TSA is here to stay

DIA was buzzing this morning when I arrived by skyRide at 0930 for my 1140 flight to New York/JFK. Looking down over the security checkpoints, the situation seemed grim; the line of passengers flowed out of the cordoned-off chute and down the hall. On the upper concourse, there was an official-looking woman directing folks to security at the “other end” of the terminal, which, she claimed, was moving faster. I headed in the direction she indicated (east, I think) past families breakfasting, couples kissing long goodbyes, and a woman struggling to corral her two children and football-sized dog.

The forced-voluntary morning constitutional was surprisingly brisk as TSA workers cranked us through the ID check and spit us out in the metal detector line. It was in this line, while removing backpack, jacket, and shoes from my person and laptop and quart-sized bag of liquids and gels from the backpack, that I noticed the advertising lining the trays that cart travelers’ belongings through the x-ray machine. The advertisement in the top tray was for Zappos; I remember thinking, how appropriate, that’s where I’m gonna put my shoes. And also, uh oh, these trays have been pimped out; TSA is here to stay.

Perhaps this was obvious to everyone else, but it hadn’t occurred to me that domestic travel would forever more involve limiting oneself to 3oz of any gel or liquid personal care product and then producing that product for inspection on command. That air travel would always be preceded by partially undressing in front of lines of strangers and doing a catwalk through a metal detector. I thought some day some fearless leader would receive the OK from an all-knowing source, air travel would be declared safe, and air travelers would no longer be subject to the aforementioned pre-flight indignities. But then I saw the advertising in the trays.

In what were once clean public spaces (no, really, let me show you a photo of a main street in Kathmandu) of the US, advertising has been slowly appearing. Bus shelters, public restroom stalls, most means of public transit, and even the backs of grocery store receipts now sport advertising. These institutions have been around for my entire memory; if these pillars of day-to-day life are worthy of sporting brands, what does it mean that the (relatively) new TSA trays are also worthy of touting commercialism?

It means that my dreams of a future of flying a domestic route security-free have been dashed, smashed, and smithereened into advertising oblivion. These trays, embodying the dangers of North American airspace post-9/11, have been quietly incorporated into society in the same manner of such long-lived and upstanding institutions as grocery receipts, bus shelters, and public toileting facilities! These trays have been slathered in commercialism in half the time it took more ubiquitous institutions to become slathered.* Why were they so readily assimilated? Is it heightened awareness due to proliferation of The Container Store that made them seem innocuous? Is it American's ongoing fascination with closet organization systems? Or ramped up promotion of the ultimate organization system – the alphabet?

It will take a team of social scientists years to parse out this cause and effect relationship. Meanwhile, formerly pristine public spaces will fall to media advertising everything from airlines to Zappos. And whom do we have to thank for this? This is another of society’s ills that can be attributed to al-Qaida and Osama bin Laden. Damn them.

*I have no evidence for this except memory, which can be questionably reliable.

What's quickly becoming my annual holiday newsletter

Below is the text of my holiday newsletter; I have mailed it to some, but I can't get cards out to all y'all, so those of you who are web-savvy are just going to have to make do without a pretty missive from me in your mailbox. If you're really good, maybe you'll be on my mailing list next year ;)

December 2008

Hello hello!
Last y’all knew I was on my way to Nepal. Well, I successfully navigated the other side of the world and am back to tell the tale; I met good people, started running with the Kathmandu Hash House Harriers (a drinking group with a running problem), and have a confirmed case of the travel bug. Alas, I have been very busy searching for a job, volunteering, and moving so there hasn’t been time to plan my next international adventure: I’m aiming for Ethiopia during Lent, as that’s when folks abstain from meat in an otherwise carnivorous society.

Meanwhile, I (finally!) moved to Denver in August. I have settled into a one-bedroom place in a 16-apartment building just off of the notorious Colfax Ave; I live on a good strip of the road, though across the street from a bar with poor taste in music. I don’t know any of my neighbors, but have connected with lots of new folks through running. I swing dance ‘bout twice a week and have renewed old friendships and forged new ones in the dance community. And at least once a week I plant myself on Julie’s couch to knit and get my TV fix (I don’t own one).

While looking for work I have been donating my time to the Grant Avenue Street Reach Soup Kitchen, where I bus tables and make coffee, and Planned Parenthood of the Rocky Mountains. The work at PPRM is particularly challenging, as I must draw boundaries between being trained an NP and working as a volunteer, but I love talking about reproductive health and feeling efficacious and appreciated has done wonders for my morale.

Speaking of morale, being an unemployed nurse practitioner that loves her work is frustrating; there’s no one to help! I have had six interviews in the past five months but am still seeking the right job for me. I think I am getting closer; Thursday I was told that my professional goals are a good fit for the position for which I was interviewing. Cross your fingers for me, eh?

(You know this part...) For news on a more regular basis, with witty commentary to boot, check out my blog at www.tallpalegrrl.blogspot.com

Be safe and healthy!

Love, Jennifer

My (current) knitting nemesis

Have I introduced you to my most recent nemesis?

It's the Starsky sweater pattern from Knitty.com. I love Knitty, but... Well, this pattern marks the first time I have ever... ...ever? Ok; not ever. It happened once before and that project is still unfinished (for the knitting record, my only unfinished project). This pattern marks the second time I have put a project aside. Granted, I put the left front aside in order to start the right front section, but giving up is not my style. I'm a perfectionistic follow-througher. So, what is it about this sweater that led to such a dramatic change in knitting philosophy? The cables.

