Domestic Revolution

Showing posts with label 1. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 1. Show all posts

2/4/12

Apple Butter Business

Two weeks ago  I started a campaign on craigslist for canning supplies. Preserving is my cause du-jour at the moment. I am getting super excited about things like canning, fermenting, and dehydrating. Oh the possibilities!

During my quest for free canning supplies, I was contacted by a person that worked for an older gentleman with a plethora of canning business cluttering up his shop since his wife passed on. Boss and I immediately planned a trip out to the nether reaches of the county to pick up our free swag and start the canning fun times.

When we got there, we found the COOLEST gentleman either of us have had the pleasure of meeting since our own grandpa's (who are both extremely awesome mind you). Farmer Jim had not only canning supplies, but an industrial rock tumbler, gads of shiny rocks from all over the US, a stuffed owl and so many amazing handy craft projects I think etsy would blow up if it allowed him to post to their site.

Farmer Jim loaded us up with jars and a canning set up and also sent us home with a HUGE bucket of apples to start off our adventure in canning. Boss now has his old gentleman mentor, and I now have my canning supplies...all in all, a prosperous trip.

[caption id="attachment_943" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="above: a veritable shit ton of apples"][/caption]

When I got home,  I couldn't decide what it was I wanted to DO with these nifty canning supplies and all of these apples. We are big fans of apple muffins in this house, but it seemed a little silly to make 600 of them just to use up my apples. After a quick offering to the Oracle, it was decided that apple butter would be the coolest thing we could make with the ingredients we already had on hand.

The process begins with a veritable shit ton of apples. We used two bags from the grocery store as well as 10 of Farmer Jim's far superior apples. We filled the crock pot with tiny chunks of apples and thought smugly...this shall make thousands upon thousands of gallons of delicious apple butter! MWHAHAHAHAHA! It of course made...2 pints of delicious apple butter. According to the interwebs, if youw ant to make gallons of the stuff, you will need to keep adding apples as it cooks down and you will need far more than like 30 apples. SO the recipe I am posting here is for a small yield batch that you can do in a weekend with your crock pot. The apple butter purists will do it in gigantic pots over fires and such. I am no apple butter purist.

Let us begin.

Ingredients:

A bunch of of apples (30 or so) -cored and chopped. I leave the skins on because they cook down and it doesn't make any difference to me. Plus...the lazy...

[caption id="attachment_944" align="aligncenter" width="225" caption="like-a-so"]

The original recipe calls for 4 cups of sugar...which is a god awful amount of sugar. So We changed it to 1/2 cup of honey and it is perfectly sweet and spicy.

mix up 2 tsp cinnamon, 1/4 tsp ground cloves, and 1/4 tsp salt and sprinkle over the apples



Cook on high for 1 hour, then reduce heat to low and cook for 9 hours ish until warm and soft. I take my immersion blender to it at this  point and smoosh it around until its liquidy and thick. Let it cook for another hour with the lid off.
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When you can take a spoon-ful and put it on a plate, and there is no halo of fluid around it, it is apparently done.

[caption id="attachment_948" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="a poor example of this is illustrated here"][/caption]

Spoon that delicious mess into your jars nice and hot. We don't have a canning funnel so we used a regular one, which worked but it was a little slower going.

[caption id="attachment_949" align="aligncenter" width="225" caption="nom a nom a nom"][/caption]

Use your favorite water bath canning method to preserve your new awesome apple butter. Because we ended up with only 2 jars, we didn't bother to can it, though the heat from the butter sealed one of my mason jars anyway so that was an added bonus! Be sure to leave about a 1/4 inch of room at the top to allow for expansion.

We spread it on toasts, we eat it on our museli in the morning, we bathe in it...wait...too may secrets revealed...ENJOY!

2/3/12

Change Is Scary and Good

You may have noticed a bit of a change here at what was once Mediocre Mama. What was once a blog that was meant to help me make sense of the sometimes baffling and often hilarious world of motherhood, has become something more in recent months. The reason for this? I have become something more. Through the duration of this blog I have been growing up, learning about myself as a mom, and feeling less and less insecure about my place in the universe.

