture;” I like its exploration on why some women find the idea of being “one of the boys” crucial to success in a man’s world.

The Meaning of Wife: A Provocative Look at Women and Marriage in the Twenty-first Century, Anne Kingston
I read this book not long after I started dating Eric and it had a huge impact on me; it really helped me see why we need feminist marriages and gave me the tools I needed to ask for a true partnership. Its fascinating-history-meets-pop-culture approach is very APW and I can’t recommend it enough.

Emily, Contributing Editor:

I read some literary feminist theory in my critical analysis course in college. I can spot womb imagery and phallic symbols like gangbusters, but I think I’ve learned the most from the stories of real women and the fiction of women writers. With that in mind…

Minor Characters, by Joyce Johnson
A memoir written by a Beat novelist and scholar who is often dismissed as “Jack Kerouac’s girlfriend.”

Me: Stories of My Life, by Katharine Hepburn
Women in the costume department used to hide Hepburn’s pants from her. She responded by walking around in her underwear. Enough said.

I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, by Maya Angelou
The first of several autobiographies. The grace with which Angelou has handled her life is unparalleled.

The Vagina Monologues, by Eve Ensler
Before I read this book in high school I wasn’t comfortable with the v-word—it was too taboo.

Woman Hollering Creek: And Other Stories, by Sandra Cisneros
This collection of stories has a lot to do with the identity and sexuality of its female characters.

Sister Citizen: Shame, Stereotypes, and Black Women in America, by Melissa Harris-Perry
This is an amazing look at the roles women of color are often relegated to.

Lucy, Deputy Editor:

I don’t take in a lot of nonfiction, so when it comes to feminist literature, my mind automatically veers towards fiction novels that have a feminist slant—though not always an obvious one.

Bumped, by Megan McCafferty
A dystopian novel that serves as an amazing critique of modern society’s obsession with youthful femininity.

Eon, by Alison Goodman
A really great depiction of gender and the roles women play in a parochial society. Plus, dragons! How can you lose?

Emma, by Jane Austen
This is my classic pick, and one of the earliest books in which I realized as a writer that a feminist character does not have to be perfect, or even likable (though I love Emma).

Graceling, by Kristin Cashore
A lot of novels that focus on “strong female characters” have this underlying message that femininity is inherently bad. Graceling doesn’t, and that makes it really refreshing.

The Yellow Wallpaper, by Charlotte Perkins Gilman
Another classic pick. Short, haunting, and a very vivid depiction of depression and the unsympathetic, often tortuous “cures” that women used to endure.

The Ocean at the End of the Lane: A Novel, by Neil Gaiman
Neil Gaiman takes an often negatively used trope—the maid, mother, crone trinity—and tells a very different, compelling story with it. While the narrator of this tale is a young boy, this is definitely a female-centric novel. (Fun fact: every named character in the novel is female!)

Liz, Contributing Editor:

The Awakening (Dover Thrift Editions), Kate Chopin
A wonderful piece for contemplating what it means to be a woman within a male society.

Hills Like White Elephants and Cat In The Rain, Ernest Hemingway
Two short stories by Hemingway that look at male/female relationships around procreation. (I know, Hemingway, can you believe it?)

I Want A Wife, Judy Brady
You can read this essay online, right this second.

• A stick of deodorant
• Hem tape or a sewing kit
• A lint roller
• Over-the-counter pain reliever. Probably ibuprofen!
• Non-perishable, non-stinky snacks
• Feminine hygiene product of your choice, if you are a lady. Or an over-the-top helpful dude!
• Disinfecting wipes, so you can wipe your desk off a couple times a month.
• Quarters
• A travel-size toothbrush and toothpaste
• Tissues
• Mints or gum
• LABEL MAKER! Ok, that one is optional, but you will be the toast of your coworkers if you are the one who can make everyone amazing labels and singlehandedly end stapler theft in your place of business.

