Still

It's hot enough here that i have retreated outside to a lawn chair in the shade. I know other places are hotter, but most people here do not have air conditioning, so 100 degrees F is pretty F-ing hot.

I don't spend much time sitting outside in our yard. I realize that this is sad because as i sit here, quietly reading, the wildlife that i normally miss because i am blundering around carrying a hose or a shovel, has forgotten i am here.

A bunny hopped right by me, about a foot from my chair. (Good thing my cat is too hot too move, as he likes bunnies.) Normally i squeal when i see a bunny, but this time i managed to just watch him hopple by, nipping at the grass as he went.

Off to my left, several birds are cooling off by splashing in the creek.

The douglas firs have a whole tiny forest growing on their trunks.

An opportunistic bit of grass and a baby maple tree are the first signs of a tree trunk reverting to soil.

In the lawn, an bright orange bug sits on a white mushroom.

WWMD?

Went hiking last Friday with my friend. It was beastly hot that day. (Stop snickering, it was over 90 degrees F! So it was too hot.)

At the terminus of the hike, this is what we found:

Mmmmm. That water sure looks cool and refreshing.

We looked left:

We looked right:

No one in sight.

Hmmm. What to do, what to do?

I'm sure you would have made the same decision we did.



(As an aside, the most common way for google searchers to get to my blog is something like "family sk*nny dip" or "sk*nny dip blog" all because of a post i wrote over two years ago about a hot summer night at our house. Weird.)

An effective method for surviving teenagehood (hers, not mine)

It was observed by a clever friend (also the parent of teenagers) that teenagers often add a silent "dumbass" to the end of their sentences. The "dumbass" is communicated by tone rather than the actual word, as they can deny tone.

Examples: (use your inner snotty teenager tone for the second sentence in each example.)

"Have you seen the cat?"
"No? Why would i? dumbass!"

"Do you have work today?"
"I already told you my schedule, dumbass!"

"I like that new song by Linkin Park. Can you tell me the name of it?"
"They have lots of new songs, dumbass!"

The Mister and i have taken to voicing the silent dumbass after many of Em's sentences. It makes us laugh, and occasionally makes her laugh too. But mostly it pisses her off.

I count that as a double win!

Do try this at home. It's lots of fun!

Liar

Lies.

Lying liars.

People who lie. A person who lied.

Right to my face.

I am many things. Not all, in fact not many of them, nice. But i am not a liar.

(Okay, i will lie about those pants and your butt.)

I will not lie about where i am going and with whom.

I will not compound the first lie by telling background lies to cover up the original lie.

And when i am caught, i will not try to lie my way out of it.

I hate being lied to.

I am now looking back at all the things you told me, and wondering what else you are lying about.

I hope it was worth it.

Right now i hate you.

Conversation effectively killed

I bet everyone has had this happen. You are chatting with someone about whatever the hell and the other person inserts a comment that leaves you sputtering to justify yourself or without anywhere to go, conversationally speaking.

Some examples:

Me: "Hey did you see what happened on American Idol last night?"
Conversation Killer: "I would never watch reality TV."
Me: "Ah..."

Me: "Hey, have you ever eaten at *local steak house*?
Conversation Murderer: "I don't eat animal products."
Me: "Okaaaay."

Me: "Fred Meyer is having a sale on store brand diapers!!"
Conversation Snuffer: "I would never let my child wear disposable diapers."
Me: "Ummm."

And so on... You get the idea.

For a long time i didn't watch TV. Not because i was too cheap to pay for the cable (really!), but because i am vastly morally superior to you. People at work would often be conversing about whatever TV show was in at the moment. I learned to say "I don't watch that show. Tell me what happened," rather than "I don't watch TV," because that made me sound like an ass and left them with no where to go.

So i am trying to come up with a response to conversation killers that is as effective and non-snarky as my response to useless ranters.

My first thought was (as my dad likes to say) "Well, SMELL you!" But that doesn't pass the non-snark test.

Maybe the best thing is to just let the conversation die right there, and sit there looking at them.

Got any ideas? Snarky answers accepted and appreciated, as always, but i AM looking for a real idea too.

Yummy

Today:

This morning i found an unexpected $45 in the pocket of my shorts. SCORE! Funny how such a little thing can give me such a lift. It's my money in the first place, i just forgot i had it when it disappeared last fall. That makes it a bonus.

I was eating a sandwich when someone came up to me and asked me what kind it was. I told them, and the response was "Ewwwww." What the hell is it with people saying "Ewwww" over my food? I mean, what's wrong with cat food and peanut butter anyway? (Kidding. It was hummus and pastrami.)

I am always amused when people feel compelled to voice an opinion over something that has nothing to do with them. Next time i will say "It's cat food and Velveeta! Want a bite?"

A BEAUTIFUL ESSAY ON GREATNESS

Two cool cats.

Sometimes when Em and i are chatting, i will idly ask her what i should post about. She always answers, "You should do a post about how awesome i am." I tell her that i do that all the time.