Mediocre Mama followed me through a HUGE transition in my life, from early motherhood, to working mom, to suddenly single, to coming out and finding a life I didn't know I could have. Through it all I have kept my sense of humor and my relationship with my daughter has grown stronger with every passing year. Reading back blog posts is like reliving those moments of my life all over again, for better and for worse. There was never much focus other than my extreme desire to feel less alone in a world that sometimes felt increasingly isolated.

The world I am living in now is very different. I am very quickly becoming the best version of myself I have ever been.  I look around me and see only the potential for love and mutual support, and do not feel so alone and isolated as I once did. While I am still utterly baffled by Pinkone and am pretty sure the world made a terrible mistake in allowing me to raise a human being without proper supervision, I am fairly confident in my ability to do so effectively at this point. I know what kind of mom I am, what kind of mom I want to be, and neither of those things is Mediocre. Mediocre Mama was supposed to be tongue in cheek, a play on the insecurities that we all feel about parenting and growing up. Really, it was me hiding behind self deprecation and giving myself an out to be less than the parent I knew I could be. Am I perfect? dear god no. Do I plan to be perfect? nope, perfect is boring. Am I mediocre? nope, and I never was. I am the best mom for my kid, and the best mom I want to be today. What more could I want really?

The new phase for Mediocre Mama, which shall now be known as "Domestic Anarchy" is really exciting for us. Boss is going to join me in chronicling our adventures in "Unintentional Bohemia" or what I am also referring to as "The DIY Revolution". We made the decision to change our lives, partially out of necessity (I may have mentioned once or twice that we are broke asses) Partially because we want to be closer to the roots of where our food, clothes, materials and whatever else we can come up with, comes from.

We intend to write about our adventures as amateur urban farmers, canners, seamstresses, and what my work boss is now calling "Faux-mish". We also intend to continue writing about the strange and wonderful world that we inhabit with our daughter Pinkone and her many eccentricities. There will still be plenty of "WTF" moments starring our favorite precocious pink headed monster and never a shortage of pug related anecdotes.

Hopefully those of you who have always enjoyed my blogs will continue to subscribe, and hopefully I will be better at posting more consistently now that Boss and I are working together on this. Feel free to contribute your own DIY revolutionary ideas, most of mine are pilfered from the internet anyway!

Thanks for all of the support over the years and here's to a new age!

<3 The formerly Mediocre Mama

1/17/12

Food! F*ck Yeah!

Like many of my generation, I have spent most of my life eating what can only be called "processed food type products." Everything I learned to cook was either soaking in cream of stuff or smothered in cheddar cheese.

Oddly enough, I have often not felt like the healthiest person in town. Having one time been something of an athlete,  it was right surprising when I became a grown up and doing my own cooking coupled with far less of the sports things, and then found myself exhausted, breathing hard, and often unnervingly sweaty.

I have made many a half hearted attempted at healthy living, and have made a few full hearted attempts at self sufficient living. Usually I have given up after a few short weeks and a couple of misshapen bread loaves.  The reason these experiments fail varies, but overall I think the uniting factor has to do with my reasons behind doing so.  When I would try to eat healthy it was because I wanted to lose weight, go on a trip and look like what I decided pretty was. When I would try to make my own foods it was because I was broke or needed some kind of escape from a crappy life.

When Boss moved in, we both expressed our desire to start living more healthy lives. We wanted to have more energy, be less reliant on processed foods and have a better understanding of what it was that we were putting in our bodies.These seemed like better reasons than any I had had before.

The decision made, putting it into action became something else entirely. As I mentioned, I was raised on mayonnaise based salads and margarine, my idea of eating healthy was buying things full of health claims and shiny photos brought to you by Nabisco and Winston Salem. I was still desperate to find the food loop hole that would allow me to continue eating cheese as often as humanly possible and feel awesome about my choices while doing so. Unfortunately,  that loop hole does not exist, and believe me, if it did, I would have found it. I fucking LOVE cheese.

