Copyright © 2012-13 · All Rights Reserved · ilovemyburg.com. Written content by Katie Mitchell. Photos by Brandy Somers. This material may not be copied, downloaded, reproduced, or printed without express written consent. Thank you for respecting our intellectual property.
the corner of the corner.
POPCORN!
I see sompn.
Copyright © 2012-13 · All Rights Reserved · ilovemyburg.com. Written content by Katie Mitchell. Photos by Brandy Somers. This material may not be copied, downloaded, reproduced, or printed without express written consent. Thank you for respecting our intellectual property.
As I got ready that evening, I wondered if I was dressed too fancy for dinner at The Corner and an opening at Larkin Arts. I texted Brandy, “I’m bling-ier than usual…” And she replied, “Most girls do that when they’re on their way to the corner.” Touché. And so I left my outfit as it was, got the kiddos in the car, and headed downtown.
On the way Bree recited the entire Bowflex Treadclimber commercial. And then one for AARP. And then she said, “Mom, you’re old. Maybe you need life insurance from AARP. It’s just pennies a day.” I made a mental note to chop the power cord to the TV when we got home.
Then another text came through: “At Food Co-op. Locked keys in car.” Oh, dear. And I thought about that time last summer when Brandy locked her keys in her car at Riven Rock Park. No big deal — it was summer and we had no schedule, really. But today we had little time for error… we had to get to The Corner where we were having a quick meeting with Kai, then get to the art opening at Larkin, and get home before the kids started fighting in public. By the way, when I told Bree and Cal that Kai would be joining us, they said, “Kai — the ninja??”
“Yes,” I told them. “He’s a ninja.”
At the Food Co-op we piled into my tiny car like a clown family and drove to The Corner. Brandy had called someone to come unlock her car, and we figured we probably had time to eat before they arrived at her car and got it unlocked. The hostess showed us to a table upstairs. If you’ve not been in there before, they have a spiral staircase. I’ve always wanted one of those. I kinda like the sensation of being lost as I go up… the serpentine design prevents you from seeing the top step until you’re on it, but I always stare at my feet anyway because I’m so clumsy I’m sure I’ll fall down. Later the kids enjoyed tossing little notes they’d written down the spiral… <sigh>, at least they were nice notes.
Upstairs we sat in a booth, and no sooner had we unloaded all our stuff (notebook, pen, purse, camera, camera bag, crayons, paper, LEGOs, coloring books, lip gloss, Angry Bird hat, etc.) than the locksmith called and Brandy’s car was ready. She decided to run up there (from West Water Street to East Wolfe Street! In the windy cold! In boots!) and retrieve her car. I tried to tell her we could drive over there after dinner, but she insisted it would just take a sec. And out she went.
I ordered an Allegash for her, a 471 IPA for myself, and drinks for the kids. The waitress brought the kids free popcorn (yes, people — they give your children free popcorn from the cute machine downstairs!!) while I perused the menu. And I swear, during the four minutes it took the server to bring our drinks, Brandy ran to her car, settled the transaction, drove back, parked, and was sitting in front of me like she’d never left. That girl can RUN! Maybe SHE’S a ninja. Then she stood up on the booth and starting taking photos. No one ever questions her.
The Corner has a great menu. Simple, tasty food, but with lots of choices. We ordered a Philly, Mac and Cheese, cheese pizza with applesauce, a Make-Your-Own Nachos, and a Make-Your-Own pizza with chicken, onions, and jalapeños. And when you make your own pizza, you don’t have to order an entire pizza — you can just order one slice. I love that. Because when you order pizza in a group, someone always gets shafted. Not at this restaurant!
The kids announced that “you guys need your space” and moved to a nearby table. Ha! No argument here! In fact, they read my mind. Personally I think they were concerned that a ninja was on his way.
There’s always some signal that it’s time to go. On this night, Cal and Ella bumped into each other getting more popcorn and spilled it all over the place. But Cal assured me as he shoved handfuls into his mouth, “Don’t worry. I picked it all up and put it back in my basket.” Yep. Time to go.
We made a quick pit stop on the way out.
Visit The Corner next time you’re downtown. They are located at the, um, corner of Water Street and Main, across from Oasis Gallery.
Copyright © 2012-13 · All Rights Reserved · ilovemyburg.com. Written content by Katie Mitchell. Photos by Brandy Somers. This material may not be copied, downloaded, reproduced, or printed without express written consent. Thank you for respecting our intellectual property.
Copyright © 2012-13 · All Rights Reserved · ilovemyburg.com. Written content by Katie Mitchell. Photos by Brandy Somers. This material may not be copied, downloaded, reproduced, or printed without express written consent. Thank you for respecting our intellectual property.
Copyright © 2012-13 · All Rights Reserved · ilovemyburg.com. Written content by Katie Mitchell. Photos by Brandy Somers. This material may not be copied, downloaded, reproduced, or printed without express written consent. Thank you for respecting our intellectual property.