Yesterday i was hanging with Em, and i told her that today was the three year anniversary of my blog. She immediately piped up with "You should let me do a post about how awesome you are."

So i did. Behold;

WHY MY MOM IS GREAT
by Em McMenodaughter, age 18

So on this illustrious day I thought that, to make up for all her posts about how spectacularly great I am (all 100% true), I'd make a post about how spectacularly great my mom is for you all.

I think it was during the summer when I did almost nothing but surf channels looking for Roseanne reruns that I heard that the basic mission of a parent is to, if nothing else, make their kids' lives better than their own. If you do that, you succeed, because in theory it means continued progress. If we're using this as a measurement for whether or not a parent is successful, my mom is a rock star. She is the Michael Jordan of moms. Because I can honestly say that my life is great and that, the majority of the time, I'm a pretty happy person.

My mom is basically my best friend. As she can attest, she's the first person I text, call, or instant-message to tell if anything exciting or even remotely interesting happens to me. Even while I was in Ohio most of the time over the last eight months or so, I contacted her probably at least once a day. If I have a problem, I'll go to her, and even if she can't come up with a solution-- which she usually can-- she can make me feel better about it. Hell, she's been willing to mother me over instant message while I've been sick and at school and she's been back in Washington. I know I can talk to her about basically anything and she'll tell me if I'm being an idiot or if I'm totally justified in plotting to kill whoever has most dreadfully wronged me recently. She is also a very talented giver of hugs-- perhaps a function of being tall-- and excellent at back and foot massages.

A lot of women, or so I hear, dread accidentally turning into their mothers when they grow old, but I'd be happy to have someone tell me that I was turning into my mom. What's so bad about being funny and smart and slightly insane (and it'd be nice to be tall like her, too, but I'm guessing that's not gonna happen)? I don't know if we look all that alike, but some people seem to think we do, and I think that's awesome. I can't imagine how I would have turned out without her and I don't want to, but I'm pretty sure I'm a better person than I might have been with a lot of other possible moms.

I feel like I don't tell her how lucky I am to have her enough, especially given how good she is at reminding me how loved I am, so hopefully this post will suffice for a while. Dear Mommy: You are great and I love you. Thanks for not leaving me to freeze to death on a hillside after I was born, even though I was an ugly baby with blue limbs and no hair.

Love, Em.

P.S. (She told me not to make this too embarrassing, so as a less flattering postscript: her taste buds are broken. For years I thought salad was disgusting because of the way she made it, but no! Salad is perfectly acceptable! My mom just doesn't taste things properly or wanted to sabotage my health or something.)

Birdies

At my mother's 80th birthday shindig last month, one of my brothers gave her a gift certificate to use to create a video montage of her life. We were told that we would all be interviewed for the video, and that we could tell our beautiful memories involving mom.

"Oh shit!" i thought. "I'm fucked. How on earth will i be able to pony up beautiful memories?"

In my usual fashion, i put it out of my mind, as denial is my favorite state.

But last week, as i was cleaning my hairbrush, it came to me. Some happy memories involving mom. Oddly enough, they both involve birds too.

As a girl, i mostly maintained long hair, so my hairbrush needed to be depilated frequently. I always made a point to take the wad of hair outside to fly away in the breeze because Mom had told me the birds would use it to make their nests. The thought of baby birds peeping in a cozy nest insulated by my hair charmed me. I always pictured those baby birds as my hair was drifting away.

I had a bad accident as a child, and had to spend two weeks in a hospital. When i returned home, i spent quite a while recuperating in my bed. At the urging of my mother, my father installed a flat platform outside my second story bedroom window, where it could be seen from my bed. He nailed a shallow aluminum tray to the platform and filled it with bird seed. I spent many hours watching and being amused by the antics of the local bird population.

I'm ready when the video people come!

Observations

You know what i hate? I hate it when someone sets his alarm for....say....7 am, and then doesn't get out of bed until 8:30 am almost EVERY MORNING.

Why do i hate this? Because it so happens that i am sleeping at 7 am, and the alarm wakes me up.

I wouldn't mind if that person actually GOT UP at 7 am, but when he doesn't, it makes me feel like i was awakened for no reason.

And that makes me crabby.

***********************************

I got a free book on my electronic reading device. It was a soft porn romance novel, but hey, free books are free.

In this particular novel i made it about 75 pages in before i read this line;

"She inhaled his manly aroma and her stomach began to quiver."

That's when my stomach began to quiver too. After i stopped laughing, i deleted the book.

How could anyone read a line like that without laughing? I think we should start collecting the worst lines ever written. Got any more entries?

Promoted

I got a promotion!

Yeah, it's true that i don't have a job, but i do volunteer at a non-profit agency. I've been asked to step up and take over the Volunteer Coordinator position. So i will be the Volunteer Volunteer Coordinator. It will involve learning a few new things, and will take up about 6 to 8 hours a week.

That's what they told me. I know better because i know how any job will expand to fill the time available (just like the crap in my house expands to fill the space available,) but i said yes anyway. I think i was flattered that i am viewed as one of the more competent volunteers.