We went back and forth and in and out of good habits, nothing really sticking for any significant amount of time. We would buy the better versions of boxed foods, skinless boneless frozen chicken parts, and things smacking of Omegas and what not. We didn't feel any better, our wallets were still pretty damn empty and we couldn't tell you from one day to the next what exactly it was that was going into our foods. This seemed counter productive.

*Tangent*

As poor people, we have been told again and again that we don't deserve to be healthy, that we don't deserve to have delicious, healthy foods to put in our bodies that don't come from brightly colored boxes. Healthy, organic foods are not affordable, not readily available and not marketed to your "average" family making only slightly more than minimum wage. The shelves at Wal-Mart (where all us poor folk shop) are chock full of chemical laden sugar drinks and vegetable flavored fried corn puffs. As there is no money to be had in actual carrots, rarely will a carrot be seen (the carrot lobbyists are few and far between).

As fat people we are told that its our fault we are fat, that we can't possibly be both healthy AND fat. Society tells us the two are mutually exclusive. We are told that the only way to be healthy, is to be thin. That the only way to be thin, is to give our money to a diet organization, or subscribe to some new chemical fad that will change our bodies to work in a different way. Does NO ONE see how FUCKED that is? If we give money to someone to make us thin, does that someone benefit in any way from actually making us thin? If we are all thin and staying that way, where will they get their money? Will Jenny Craig just brush her hands off and say "ahhh, now that was fine days work, on to cure cancer!" WHY would we willingly alter the chemistry of our bodies and reroute our internal organs in order to eat less shitty food, but shitty food all the same, instead of leaving our bodies the perfect energy plants they are and filling them with real, actual food that is also fuel? And why can't that be fun?! and social?! instead of a source of contention and angst?

We as a society have been told that we are helpless slaves to multinational corporations that know what is best for our families and that the food we have always eaten isn't good enough, or healthy enough. That their lobbyists and scientists know better than our bodies and our ancestors do. Do you see Charles Ingalls eating re-hydrogenated food type products? HELL NO! Charles Ingalls would be like, I want chicken, I'm gonna go get me an actual chicken. Caroline, grind me some flour! You know why? Because Charles Ingalls is THE MAN....

*End Tangent*

SO the point I was getting at is, we got sick of it. We started making changes.

Change the first:

Stop buying what has commonly been referred to as "bread" but is really a mishmash of refined chemicals and flours and a metric ton of sugar compressed into a bread like shape. That one was easy. I love making my own bread. Its this very zen thing for me. I knead the dough and become one with it, there is nothing but me, and the dough. I have begun the search for the most epic of all bread recipes. Stay tuned for that adventure.

Step the second:

Vegetables are expensive and keep spoiling before we eat them, this is both wasteful and annoying. Solution? Don't buy any meat, then you have to eat the vegetables and also have more money to spend on them! We also turned to the family oracle (Google) and found better ways to store our veggies and things to do with the bits we don't eat (stay tuned for this also!) So no veggies are going to waste!

Step the third:

Foods that contain less chemicals seem to be more expensive, this is what we in this house refer to as "bull shit". Solution? figure out how to make it yourself. Again, the family oracle provides us with solutions. Want gluten free bread? Don't want to pay 9bazillion dollars for 12 kinds of flour? Make sprouted grain breads.  Have a hankering for egg salad, don't know what "disodium edta " is and don't particularly want it to be part of your dinner? Make your own mayo. The internet is literally SWARMING with people aching to share their recipes and tips for making the perfect whatever. This has become what I call culinary truth or dare, and what Boss calls "Food Alchemy". I have saved about $100 a month by cutting out meat, and making my own everything but vegetables, yeast, almond milk, and flour. And if that grain mill comes in for my kitchen aid at a reasonable price...