Copyright © 2012-13 · All Rights Reserved · ilovemyburg.com. Written content by Katie Mitchell. Photos by Brandy Somers. This material may not be copied, downloaded, reproduced, or printed without express written consent. Thank you for respecting our intellectual property.
BUNS OF STEEL wheels.
i love a blended family!
Copyright © 2012-13 · All Rights Reserved · ilovemyburg.com. Written content by Katie Mitchell. Photos by Brandy Somers. This material may not be copied, downloaded, reproduced, or printed without express written consent. Thank you for respecting our intellectual property.
the only thing that’ll put out the fire.
yes, he’s putting his finger in his food.
don’t blink. don’t blink.
Copyright © 2012-13 · All Rights Reserved · ilovemyburg.com. Written content by Katie Mitchell. Photos by Brandy Somers. This material may not be copied, downloaded, reproduced, or printed without express written consent. Thank you for respecting our intellectual property.
Birthdays are special. They remind us of a day when something really great entered our lives. Birthdays are different from other holidays because they’re personal. The whole nation isn’t celebrating… just your circle of friends and family… just those who inhabit your world. And so birthdays are for telling our loved ones, “I’m grateful you’re alive. I’m happy you were born. My life would not be the same without you.” And we throw parties with cake and laughter and music and silly activities. Like bobbing for apples. Or pinning a tail on something. Or running with a water balloon between your legs. I love birthday parties!! More than any other holiday.
Oh, the memories of my childhood birthday parties. The one where the wind ripped the paper tablecloths right off the tables, spilling drinks and cake and all of it… blowing across the yard, my mom frantically chasing cups and napkins. The one, in middle school (people, don’t throw a large party for a tweenager. It’s just a bad idea.), where finally some kid, on a Hawaiian Punch bender, walked right through the sliding screen door and everyone ran for cover while my dad yelled, “That’s it! THAT’S IT!” The one that coincided with father’s day (my fourteenth?) and we had a party on the lake, and I got to drive the pontoon boat (that was my favorite). In fact, June is always a spectacular month–so many birthdays. So many special people to be grateful for, including my daughter, her dad, Brandy, Blake, Rebecca, Kim, Caleb, Sarah… we just celebrate all month.
On this night, we weren’t really celebrating a person’s birthday; we were commemorating the first birthday of ilovemyburg.com. Yep — one year ago, on February 14, 2012, we launched this blog with our first post about Granny Longlegs. But, we were certainly celebrating people. I mean, the blog’s primary purpose is to document Brandy’s and my experiences in the city… so it serves as a permanent scrapbook of sorts that will become more meaningful each passing year. So it was a celebration of our friendship. But it was also, and this blog is, a celebration of all the people who inhabit our little world… all of you who read each week, all the folks we see out and about, everyone. I can say that my love for this city has grown in the last year, probably because of my increased focus on it.
We decided to eat our birthday dinner at Indian American Cafe. Brandy had hoped it would snow because she was envisioning snowy cafe photos, and I, admittedly, had not been in that restaurant in about a decade <cringe>. I used to go all the time! I don’t know why I stopped… but I will not let that place disappear from my life EVER AGAIN. We invited several friends to our birthday party, and we were joined by Danielle, Kai, Sean, and Denise. At first we discussed what to call our birthday — our “burgthday” as the title of this post indicates, or our “blogthday” or “blogirthday,”… but then Kai whipped out “Geblogstag” (German) and its equally impressive variant “Geburgstag” and trumped us all. How can anyone argue with a German guy in an Indian restaurant? I was clearly out of my league, culturally.
On to the food. When you order your food, you can choose your level of spiciness, from one-half to four. One-half is mildly spicy but certainly not bland, and four makes your eyes bleed. Just kidding. But really, don’t underestimate the hotness. I don’t remember everyone’s spice level, but I ordered my dish–this yummy steak with rice and spinach dish– at a two. Brandy got the same thing but with chicken and at level three. If memory serves, Kai got a one. Still, he was grunting away eating his meal. I was snorting and sweating my way through my plate, Brandy got splotchy and snotty, and Danielle could flat out see through time. Still, we shoveled it in as some kind of feat of endurance. The food is so good you cannot stop eating it. And they give you A LOT of food. I took half of mine home. And what did I do at two in the morning because my heartburn wouldn’t let me sleep? I ate the rest of it. Yep. You CANNOT stop eating it.
Between mouthfuls we watched You Tube videos on Kai’s phone. Yes, we were those people. Kai had not seen the Sweet Brown remix thing, and I’d somehow continued to exist despite having missed several other compelling Internet videos. Egads. And then of course, any time anyone said anything the rest of the night, one of us had to say “Ain’t nobody got time for dat” or “I can’t call it.”