This is Shandra. This is not an awesome (or even "passably good") picture, courtesy of my new cheapo cellphone, but Shandra, and in fact the whole Salt Lake City Trader Joe's, is pretty awesome. As is our habit when we're out of state, Sandy and I were strolling thru late Sunday night, hoping to see anything new or different from our Pittsburgh base, and just as we sidled up to the sample station for a little cherry cider, she came running across the store to her coworker manning the slab, jar of Trader Joe's Speculoos Cookie and Cocoa Swirl in hand, positively shrieking "OHMIGAWWD THISISNEW OHMYGAWDD WEGOTTATRYTHISRIGHTNOW OHMYGAWDD!!!" She cracked it open right in front of us and said "You guys want to try?" It's like she knew who we were! Except, ummmm.... she didn't. Anyways, I'll skip some of the nittygritty play-by-play, but the jar she grabbed was the last one and since it was opened we couldn't buy it but she asked her manager, the very nice impressively bearded Greg, who personally climbed thru the truck that was in the middle of being unloaded just to procure us a jar that we could, in fact, purchase. It kinda helped that he had heard of us, but no matter, we appreciate it all! I, for one, also appreciated the two women who were wandering around the store in knee high socks and what I'll generously call a two piece bathing suit. "Poor girls, having to choose between food and clothes," Sandy said. You never know what you'll see or experience at Trader Joe's, I guess. It's all part of the fun.

So.....Trader Joe's Speculoos Cookie & Cocoa Swirl. The very existence of such a product begs the question: "How much awesomeness can one jar contain?" Unfortunately, neither has the English language coined the proper words to describe nor has the technology been invented that can compute such things can adequately attempt to answer. It's.....just go. Right now. Go get your own. You'll see.  

For those of you still here, let me flail and fail at trying to describe. It's a perfectly unparalleled union of two of the greatest inventions the junk food industry has ever produced: the mega-nommerific speculoos spread and Nutella, of which I can sing its praises all day. It's almost liked I wished this munchie matrimony into existence, because I've spread both cookie butter and Nutella on the same piece of toast before, and had the thought in the back of my head, "wouldn't it be great if these were combined into one thing?" It's mostly because I'm too lazy to use and/or wash two knives. And by "Nutella", I mean legitimately the real deal, hazelnuts and all. If it's not actual Nutella in this product, then it's pretty much the most convincing knockoff/imitator ever this side of Frank Abagnale Jr. Except for the occasional crispie here or there, it's a smooth mix that perfectly straddles the balance between the gentle gingeriness of the speculoos and the dark, decadent tones of the cocoa portion. My goodness. It's....again, just go. Trust me.

It's tough to imagine a more perfect condimental match than these two tasty lovebirds mashed into one. I've previously posited a "chocolate gum theory" that states that two things that are good separately are not necessarily good when combined. That is far, so far away from being the case here. Maybe it's just my sweet tooth going into overdrive but man....this is just a perfect product. Sandy agrees. After one taste she knew exactly what her score was going to be, and I could tell it just from the look in her eyes. A perfect five from her, and you can count on a perfect five from me as well. I almost feel like I'm shortchanging it, but ten's the max and them's the rules. For something like three bucks for the jar, you simply cannot beat it.
  

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Speculoos Cookie & Cocoa Swirl: 10 of 10 Golden Spoons

by Mike Dang

I was seventeen and sticky. It was the summer of 1989, and I was off to college in a few months. The Massachusetts town where I grew up was decidedly blue collar, filled with teachers and nurses and the occasional sales manager. My friends and I fell asleep to the sound of our parents arguing about car payments and tuition. It was our soundtrack, this din of worry. If you were young, you were expected to have a part-time job.

This week’s issue of The New Yorker is all about money, with a story about San Francisco’s entrepreneurial culture (which to be honest, I don’t have much interest in reading about at the moment), but there is also a delightful piece by Amy Poehler about the time she was 17 and worked at an ice cream parlor called Chadwick’s. When I was a teen, summer jobs were plentiful at the mall or working at Disneyland, and I opted for the former—a decision made simply because it was a shorter drive.

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One of McSweeney's most popular online pieces is Colin Nissan's It's Decorative Gourd Season, Motherfuckers. Its sublime opening paragraph:

I don't know about you, but I can't wait to get my hands on some fucking gourds and arrange them in a horn-shaped basket on my dining room table. That shit is going to look so seasonal. I'm about to head up to the attic right now to find that wicker fucker, dust it off, and jam it with an insanely ornate assortment of shellacked vegetables. When my guests come over it's gonna be like, BLAMMO! Check out my shellacked decorative vegetables, assholes. Guess what season it is -- fucking fall. There's a nip in the air and my house is full of mutant fucking squash.

Nissan's piece is included in a new collection and has spawned a collectable mug. Here's a McSweeney's interview with Nissan about the piece and the "the whole gourd pride movement".