Step the fourth and final:

Quit fucking apologizing for being awesome at life. We feel amazing since we have started instituting these changes in our lives. The energy shift in our home is palpable. Pinkone is happier, cleaner, and is far less of a goth kid in training. Boss and I are playing with her again, teaching her how to do the things we are doing and are able to use every meal as a science experiment or math lesson. There are some days where I start to feel silly, or self conscious for going to the co-op buying bulk quinoa or grinding my own oat flour or...whatever. Like suddenly I am one of those people from California Woody Allen makes fun of. Then I stop and think about it. Fuck You Woody Allen! (not really, I seriously love you Mr. Allen) But, really, that kind of thinking is me apologizing to (someone?) for living the kind of life I want to live. Living this way only looks ridiculous and feels like work when I decide it is ridiculous and feels like work and don't remind myself that not only is being relatively self sufficent super fun, but a great way to keep my brain in shape learning new things. Fuck Yeah Learning!

So basically what I am saying here is that my family is making the choice to engage in food related anarchy and non conformist living. We would like to share that with you, the people of the internet in the hopes that you might find it informative, entertaining, or at the very least, amusing. If you have any awesome ideas for self sufficent living, food related anarchy, or just a general comment or gripe, please feel free to send it to the following address: pinklilybit@gmail.com

Stay tuned for more adventures in MediocreParenting, in which your hero continues to feel less Mediocre by the day!

1/8/12

29 Full Steam Ahead!

This may come as no surprise to anyone who regularly reads my blog, or knows me in anyway, but sometimes I feel like I might be a crazy person. As I age, I care about whether or not this is true less and less, but the thought still crosses my mind from time to time.

Tonight I was reading bits of a blog that Boss linked me to, The Non-Conformist Family. In reading Josh's familial manifesto, I am starting to feel a bit like less of a crazy person, and a bit more like one of the lucky people in the universe that has managed to start figuring out that our world is actually more than just the next thing on the to do list. Boss calls this tapping into the universal love stream. I love that. We aren't out here alone being nuts, we are part of the stream of people out here being nuts together!

Over the past couple of years I have made some really insane choices. I decided that living genuinely was more important to me than living safely. While this was not an easy choice to make, and resulted in the end of my marriage, the end of several friendships, and skeptical eyebrow raises from many a family member, I wouldn't change that decision for anything. In NCF, Josh talks about taking risks, and by coming out, ending a crappy marriage, and taking a flying leap off the love cliff with someone that lived impossibly far away, I think I may have one or two things to say about risk taking.

So yesterday was my birthday, and as is my custom, I looked back on the previous year, looked forward to the next year, and did a little of the "yes this, no that" game with myself. What did my life look like this time last year? quite different for sure. What did I want it to look like this time next year? Similar but better...so as you can see, I'm totally deep.

For my birthday this year, I asked for one thing. Boss and I don't have any money to speak of, so lavishing me with furs and jewels was not totally in the realm of possibility. Rather, I asked him for a weekend of us time, or as we say, "mantics". We spent the weekend baking, cooking, talking, watching movies, and just being together. In doing this, not only did we get some prime 'humpin' in, but we also managed to really connect on a deeper level. It was super awesome to remind myself exactly why I took the insane risk of moving this person out here to live with us from a foreign land, with full knowledge that they would not be able to work and may possibly turn out to totally hate everything about me. It reminded him why he left a comfortable job, socialized healthcare and a boat load of friends for a capitalist dictatorship populated with individualistic hate mongers, I might be paraphrasing there a bit, but you get the jist. The point is, in my 28th year I took some crazy ass risks, many of which did not sit well with those I love. In the end, the most important thing was that I went in fully informed and came out into 29 the best version of me I can be today.

Birthday List of Awesome Things I Plan to Continue into 29

1) Making as many things from scratch as humanley possible

Cooking has become the ultimate game of double dog dare with myself. Being super poor, but also something of a foodie poser, I like to pay close attention to what I stuff in my face hole and that of my little family. I have grown to LOVE making things that normally come from a box or a can or a bag, myself. There are few things more cathartic than kneading bread. I also love finding vegetarian and vegan alternatives to favorite foods. I feel like I plant a giant middle finger in the face of corporate greed every time I master a new recipe.

