Sassistas! Our dish on the social soup.

Wonderful Summer

So heavy
is the long-necked, long-bodied heron,
always it is a surprise
when her smoke-colored wings

open
and she turns
from the thick water,
from the black sticks

of the summer pond,
and slowly
rises into the air
and is gone.

Then, not for the first or the last time,
I take the deep breath
of happiness, and I think
how unlikely it is

that death is a hole in the ground,
how improbable
that ascension is not possible,
though everything seems so inert, so nailed

back into itself--
the muskrat and his lumpy lodge,
the turtle,
the fallen gate.

And especially it is wonderful
that the summers are long
and the ponds so dark and so many,
and therefore it isn't a miracle

but the common thing,
this decision,
this trailing of the long legs in the water,
this opening up of the heavy body

into a new life: see how the sudden
gray-blue sheets of her wings
strive toward the wind; see how the clasp of nothing
takes her in.

-- "Heron Rises from the Dark, Summer Pond"
    by Mary Oliver

We the Peeple

Guess what's coming to the Nation's Capitol, sistas and mistas???!!!

PEEPS!  PEEPS!  PEEPS!

Yesterday, the Sassistas! learned the first Peeps & Co store is opening RIGHT DOWN THE ROAD FROM WHERE WE LIVE!  Needless to say, we're sassless!  But soon we won't be peepless!

It is scheduled to open in November (we're getting in line some time over the weekend) at National Harbor in a prime 3,500-square-foot location that sits, according to a news release, directly in front of Seward Johnson's 100-foot statue "The Awakening" -- an enormous giant crawling out of the earth.  Now we know what the giant is crawling out for!  Wouldn't you do the same?

We know your next question . . . why a store?  An ENTIRE store for PEEPS?  Work with us, peeple!  Work with us!  The store will sell a full complement of Peeps paraphernalia:  T-shirts with Peeps dressed up as the Village People, plush Peeps in the traditional chick and bunny shapes, Peeps pillows, pens and key chains, and even Peeps china -- some of it is made by Lenox!  The Sassistas! got tears in their eyes when we read that and plan to immediately register our names at the Peeps & Co store to make gift-giving much easier for the sistas and mistas!

On a more serisass note, this historical occasion got us pondering about the profound influence of Peeps on human culture since the beginning of time.  Isn't it possible that famous landmarks that we assumed were artifacts, etc. from other cultures were AT ONE TIME PEEPS?  Click here and look closely.  Centuries ago, those were PEEPS!

We're certain that other archeological and cultural landmarks from the beginning of time were once PEEPS.  Please share what you find in your own sassearch!

Razzia

The Sassistas! would like to acknowledge and thank half-a-sista for dishing today's sass.

A headline on the internet caught my attention:  "She is Beautiful."

Razzia is an eight-year-old girl in Afghanistan. Her face melted when white phosphorus (WP) landed in her home. Two sisters died. Five family members suffered serious wounds. The death, destruction, and disfigurement was, by definition, collateral damage.

Razzia was rushed to the nearest hospital where doctors tried to scrape dead tissue away, but flames shot out. WP sticks to surfaces, like skin, and burns until it’s gone. Nothing puts out the flame as long as it finds oxygen and something to burn.

The U.S. military spokesperson said, “Razzia will have the best care we can give her.” They flew her to an American military hospital 20 minutes away by helicopter. Flames still ate at her flesh. Burned over 40-45% of her body, she survived.

Fifteen surgeries later, horrific scars glare an angry red on her face and torso. She must wear a wig because her hair won’t grow in places due to the scarring. The medical staff worries that she won’t have a normal life in Afghanistan, a life already difficult because she is a  girl, a life that may be more difficult because of her disfigurement.

She returned home to her family. The attack destroyed the family home. Her father’s vegetable shop closed because he ran out of money. No one knows what will happen to her or her family.