We'll call most of the other volunteers..... pre-computer age women. I think that's a nice way to put it, don't you? Anyway, something as simple as filling in hours in an Excel spreadsheet is beyond them. I know this because i tried mightily to train a few of them. It was scary. They would write down every step, say they got it, and next week i'd have to show them again.

This opportunity appeared just when i was looking for something to take up some of my time. Funny how that happens.

I'm going to get paid TWICE what i make now. You do the math.

Hot News Item

Home from Chicago. A great city. But the highlight of the visit was the morning walks along the lake with my friend. I miss having a walking buddy who lives in town. I miss my friend.


In other news, EM GOT A JOB!

When the plane touched down last night, i turned on my phone to let Em know we had landed. She texted back with "Yippee, and btw, i got a job."

I gasped "Oh my god!" as the plane was still taxiing and then had to explain myself to fellow passengers, who were looking at me in some consternation.

It's at a national toy store with a backwards letter in its name. She filled out an online job application, from which i expected exactly nothing to occur.

But i was wrong. She got called back for a second interview and then heard back that night that it was a go. She starts on Monday.

The reasons i am so happy she got a job:

• Earning your own money is a fine, empowering thing. ( I know because i used to do it and i remember.)
• This gets her butt out of the house where she has been mostly languishing for the past month.
• She will become part of a team. I have had some really fun times at crap jobs (not saying this job is crap mind you) with the other employees. Remember your first job? Yeah.
  
• Plus she will be all set with a job at Christmas and for next summer. Bonus!

Now i am the only member of this family who is a useless parasite feeding upon the blood of society.

VACATION!

Tomorrow morning at o'fuck thirty The Mister and i are leaving for Chicago.

(Dammit, there's a bug in my wine! Oh well, no better way to die than in a glass of wine.)

Anyway, i love Chicago. I have only fond memories of the last time i was in Chicago, where i sort of attended Blogher and roomed with two of my favorite bloggers. (No linking as one of them has gone underground. You know who you are.)

We will be meeting up with two of my favorite people (not bloggers) and spending 5 days roaming around and avoiding the police. YES!

We are leaving our child at home alone, so if any of you attend a kegger that she holds, please try not to spill wine on the carpet or break anything.

Thanks.

A shocking revelation

The Mister and i recently made a decision that could have a huge impact on our marriage. Something with implications that have left me uneasy and unable to sleep well for the past two nights.

It was initiated by The Mister saying he was unhappy and in pain given our current situation.

So i said okay, i'd give it a try if that's what will make him happy.
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We traded sides of the bed.

Sounds silly right? It is silly, but we have been sleeping on the same side of the bed for nigh on to 15 years and it feels so weird to be on the "wrong" side.

We both had trouble sleeping the first night. I am so used to reaching out and flipping on my little bedside radio to my right, that to find it on my left is disorienting.

The Mister has a rotator cuff injury on his right shoulder, and he wanted this change so that he could be facing me in bed without pain. Seemed like a reasonable request, so....on Monday, along with changing the sheets, i switched the drawers of our nightstands. My trashy novels, his porn mags, my radio, his kleenex, my crossword puzzle books, his history novels, my various charging devices, his various charging devices. Man, we have a lot of crap.

This feels like a big change. I find myself amused by my rigidity.

My Nipples are Wort?

On Saturday, a day that dawned glorious and sunny, i took a class with a friend wherein we learned to identify edible wild plants.

Evidence of glorious day.


The class was taught by a very earnest and knowledgeable couple.

Evidence of earnest couple. This is how we dress for everything in the Northwest, from foraging to the opera.


We started on the lawn. To my surprise, much of the local flora is not only edible but tasty. One of the most common plants in this area is called Nipplewort. Upon learning this, i took a personal vow to find a way to work the word 'Nipplewort' into my conversation as often as possible.


This is the salad the instructors provided for our lunch. It contains Mallow, Sheeps Quarters, Chive blossoms, Black Lotus flowers and of course, Nipplewort.



Veins on the back of a Cottonwood Tree leaf, also known as Balsam Poplar. These are the trees that make it look like it is snowing around here right now. No reason to ahow you this picture, i just thought it was pretty.


This plant is not edible, as implied by the name. Picture is out of focus because my arms, for once, were not long enough.


We had a wonderful time, and the class was greatly enhanced by the food that was passed out along the way, the most surprising of which was nettle dip. Doesn't that sound appetizing?


Nipplewort out.

Rejoining

Look, i CAN take a cheery picture!

Enough skulking around in the clouds, time to rejoin the world.

The fog is lifting and my fears are easing. Being an introvert, i cannot write when i am worried. Worrying is a full time job you know.

Whining to the interwebs is a mixed bag.

For one thing, it's stupid and self-indulgent. The truth is, i really have nothing to whine about. And i always feel ashamed after i do it.

But the other thing, it's really sweet to receive your understanding and gentle comments and e-mails, letting me know that you get it, and you've been there.

Made it through my mother's birthday party. I am a bit chagrined to report that it was fun. My family is actually pretty cool. I just avoid talking to my mother as much as possible, and it all works out fine. Everyone was happy and chatty, plus the grandkids (my nieces and nephews) are such a pleasure. They are growing up.