2) Becoming more socially aware

There was a time when I was a bright eyed, idealistic little college queerling with lots to say about lots of things. I read newspapers (remember those kids?!) and I had witty and insightful comments to make about the things I read in them. That time passed with the discovery that the amount of weed I was smoking at the time directly correlated with the level of wit that my comments actually contained. Also, I had a kid and stopped caring about anything other than the contents of her diaper for like...5 years. So  I made a pledge to myself at 28 that I would start taking care of myself intellectually and in doing so, be more aware of the world around me. I'm getting better, I learned about the Occupy movement only like, a month after it started so thats better than most of my country men. In my 29th year, I plan to learn about things as they happen and start forming opinions again, this time without the aid of recreational drugs whenever possible.

3) Be the most involved parent and partner I can be

I modified this one slightly because going into 28, i had recently been unceremoniously dumped by my last girlfriend so i wasn't really thinking in the partner realm at the time. Luckily however, I was e-ogled by a charming young thing  a mere 3 days later which turned out to be the gentleman I am currently sharing my life with. Last year I decided that I would do everything within my power to be the best parent I can be. That means to me, answering questions, taking time for Pinkone and I to be together just us. Encouraging her special brand of awesome, taking time for myself so that I can be better prepared for mommying when the time comes. Also, to be the best parents we can be, Boss and I need to be the best partners we can be. We have both dealt with tons of life altering crap this year, and chances are there will be more in the near future. Our relationship has to be a priority because we have a little person that is counting on us to be together and with it so there will always be two happy people helping to guide her through life. The best gift we can give our daughter is a happy and healthy set of parents.

4) Be nice to myself

I am terrible at this. I don't like to buy myself things, I say awful self deprecating things about my body and my various issues and I don't take time to just relax and be. Going into 28 I promised myself I would start to work on this. I would make peace with my body, I would find time and energy to center myself and I would take time to just BE for once. It was really hard, because  I am not good at that kind of thing. Going into 29 I am renewing my commitment to myself. I am changing the way my family eats, doing things I enjoy for not reason other than I enjoy them, learning to say no when I simply don't feel like doing something and not apologizing for it, and taking time to meditate and reflect on a daily basis.

5) Be the change I want to see in the world

God, so trite, but whatever. I am a person that has always been into the flakey hippie dippy BS that my dad would roll his eyes at. I would get super into energy healing and tarot cards and aura reading for like, 6 months, start to feel stupid and back off. Well, no more. I know that we in this world are all one, we are all apart of a greater, universal energy and if i sound like an idiot when I say that, its only because the person hearing me isn't ready to hear me. So what this means for me this year is that I am going to live my life knowing that the energy I project into the world affects everyone and everything around me. I am going to tap into the love stream as Boss says, and I am going to throw love out my every pore to everyone around me. I am going to say wonderful things to the wonderful people around me and I am going to find a way to give back to the world in a very real way.

So those are my personal goals for 29, I also plan to learn to sew and master sourdough at last, just in case you were looking for something less abstract. What are your goals for this year?

The Non-Conformist Family

The Non-Conformist Family

11/2/11

Nouveau Poor

I have been formulating this blog post in my brain goo for awhile now. The other day, Boss and I were standing in line at the food bank (yep, the food bank) and I was watching the people come and go with their boxes of food. One woman shoved her way to the front of the line, dressed to the nines, entitled as hell, loudly proclaiming without saying a word that THIS (the food bank) was only temporary. SHE was not one of US (the poor). As I silently slam her head against a rock with the power of my thoughts, I start to think. In college, I was like, cute, bohemian poor, college poor. Living on ramen because my education forces me to work shitty jobs poor. Then, i was new parent poor, all my money goes to diapers poor. Then, I was single mom poor for a little bit, noble poor. Now, standing in line at the food bank, I'm like, dude, i am almost 30, and I am just poor. I wasn't raised poor, so I prefer the term "nouveau poor" I was actually raised quite well off, which is probably why I am poor now, I never really learned how to be frugal or budget. I'm like, dumb white girl poor, which is a totally different world of poor from people who actually suffer.

Believe me, I hear all of the white whine in this blog post.

Because we live in a relatively affluent city with a high population of organic markets and Trader Joe's, our Food Bank is surprisingly well stocked. Sure, you get your potted beef tounge from time to time, but you also get a large selection of farm fresh produce, eggs, soy milk and a surprisingly wide selection of vegetarian options. So we are quite lucky in that regard. The rest of the time, when we can actually afford to buy food, we try to do so, so that the stuffs at the food bank can be there for those who just plain can't that week. Here is where we run into issues. How many of you have tried the following:

Being healthy

Eating a predominately vegetarian diet

Eating more organic and additive free foods

Being fucking poor

These things are not congruent. You want to know why (Western Society) poor people are generally fat? Its because food that is healthy, is expensive as hell.

Boss and i were sitting down tonight to discuss the state of our pantry. Its not awful, but it could be better. There is a wide assortment of boxed side dishes, several cans of cream of stuff, and some white rice. The fridge isn't much better, housing a cavalcade of 80% fat meat product, chicken pieces, and more cabbage than my intestinal tract would care to admit. Also, many beets. We like beets.

Our poor diet has often troubled us, as well as or sedentary lifestyle (but that's another blog post all together) and so we sat down to make a plan, a list, a budget out next weeks pay check for food stuffs.  In doing so, I did what I always do, and turned to the Internet, our family oracle. When entering in the sacrificial search term to google of "how to eat healthy on a budget" I learned something startling.

Anyone who write for these websites has never been poor, has at least one parent working from home, and has apparently never entered a Wal Mart.

Not every suggestion is bad. Eating at home rather than out, is one obvious, but still valid idea, other than that, I'm just as lost as ever. All suggestions are coming from the same article, because 1) i am lazy 2) i was super pissed after reading it and began immediately blogging and 3) this article is pretty representative of every other article about eating healthy whilst broke. All suggestions can be found here

Suggestion the first:

1) "Skip the processing. Steer away from foods with lots of additives, chemicals and packaging; they're often not as good for you, and they can drive up the cost of your groceries. Instead, opt for foods that are as close to their natural state as possible. That may mean you have to spend a little more time preparing your meals, but I've included helpful tips below on how to make that more convenient."

Okay, totally. That is EXACTLY what we want to do...but wait. Have you ever looked at the boxes of brightly colored crap that adorne the Wal-Mart shelves? Have you noticed that two boxes of store brand MacNCheeze food product costs you about 75 cents a box, and you use about a half cup of milk  and a half cup of butter to make sauce (about .50 cents give or take), add a can of tuna (89 cents) and half a cup of peas (25 cents) and you have dinner for a family of three, relatively balanced, for under 5 bucks.

As opposed to say, making your own mac-n-cheese for dinner. Noodles, if you don't use the whole bag, will cost you about a dollar, half a cup of cheese ($1-1.50 i like  a lot of cheese) Cream or in some cases Velveta to make it "saucy" is going run you another 3-5 dollars, and if you don't use all the cream, you have cream sitting there being all "use me" and you're like...for what? Mustard powder, becuase that's regualrly around the house, again with the special ingredients ($2 and you are only going to use like, 10 cents of it so again, its like what else can i make with cream and mustard powder? so already, this one dish has surpassed our processed nightmare of a dinner by several dollars, and doesn't even have a protein or a vegetable involved yet.  You see where I'm going with this. Shitty processed foods are super cheap because they cost like half a penny to make, contain very little actual food, and can be replicated in a lab rather than on large tracts of land with sustainable farming practices and chickens that are regularly hugged.  Beans from cans are cheaper than beans from bags, are cheaper than beans from plants. The less actual food, in your food, the more of it you can cram in your mouth hole for the least amount of money. Thanks capitalism!

Suggestion the Second:

Demote meat. Beef, chicken, pork and fish often take a starring role in American meals, whereas in less-wealthy countries they're often supporting players or make only cameo appearances: Think bowls of rice or grain topped with lots of veggies and a few bits of meat or seafood. Or you can skip meat entirely for much cheaper protein sources, such as eggs or beans (a half cup of beans has as much protein as 3 ounces of steak).