It was getting on time to head to Clementine to see The Steel Wheels (post forthcoming!), so we ended our dinner with a birthday cupcake from Shank’s, compliments of Danielle. We lit the candle and sang the birthday song while Danielle tried to take photos of two really giddy idiots. Someone finally told me I had spinach between my teeth. And when we emerged from the restaurant, much to Brandy’s delight, it was snowing. Unfortunately, it was also dark.
photo by Danielle Campbell
Indian American Cafe is located at 91 North Main Street in downtown Harrisonburg, about a block south of the Blue Nile. This will go down as one of my favorite birthdays ever. Thank you to the 60+ local businesses that have tolerated our antics. Can’t wait to see what this year brings!
Copyright © 2012-13 · All Rights Reserved · ilovemyburg.com. Written content by Katie Mitchell. Photos by Brandy Somers. This material may not be copied, downloaded, reproduced, or printed without express written consent. Thank you for respecting our intellectual property.
After viewing Miss Representation at Court Square Theater, then sleeping on it, then thinking on it, and then writing about it for several days, I reached this exciting and hopeful conclusion: we’re ALL culpable. Women point the finger at men, and at each other, men point the finger at women, and all that’s left is your own finger pointing at yourself. Which finger you choose to point with is entirely up to you.
When Marian Wright Edelman, Founder & President Children’s Defense Fund, states in the documentary, “You can’t be what you can’t see,” I understand what she means. It’s hard for children, male or female, to become something that, for lack of a decent example, they’ve never been exposed to. For instance, if a child never had a responsible, loving parent, then how can he or she become one? But tell that to Sally Ride or Amelia Earhart. History shows us that every new advance, any kind of progress, starts with some sort of pioneer… there’s a first time for everything… and those pioneers — people of all genders and races and backgrounds — did indeed become what they couldn’t see. This pioneer spirit might not be fully awakened in us all, but if one female child can aspire to be the president of the United States, she clears a path of hope for the rest. What I’m saying is… we don’t need a TV commercial to show us our potential. We don’t necessarily even need a good role model, although that certainly helps. Some people need only the pioneer spirit, to rise above their current circumstance and see themselves differently. This is where social progress occurs. In the heart of each individual.
One part of the film I thought particularly interesting discusses the impact of WWII on women. As I’m sure you know, during WWII women entered the workforce in droves to fill the gaps left by deployed men. This was a new and tantalizing taste of freedom and purpose and ambition for women. After the men returned, most women were laid off. Okay. But what I didn’t really think about, which the film points out, is that television during that time — its programs and commercials — subtly urged (is that an oxymoron?) women to stay home and attend to domestic responsibilities. Commercials and shows depicted women cleaning and cooking and the like, and doing a good job of it. Here were thousands of women feeling displaced because they’d enjoyed their jobs during the war and were now relegated to scrubbing Jello off the kitchen floor again… television gave women a renewed sense of pride in being the woman of the house. And it was necessary, really. (Personally, I would have LOVED being a stay-at-home mom. That ship has sailed, and I accept that, but I am nurturing by nature and would have been GREAT at it!) Anyhow, the film contends that this steady diet of domesticity fed to women by their televisions created a social environment where women stopped believing they could competently work outside the home. It’s been nearly seventy years since then, and the film asserts that seven decades of this message has caused today’s young women not to aspire to high-level professional occupations. I don’t recall the exact statistic, but the idea is that if you poll really young girls, many of them will say they want to be the president or a business owner when they grow up. When asked a few years later, after countless hours of discriminatory media consumption, those same girls say they want to be teachers (gasp!), or nurses, or other typically female, lower-level positions. Ergo, the media erodes a girl’s confidence, and fewer women enter high-level jobs or seek positions of power. But… Sally Ride and Amelia Earhart and countless others have transcended gender stereotypes….
So now we get to the blame game.
One of the female interviewees in the film states that men are “emotionally constipated.” They, too, have been negatively affected by how the media portrays women. They are not immune to the objectification, dehumanization, or “pornification” of women. And as her remarks continue, she seems to imply that men are being conditioned to be abusive. I am concerned about this with my son. As his mother, I’m his primary female role model, but there’s only one me, and lots and lots of other females in the media who project a different image. Of course I don’t want him to grow up thinking women are fake or plastic or worthless objects. Then again, my dad served in WWII and until 2005, also received this same diet of June Cleaver and Lucy Arnaz, and, other than making us eat dinner in the family room on Saturday nights so he could watch Solid Gold, he didn’t objectify women. He had great respect for his mom, his wife, and his three daughters. Heck, even my tenth-grade students understand that wearing Victoria’s Secret underwear will not make them look like Heidi Klum.
So what’s our excuse? Women can’t totally blame the media for all their issues or shortcomings, because someone like Oprah Winfrey or Billie Jean King will come along and shatter those misconceptions. Likewise, men can’t blame their “emotional constipation” on the male-dominated media, because someone like my dad will come along and show he doesn’t buy into all that.