McSWEENEY'S: A large part of what makes "Gourds" so funny is the language. Use of F-bombs in humor is sometimes seen as a lazy way to get a reaction from the audience, but here it just works. How do you fucking explain this?

NISSAN: Fudge if I know. It's tricky because properly placed F-bombs really do have the power to work readers up into a lather, but they also have the power to make them think you're a juvenile idiot with a terrible vocabulary. For whatever reason, the swearing worked in this case. I think part of it was the fact that despite the language, the voice in the piece was never really angry or negative, he was just incredibly excited. If he was angry, I actually think the swearing might have turned people off.

Tags: Colin Nissan   interviews

We're not big on TV for our kids (they watch maybe two hours a week and frequently less than that), but one show we've come to love watching with them is Shaun the Sheep. Produced by Aardman Animations (Wallace and Gromit), Shaun the Sheep has a number of things going for it:

- No dialogue. Not even the humans talk. Everything is communicated through grunts and gestures. Your three-year-old can follow it, as can your grandfather who only speaks Chinese.

- It's frequently hilarious. I've never heard Ollie laugh so hard at anything. And not just for kids...my wife and I are usually in stitches next to them on the couch.

- Non-topical, non-contemporary. The show is almost entirely self-contained...you don't need to know anything about pop culture to get the jokes. The humor is timeless...the show will be as good in 50 years as it is now. (There are plenty of pop culture references for the parents though...as with Bugs Bunny and Wallace and Gromit.)

- Non-violent. The humor is typically not mean-spirited and not predicated on characters hurting or attacking or making fun of other characters.

- Not gender specific. Mostly. This aspect could be a lot better (e.g. all the main characters are male), but the show is not specifically for little boys or little girls in the way that some kids shows are.

In short, it's the perfect entertainment for 3-8 year-olds and their parents. I don't think it's available on Netflix Instant anymore, but you can get in on iTunes and at Amazon.

Tags: Aardman Animations   parenting   Shaun the Sheep   TV

I love Girls, I love Saturday Night Live, I love Tina Fey, so this was pretty much perfect for me:

An Albanian girl named Blerta moves to Brooklyn and offers sage advice to Hannah, Marnie, Jessa and Shoshanna.

Tags: Girls   Saturday Night Live   Tina Fey   TV

Have you got your tickets FOR BAHFEST yet?

by Mike Dang

When I was in college, I saw a movie that had Ben Affleck in it (Jersey Girl, perhaps?) and he was wearing the same shirt that I had on, which I had bought from Urban Outfitters for $20. How did they come to choose that shirt for that particular scene?

Our pal Jon Custer sent me this post by Jezebel showing what certain outfits cost on Parks and Recreation (that Madewell top Ann Perkins is wearing is $108), and poses these questions:

Do they get some kind of promotional consideration from the brands? And why do characters always either wear the same outfit constantly, or never wear the same thing twice—wouldn’t it be cheaper and more believable just to buy a normal human-sized wardrobe for each character on a long-running show?

Anybody know the answers? Anyone know a wardrobe person who works in TV who could tell us what happens behind the scenes? Help us pull back the curtain a little bit.

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From Drinks

[Photograph: waferboard on Flickr]

What could be simpler than simple syrup? Grab some sugar, add water, put it on the stove, and—stop. You've already gone to more trouble than you need to. Here's why.

Ready for the forehead slap?

Slap.

You don't have to heat simple syrup. The science is simple, really. Sucrose (granulated sugar) dissolves just fine in water at room temperature. How much sucrose? About 2000g/L, or just enough to make a thick 2:1 simple syrup by mass.

Granted, the sugar takes some time to dissolve. If you're making a 1:1 syrup, you can simply combine equal parts sugar and water and it'll do its thing in about 15 to 20 minutes.

But, for a 2:1 syrup, you'll probably need closer to 45 minutes, with a good shake or stir at the halfway point.

45 minutes seem like a long time? Sure, it's faster to form a syrup on the stovetop or microwave, but don't forget that you'll need to wait for that heated syrup to cool. Plus, the nonheated method requires less active time and fewer dishes to clean up.

Benefits to not heating simple syrup

Ever since I started making syrup this way, I've noticed a few other benefits. First off, unheated syrup seems to be very slightly more viscous (thicker) than heated syrup. According to cocktail writer and chemist Darcy O'Neil, this is due to the breakdown of sucrose into simpler fructose and glucose molecules when it is heated. And as you may remember from my post on gomme syrup, a thicker mouthfeel is usually a good thing in cocktails.

