Baltimore BlueGrass

Biggest update on wedding website

2008-07-16T20:35:00.000-07:00

My mom called in a tizzy one day. Folks at home didn't know what to do about my name. I remembered recording the gifts my brother and sister-in-law received because I made many snide comments about each gift having been monogrammed. Apparently karma was about to hit because my mom needed to know what initials we'd have, since his last name is a double last name.

Tradition is to have one letter, because tradition is to have one last name, as the center of the first and middle name initials. So I then had to have a discussion with my future husband. Do we cut out your mom's last name or your dad's last name for the sake of our monogram?

We voted and I added a note to our website. But I guess folks thought since we were progressive enough to legally keep both his parent's last names as our name, they then had questions about my middle name.

Will I keep my middle name? Or will my maiden name become my middle name?

The Ride Stops Here Reality TV

2008-07-16T20:12:00.000-07:00

Reality stars I fear your light is fading. You all have the same drama, the same tears, the same arrogance, and the same metaphor. "Oh what a ride this is," "It's just been a roller coaster of emotions," "It's a constant up and down ride." In the South, we're known for colloquialisms that no one ever really uses. Here are some ideas to express the tumult you experience during these tragic, overexpensed free rides to fame you get.

1) I felt like a frog romping blindly in the pond. Some days there's a lilly pad waiting for me, some days there's not.

2) It's like being a bullet zipping through the open landscape of the plantation until you run smack dab into a willow tree.

3) It's like having a mason jar full of rich molasses. You don't know when it will be savory or when it will stick you and hold you down.

4) I never imagined I'd feel like any day someone could pull a wood slat out from under my bed frame.

5) It was like being tea sat out on the front porch under the sweltering sun until I was pulled in and sweetened.

6) It was like being a crawdad resting lazily in a stream. You never knew whether you'd be free or have your brains sucked out when some kid lifted the rock.

7) This experience was as altering as the hemline on Blanche Devereaux's skirts.

A More Inconvenient Truth: Celebrities are the Biggest Polluters

2008-06-21T07:22:00.000-07:00

Every time I shower I want to punch Cameron Diaz. "Ladies you can help save the environment by turning the water off while you shave your legs." Really Cameron, I should take a shower without water? Okay maybe it was Renee or Penelope or...who cares?

Celebrities who own and energize houses with square footage of small countries, lapping in the luxury of their lake size swimming pools that require more water and energy than Baltimore uses in a year, need to shut their Botox enhanced faces. The small pleasure peons like me can have in life is running water for the ten minutes we have to shower before heading off to our thankless, payless, and real jobs.

By the way Al Gore, I hear you use 20% more energy than the average American. Thanks for making America cry over seeing polar bears treading water because their glacier homes are melting. Thanks for turning your environmental profit into a materialistic surplus for your burgeoning waistline.

I'm going to shave my legs now, maybe for fifteen minutes this time.

Purity

2008-05-24T16:24:00.000-07:00

I started out at a private college in Nashville, TN. Almost two hours from home, my grandfather still knew the families of friends I made there. One of these friends--I'll call her Ruth--happened to be the daughter of the Purity Dairies business, makers of my favorite brand of ice cream growing up.

This private college was also very religious. I had six credits of Bible after the first semester. For spring break that year Ruth, myself, and some other friends, all with two first names of course, drove to Panama City Beach, FL.

Ruth drove since she had the largest SUV. One night while we drove, or stalled along the strip, some guys leaned into the open windows. Apparently they wanted a "look at all the virgins." How'd they know we were pure and innocent?

Clearly Purity Dairies wasn't as popular that far South. Ruth's license plate--PURITY--was taken for an advertisement of chastity instead of milk.

Necks

2008-05-21T16:53:00.000-07:00

Thank you Nora Ephron for saving me from wasting my neck away. I never realized the youth and beauty in a neck until you described the effects of aging on this seemingly ambivalent region.