That’s the key. We just have to get every single person on the planet to stop buying into ridiculous images and ideals of women AND men. It’s really just awareness. I mean, once you realize you’re being manipulated, then it’s your own fault if you continue to be. Hence the finger pointing earlier. And so that’s what Miss Representation strives to do, even though I’m still not sure the film adequately conveys it… Let’s just drop all notions, related to groups of people (genders, sexes, races, income levels), that are limiting. Let’s just decide not to believe it any longer. And let’s stop blaming the other groups for our own oppression and access our pioneer spirits. Visit the Miss Representation web site to join one of their many campaigns to empower ALL people and dismantle sexism altogether.
Thanks again to Court Square Theater for providing a chance for the Harrisonburg community to explore our own culpability.
Copyright © 2012-13 · All Rights Reserved · ilovemyburg.com. Written content by Katie Mitchell. Photos by Brandy Somers. This material may not be copied, downloaded, reproduced, or printed without express written consent. Thank you for respecting our intellectual property.
The saga continues…
Here we are, at the third installment of this series about Miss Representation, a documentary which explores the effects of various media on women. Tonight I’m writing about mixed messages—mixed messages the media sends to women of all ages, and mixed messages in the documentary itself. For example, there’s a part of the film where Gloria Steinem and Jane Fonda (two separate interviews) rail against the unfair, unrealistic expectations that women must be young and beautiful and sexy and physically perfect in order to be valued… yet these two women are caked in makeup and hair spray. Again with the makeup thing… really? I know, I know… but I couldn’t help notice that two well-known and highly respected women who have, their whole lives, supported the ideas of equal rights, feminism, and self-expression, are worried about looking their age. ??? Have they, too, fallen under the same spell they’re criticizing? And if Gloria Steinem and Jane Fonda can be duped, is there any hope for the rest of us? Ugh.
I’m sure I’m remembering the segments of the documentary out of order, but I recall a part where a series of images is projected—images of Bratz dolls and Sarah Palin, of Paris Hilton and Florence Nightingale, of Barbie and Daisy Duke and Hillary Clinton. There are also photos from various fashion magazines, and a demonstration of how photo editors digitally “enhance” (manipulate) the faces and bodies of the models. Why do we even need real-life models anymore, now that we have this technology? How has the modeling industry survived the advent of Photoshop? I mean, the models’ eyes get enlarged and widened, their cheekbones defined, their noses straightened, their waists whittled, their breasts lifted, their thighs thinned… all with a few clicks of the mouse. In the end, the images look only remotely like the original models. Sorry, viewers, but what you see is a carefully crafted illusion… not a real human being.
The dolls, sexy movie stars, and Photoshopped models send an immediate and lasting visual message, that’s, for some, more influential than a speech by Margaret Thatcher or an interview with Georgia O’Keefe. And while we know commercials are inherently deceptive and manipulative, even “reputable” news channels like to report on our female leaders’ appearance much more frequently than they would a man’s. So even female politicians, artists, doctors, scientists, humanitarians are reduced to their physicality, rather than elevated to their intellectual capacity. Why would a young woman aspire to become a leader if even the news doesn’t acknowledge female leadership? This leads me to what I think is the most disturbing portion of the film: “news leaders” like Bill O’Reilly, Rush Limbaugh, and Glenn Beck calling women (like Hillary Clinton, Michelle Obama, and others) “b*tches.” In one clip a news anchor asks if Sarah Palin had breast implants! I mean, I made fun of (then) Governor Palin’s “Russia” comment, but I didn’t call her a b*tch and question the authenticity of her body parts. I also remember an image of Hillary Clinton wearing something that revealed about a centimeter of cleavage. Like Janet Jackson’s “wardrobe malfunction,” this incident was quickly dubbed the “Cleavage Controversy.” Can you imagine hearing about Bill O’Reilly’s “Bulge Controversy”? Never. And have you SEEN Rush Limbaugh? How he could ever remark about someone’s looks is beyond me. Can someone Photoshop him?
I’m sorry – was that b*tchy?
The point is, women have bodies, and whether they dress themselves in business suits or bathing suits, someone will criticize their appearance and ignore the rest. And THAT is a mixed message. What’s worse is the effect this constant negativity has on the relationships among women. Women question each others’ ability to lead, because we believe women lack the emotional fortitude to be tough, firm, consistent, rational, logical. (I’m laughing now, thinking of my mom and how strong she is, in so many ways. Really, you have no idea.) The constant focus on female appearance has created a habit of unhealthy comparison. This “beauty competition” causes jealousy, which causes hatred, which is really just self-hatred. Do men have this dilemma? I’m asking sincerely, because I truly don’t know.
