Can someone please explain this idea of cultural appropriation to me?   I understand that pretending to be something you are not is never a good idea.  By the way, that goes for a multitude of topics including being a good cook, dancer or tax accountant.  But when did it become inappropriate to celebrate the intrinsic beauty of other religions, cultures, ethnicities or organizations?  And let’s think about this, how far can this really go?  In today’s climate is it so far fetched to say that all those drunken morons, when “Everyone is Irish on St. Patrick’s Day” put on their counterfeit Aran sweaters and pretend to know how to ceili are guilty of cultural appropriation?  Should we quit dying the river green and limit parade marchers to those that can pass an Ancestry.com DNA test?  If the answer is yes, the whiskey industry in this country is in a heap of trouble.

The fabrics used to make the Indian Sari can be some of the most stunningly beautiful I have ever seen.  Does that mean that I can not dress in a Sari if done so in a respectful manner? What about the beauty of the Ankara textile? Do you have to be Jamaican to wear dreads? – if yes there are a lot of inappropriate hipsters out there that need a haircut. Have we eliminated an entire segment of embarrassing childhood photos by not letting suburban kids from Nebraska get cornrows braided into their hair on their Car-a-BEE-inn vacation?  Can you only wear Birkenstocks with socks if you are of German heritage?  Don’t get me started on Lederhosen! Where does it end I ask you!?

My grandmother wore a mezuzah on a chain next to a medal of the Pope.  She wasn’t Jewish and some would argue she wasn’t really Catholic either but they were part of her life story.  She wasn’t being disrespectful to anyone or any belief.  If anything, she was honoring both sides of her Judeo-Christian heritage.  Not everything has to be about wanting to appropriate something for yourself – maybe its just about celebrating the beauty, history and culture of those NOT yourself.  Now, where is my Aran sweater?

Lent. For Christians, a time of quiet reflection and penance. A time to work towards bettering yourself as we await the Celebration of Easter.  For Catholics, we have the added dimension of Catholic Guilt and that wonderful sacrament called Confession.  Yes, Confession, the Lenten equivalent of a full auto detail for the soul.  Get in line, punch that ticket on the Reconciliation Roller Coaster and buckle up. 

And lest you think you can escape with an excuse like “Im soooo busy and never have time” beware- because you run the risk of crossing paths with those running in the Marathon of Sins, aka the 18 hour continuous confessional. 

Isn’t it interesting that as Catholics we are able to take something as heavy as confessing your deepest and most shameful actions into something that results in the equivalent of a spiritual balloon and trip to the treasure chest for your free toy?

Now, before all you uber Catholics start sending me hate mail take a breath.  First and foremost understand that I love my faith.  I love the ritual and the ceremony and the fact that Mass anywhere in the world is still Mass. And that it doesn’t matter if you speak the language you know the response.  That said it doesn’t mean that you can’t laugh about it. Proverbs 17:22 A joyful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones.

And I also understand, that the idea of confessing to another person is not about needing an intermediary but about “owning it”  because if you have to say what you did out loud you can’t hide it anymore. Its really just a 2000 year old therapy program.  I just wish they explained it that way when I was 8 and maybe it wouldn’t have taken me so long to try again.   

Anxiety got you crazy? Well wander no more – if you want to find a surefire place to channel your Elsa and Let it Go look no farther than your local grocery store. Now, first lets set some ground rules – I am excluding all groceries that either a) have an underlying smell of salmonella and dirty bleach water b) poor lighting c) narrow aisles and/or d) wonky carts with wheels that stick. Also, try to avoid “sample days” where all the seniors are out for a free lunch – they can be cutthroat if you get between them and the mini-quiches.

Now, think about it – there is something soothing about the grocery store. First of all it has a place for everything and (usually) everything is in its place. Lemons in all their cheery yellowness right next to the hardworking green limes. Red and shiny tomatoes hanging out with the pockmarked avocado. Its all about symbiosis in produce – we are all fruits but we own our fruitness. We make each other better – I mean really, who wants asparagus without a touch of citrus? I think there is a lesson there. (and yes I know asparagus is a vegetable – don’t ruin my literary feng shui).

I will admit the deli can easily push those zen like moments in produce right out of the way. Nothing like being at the deli counter behind the little 90 year old lady firing off in rapid Italian to the 16 year old kid behind the counter as his eyes glaze over and he starts to sweat. Hey kid – just a thought but I really don’t think shes looking for fajita steaks. Key here – take a number- and enjoy the wait. Check your email. Follow the blue bird and Tweet about something random. The deli is a lesson in patience so practice that yoga breathing.

Lastly, think dairy. Personally I think dairy gets a bad rap – how can anyone hate yogurt and cream cheese? Sometimes even together if its late enough and you’ve had enough vodka. Na Zdorovie. Dairy has become everyone’s favorite scapegoat – so after that bad day at work, when you may or may not be accused of deleting the office bitch’s presentation from the server and everyone hates you (but secretly loves you) realize you can relate to the poor little cartons of half and half. They are cute and so are you.

Anyone can write a blog right? I mean its not like you need a fancy degree, seriously, have you seen what passes for literature – forget about correct grammar or spelling. So I guess I’ve decided to become one more blogger. I wonder if I now need a coffee mug that says – “Blogger” in big letters on it with a picture of a puppy taking a bite out of the letter B. Maybe a T-shirt. But I digress.

So what is this blog about – honestly – I have no idea. Not yet anyway but I’m working on it. I think its headed toward a place to pick apart the little things in life that can drive us crazy but also make our lives full. To be fair, there will probably be a lot of sarcasm and kvetching for good measure so don’t get nervous that this will all be rainbows and unicorns. Real life is the farthest thing from it – real life is , for lack of a better description, Chapstick in the dryer.

That said, welcome to my blog. I’m glad you stopped by.

Thanks for joining me!

Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton