Entry 7:

Hi Martha,

I'm sorry we didn't get to talk in person at lunch. (You of course know, but I will fill in our dear reader: Slate invited us and our offspring to a very nice holiday lunch, for which we thank them.)

I meant to come back and propose a bet: How long before Linda Chavez tanks. But of course we now know: Chavez is no mas.

I'm sure you missed the press conference, as you were driving home, while I just walked over to the Slate office. But I hope you will indulge me in my urge to dissect; it's been a long time since I've seen a press conference, and I found this one a bit disquieting. To fill you in, Chavez rounded up the People I Have Helped. One by one, she ushered them to the podium to give their testimonies, in varied accents, about how nice Miss Linda is.

The stories rang true enough--she helped me find a job, English classes, etc. But the whole thing felt a little forced, like a Linda cult, as Tim Noah put it. "I love Linda very much ... she is like a second mother to me ... I would be nothing without her." Strangely absent was of course, Mercado, once a good friend, now referred to as "the Guatemalan woman."

The whole thing just doesn't add up. If she did nothing wrong, why is she withdrawing her name? Also, she admitted that she knew Mercado was illegal and that she helped Mercado try and find a job. You can't have it all ways. This reminds me of my college friends who would blockade university buildings and then get furious when they were arrested. Fine if she wants to be Robin Hood for illegal immigrants. But then she can't also be labor secretary.

Also, she can't possibly think helping a "friend in need" is a good standard for breaking immigration laws. Then every restaurant owner in Chinatown would have many, many friends in need.

Finally, the obvious. The "politics of personal destruction"? "Search and destroy"? Those clichés didn't exist before her crowd came along. 

OK, enough about Linda. As for your confession of indifference to work, it sounds stupendously healthy to me. You will surely wind up the better mother, while I will end up in some Arle Hochschild spiral of shame, where I secretly confess one day that I enjoy work more than home.

On the day care vs. nanny debate. I don't mind a stranger in our apartment, but then I've never lived alone. On the other hand, I have some kibbutz-inspired fantasy about child care, where all the children learn to play together and share their toys and grow up to be ... um ... camp counselors or prison guards or something. But then I also have unrealistic fantasies about living in a commune. On the other hand, most people I know have nannies, so there must be a reason. As you can see, I'm confused.

Another fantasy that came up at lunch: Imagine if we could continue to dine all our lives the way infants do. Stare only at the food and ignore everyone around us. Snork, snuffle, and grunt at the plate and stick our face in it. Then fall asleep at the table, to be awoken only for the next meal. I think a restaurant indulging this fetish could make lots of money. It would be called, of course, Breast.

Well, by my current standards this has been a long and overstimulating day. I sign off till tomorrow.

Love,
H

P.S.: Something else I thought of at lunch: Have you ever seen anyone nursing in public? It must be done somewhere but then why have I never seen it?