My aunt was there, the one who is SO DIFFERENT from my mother. To her, everything is WONDERFUL and BEAUTIFUL and THE BEST EVER. It's not an attitude i can sustain, but every few years i can handle it. Plus we get to make gentle fun of her later.

The Mister took a bunch of really nice pictures at the event, which made all the old folks happy, once they figured out how to use the link we sent out in e-mail.

Untitled due to lack of inspiration

I am not the most mentally healthy person in the world, but neither am i the least. Nonetheless, there are times when i swear, if i were able to do so, that i would push a button and just vanish.

I am currently in a very familiar mental place. It is not a place i like. It is a place of fear and insecurity. I used to think that when i grew up, this wouldn't happen to me any more, because i would be all grown up and secure. But i begin to think otherwise, which makes me feel even more hopeless. Which doesn't help.

This is the definition of a positive feedback cycle.

**************************************

Right now i am sitting at the reception desk for my volunteer thing. It is a place that does counseling for kids. Waiting in the lobby are a mother and daughter both seething with resentment. This mother had called earlier saying that she couldn't find her daughter and thus didn't know if she would be able to keep the appointment.

Then they arrived over an hour early and are sitting in stony silence, occasionally broken by one of them hissing something angry at the other. The other clients are studiously avoiding eye contact.

It's sad, really.

**************************************

Today is my mother's eightieth birthday. There is an event tonight that i will be attending. I have known about the event for months, but my subconscious has been playing tricks on me all week and been trying to get me to schedule something else for tonight.

Subconscious: Hey, wouldn't Thursday be a great night to go see the Star Trek movie?

Me: Oh hey! Great idea subconscious! Oh......wait.

a few days later;

Subconscious: You know, Thursday would be a great night to go out to dinner at that Italian place. You haven't been there in months and you deserve it.

Me: Oh yeah! I could really go for some of that creamy tomato pasta they make. Oh....wait. *sigh*

In praise of retirement

I do this volunteer thing, a few times a week. It's fun, and it keeps me out of the bingo halls.


I've been doing it for about three years now so i know most of the employees. Many of them like to talk to me. They talk to me about each other. Much of it is complaining. I almost always understand what they are complaining about, and i might even agree with them. I listen and i nod and i tell them that i get it, but that, actually, i like so-and-so.

I am free to like more people because i don't have to work with them. Things that would absolutely drive me bananas (disorganization, lack of follow-through, tardiness, incessant pen clicking, baby talking to boyfriends over the phone, inflexibility, etc.) are not my problem anymore.

When i worked i was more judgmental, i suppose because i had to be to get shit done.

I don't have to do projects anymore with incompetent, lazy or just plain clueless people. I am just free to enjoy the people, and then go home.

It rocks.

Skinny bitch

Em discovers the perfect food. (Gratuitous photo.)

Guess WHAT??

I have lost 6 pounds in the last three days!

Yep, thanks to the stomach flu, which is a lot like the prep for a colonoscopy, except with vomiting thrown in for added fun. Wheee!

The whole family is down, first me, then Em, now The Mister. Em, because of her extreme youth, is all better. I am much better, and The Mister is on the downslide. Poor man.

The flu experience reminded me of something that happened in the Chicago airport last week. I was positioned before a food purveyor, perusing the possibilities, when some woman says, "Excuse me, i was here first! You skinny people think you are so much better than the rest of us."

I looked around, blinking, to see to whom this hostility was directed. It was me. (Or was it i?)

"Oh," i say, flustered, "i'm sorry. I was just looking, please go ahead."

I think she might have been chagrined to realize that i had not cut her off, that i was just pondering, but no apology was forthcoming.

And while i might occasionally think i am better than some people, i do not think i am better than everyone.

Whenever people tell me what i think, i know that they are really telling me what they think. I'm sorry she feels so badly about herself.

A brief diary entry

I been a'travelin'.

The Mister went off to India. Then i went off to Cannon Beach, Oregon, with a girlfriend for a few days.

I got home Monday. The Mister got home Tuesday. I left Wednesday for Ohio, to help Em move home for the summer. (Egads! My little tiny bald newborn baby girl just finished her first year of college!)

We fly home tomorrow.

It will take a few days for my soul to catch up with me.

I think i'll amuse myself now by drawing stylized genitalia in the Gideons Bible.

An insane woman

There's something in me that cannot give up trying to take care of people. Trying to herd him into doing what i think he needs to do to take care of himself.

Dropping little hints about resting and taking it easy when i see the exhaustion and illness in his eyes.

You know that old saying that insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results? Yeah. That would make me an insane person.

You cannot make someone take care of himself if he doesn't want to.

Tonight i am going to remain quiet. I will not be sending that text message suggesting that it might be okay to make an early night of it. I will not be making that phone call offering chicken soup (figuratively) and suggesting ibuprofen (literally) that might help take away the pain.

I think i'm being helpful, but that doesn't make it true.