I wrote down the headline, “She is beautiful.” When I returned to find the story, the title had been changed to: US Doctors Save Burned Afghan Girl. I guess someone had decided that the first headline demonstrated an insensitivity of huge proportions.

The story bothers me for several reasons. Who did this? The Americans? The French? The Taliban? Does it matter? All of the above use WP against civilians. The Chemical Weapons Convention does not designate WP as a chemical weapon. Why not? Who are we to think that we did something wonderful by saving Razzia’s life and creating a face composed of scars? Will we fix her in the coming years from the after effects of WP? I would like to talk with her in ten years to hear what she thinks.

Confessing Our Confusion

Flannista confesses that she watched the entire memorial tribute to Michael Jackson aired around the world yesterday.  Before you start rolling your eyes, Flann also confesses that she watched specifically so she could dish the sass BIG time today. 

Initially, she wasn't disappointed.  One look at the gleaming, gold casket swept the sass pen into motion.  No wonder everyone was wearing sunglasses. Then the pall-bearing brothers, each wearing one sequined glove on his left hand.  Then the news that both the "405 and 101 freeways were closed" for the funeral procession:  "The first time that's EVER happened," said NBC news anchor, Brian Williams.  Then the revelation that the city of Los Angeles, already $500 million in debt, would have to pony up $3.8 million for the extra police and fire patrols.  The city had set up a special website for donations to cover the cost, "no matter how small."

Man, this memorial tribute was going to be AWFUL.  Flann couldn't wait to witness the overkill.

About 15 minutes into the service, Queen Latifah (pictured above) came to the podium and read a poem Maya Angelou had written for the occasion, entitled, "We Had Him."  Alternately lyrical and sappy, the poem included this phrase, "we confess our confusion."

So do the Sassistas!

How could one memorial tribute move so quickly -- back and forth and back and forth -- between saccharine hyperbole and genuine emotion?  One moment famed Motown founder, Barry Gordy is proclaiming Jackson as, "the greatest entertainer who ever lived."  Another moment we hear a voice over of Jackson himself saying, "I wanted to be a person, not a personality."  Next moment, Jackson's brother, Marlon, declares that his brother's "voice in heaven will be nearest to our Creator."  Then Brooke Shields, a close friend, shares, "Both of us needed to be adults very early, but when we were together, we were little kids.  We never filmed a video together or recorded a song.  What we did do was laugh.  Michael loved to laugh."  She then tearfully recalls that Jackson's favorite song was not one of his own recordings, but "Smile," a tune penned by Charlie Chaplin for the movie, "Modern Times." Then, Jermaine Jackson, an older brother, sang "Smile" from the stage.  Maybe you had to be there, but it was genuinely touching.

When network coverage began, a CBS reporter interviewed a young woman from the Bronx whose family had scrapped together $900 so she could fly to Los Angeles and pay her respects to Jackson and his family.  She had no ticket for the memorial service.  Neither was she close enough to Staples Center to see the service on an outside JumboTron.   When asked what her hope was for the day, she said, "I would die if I saw a limo or a glove."

"A Limo or a Glove" was the original title of this post.  Then we watched the entire service.  Did any of you watch and/or see any portion of it?  Were you confused, too?  Confess.

Old Friends

There's no friend like your oldest friend.

Someone who has known you since high school.  Someone who witnessed your awkward and painful puberty.  Someone you touched base with about once every decade after that.  Someone who then shows up 40 years later and slips into your heart in a deeper and wiser way than ever before.

For Flannista, that friend is Jerseysista.

Jersey could have walked away from our friendship when we were in high school.  Back then, she was literally a fifth wheel, the friend behind the steering wheel because she had a car when so few of us did.  I don't remember the type of car it was, but it was small and green.  Jersey called it Grendel, after (I'm assuming) one of the three antagonists in Beowulf. 

