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.

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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.

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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.

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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.


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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.