It's really an arrogance in me thinking that i can offer help. It hasn't worked for....many years. So that means it's not going to work.

So give it up already.

Soylent green

I got all hippie and back-to- the-earth and nature girlish, and decided to gather some wild nettles and make soup.

I learned a few things along the way.

• One pair of latex gloves is not enough of a barrier to prevent nettle stings.
• Two pairs of latex gloves are not enough of a barrier to prevent nettle stings.
• Nettle stings sting like a son-of-a-bitch for more than 24 hours.
• One pair of rubber kitchen gloves IS enough to prevent nettle stings.

Here they are, mostly de-bugged and washed. (SHUT UP! You eat bugs all the time.)
After making a huge mess in in the kitchen, (because i always make a huge mess when there is a blender involved, because there are always unfortunate blender events, which is why i drink my margaritas on the rocks and thank god my kitchen is already green,) soup was achieved.

Well, it is pretty. In a super-foods-i'm-eating-algae sort of way.

It tasted like......weeds. Like a freshly mown lawn. It wasn't bad, just kind of boring and grassy. I used garlic and onions and even a potato, so i was puzzled by the lack of taste interest.

So what did i do? I went and gathered more nettles yesterday and this time i am going to try them sauteed.

Free food is free food people!

Time Travel

Today in the kitchen i look up from my work in the sink and see a single red tulip that i have placed into a glass because the stem broke and it would no longer fit into the vase with the others.

It captures me. I go back in time forty years.

I am 10 years old. We are living in Virginia and it is a glorious spring day, one of the first of the year. I am out in the yard, lying on my back beneath our flowering crab apple tree with my right arm extended up into the air. I am hoping that if i lie still long enough, one of the chickadees peeping around in the tree will come and land on my finger. I read about a girl in one of my books who did this. That the book was fiction does not deter me.

After a few minutes, bored and birdless, i turn my head to the right and see the most beautiful and unusual red flower i have ever seen. It's huge and its red petals are spread completely open in the bright spring sun.

I leap up, scattering the chickadees from the tree and run into the house to find someone to share my flower with.

My father, responding to my excitement, comes out and looks at the flower and agrees that yes, it is the most beautiful red flower he has ever seen. He goes inside to get his camera and comes back outside with his camera and tripod. While i cavort around him doing a spring dance for the flower, he takes a picture of it.

I run back inside and get my mother, so that she can see the world's most beautiful red flower too.

When she sees it she says "Oh for god's sake Bill, it's just a tulip," and goes back inside.

Deflated and sheepish we move on to doing something else.

For years, that slide was a family joke. The time my dad took a picture of "just a tulip."

I go back to the sink.

Out-laws

Because Clematis kind of sounds like clitoris.

In the past few months three of my blomies have had to close their blogs because of snooping in-laws.

I understand that this is the interwebs, and that it's all out there in the public domain, but what is it that makes people snoop like that, pawing through the archives like Michael Jackson over a small child, even going so far as visiting the blogs of frequent commenters (such as myself)??

I mean, what are they trying to do? Gather intelligence? And to what purpose? Evidence of what?

Evidence of a conspiracy? Evidence of swearing? Evidence of a leather fetish? Evidence of inter-species sex? Evidence that the blogger-in-law doesn't like you? I bet the snooper already knew that. It shows a level of prurient interest that feels creepy.

On the other hand, i wonder if i stumbled across the blog of a family member, would i read it? Probably. Obsessively combing through it looking for something about me (because i am the center of the universe, don't deny it.) No, in reality, i'd probably look it over, and then drop it, because really, who cares?

Of course, i shudder at the thought that my parents might stumble across this blog, because it would really hurt their feelings, and that's just not necessary, but realistically, the chance is vanishingly small, since correctly using e-mail is a major difficulty for them.

Has this ever happened to you? Or have you ever been the discoverer? What did you do? What would you do? I'm just bummed at the blog closures/moving. We all know that moving is a hassle.

Oh wait! That's what my kid did to me. Secretly snooping and reading for a long time until i caught her. Maybe she should answer this question.

Just for today, it's a quilting blog

LOOKIT WHAT I MADE!!



It's my first quilt.

Just the binding at the edges to add. Wheeeeeee!

Here's one of the squares, a cat face. We like cats around here.

And one of Em's favorite book series growing up:

And it's less than a year behind schedule. Better than many a government project.

I think i'm cool, can you tell?

There is a simple yet real pleasure in making something with my own two hands. It would have been much easier and faster to buy a quilt, but there would be no feeling of accomplishment. Plus the pleasure of making something for someone i love, and who will appreciate it, hopefully for a long time.

Thanks for letting me brag.

Not a Book Review

Em gave me The Year of Living Bibically: One Man's Humble Quest to Follow the Bible as Literally as Possible by A.J. Jacobs for Christmas.

I liked it pretty well, as in, i actually finished it. It's a pretty affectionate look at some of the silly laws in the Bible.

But i am not here to give you a book review.