And so we’ve ingested the poison. We’ve been conditioned to hate each other. A common compliment among women is to say, “You’re so pretty. You make me sick.” That is self-loathing wrapped in flattery—another mixed message—kinda like a cockroach wrapped in bacon. Goes down so smoothly you don’t know what you’ve consumed.
All this, unfortunately, has a lasting effect. One that can be overcome with awareness, yes… but it’s hard to “un-ring the bell,” so to speak. Once an idea is firmly planted and grows into an ideal, it’s hard to uproot it. If I had to give a name to this burden, I would call it unworthiness – a sense that no matter what one does, it’ll never be enough. As one high school student says in the documentary – her name is Maria – “When is it going to be enough? How long is it going to be for someone to take a stand?” I’m sad that she feels so defeated at such a young age, and that she doesn’t see herself as someone who can take a stand.
I’ve always been tall and slender, just like my parents. Yes, I used to run a lot and completed a couple of marathons, but no matter my current level of fitness or what I eat, I stay pretty scrawny. I’ve gotten some flack from other women about this… I’ve been on the receiving end of “you make me sick.” Many people think that because I’m an ectomorph, I’ve had it easy. I haven’t. Like the film explains, women of all shapes and sizes will be judged for their shape and size until… until it’s no longer a value, I guess. So I’ve been judged, too.
Let me paint you a picture, lol: In ninth grade, I was 5’11” (like I am now) with a size ten shoe, and thirty pounds lighter with red, frizzy hair. I was Ronald McDonald. My two best friends in high school were David and Austin, because to the girls, I was that “weird girl,” quiet and awkward and lanky and bookish. I didn’t wear a bra until I was fourteen, and that was only because kids made fun of me for not wearing one. I didn’t need one, and I still don’t. I remember my friend Shannon in seventh grade coming to my defense, telling other girls that my bra was invisible… the latest thing! While other girls/women hated me for my thin frame, I coveted their curves and long straight hair. I would wear leggings under my jeans in hopes of filling them out just a little more. I never went so far as to stuff my bra because I would have been mortified if the sock had somehow moved to a strange position or, God help me, fallen out. But I certainly considered it. On the flip side, no men ever say to me, “Hey, baby! Nice protruding hip bones!” or “Look at the rib cage on her!” A mixed message: women seem jealous of my body type, but men seem disinterested in it.
Okay, my face is starting to flush because I’ve revealed A LOT in this post. I will add this: my body has served me well, and it continues to serve me well. There’s really nothing I can do to change what I have (or don’t have), and that’s fine. My short hair doesn’t get many whistles either, but I like it. I think it suits me.
But I’m still not leaving the house without makeup on.
Copyright © 2012-13 · All Rights Reserved · ilovemyburg.com. Written content by Katie Mitchell. Photos by Brandy Somers. This material may not be copied, downloaded, reproduced, or printed without express written consent. Thank you for respecting our intellectual property.
Part One of Four (yes, I’m serious.)
Well, what a night this was. One that dredged up all sorts of psycho-emotional sludge I try to pretend no longer exists… stuff that, at age forty, I should be beyond, I guess. And so what started as a pleasurable outing with several ladies of the ‘burg, our conversations meandering innocently enough, turned quickly and unexpectedly to doubt about my ability to “successfully raise” two children, anger and shock, dismay at my evolution as a human being, and sadness that as a woman, maybe I haven’t “come a long way, baby,” and really, I have no one to blame but myself. As I work through my notes about the Women In Focus social at the Artful Dodger and the documentary Miss Representation hosted by Court Square Theater, I see they reveal a disappointing truth. Warning: this is the first ever potentially offensive ilovemyburg.com post, lol. And, the views expressed in this post are solely mine… unless you agree with me, which would reeaally make me less nervous right about now.
Women In Focus was a celebration of women’s stories hosted by the Court Square Theater, featuring presentations of Miss Representation, a documentary about women and the media; North Country, a film starring Charlize Theron as a mine worker; and The Vagina Monologues. The series kicked off with a social at the Artful Dodger. Lots of ladies, and men who love and admire them, attended – including several strong female members of our community, like Sara Christensen, owner of The Lady Jane, Lara Mack (she’s back!), Alice Wheeler, Ashley Hunter, Laurie Benade, Suzi Carter, and several others.
event organizer, Laurie Benade! Bravo!
Brandy, Sara, and I got on the topic of Condoleezza Rice, and how some magazine called her a dominatrix because of her outfit – forget the fact that this highly educated woman was at one time the US Secretary of State and that she could smoke your butt on Jeopardy. Somehow her outfit that day smacked of sexual power (not intellectual or political power)… even though she was not at all dressed in a manner one might call “provocative.” Then we talked about what THAT means – dressing in a provocative or promiscuous way… and then the question was posed: can a man dress promiscuously?