Because of your latest book and advice, I've opted for V-necks and bateau necks. I'm even delving into strapless sweetheart necks.

My turtlenecks, cowl and mock, are now on sabbatical in the attic. I promise not to invite them back until my neck is the proper age for concealing.

They Ain't Just Crossing Guards

2008-05-19T18:33:00.000-07:00

I still have a hard time calling Stewardesses, "Flight Attendants" and Librarians, "Media Specialists." I was just getting used to calling Crossing Guards, "Traffic Officers" when I saw a new title.

Stopped at the green light as the Orioles fans, mostly Red Sox fans, crossed the walk, I fixated on the fluorescent lime green vests of the traffic officers. Two of the three wore vests stating they were officers. But one of them was clearly in charge. His vest identified him as the "Traffic Sergeant".

True to form of all superior ranking officers, Sarge was leaning against the fence yapping on the phone instead of helping control the flow of traffic. He should be promoted to Traffic Captain for his leadership.

Cookies and Milk, No Cigs

2008-05-07T16:09:00.000-07:00

My favorite homeless man does smoke. Because of my fiance's job, we now have four cartons of cigarettes. As grateful for the Baltimore smoking ban as I thought I'd be, it's harder to find smokers who'd maybe buy these cartons. And my quarterly conscience has kicked in. I try to get all the wicked out of me before this happens, but goodness and mercy came early this year. So I've:

Replaced my cigarettes gift to the homeless with 2% milk,

Donated to the Alzheimer's Association in memory of Granny, who we're
almost positive had a stroke and not Alzheimer's,

Given money to an animal shelter that finds homes for old, rejected pets
because we've borrowed our neighbor's old cat instead of adopting
one that didn't already have a perfectly good home, and

Decided not to hock the cigarettes on the black market even though they
could single-handedly pay for the DJ at my wedding.

The City Burbs

2008-04-25T12:33:00.000-07:00

I love my neighbors. (This is not sarcasm) It's the best neighborhood. But it wouldn't be a neighborhood without some petty your tree's on my property argument. Apparently it's my fault a neighbor got a ticket on his car. Why you ask? Because I'm not parking directly in front of my house, on our side of the street.

I guess the parking authorities noticed my car one house down before they noticed his vehicle had been parked in the same spot (unmoved) for at least ten months. And, oh, the expired tags.

Sorry buddy, I love you, but this shit happens. Just read my blogs about my experiences with tickets.

Frankenstein is not the Monster

2008-04-20T04:55:00.000-07:00

When my students learn that I'm from Kentucky they laugh. Who wouldn't? Hey, I do. Just pronouncing the word is like pushing your tongue through cooling sorghum. But my students laugh because they are from just outside of Baltimore. And just outside D.C. Because of their cool location in, oh, Glen Burnie, they like to brag that they "roll hard" and all their friends "roll hard." And this prime location makes them ipso facto more stylish and more intelligent.

For this blog, I'll leave the style factor alone. Too many images of teenage butt cracks and cleavage disturb my mind and churn my stomach. To digress--some teachers, you know who you are, seriously--this is attractive? The exposed underwear alone is about to make me quit.

Back to Glen Burnie students' superior intelligence over my hometown in Kentucky. As I teach in rhetoric, sometimes one example is enough to prove a point. Being my third year to teach Frankenstein, I know now that I have to begin by telling my students the following:
1-Frankenstein the movie came after the book
2-Movies are creative adaptations of prior books
3-Yes, Mary Shelley was a girl
4-No, it won't be gay because a girl wrote it
5-Frankenstein is the scientist, NOT the monster
I repeat number 5 multiple times in a day because these teenagers have Alzheimer's.

Of the 20 something chapters and the beginning letters, we are currently half way through. Thank God because that means the school year's almost over. In preparation for the quiz over this half, I reviewed Frankenstein's reasons for having a heavy conscience. A hand popped up, very eager to answer.