Here is a quote from the book;


It's why i don't know what to do with Jasper. If i give him some religion, then he might become obsessed and go Guru Gil on me. Then again, if i give him no religion, he could descend into moral anarchy. They're both so risky. I feel like i can't win.


Jasper is the author's 2 year-old son. Guru Gil is a religious fanatic.

So, the the obvious end result of no religion is moral anarchy. Nice dude, really nice. I can't wait to tell my child that she's a moral anarchist.

The really annoying part of the quote is that it's pretty casually tossed out, like everyone KNOWS that those of us without religion are amoral, serial-killing, dog-raping, baby-hating, 401k-embezzling, wife-swapping, 7/11-robbing, public-spitting scofflaws.

I am really sick of this attitude. If i am an atheist, i must have no morals. It's just a fact. I guess i need to accept it.

Gotta go. I'm off to steal the neighbor's newspaper and kick the cat.

********************************

Under the heading, Jumping on the Bandwagon of Causing Trouble,

Check this out; Amazon Rank

Apparently Amazon has decided to de-rank any books, etc. with gay adult content. Read a more coherent explanation here.

Phoning it in

*Brrring, brrrring*


'Lo?


Hi blog, it's me, meno. Fuck i'm in a bad mood and tired.


And we care about this why?


Because i'm just going to phone this post in.


But...where are you calling from? Any why are you bothering?


I'm not sure where i am. All i know is it's really fucking hot, there are bonfires everywhere, people screaming in agony and no water anywhere. There are even some dudes up to their necks in boiling blood. Oh, and because my public demands it.


Really? Sounds hellish.


I know! And i forgot my chapstick.


GASP! NOT.....the CHAPSTICK!


I.....i'm not sure if i'll make it. My lips are flaking already.


I don't think i've ever seen you without a chapstick, and a cookie.


NO COOKIES! *whimper*


It really must be hell. Well then, call us if you need anything. Ta ta.


but...


*click*

Another reason to love Seattle, and a fantasy

This weekend i went to The Edible Book Festival. I took some pictures for you all too.

It's a cake! With a wrinkle!

"Where The Mild Things Are:"

Jello, Wonder Bread and American Cheese!

"Watchmen."

Not sure why the tiny hamburgers, but loved the ketchup splot.

"The Very Hungry Caterpillar:"

This is Curd Vonnegut:

Pretty damned awesome. The portrait is made with cocoa powder. Some people are SO clever.


"The Velveeta Rabbit":

I don't want to eat it, but major points for the cuteness.

The "Bread Badge of Courage", by Steven Craneberry:



This is a book i have not heard of, "Swimming Against the Current;"




And lookit here, it's "Goodnight Moon Pie."

Keep in mind that the whole thing has to be edible.


And after a while, we did eat them, although i mostly stuck to the cakes.


***************************************

I know this is about escape, and i wonder if the real result would be a feeling of relief or loneliness. Thinking about getting in the car and heading South or East. No reason, just driving. Away. No luggage, just baggage. A roll of $20 bills, a bag of apples and some sharp cheddar. A pocket knife for picnics and a pillow for naps.

No plans, just the misty future.

Nothing bad is going on, but i've thought about this for years. It just seems so free. Probably something that should remain in the fantasy realm.

People are weird

It's not like this is a revelation or anything, but people can be really weird.

Some recent examples from my phone answering stint at the local public radio station during a pledge drive:

1) A man called me and the first thing he did was ask my name. I was trying to be nice, you know, so he would donate money, so i gave him my first name, which he proceeded to use frequently during his ensuing rant about public radio. He refused to believe that i had not been required to donate money for the privilege of answering the phones. He complained that members should be given priority when calling the talk shows to give opinions. And so on. I finally hung up on him after telling him that i was there to take donations, not listen to tirades.

2) A woman who was coming in later that day for her first shift ever called to ask what the dress code was for phone volunteers. Prom dresses or tuxes, natch!

3) A man who was coming in later that day to answer phones called to make sure there would be enough food left for him to eat lunch. We then tried to eat it all before he got there but we failed.

4) One woman called to complain about the show that was currently on the air not being 'inclusive' enough. I gave her the main number.

5) Another volunteer took a call from a man who said he would donate money, but only if someone would come and jump start his car, right now. As if!


I guess repeatedly giving out a phone number over the air invites people to let their freak flag fly.

This must be what being an adult is like

I have a habit that i've been trying to break, a habit that The Mister shares.

In the past, i've tried, half-heartedly, to break this habit. I've blamed my lack of success on the fact that The Mister continues the habit. So it was all his fault, as you can plainly see.

Frustrated, i decided to change my approach, because it appears to be more important to me to change.

What would happen if i was responsible for my own self, and did what i need to do without regard to The Mister? (There's a concept, personal responsibility!)

Maybe i could lead in this. Maybe that would be an inspiration to The Mister. Maybe not, but my fate should be in my hands, right? (Downside: upon whom would i blame my failure with this approach?)

So i decided to change.

It seems to be working. He seems to be following.

Wow.

Period

I maintain that it is a universal truth that if you get any random group of women together for more than an hour or so, they will start talking about their periods, or birth control, or sex, or giving birth, or infertility or all of the above.

