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The New York Times ran a piece on the Des Moines Register stating that the paper’s endorsement is seen as a great prize among candidates running for president. The article also pointed out that for the first time, the top three editorial spots at the Register are occupied by women and wondered if this wouldn’t give Hillary Clinton an unfair advantage because as we all know, women mindlessly vote for their own kind regardless of qualifications and the issues.

What an infuriating piece of crap! Nothing raises my blood pressure more than sexist thinking like this. The fact that most men wouldn’t vote for a woman unless she was in a wet t-shirt contest rarely gets talked about, but when a woman actually runs for public office and manages to overcome the mean girl backlash and draws other female supporters, this is seen as some kind of herd mentality response. Men never seem to think that anything they think, do or say is influenced by their gender though there is a mount everest worth of reasons to believe that they are even more hormonally driven than their sisters, but anything under the sun a woman does is probably a result of PMS if she isn’t currently on the rag.

Although I don’t believe the Des Moines Register is a great newspaper (because it’s rather light on news beyond central Iowa and it allows the city’s elite to use it as though it were a high school publication), I am going to go out on a limb and guess that a person doesn’t get to be one of the top three there unless they have proven themselves in their field. Interestingly, though women are often accused of being tokens when they achieve positions like these, the truth is that women are usually held to much higher standards than the men who wind up in similar positions.

The Times should really be careful when it accuses others of bias. Aside from the ads, there isn’t a neutral thing printed in it ever, and I imagine that the East Coast ignorance about the Midwest played a role in the sexist conclusions that Mr. Zeleny, the piece’s author, came to write. Iowans are particularly plagued with Grant Wood images being superimposed over our lives and realities to the point where I don’t know if anyone out East even realizes that the majority of the state’s population lives in urban settings and that we have to organize field trips for our students to take them to farms so they know that milk comes from a cow and not from the AE plant on E. University. Shame on him still however, and shame on any who persist in the antiquated belief that when men vote for men it’s a result of thoughtful deliberation of the issues and facts whereas women only vote for the candidates based on their shared gender or because they have good personalities. Men are just as capable of casting their votes away as mindlessly as anyone and mindless voting is a result of just being stupid which is an equal gender opportunity judging from the NY Times piece.


We used to get one of those Christmas chain letters from one of Will’s uncle’s family every year. I didn’t get one last year, but then they forgot to invite Katy and I to the extended family Christmas dinner until the afternoon before they held it too. I didn’t miss the letter. It was one of those impossibly irritating laundry lists of self-wonder and inner rapture that could make a Nobel Laureate feel inadequate and socially awkward. Will’s cousins were (possibly still are – I wouldn’t know) paragons of just about everything, and his aunt and uncle more pious and less humble about it then they should be. I asked Will if he ever felt as though all that bragging was a backhanded insult and he confessed that he never read the whole letter but merely hung up the card it arrived in. Which makes me wonder, even now, what the purpose of these letters are? I have never written one but Rob and I have pondered, mostly without producing anything definite other than perhaps we should go easy on the mention of death as it’s not a very Christmassy thing – more of an Easter thing really – and consider alternate versions for those people who don’t know how the whole extended family things works for us blendeds. I just want to write something simple. Something that won’t trigger anyone’s gag reflex and yet still manages to convey a sense of our year. But, of course, it’s only been six months officially. I don’t think new couples gush about their courtships in holiday letters, right?

Frankly, I don’t know what the purpose of the holiday letter is, and it will be a “holiday” letter because even if it were written, printed, stuffed, stamped, addressed and sitting in the post office this very minute – no one would see it before the new year at the earliest. Perhaps it should be a coming attractions? What we are looking forward to in the new year.

Dear Family and Friends,
As this new year begins, exciting changes await our family as we organize for our move to Texas…….

Okay, yeah, this sounds suspiciously like what a recap might only substitute “Canada” for “Texas”.

What’s wrong with a card? Snow and fauna? Or Santa and elves? Or a picture. Lisa and John sent us a picture postcard of the two of them in front of, actually to the side of, a really big rock. In Australia. I think. But still, way more interesting than any holiday letter because I would rather see them somewhere as opposed to reading about them somewhere, if that makes sense.

How about a collage? Pictures from all the big event of the year (minus everything to do with death, of course)? And now we are into the unwieldily and project-like which means no one would get their greeting until February at the earliest and I don’t think these kinds of things can double as Valentine’s unless they are to your mother.

Maybe I just don’t have what it takes to write these kinds of things. Odd that a blogger schooled in the practice of self-revelation can’t brag and sicken her family and friends except online, but possibly the truth. So, I guess I will consider the blog in its entirety my holiday letter to you all. And to all now, a goodnight.


Actually my new dentist is a very nice woman who is much more proactive than the two young guys who took over the practice of my previous dentist when he was diagnosed with lung cancer and subsequently died just a short time after Will did. She was very happy to explain the things she proposed for my near life-long struggle with my gums. The hygienist who cleaned my teeth – I can live without ever even running into to him again. It took all my self-control not to hurt him. Some people are born without the touch to be a hygienist and he is one of them.

No great dental report for Kate or me. She has a tiny cavity that has to be pasted over or something. It won’t need freezing. She is a terrible brusher and now I have proof to hang over her head that I would rather not have, but what can you do. I have ever receding gums and the dentist wants to fill in some places to prevent bone loss, of which I have a tiny bit in the back. I guess I can live with this dour report but it is less than I had hoped for and oddly takes me back to my teens when nothing I did seemed to prevent cavities and lectures about my inadequacy. God do I hate those trips down memory lane.

Oh well, nothing to be done but the obvious.