"Like he's guilty (the word conscience is too much) idn't he because he's killin all those people to get at Victor."

"Honey, we've been over this. Do you have a first name? And do you have a last name? Yes, good. So does Victor, the scientist, aka Frankenstein."

"Huh?" (She wasn't the only one in room with that fried look)

Someone else ventures, "So you're saying Frankenstein is not the monster?"

"Yes. The monster is the monster. Victor Frankenstein is his creator." I'm so exasperated that I'm contemplating walking out and collecting government assistance for awhile.

Then I wait for it, it happens every year during this book. The collective "ahs" in the room as if we'd been talking about existentialism for a month and not merely figuring out a main character's name.

Shameless Plug--Freshly Squeezed Now on Sale

2008-04-20T04:51:00.000-07:00

The Write Here Write Now Anthology is out. For those of you who did not attend the CityLit Festival and receive your discounted copy, you MUST come to the release party on May 28, 7:30 pm at the Creative Alliance.

Buy your copy at the release party or in advance from the link I've provided. See how much of the intensive labor I've already done for you. Now show your gratitude by buying a copy.

If you're good, I'll sign your copy.

http://search.barnesandnoble.com/Freshly-Squeezed/Christine-Stewart/e/9781934074329/?itm=4

Baltimore CityLit Festival--I'm Reading

2008-03-22T06:52:00.000-07:00

This is not a brag post. But after twenty rejection letters from literary magazines and a subsequent lack of desire to continue writing, I need to give my horn a little toot-toot.
A group of fabulous writers with the Write Here Write Now (WHWN)workshops are published in the upcoming first annual Baltimore CityLit Anthology. One of my nonfiction essays is published in this great collection. (It helped that I was in the workshops and answered the call for submissions to get published)
On April 19 the CityLit Project hosts a celebration of literature at the Enoch Pratt Library in Mt. Vernon. Readings from the anthology start at 3:30. I'm somewhere in the relatively short lineup.
On May 28 at 7:30 there will be a release party at the Creative Alliance. Be there. Buy a copy. Tell a friend that I'm a decent writer and to give me a chance.

The Cigarette and Cookie March

2008-02-23T04:30:00.000-08:00

We don't smoke (a shame). We have a new carton of cigarettes (unnecessary story). We like to bake cookies and only eat a few. What to do with the superfluous cigarettes and cookies? Walk the entire city limits and give to the homeless. I've yet to be spit on in this mission. But I'm avoiding the corner where the crone who hocked a lugie on me and called me an "evil white whore" hangs out.

I'll keep you posted.

I'm not in jail and my car's not impounded

2008-02-10T04:42:00.000-08:00

My tags expired in January. Of 2007. This was brought to my attention in March, 2007, when Baltimore Parking Authority gave me a citation. Then another. And another. Still another. I've already written about the process of outstanding tickets without the possibility of tag renewal, so I won't frustrate us again with that.

So I thought I'd paid all of my tickets. Apparently I had overlooked one that, with interest, now totaled $789.13. If I didn't get to the court house to pay, I'd be booted. Now I've been booted before (I am a good person, and smart; just really simple minded about the big city) and that was not fun, I missed my flight home to KY.

I was pulled over on 83 for expired tags. Bad cop wanted to lock me up. "You know I could arrest you right now, repossess your car and auction it off, and see that your future insurance rates are tripled."

This is not the way we handle matters in Paducah. First off, I know everyone. Second, even if I didn't, his aunt so-and-so would have babysat my second cousin once.

Fortunately there was a good cop. He stepped to my window and sidechecked bad cop out. "This is what is supposed to happen, but I'm guessing you've made an innocent mistake."

Yeah, innocent mistake coupled with this city's back asswards system.

To be continued...

School Sucks

2007-10-30T19:55:00.000-07:00

For Chaucer's Canterbury Tales I assigned my seniors a project to design, decorate, create props, etc. a doll model for one of the characters. Imagine--I thought--if when I was in high school my teacher permitted anything other than research papers, thesis papers, and sentence diagramming. Create a life-like image of the Wife of Bath! Red stockings and birthing hips! Easy A. Fun A.

They were even to chose a song that would play if that character were to walk down a runway. They had a week. I came to school on due date with my IPod, red construction paper mimicking a runway--I was ready.

Out of my class of 35 (number issue for separate blog), I had three dolls placed on my desk. Have you ever had to keep your cool in front of 35 children just determined to rain on your parade?

Logic

2007-10-30T19:51:00.000-07:00

Apparently an entire movie screenplay can introduce, develop, and change characters; develop, reach, and resolve conflict; and cure cancer all in 13 pages.

Where have I been all my life?

2007-10-28T16:37:00.000-07:00

I know--I haven't written anything in months. I won't whine about how busy I've been. This blog thing was never my idea any way; I admitted to getting my first DVD player just three years ago and my only computer being from 2000.

But I've received emails from people I don't know--so maybe my blog existence is bigger than my circle of friends. I tried to email those of you back who asked me questions. Again, I'm not smart when it comes to computers. I apologize. But I did appreciate the interest--it's because of you strangers, not my friends, that I've decided to keep running this.

To reader in LA, I have looked in every little spot I visit in Baltimore and did not find the sticker you were looking for. Sorry, hon.

Please stay tuned for my next post. It will be about all of the homeland security funding that goes to towns like mine--Paducah, KY. Isn't that a prime target.

Is US Homeland Security Thinking Out of the Box?

2007-08-03T16:09:00.000-07:00

We learned the hard way in Vietnam that the tactics of war had changed. But it took a good ass kicking for us to become more adept at guerilla warfare. Since 9-11 we are searched for typical weapons; blades, guns, explosives. It wasn't until years after think tanks harped on the ease with which biological and chemical agents could make it through security that we are at least checking liquid items at security.

But are chemical and biological weapons even too conventional that we are missing yet another type of warfare? The latest scare caused by the Fisher Price recall of many of the highest selling toys found to be covered in lead paint raises a deeper concern. With the majority of American goods being made in foreign countries, isn't product tampering just another vehicle for mass terrorism?

Porky's Revenge and other attractions

2007-07-18T10:39:00.000-07:00

After spending two weeks in Naples, the Everglades, and Key West, I have come back with renewed confidence that, while Kentucky may once have been the rare American harbinger for yokels, there are just too many now in this country that they've seeped into every crevice.

1. Their stop signs, despite being the international warning color of red, also have blinking Christmas tree lights around them. Next step to make sure we see a stop sign: tap dancing Queens singing "Stop in the Name of Love" through cheerleader megaphones.

2. Marco Island honkey tonk "Porkey's Revenge" delivers everything you could want from a B budget restaurant: pulled pork marinated in beer baked beans, a Hal Ketchum look alike singing "Family Tradition" to one couple scootin' on the dance floor, 60 percent of the tables occupied by local cops, and waitresses with leather skin wearing boots and Daisy Dukes.

3. Air boat Everglades guide was incomprehensible. My dad was the only one who understood him, and that's because my dad has seen "The Waterboy" so many times that he speaks Farmer Fran.

4. This is very minor, yes I too make grammatical errors and screw up verb tenses, but it was just a too funny moment. The guide at Ernest Hemingway's house in Key West was not on par with guides say of the Louvre. He tried to herd us and scrunch our sweatie bodies into these narrow, no fans, no air conditioning rooms. I refused to scuttle into this spot where I'd be denied of all ventiliation and he got this male condescending machismo thing going against me to the other tourists. Funny thing is soon after, Mr. Set-Others-Straight said "irregardless" in a sentence. I piped up, letting everyone in on how we'd just witnessed the use of a non word in a house that witnessed such eloquence.

