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)

In which i swear freely

We have just put our house up for sale. Don't we have AWESOME timing?

I fucking hate living in a for sale house. We have to keep it neat, which is totally hard for us because The Mister is a a slob, and i'm lazy. At least my hideously messy daughter is away at college, although she has a roomful of crap that will need to be dealt with.

Some cranky letters to make me feel better:

************
Dear Makers of Aveeno Oatmeal Lotion,

I love your lotion, but i hate that the suction pump straw thing is an inch and a half above the bottom of the container. I feel like it's a plot to get me to buy more of your lotion.

Not going to work as i am stubborn AND cheap, plus i recycle the bottle, after i eke every last bit of lotion out of it.

So there,

-a not to be manipulated consumer

************
Dear Mom who brought her baby to the National Geographic Lecture last week,

Judging from the auditory evidence, your baby didn't appreciate the lecture. And thanks to your inconsiderateness in bringing a baby to such an event, neither did the other 200 people who could hear him crying.

But hey, as long as YOU got to attend, fuck the rest of us.

Just so you know, i don't blame the baby. I blame you.

-One of 20 or so people who gave you the stink eye.

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

Dear Ace Hardware,

I bought a wedge style doorstop from you today. On the back of the package was this;

INSTALLATION INSTRUCTIONS:
1. Insert by wedging under bottom of door.

Thanks for that, i had no idea.

-Low IQ Consumer