Paula, Paula, Paula

As sponsors drop/suspend relations with Paula Deen like a steaming hot hush puppy, I wonder why she keeps making missteps.

My favorite recent Deen-ism summed it up when she spoke on the Today Show:  "I is what I is."  This 'regular folk' talk sure sells a ton of products but this time it just seems to add more cement to the coffin that is her vision of herself. 

Whoever Paula is, it is currently not working on her chosen medium - television. 

A mea culpa that does not address the possibility that she may hold/have held a smidge of racism in her heart is a butter-less dessert.  I would have liked to hear her express a newfound understanding  that her deposition answers were objectionable.  And that using offensive language, no matter how long ago, is still offensive. If she could have spoken only about how the backlash has raised her awareness, I would have listened more.

But she insisted on using the utensils that brought her success: the sassy, sweet, unprejudiced, "Ginnie" (her grandma name pronounced with a hard G) loved by all.  She thought by pouring more molasses over her explanation it would make her more beloved.  And why not?  This is the recipe she has used to formulate an impressive culinary empire. 

Paula the chef did not confer with Paula the business woman (as she did when she announced in 2012 she had type 2 diabetes and simultaneously became the spokesperson for a diabetes drug.)

I don't care about how she was raised, how she raised her kids, who her African American friends are or how she comforts them. I don't care what offensive language she has witnessed in her kitchens if she stayed silent until now.  Her silence showed tolerance.  It was the playground defense: "I said it but they said it too!"

I do care that she show up like an adult and simply say "I am sorry."  Period.

Pleading with a biblical reference to "Let he who is without sin cast the first stone" makes no sense.  In trying to say she is just like everyone else, she separates herself from her apology.  The Southern celebrity thought sweet would trump sensible. 

Sensible isn't sexy but it is easier to swallow than a five pound bag of sugary words.

The Pig Speaketh

Well, sometimes I think the pig speaketh. 

He really just holds the sign on my kitchen counter which "speakeths" whatever I choose.  His droll look tells me he silently endures being the vehicle to display some occasion.  Lately, there's been a busload of occasions to mark.

I know this occasional game.  The excitement of a celebration pulling in and the merciless exit that always follows. 

Birthdays, first and last days of school, holidays, a college student coming home,  a dance performance coming up or just a weather report - the pig marks the moment.  And he does so via an impressive Twitter reduction - instead of 140 characters the pig's board space holds no more than 8 characters.  As far as social networking goes, he is way ahead of his time.

The hog is the new breed of 21st century techno-minimalism.  (Hmmm...perhaps that is a bit overstated.)

On the understated side, sometimes there's artwork. Well, okay, it is more like a caveman drawing.  It's always a challenge the pig and I happily take on. 

Christmas Eve: Seven Fish

There have been some favorites over the years. On Christmas Eve, when we prepare a seven fish meal, everyone gets involved because few fish recipes can be prepped ahead of time. (The pig particularly enjoys seeing his sea-bound brethren as a meal centerpiece.)  His sign displays the Roman numeral VII and a simple fish drawing.

Christmas Day will find the letter "L" crossed out: No-L aka Noel.

Summer has a sun rising on the horizon and Halloween is either "BOO!" or a pumpkin.  Not very original but heartfelt.

Lately the sign theme has been things ending - a college graduate and a high school graduate have summoned an array of "this is the last time for (fill in the blank)."  The pig has been busy. 

It is times like these that I appreciate the pig's facial expression.  It belies any emotion I am trying to express.  The pig keeps it real with his look of aplomb.  He is unaffected. Unflustered.  Unruffled.

The pig is an unwitting teacher of zen.

This weekend marks my younger graduate's last performances with her dance studio.  She is moving on to a BFA Dance program in college, so there will be more studio and stage time in her future.  Yet, leaving her current studio, where she has clocked a boatload of hours and nurtured a heart full of friendships, stings for now.

What, I ask my porcine friend, can I write/draw to capture this moment?  The hog is mute.

It's a lesson the pig repeatedly teaches: sometimes when words fail, our hearts succeed. 

I draw a dancing heart.