Hell Hath No Fury Like a Meter Maid with an Electronic Ticketer

2007-06-20T08:36:00.000-07:00

Dante described Hell as levels befitting your Earthly sins. The Baltimore City Parking Fines Department has just as many levels for your parking faux pas. First you have the nice level of parking fine hell. Your meter expired while you were purchasing that must have Natty Boh bumper sticker. That will cost you a mere $23. This sin would be the equivalent to say, chronically cussing in front of small children. You may just spend eternity having to watch reruns of "Full House."

The middle levels of hell are in your $40 to $77 range of punishment. You can be sent here for being less than 15' from a fire hydrant, in a snow emergency route, or, my favorite, impeding the flow of traffic. My boyfriend B had been impeding the flow of traffic on our exceedingly busy side street of upper Fell's from 7-8 pm for weeks; unable to find a parking spot at this time for all the potential ones banned by "7:07pm to 9:21pm on every third Monday and Thursday, excluding Arbor Day but not Flag Day and including half moons even if those are on days not normally excluded" types of restrictions. And what was he impeding on the day he finally received judgment for his sin? The Ice Cream Truck. Where's the fine for their impeding my ability to sleep at night? And who needs ice cream at 1am anyway?

The deeper level of hell, for the truly heinous parking restriction offenders, will get you anywhere from $152 to $302. The usual sins here are parking in a handicapped spot, abandoning "your" vehicle, and driving your 20,000 lbs. commercial vehicle in the neighborhoods. But unless we just have it out for the crippled or are off loading 1 million cans of corn in our rowhouse; we're pretty free of these sins.

But what you may not know about is the deepest level of hell. The punishment is so intense that the City won't put it in writing. (They know what happened to tobacco companies for putting diabolical schemes in writing.)The deepest level of parking fine hell is what I like to call the circular reasoning violation. A "friend" of mine realized one day that she had inadvertently let her tags expire. Not so much realized, but was ticketed. A beginner level of hell costing her just $27. I, I mean she, went online to renew her tags. After paying the city fee (different from the parking fee) for letting her tags expire, she thought that would clear her to renew her tags. Nope, must first pay all outstanding parking tickets. The only one she had was the one she just received. Bad news, can't pay parking tickets online through this site. She called the 1-800, paid the ticket and obligatory $14 convenience fee. Only after paying did the operator announce it would take 30 convenient days to process the phone payment. For the next few weeks despite dodging meter maids, police, etc., she amassed four more "expired tag" violations. You do the math. This time she sent checks in to avoid the convenience of the phone. All in all, she has still been unable to renew her tags because of processing delays. She probably has another measly $27 ticket right now.

Please sir may I have another?

The Sculpture Garden Could Use Some Rump Shakin'

2007-06-18T14:44:00.000-07:00

Two friends of mine, lets call them buppies, (for being a blend of bohemian and yuppie)have consistently shot down my music picks for their wedding reception. Of course the ceremony itself should be tasteful; it's in the Walter's for God sakes. But there is nothing like bumping and grinding to booty music on the dance floor that breaks down barriers between the bride's guests and the groom's guests. Imagine it--everyone is seated for dinner. Single friend-of-the-bride Jenna quietly takes teensy bites of her food so single friend-of-the-groom Jim won't be turned off by chomping, talking with a full mouth, or the unfortunate piece of lettuce between the teeth. The only disturbance of the silence is the delicate clinking of fine silverware against crystal: "Here's to the happy couple." Jim, although not a weatherman, strikes up a conversation with Jenna about the intense humidity: "Yes it has been very humid," she replies. Now what girl doesn't scream with glee and grab a man to dance when "Baby Got Back" comes on? With the noise to prevent awkward conversation and the body girations, there'll be a match made in Heaven.

This is my last pitch--who are ya'll to stand in the way of true love? Or at least some dance floor romance in the Sculpture Garden? No two strangers will spontaneously decide to dance together to "La Vie en Rose."