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
What would that look like? Low-slung pants? Tight pants? No pants? No shirt? And would a man look at another man’s outfit and say, “Look at that slut!”? Then again, when did “we” (whoever that is) decide that any type of attire is bad or inappropriate? I know I am uncomfortable showing a lot of skin, but I don’t know WHY I am. Gosh, this is confusing. But somehow, in terms of women’s fashion, most people equate conservative dress with frigidity/prudishness, and revealing dress with promiscuity/porn stardom.
This led to a discussion of Beyoncé’s Super Bowl halftime show. My kids and I watched the Superbowl. My daughter watched the game with great interest, and when Beyoncé performed at halftime, she made no mention of Beyoncé’s outfit, but rather remarked about the TV screen dance floor and “cool special effects.” My son, who for the entire first half of the game ran in circles around the family room, wearing a cape and underpants and wildly waving a foam sword, had a different reaction. He sat down and watched her performance, every second of it, mouth open, eyes fixed on the TV. He dreamily said, “Mom, she’s shaking her body” and “Why is she only wearing her underwear? Isn’t she cold?” Now, these are children, and I didn’t coach either of their responses –these were their natural reactions to Beyoncé’s show. Interesting. And I really don’t know what conclusions can be drawn from it. My son seems to admire the female form.
Okay.
My daughter complimented her singing and did notice that Beyoncé’s entire band was female. But neither of them criticized her. What were the adult viewers thinking? Did the men ignore her talent and dedication and only see her thighs? Did the women also ignore those things and secretly hate her thighs? Geez. Now I sound like some kind of feminist. Or chauvinist. Or alarmist. Or extremist. Or maybe just a polite receptionist. I don’t even know.
Later, as the effects of this evening sank in, I wondered… should I have told my six-year-old son not to have stared at Beyoncé? Would that have shone a light on something beyond the scope of his kindergarten mind? Am I a bad mom for letting him – or both kids – see it? By doing so, have I created in my daughter a self-destructive habit of comparing herself to others? Egads. Beyoncé is a beautiful woman – yes – she’s also talented and successful, whether you like her music or don’t. Can we praise her and condemn her in the same breath?
And so I think about what I want to impart to my children. My kids see what many people don’t see – they see me in the morning, with my pale face and crow’s feet, my rumpled, frizzy hair, no makeup, frumpy bathrobe – they see me in the raw. But they also see me prepare to leave the house, in full hair and makeup and appropriate under- and outer garments. Am I silently teaching them something I don’t want to – that I am ashamed to leave the house without my mask?
As I reread this post now, I see how confused I am. Or was on that night. Or still am, because I’m not done thinking about it. I even noticed the “lol” I typed earlier, like I’m apologizing for having an opinion someone might disagree with. If I were a man, would I have typed that “lol” ?
Lol.
A thousand words, and I haven’t even GOTTEN to the documentary yet. Also, the word “Beyoncé” starts to sound weird when you’ve read it/written it 27 times. Okay, I’m taking a break to watch something with Will Ferrell in it. I’ll be back with more heavy stuff soon. Stay tuned for part two.
PS–a big thank you to Court Square Theater for bringing these issues to the forefront, as uncomfortable as they might be sometimes. And to the Artful Dodger for letting us hang out.
Copyright © 2012 – 13 · All Rights Reserved · ilovemyburg.com. Written content by Katie Mitchell. Photos by Brandy Somers. This material may not be copied, downloaded, reproduced, or printed without express written consent. Thank you for respecting our intellectual property.
where’s your cup, val??
Copyright © 2012-13 · All Rights Reserved · ilovemyburg.com. Written content by Katie Mitchell. Photos by Brandy Somers. This material may not be copied, downloaded, reproduced, or printed without express written consent. Thank you for respecting our intellectual property.
Copyright © 2012-13 · All Rights Reserved · ilovemyburg.com. Written content by Katie Mitchell. Photos by Brandy Somers. This material may not be copied, downloaded, reproduced, or printed without express written consent. Thank you for respecting our intellectual property.
Copyright © 2012-13 · All Rights Reserved · ilovemyburg.com. Written content by Katie Mitchell. Photos by Brandy Somers. This material may not be copied, downloaded, reproduced, or printed without express written consent. Thank you for respecting our intellectual property.
Remember when Studio Art Shop was downtown? This was way back when Dave’s Taverna was on Water Street and Main, and Jokers (now the Blue Nile) was the hot spot for local music. Studio Art Shop was located where Oasis Gallery is now… I remember that art store fondly… the smell of paint and canvas, rows of colorful bottles, rainbows of oil pastels, stacks of naked sketch books, jars of never-used brushes with smooth wooden handles, neat paper bags of rabbit skin glue, Gesso, tubs of Gojo. Simply walking in there would inspire even the least artistic of us (like me) to create.