Here's the other, more important benefit: you get to avoid cooking off delicate aromatics.

For example, if I wanted make a syrup with from a base of fresh-squeezed orange juice, I could simply add sugar and not worry about cooking off the juice's delicate scents and flavors.

Fresh herbs and delicate spices also do better without heat. You can also combine techniques, say by macerating grapefruit peels, then adding grapefruit juice at room temperature to form a syrup.

One reason you still might want to cook a syrup

Of course, any technique has its downsides. Here's the biggest issue with not heating simple syrups.

When you cook a simple syrup, the heat kills some of the bacteria and other microbes naturally occurring in the syrup. Add the syrup to a mason jar before it cools and the hot liquid will kill microbes in the jar as well.

The dangers of microbial spoilage varies from place to place. Some people claim to be able to keep a rich 2:1 syrup on the shelf indefinitely, but mine goes bad in about 3 months, even refrigerated. If you're already having issues with syrup spoiling before you can use it all, using the cold process method may not be for you.

It may not be worth it to you to make cold-infused syrup if you're already struggling with the shelf life of your simple syrups. But, this trick may come in handy for those times when you need a quick syrup and don't want to heat up the stove, or when you're trying to avoid cooking off delicate flavors.

Another reason to cook a syrup

Here's how I make grenadine, a traditional pomegranate syrup, at home: pour a cup of POM pomegranate juice into a Pyrex measuring cup and let it go in the microwave until there's only half a cup left.

I love the caramelized, earthy notes that come from cooking the pomegranate syrup at high heat. Heck, I love the taste of caramelized syrup in general.

So if you're using heat as a means to build flavor, then by all means go for it. But if you're trying to keep aromatic flavors from cooking off, consider keeping things cool.

What's your favorite homemade syrup? Have you ever tried using a cold-infusion method?

About the author: Kevin Liu likes to drink science and study cocktails. Wait, that's backward. Ask him geeky food and booze questions on twitter @kevinkliu. While you're at it, check out his book about cocktail science and his blog about food and science

by Mike Dang

Dear Student,

I remember you well! Your work in my class impressed me and taught me a great deal. I’m so glad to hear that our class discussions enabled us to establish a trusting connection with each other that led you to come to me for this letter of recommendation.

However, I need to tell you up front: I do not write recommendations for Teach for America. I believe doing so is immoral and damaging to children, to schools, to the teaching profession, and to this country. I was a TFA corps member myself, and now I am an active member of the TFA resistance movement. I urge you to please reconsider applying to TFA.

Catherine Michna, a fellow at Tulane University who teaches American Studies and African American literature classes, wrote a post on her blog to let all her students know that she won’t be writing letters of recommendation for them for Teach for America, but will happily find time to sit down with them and discuss why. Which, regardless of whether or not you support the program, is a good thing! We should all take the time to talk through the things we want to do and figure out why something is worthwhile.

Photo: Paul Lowry

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I don't often get really excited about a Kickstarter campaign especially since a couple projects that I've backed haven't turned out as well as I had hoped (although there are others that have been quite successful). This one unites my love of programming and playing games into one board game for young children. My Emma is too young (she's only two months old) to play this game, but I plan on sharing it with her in a couple years. During the last few weeks, they've developed rules for grown ups so Robot Turtles: The Board Game for Little Programmers isn't just for kids anymore. The campaign only runs until this Friday (Sept. 27, 2013), so if you are interested, I encourage you to pledge sooner rather than later.

The Other F Word is a 2011 documentary about how punk rockers and other countercultural figures made the transition from anti-authoritarianism to parenthood. Features members from Devo, NOFX, Black Flag, Rancid, and also pro skater Tony Hawk. Here's the trailer:

To be sure, watching foul-mouthed, colorfully inked musicians attempt to fit themselves into Ward Cleaver's smoking jacket provides for some consistently hilarious situational comedy, but the film's deeper delving into a whole generation of artists clumsily making amends for their own absentee parents could strike a resonant note with anyone (punk or not) who's stumbled headfirst into family life.

Available to rent/buy on iTunes and on Amazon.

(via @claytoncubitt)

Tags: movies   music   parenting   The Other F Word   trailers

BREAKING NEWS… Matt C. from Ohio, United States, discovered the very first “Reasons My Son Is Crying” in this undated leaflet.  

Thanks a lot, women!  You had to go get your RIGHTS and our babies have been crying ever since.

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