I love cables. They add texture to a knitted garment. They're easy to put in. They look great. However, this is not a cable pattern I have encountered before or will attempt again. These aren't strict cables. The "cabled" stitches form a vine pattern from both the front and the back; the pattern repeats over 12 rows. Clearly you can envision that this pattern is not as predictable as plain cables. To complicate matters, the pattern calls for decreasing stitches to shape the sweater meanwhile maintaining the vine pattern. This is mucho complicado. (The arms are pictured at left; they don't have any pattern on 'em. They were a breeze!)

Working this pattern (the part shown in the photo to the left in particular) requires an attention span I don't possess combined with an attention to detail I lack whilst doing multiple things at once (I have been watching the TV show Heroes while knitting this garment). An indication of true tragedy, both the TV show watching and the knitting have suffered.

Trouble started when the two characters who speak mostlyJapanese were introduced. The producers were kind to us ethnocentric Americans and subtitled the Japanese dialogue. However, I can't work the cable pattern without watching the stitches nor can I read the subtitles without having my eyes on the screen. I am going to come out of this experience knowing only half the plot of Heroes with a sweater that has mismatched bits. The mismatched bits sweater (a.k.a. Dollar and a Half Cardigan by Veronik Avery, Interweave Knits, Spring 07) was going to be the next project! What happened here?

In fact, this whole mess started with the uncooperativeness of the mismatched sweater. I had started the mismatched sweater using the very same wool yarn that is now the Starsky sweater, but it was not turning out properly. So, I went on a hunt for yarn appropriate for the mismatched sweater pattern, found it (Butterfly mercerized cotton in a sage green), and was all excited to get going on mismatched sweater when Julie gave me the Starsky pattern (damn her!). I was so hell-bent on using the wool yarn that I started right in on the new pattern without a second thought to my new, beautiful green cotton yarn and formerly coveted mismatched sweater pattern.

So here I am, struggling through the Starsky sweater out of principle and no longer out of desire to finish the sweater. The lovely green cotton yarn beckons to me from the knitting basket aside the couch. And the hand knit Christmas presents (the ideas for which were born of my last blog post) remain concepts of my imagination.

P.S. - Photos of the completed sweater to follow someday. The photos above depict the pieces drying having been rinsed in cold water and then pinned to the towels to work out the curled edges to make sewing up easier.

Season Snippets

Although my belief in the religious origins of Christmas have drastically changed since last year, I have not abandoned the spirit of the season (which, I could argue, I have been living for at least the past year, but that's another post). As the following examples illustrate, I am playing nicely with society.

Never mind that Christmas is two-plus weeks away, today at the soup kitchen I responded in kind when one of the men wished me a Merry Christmas. Easier to go with the flow than to debate it. And, I am grateful he didn't start Merry Christmas-ing me before Thanksgiving in the fashion of the major retail establishments.

Last weekend I accompanied a friend in decorating and eating sugar cookies and choosing and carrying her Christmas tree home. She was hell-bent on getting a 4-footer, but when she realized that the trees meeting her height requirement were mostly trunk, she decided in favor of a 'Charlie Brown' tree from a local store. When I left Saturday night, its branches were still raised to the ceiling thereby completely inhibiting the decorating process. Hopefully it's relaxed a bit and can be properly trimmed this week.

The most telling example of my espousing the Christmas spirit, at least according to retail America, is that I am on the verge of succumbing to the pressure to give gifts. Granted they must be of the free variety, but that's where we start counting the thoughts rather than the cash value. I have a few ideas -- no I can't disclose what they are 'cause the recipients might just read this blog -- but I am excited to have a contribution to the pile under the tree.

Finally, in the most oxymoronic gesture of the season, I expressed some holiday cheer by Hashing. This is ironic because the Hash is not known for invoking warm, fuzzy feelings. These are groups of people who assign nicknames based on embaressing personal traits, blunders that happen on trail, or just out of spite. The hares purposefully make folks run through rivers and punish those who don't. The mismanagement relishes having new folks run because afterwards the group gets to 'sacrifice the virgins'.

So much to my surprise I was given the opportunity to benefit some economically disadvantaged folks living near Boulder, CO as a participant in the Boulder Hash's annual Tits Buys Toys for Tots (TbTfT) drive ('course the name couldn't be wholesome; did you not read the above explanation?). Sunday, in the negative degree temperature, a group of dedicated hashers ran a short trail; had an even shorter On-In in a shopping plaza parking lot; then descended upon Target to buy presents for our assigned families per their XMas lists.

Alas, the Hashers were less inappropriate than I had expected and I don't have any stories about hashers being ejected from the store by the seat of their pants or being called out for suspicious behavior. Instead, I will brag about being part of this raunchy, ribald, riotous "drinking group with a running problem" which raised $1800 from amongst its members in order for three families in Boulder to have Christmas presents from Santa.

I didn't set out to write a reflection on Christmas, but I've gone and done so anyway. Thus I will do the reflection justice by taking this opportunity to thank mJ for introducing me to the concept of Hashing; fellow hashers who provided yet another excellent holiday experience; and friends, family and acquaintances who allow me to be a part of their lives.

Photo caption: Julie's cat Rodger giving us a death look while wearing his newest holiday gear: reindeer antlers!