Needing more space, Studio Art Shop expanded to a larger store on Neff Avenue and became the place for art students to purchase supplies each semester. Lamentably, Studio Art Shop closed its doors for good a few years ago.
No doubt Valerie Smith remembers Studio Art Shop, too, and thanks to her, her hubby Scott, Lynda Bostrom, and many other local art supporters, Harrisonburg once again has a full-service art supply store on the Court Square… an apt location in the heart of a city that loves and values art of all kinds.
But Larkin Arts is not just a source of supplies; it’s also a gallery, a school, and a studio–a place for learning, creating, and displaying art. The store itself carries thousands of products for the new, developing, or veteran artist, and a cozy lounge area where one can sit and sketch or peruse hundreds of art books from their library, all the while listening to albums on the old-school stereo system, from Loggins and Messina to Talking Heads to Fugazi, the Beatles, or even “Latin for Lovers.” :) And, even if you’re not an “artist,” many of their items make lovely, unique gifts for people of all ages and for any occasion, really.
In the space adjacent to the store is the gallery and reception area. Two large, open, bright spaces regularly feature curated, juried, or group exhibitions.
Down the hall to the right are three (three!) classrooms hosting a variety of classes. Every Monday from 6:30 to 8:30pm the public is welcome to attend live figure drawing. Children ages 4 – 12 can attend classes in drawing, painting, sculpture, ceramics, weaving, and art history. What a great way to spend dark, chilly afternoons, and when the weather is warm and school’s out, kids can attend week-long art classes — even one taught by our own Brandy Somers! — during the 2013 Youth Summer Art Program.
The left side of the hallway houses local artists’ studios. Large, bright, open rooms with closets and plenty of space to haul out your supplies and make a big ole mess.
In the last couple of months, Brandy and I have visited Larkin Arts a number of times. Back in December, we did some Christmas shopping there. More recently, we’ve gone to visit the gallery. Nathan Shearer’s simply framed photographs of LEGOs blew me away. One, I love LEGOs — I even have a LEGO room in my house. Two, the scenes he depicts in the photos are both realistic and imaginative. Three, his attention to detail, posing little LEGO figures in front of less playful backgrounds, getting the scale just right so that the photo is as believable as a portrait. And four, the colors! I wish I could have bought every one of them and hung them all together on a single wall in my house. You couldn’t be unhappy in that space. To see more of Nathan’s photos, please check out Katie Schmidt’s photos, here.
The other exhibit we attended was that of Jade Webber, an artist currently studying at JMU after completing a degree in Fine Art at New Mexico State University. Her large, heavily textured paintings depict the natural world, which is, as she describes it, a blend of “the metaphysical, the supernatural, and the ineffable.” Her work particularly reflects a love of animals, who “remind us that we, too, are animals. We are subject to forces beyond our control.” In this way she underscores how natural art is to the human experience: it springs organically from the artist herself; tools of wood and hair and metal push around hues of the outside world we see every day, resulting in a connection between artist and viewer that is not forced, but… ineffably genuine. You can see Jade’s work at Larkin Arts through the end of February.
The kids were with us, of course, and what would an ilovemyburg post be without the antics of children? Let’s see. Bree dropped her cupcake on the floor, icing side down (major tragedy). A couple of the Judy Chops were there to perform (because, let’s face it — all of ’em would have caused a sonic boom-ish catastrophe knocking the artwork right off the walls), and so lots of giggly, dizzying dancing ensued. Scott whipped out some brown Model Magic for the kids to “play with.”
And Cal left a note on Brandy’s car that said, “Your butt looks really good.” She laughed and acted like it was silly, but I bet she taped that thing to her bathroom mirror. Ha ha!! After she previewed this post, she clarified that it is NOT on her bathroom mirror. It’s on her fridge. :)
Congratulations to Valerie and Scott for opening this Harrisonburg gem. We hope you will visit soon and see why it’s so, so special. It’s yet another reason we love our burg.
Copyright © 2012-13 · All Rights Reserved · ilovemyburg.com. Written content by Katie Mitchell. Photos by Brandy Somers. This material may not be copied, downloaded, reproduced, or printed without express written consent. Thank you for respecting our intellectual property.
Well, we’ve loved our city for far longer than “one year.” But one year ago today, we debuted this blog, highlighting a local store called Granny Longlegs. Click here to see that very first post. Now, 173 posts and more than 30,000 views later, we’ve barely scratched the surface of what Harrisonburg has to offer. In the last year, we’ve covered more than sixty local restaurants, events, and retail stores, and with new places opening and new events being created every month, we’ll never run out of material.
Last night Brandy and I celebrated with friends at the Indian American cafe and then at Clementine for the Steel Wheels (plus Red Molly) show. We’ll tell you the whole story in an upcoming post, but for now, for today, we’ll acknowledge our Burgth-day with these sneak peeks.
courtesy of shank’s bakery, downtown harrisonburg
And check out this video of the Steel Wheels!