I got to know Jersey because she lived a stone's throw away from Wendy, a girl with whom I was desperately in love, though I did not know it then.  All I knew was that Wendy meant the world to me, and I would do anything to see her, including becoming involved in loads of after-school activities -- even the Math Club -- so I could spend more time with her.  My senior yearbook directory listing is the longest one in my class.  Most thought I was industrious, the reason I was voted the senior, "Most Likely to Succeed."  In reality, I was quelling an inexplicable ache for Wendy.  Together, we started a small journal/diary that we alternately took home each evening to record our deepest thoughts.  Wendy wrote about what she had watched on television.  I wrote about her, the joy of spending time with her, the whisper of wings in my heart when she said my name.

After my mother discovered my hiding place for that journal/diary and disclosed its contents at the dinner table, I was forbidden to see Wendy.  Jersey then became my "decoy" friend, the friend I could talk about openly with my family.  The friend who picked me up and drove me to see Wendy.  The friend who must have listened for hours as I pined away for Wendy.  The friend who never once complained.

Thinking about those days now, I'm embarrassed, of course -- but only momentarily.  A year ago out of the blue, Jersey called and suggested we meet in Baltimore.  Matiss and I spent a Sunday morning and afternoon with her, leaving her with the URL for Sassistas!  Since then, she has been a steady presence in the sassosphere and in our lives.

In some ways, Jersey and I could not be more different -- me a lazy Christian and she a devout atheist.  But we do share the same birthday and most recently, profound gratitude that life seems to have come full circle for us.  Plus, she has great taste in beer as the image for this post attests.  Then there's this: a couple of months ago, I shared with Jersey how difficult Mondays are for me.  Since then, a Monday hasn't slipped by without a phone call from her to see how I'm doing. 

I read once that life without a friend is death without a witness.  With Jersey, I have both a friend and a witness.  Someone who has steadfastly been there since the beginning.  Someone who will get behind the steering wheel of her car to be there at the end.

Thank you, my much beloved and oldest friend.

Who is your oldest friend?  What have you learned from that person?

Riveting

The Sassistas! now know why babysis disappears  every year right around the Australian Open, the French Open, the Wimbledon Championships and the U.S. Open. 

Tennis is one hell of a riveting game!  In fact, Flann was reduced to tears when Roger Federer finally broke Andy Roddick's serve in the longest Grand Slam final in men's history yesterday afternoon at Wimbledon.

Pictured left is Roddick (ranked #3 at Wimbledon) embracing Federer (ranked #1) after Federer beat him back from a very determined challenge: 5-7, 7-6 (6), 7-6 (5), 3-6, 16-14. All Flann could think was: "Roddick deserves more than that chintzy silver plate."

The match lasted 4 hours and 18 minutes, the fifth set alone lasting 95 minutes -- longer than Saturday's women's final (with Serena Williams defeating her sister, Venus).  Even more remarkable is that the match was marked by sportsmanship on both sides, with neither player uttering a word in anger.

Yeah, it was riveting.  Federer has now won 15 Grand Slam titles, six at Wimbledon, the most storied of the four major titles.  He's clearly the best tennis play of his generation.  But is he the best ever to play the game?

What's your opinion?  Also, what's with the runner-up chintzy silver plates?

Rainbow

 

Afternoon, sassosphere.  A slow, summer Sunday.  Flannista here, gettin' set to write a post on another topic.  Thought you'd like to see a photo of a double rainbow I took a year ago with my iPhone while walking from Matissta's house to mine.
 
That's an amazing sight to see in one's very own backyard, no?

Welcome Home

This morning, the Sassistas! greeted the Fourth of July with a comment from Westsista about a surprise party she attended last evening for a Marine who had just returned from Iraq.  Thanks for doing that, West! 