This is one of the things that i find charming about being a woman.

I was answering the phones at our local public radio station earlier this week, sitting at at table with 5 other women and one older man named Fred. During one slow time, i had a hot flash, and had to rip off my scarf and outer layer of clothing while fanning myself. They were looking at me oddly, as i was a bit frantic.

"Hot flash," i said in a low voice to the women, so as not to offend Fred.

And we were off....

"Have you tried Evening Primrose Oil?" asked one woman. "It worked for me."

"No, i'm taking Black Cohosh. It's not working all that well, so i'll have to look into that," i said.

"I don't get my period any more," confessed one 20 something woman. "My doctor doesn't know why."

Much concerned advice from the table.

And so on.

By the end of our shift, everyone knew the reproductive history of everyone else. (Except for Fred, who retreated into the crossword puzzle, although he would have been welcome to participate.)

So, tell me, how are your reproductive organs? :)

A message from the sky

Today, a crow flew by my windshield. He was carrying a cheeto in his beak.

What could it mean?

Is it the end of days? Or perhaps someone spilled a snack? Or maybe the crow is looking to clog his arteries? Is orange the new black?

Hard to tell with omens.

Without regard to the message, it was a striking image, from a color point of view. Close your eyes, just for two seconds, and visualize it.

I don't care what you think, and neither should you

A few years ago, whilst in casual conversation with a woman, the subject of electric toothbrushes somehow came up.

It was like someone had totally pressed her button, because she went off about it:

"What? Like you're too TIRED to move your arm up and down? How STUPID! They just cost a lot of money and then the new heads cost even more. Those are for really LAZY people. I'd never get one of those..."

and so on.

(Full disclosure, i have, use and love my electric toothbrush, but i don't give a shit how you clean your teeth, as long as you do.)

I don't know why, but this diatribe really stuck with me. I was just so amused about how vehement she was about something of so little importance. I remember just sort of cocking my head to the side at the time and saying something like "Huh."

Now on to the present. I bought a Kind1e 2 (the electronic book from Amaz*n.) I was sitting at my volunteer thing the other day, minding my own business and reading a book on it, between phone calls.

One of the women who works there came out and saw me. And off she went:

"Oh my god! I can't believe you bought one of those things. I would never buy one, those are going to be the death of books in print! It would give me a headache to read on it. They're too expensive. I can't even see the words, the print is so small...."

and so on.

I asked her if she'd ever seen one before, as i was wondering where all this feeling came from. "No," she admitted.

I gave the standard answer i've developed in response to passionate declarations about nothing of import.

"I can see you feel very strongly about this."

And went back to my reading.

Scorekeeping

I like to talk about my weaknesses and failings here, so there will always be lots to talk about.

I am a secret scorekeeper. I keep score. I keep score of the most petty things. And as i'm thinking about it, i'm trying to figure out why.

Here's an example: We have our house on the market so we are trying to keep it cleaner than our normal pig wallow. One thing we did is buy a squeegee for the shower doors, so we can wipe it off after showering and thus (hopefully) keep the shower door cleaner. Sounds good right?

But after a few days of using it, The Mister has kind of stopped. Normally it's not a big deal, as i usually shower within a short time after he does.

But not always. So i was looking at the un-sqeegeed shower door this noon (i was off playing squash in the morning) and making a mental note of this lack of compliance. Score one for my superiority.

And did you know, that every morning i re-hang his towel because he doesn't hang it up like the towels in a model home? Score two for my superiority.

And the list goes on, with each item being as earth-shattering as the towel situation.

Don't i sound like an ass? This man, who works all day every day so that i can sit on my butt and eat cookies, is being scored over towels and shower doors. Ick. We didn't squeegee the shower door for eight fucking years, so i think it will be okay.

Why? I don't really know. I know that i will try and let it go, but it is surprisingly dear to me.

What a waste of energy, and surprisingly like my mother. Man, that stings.

in which i am totally uncool

I read this quote in Em's college's newspaper. It's been bugging me all weekend. It's from an opinion piece by a senior girl.

"When you limit our opportunities for binge drinking, you limit our opportunities for fun."

God, her parents must be SO proud.

I am not a drinking prude. I like drinking. I drink. I think the alcohol laws in this country are stupid. I give my kid a glass of wine if she wants one. I drank in college. I smoked dope in college. I will never be vice-president as i did inhale.

But this notion that binge drinking is the only way to have fun scares the crap out of me.

I found out a few weeks ago that a young person i know who is attending her first semester of college ended up in the hospital having to have her stomach pumped from drinking.

THAT sounds like a laugh riot doesn't it?

A mom i know came home from a weekend spent at her child's college with a story about one girl who got so drunk she passed out and shit and pissed herself in the dorm hallway.

Ha ha haha! Boy, that's funny, no?

A boy froze to death after passing out outside in winter.

I can't even joke about that being fun.

I just wonder when the object of drinking became to get so drunk that you pass out? Have you ever passed out or blacked out from drinking?