Man vs. Wild or Man vs. Clothing?

2007-06-15T16:47:00.000-07:00

So (that's how kids begin every sentence). So, I love shows about survival. "I Shouldn't Be Alive," "Survivorman," and "Man Versus Wild." Clearly (the sentence beginning word choice of lawyers). Clearly, "I shouldn't Be Alive" is the most credible of them all. Ipso facto (also lawyers), I watch it the most.
However, Bear (the Man of "Man vs. Wild and highly funny coincidence of his name matching that of his foes) has me tuning in. It doesn't hurt that he is hot--from his British accent all the way down to his trousers, which he removes a lot. Something about reducing the onset of hypothermia when his clothes get wet. Trust me, he doesn't need to worry about reducing the onset of shrinkage. Wow.

Homophones, or Today's High Schooler

2007-05-22T14:41:00.000-07:00

After only two years of teaching high school English, I've already come across many funny, while also troubling, pollutions of our language. Here are some of the best. I have included my comments that I made on these papers.

7. "I imagine this song at Frankenstein and Elizabeth's wedding, when they say their vowels." -- Would this wedding march be E-I-E-I-O?
6. Basketball quart -- Is this like miniature golf?
5. We were so relieved when mourning came -- You liked your aunt that much?
4. My mom gave birth to an 85 pound baby boy -- Send your mom my concerns, and
a decimal point.
3. (Title) "My Mane Name" -- Teaching proofreading is like beating a dead horse.
2. Odysseus is the Hero of the Trojan Whore -- And you spelled Odysseus correctly?
1. After tests, the doctor told me I was amoebac -- It must be tough going to
high school with only one cell.

Worm Composting, or Vermicomposting

2007-05-20T06:11:00.000-07:00

Two friends, L and R, introduced the idea of city composting to me. Now this brought back smelly memories of when I was a child and I stumbled upon my grandparent's compost pile behind the storage shed. But, if it's good for the environment, why the hell not? What's been interesting as I've looked into this is there is an entire culture devoted to worm harmony out there. Some highlights:
1) Harvest your worm compost with your hands, never a shovel, to keep your critters intact.
2) Refrigerate food scraps, and keep them slightly damp, but not too damp, before putting the waste in the compost bin.
3) Worms prefer to eat cool, damp scraps. (Thus the tedious process explained above.)
4) Keep your bin indoors so the worms stay cool. (Never mind your sniffer.)
5) And yes, if you mess this up, worms have their own watch group in The Earth Worm Digest Organization.

Stooping

2007-05-19T23:15:00.000-07:00

It's not new to me, or to anyone who's lived in Baltimore for awhile--people love to sit on their stoops. I agree that this is a great method for advancing camaraderie in city neighborhoods. It's also a great way to escape these narrow houses we live in that are a little more than glorified trailers; long and narrow. Recently I've had to adjust to stoop shares, you know, like time shares, except it's not some fabulous beach house in Belize. Just four steps on a Baltimore street that lead into my house. They're not even the fancy, cooling marble ones. They're brick; chipping brick. For some reason, my stoop is the one preferred over the 100 others on my street. Sometimes I get home around 3pm. Tired, cranky, ready to bite someone's head off since teenagers have been biting my head off all day. As I walk towards my house I see I'm going to have to make niceties with the 5-person family hanging out on my stoop. "How's it going ya'll?" I inquire genuinely. "Hey, great," "Beautiful day isn't it?" and I even get a, "How was your day?" from my visitors. It was the first time that day that someone asked me how I felt. "You know," I said, "I'm worn out actually." A chorus of concerns came from the family. I squeezed past them to get inside. Shortly thereafter I returned with an extra chair and a pitcher of lemonade. I began to talk about my day as the older woman, probably the grandmother, poured us drinks. If one good deed deserves another, then I've staked out the stoop I'm going to visit next week. I hope they're just as appreciative of my presence as I was of my stoop share family.