This ties in beautifully with the way the Sassistas! have chosen to mark the Fourth of July: by paying tribute to three senior citizens in Bangor, Maine who greet every plane of military servicemen and women returning from Afghanistan and Iraq.  Pictured to the right (from left to right) are Jerry Munday (age 73), Joan Gaudet (age 75) and Bill Knight (age 86).  The Sassistas! met them at SILVERDOCS after viewing, "How We Get By," a documentary about them.  Click here to see the trailer.

This description of the documentary from its website more than makes the case for why it's worth seeing:

Beginning as a seemingly idiosyncratic story about troop greeters -- a group of senior citizens who gather daily at a small airport to thank American soldiers departing and returning from Iraq, the film quickly turns into a moving, unsettling and compassionate story about aging, loneliness, war and mortality.

When its three subjects aren't at the airport, they wrestle with their own problems: failing health, depression, mounting debt. Joan, a grandmother of eight, has a deep connection to the soldiers she meets. The sanguine Jerry keeps his spirits up even as his personal problems mount. And the veteran Bill, who clearly has trouble taking care of himself, finds himself contemplating his own death. Seeking out the telling detail rather than offering sweeping generalizations, the film carefully builds stories of heartbreak and redemption, reminding us how our culture casts our elders, and too often our soldiers, aside. More important, regardless of your politics, "The Way We Get By" celebrates three unsung heroes who share their love with strangers who need and deserve it.

As we celebrate the birth of our country today, let's remember all of our heroes, including the unsung ones like Jerry, Joan and Bill.

The Perfect Burger

Today is nowayasista's! birthday!  Happy Birthday, noway!

To celebrate, the Sassistas! want to share burger recipes! We know how much noway loves to grill and how much he loves burgers.

What's more, on Tuesday, the New York Times "Dining & Wine" section featured "The Perfect Burger and all Its Parts" (click here for the link).  Be sure to check out interactive feature called, "Elements of an Ideal Burger."

But wait!  There's even more!  Just yesterday, McDonald's began selling a new line of bigger burgers priced at about $4 each for a beefy alternative to pricier burgers at sit-down restaurants.  The new Angus burgers are made with one-third pound of Angus beef and come in three varieties — a deluxe burger with pickles and tomatoes, a mushroom swiss burger and a bacon and cheese burger.

Burgers at fast-casual competitors like Five Guys or at sit-down chains like Chili's Grill & Bar can cost as much as $8 or more.

The burgers the Sassistas! grill cost about a buck.  Read the sass feed for more details as well as our favorite burger recipe.  Please share yours.  Happy Birthday nowayasista!

American Idiot

We apologize, sassosphere. 

The Sassistas! just can't help themselves. 

Yesterday, while commenting on Jerseysista's terrific post about Green Day's last two albums, we got wind (from Flannista's oldest blood sister) of Rush Limbaugh's spin on why Gov. Sanford strayed so far from his wife, not to mention, reality.

It's President Obama's fault.

A week ago today, Flush said this on his radio show:

All this hope and change . . . Obama is trying to kill spirit.  People are saying screw it before Obama takes away their money . . . their houses.  This is almost like, I don't give a damn, the country's going to hell in a hand basket, I just want out of here.  [Sanford] had just tried to fight the stimulus money coming to South Carolina.  He didn't want any part of it; he lost the battle.  He said, what the hell.  I mean, the federal government's taking  over . . . what the hell, I want to enjoy life.  The point is, there are a lot of people who spirit is just . . . they're fed up, saying,  "To hell with it, I don't even want to fight this anymore, I just want to get away from it."

So Gov. Sanford fled to Argentina to get away from Obama's stimulus package.  Hmmm.  The Sassistas! think that the governor was more concerned about stimulating his own package. 

But you know, we could be wrong.  So sassosphere . . . open our minds.  Fuel our comsassion.  We mean, what the hell?   We don't give a damn.  We don't even want to fight this anymore.  We just want to get away from it . . . all this hope and change.  Damn this hope and change!  It's killing our spirit!  Screw it.  We want to enjoy life.

How would you flush Limbaugh?