I haven't, so maybe it really is fun.

whatever...

Why do we post pictures of ourselves being silly with a person we love? Is it to prove to other people that someone loves us? See! See! Someone smiles with me!

Or is it to prove it to ourselves? I think the latter.

Too anxiety ridden to write anything much. A situation that is not that big of a deal has us anxious. The Mister and i are not good with any sort of uncertainty. Kind of removes the possibility of relocating to the jungle.

A Stand Off witnessed this morning:

An immature bald eagle landed on our dock. As i looked out the window, i noticed it was hopping around on our dock rather oddly. Then i noticed that there were about thirty coots huddled under the dock, seeking shelter from the bird of prey. The bird would stay in one place for a while, and the coots, being silly birds, would forget that they were the hunted, and would start to ooze out from under the dock. Then the eagle would hop over to where they were oozing, and they would contract back under the dock, practically flying over the water.

I watched this stand off for about 10 minutes, then we had to go. I wonder whether the result was hunger for the eagle, or death for a coot.

Footloss

My right foot hurts, so I went to visit a podiatrist. I made the mistake of wearing a new pair of black cotton socks that day, so when he asked to see my feet, they were covered in black sock fuzz that looked like mildew. Nice.

After i scraped off the black fuzz, he told me that I have what is called a Z -shaped foot, and because of this I have developed arthritis between my metatarsal bones.

The first line of attack is arch support. Way to make me feel decrepit. Now I am wearing the kind of shoes normally reserved for ancient waitresses named Flo who call you 'honey.'

I have small breasts, so they are staying up. I have big feet, so they are sagging. I can't see my butt without making an effort (an effort I have no desire to make) so I can't speak for it, butt I have my suspicions as to which direction it's heading.

By this logic my nose should be safe.


(The above is an example of self-deprecating body humor for which female bloggers are well known. It's not clever, but it is fun.)

family as shield

Last week a woman invited me to have lunch with her.

Sounds good right?

The problem is that i don't really like her. In fact, i find her smug and boring, with heavy emphasis on the boring.

I wasn't quick enough or mean enough to say, "How about never. Is never good for you?" This woman does not have the social skills to pick up on body language or she would know i don't really care for her.

I feel that everything she says is done as a way to impress me. Examples:

-On my geology class field trip the other day...
-I used to manage a lot of people at...
-I was in my studio working on my scuplture...
-My grandson will be graduating from the University of W-- when he's barely 19.
-When my last piece was commisioned...
-I designed the data base for...
-I know alot about the economy because...

She is about 70, and has been divorced for over 10 years, and while i think it's great that she has so many interests, they don't interest me.

At one point i found myself saying something like, "Oh, i just tell my husband when my car needs washing and he does it for me." All that statement needed to make it perfect was a simpering giggle.

And while i might wish it were, it isn't even true! I have to wash my own damned car. I had to laugh at myself when i realized on the way home that what i had done is play the 'stupid female card' in hopes that she would find me impossibly dull and never invite me anywhere again.

I also blamed having my daughter home this weekend as an excuse for not going to the movies with her.

trip report

For those of you following along at home, i am back home after my big adventure in Ohio and Tennessee.

Em and i went to see Coraline (good) and He's Just Not That Into You (I'm sick of movies that portray all women as desperate to get married without regard to the suitability of the man. Gag!) and then she made me watch High School Musical 3 in the hotel room.

Dreadful movie. I read a book while she watched.

We ate good food, drank some champagne and had a good time.

I only got to meet one of her friends, so i didn't get the chance to use my advanced interrogation skills on the future ex-boyfriend. Damn! In fact, the future ex might already be the never ex. You gotta move fast on these things or you'll miss your chance to intimidate.

Monday i flew off to to meet with Ms. Chica. The weather was cold and beautiful. We spent most of the day on Tuesday hiking along the Cumberland Trail. The scenery is so different from here that i was fascinated. Deciduous forests, delicate streams, elaborate rock formations, good company, icicles, turkey sandwiches that i didn't have to make, moss theft. It was all good.



Here i am preparing to ride my broomstick across this bridge.

Intelligent discourse

This is more in the nature of a diary entry than a thoughtful blog post. Fair warning.

I'm all excited as i leave at o'fuck thirty tomorrow morning to wing my way to Ohio to visit my offspring.

"Oh," she says, "Come visit me. I miss you. I want you to meet my friends"

Translation: Come spoil me rotten for a weekend mommy.

Okay, i can't resist THAT! Tell me you could.

There's also a person she likes. Maybe even likes likes. I have prepared a list of questions for this person. I hope s/he doesn't mind.

-so, what does your mother do?
-so, how do you feel about pre-marital sex?
-so, what are your political views?
-so, do you understand that i will kill you if you hurt my daughter?
-so, do you know how to don a condom?
-so, how did you vote in the last election.

(just kidding baby.... mostly.)

And then, and THEN (!) i'm going off for a few days to visit one of my blomies. (Say it out loud, it's obscene.) We hope to go hiking together.

I'll be in touch as i have my precious with me. (laptop)