We love you! Thank you for such a fantastic year! You help us get out of the house. Seriously.
Copyright © 2012-13 · All Rights Reserved · ilovemyburg.com. Written content by Katie Mitchell. Photos by Brandy Somers. This material may not be copied, downloaded, reproduced, or printed without express written consent. Thank you for respecting our intellectual property.
Copyright © 2012-13 · All Rights Reserved · ilovemyburg.com. Written content by Katie Mitchell. Photos by Brandy Somers. This material may not be copied, downloaded, reproduced, or printed without express written consent. Thank you for respecting our intellectual property.
One of my favorite things about living in the Valley is that we get to enjoy all four seasons. The lush spring time when tender new plants sprout up and spread across the surface of local farms; summers full of sunshine and laughter, trips to the river and the pool… and when everything delicious is in season; gorgeous autumns when the trees bleed vibrant red and the sun slants in a sleepy kind of way through the panes flanking my front door; and crisp, snowy winters marked by eating Cheez-its and drinking hot chocolate in a sheet fort in the basement. But, I really don’t do well in the cold. Right now as I’m typing this, it’s twelve degrees outside. I’m wearing all my regular clothes, plus two bathrobes. I’m skinny and I have bad circulation, and most days, I just can’t warm up without getting in the bath tub. Obviously that’s not possible at my workplace, so I just shiver all day and seek out warm spots where I can. And given that I can’t just pack up and escape to the Caribbean any old time I want, I seek out warmth right here, in my city.
On one such chilly day recently, I was, as usual, cold to the bone. It had been a demanding day at work, the sun was quickly disappearing, and I had a bad case of the “I don’t wanna’s.” I didn’t want to walk outside and scurry awkwardly in my heels to the car only to get home, make dinner, clean up the kitchen, and grade papers. So I met Brandy and the kids at one of the warmest spots in the Burg – El Charro!
It was especially warm when I arrived because sweet Ella had written our names on each of our napkins. And warmer still because Brandy had already ordered a pitcher of Dos Equis. Yes! Let the thaw begin.
We ordered chicken and steak fajitas, a hot dog and cheese quesadillas for the girls, and Cal got his favorite thing in the world: “spicy rice.” That kid loves El Charro’s rice. He’s even asked for it for breakfast before. ??? Anyway, I’ve loved this restaurant since I moved here in 1993. The food is delicious and reasonably priced, the atmosphere is always cheery, the service is perfect every time, and the staff is just soooo nice. When my kids were babies, someone was always willing to carry them around for a little while so I could eat.
We had supplies to keep the kids occupied while we waited for our food, but honestly, you never have to wait long in that place. I’d recently tried a “love notes to strangers” project with my students (inspired by a woman named Hannah Brencher), where you write little encouraging messages and leave them for random people to find. When I left my classroom that day, I grabbed the box of leftover supplies from that project and brought it. Maybe our kids would want to write some love notes.
Boy, did they ever! They scribbled cute little messages on pieces of construction paper and stealthily hid them throughout the restaurant. One said, “Hi. This note says you are loved.” Left on the toilet paper roll in the men’s room. And Ella wrote one that said, “You might be different, but you’re awesome!” Bree asked, “Can we write jokes? Like ‘I farted?’” Uh, no. “Sorry,” she said. “Salsa gets me going.” Oh, geez. Anyway, the kids tucked their notes between packets of Sweet-N-Low, within the stack of rolled silverware, in the leaves of a potted plant, and other such clandestine locations. By now we were all warming up.
Behind us an employee was totaling a bill on one of those adding machines – you know, the kind with the little spool of paper. Brandy commented that it sounded like a rotary phone. Then we remembered how fun it is to dial a rotary phone. Like when you’re angry, you can really rip that dial (even though it infuriatingly returns at its slow, pre-set speed). You can’t dial angrily on your iPhone. But with the rotary phone, as Brandy pointed out, you have time to think twice about calling someone when you’re angry.
We warmed up there for quite some time, laughing and chatting and stuffing ourselves. The kids played a few rounds of cards, and then an elbow-licking contest occurred. No one won. Meh. When I got home, I didn’t need to climb into the bath. I felt toasty, through and through.
El Charro has three locations: South Main (where we went), East Market Street, and the newest one on Port Republic Road. A sunny spot to warm yourself is never far away.
Copyright © 2012-13 · All Rights Reserved · ilovemyburg.com. Written content by Katie Mitchell. Photos by Brandy Somers. This material may not be copied, downloaded, reproduced, or printed without express written consent. Thank you for respecting our intellectual property.
Copyright © 2012-13 · All Rights Reserved · ilovemyburg.com. Written content by Katie Mitchell. Photos by Brandy Somers. This material may not be copied, downloaded, reproduced, or printed without express written consent. Thank you for respecting our intellectual property.
i love my burg. 