She isn't wrong here, but please also note that in other countries they also eat bugs, which i could totally get behind if only i could catch the little fuckers. Again, we come across the problem where the bulk of foods she suggests purchasing, are not, in anyway, cheap. If I had my own garden full of farm fresh veggies I would eat the hell out of them every day and night. But I don't. I have the local grocery mart. In the summer, we were able to load the fridge up no problem with local, inexpensive organic produce from our local farmstand. Seriously, we could get a weeks work of fruit and veggies for like 30 bucks at this place it was amazing. It isn't so easy in the winter months though. Beans and legumes are time consuming to soak and prep and not as cheap as you might think to buy canned, one can is about 1.35 and it takes at least 2 or 3 for every meal, so, again it adds up when you only have say, 50 bucks for the next week. That said, I am fortunate enough to have a partner at home that can spend his days soaking my beans so at least there, I am ahead of many families.She also suggests nuts as a viable source of protien. Go to the store. Price nuts. Come back and tell me about it. Seriously, go. I'll wait. EXPENSIVE!!! Almonds are INSANELY overpriced, pine nuts are like, 7 bucks for a 1/2 cup! Nuts? screw you nut conglomerates!

Those are the only two I'm going to post for now. Feel free to read the rest of the article and tell me I'm nothing but a privileged white girl who is incredibly lazy, believe me, I've already thought it. The bottom line is, being poor in America is a very real thing for more people than ever. Even if we aren't like, "real poor" or "3rd world poor" we are still getting further and further away from what was once considered to be the middle class. It is harder and harder to find, good, healthy, inexpensive food that will actually nourish your body and not completely deplete your bank account.  The world needs to catch up and instead of throwing more money into cramming synthetic fish oil into everything we eat, how about subsidizing something OTHER than corn? How about working with farmers to grow organically on a larger scale? how about making it the standard to not inject our beef with hormones and antibiotics and whatever else it is they are cramming into our food that is causing 8 year olds to start menstruating? and i'm on a tangent.

The point is, Its not easy. All I want is to keep from getting to my "kill yourself weight" be able to say I am feeding my family the best food I can get, and do it for under $200 every two weeks. Is it really so much to ask?

Also, I tried "how to eat well when you are fucking broke" and that didn't turn up any better search results.

Thoughts? Suggestions? Quirky anecdotes?

this article is actually useful:

http://www.mainstreet.com/slideshow/smart-spending/where-find-cheap-fresh-produce


Most people's pantry. Also mine, minus the premium Red Mill flours, we use store brand in this house!

Jason's Life Lessons

There are a lot of things I have somehow managed to escape doing in my life. I only just learned how to properly use bleach in laundry like, a month ago. For whatever reason, there are a great many life altering happenings that most people take for granted that I, for whatever reason, was not exposed to over the course of 28 years.

Some of the  most glaring, and for some reason, personally insulting to many of my friends and loved ones, ways that I have apparently been living in a bomb shelter, is my lack of exposure to classic movies. i don't know who to blame for this. It could be that my parents were just not really movie buffs. Though, my dad and I did watch a lot of fantastic mafia movies and cowboy flicks. It just seems that for some reason, I was never exposed to what most of the world deems influential cinema of the 20th century.

Some examples:

Indiana Jones (any of them)

Braveheart

Dances with Wolves

None of the Superman movies

None of the Terminators

I haven't made it through a single Lord of the Rings movie

Rambo

Rocky

pretty much anything staring Stallone really

and the coupe de gras...the one that nearly gets me dumped every time Boss is reminded of it, I haven't seen even a single one, of the original trilogy. yes. THE trilogy. We won't even get into how through a travesty of friendship failings I have still managed to avoid seeing these movies and get to the actual point of this blog post.

Along with all of these other iconic films, I also managed to go my entire life without having seen a single slasher flick. Unless you count Army of Darkness and Evil Dead parts 1 and 2, because I did finally get to see those about two years ago. Throughout the last six months since Boss has been living here, it has been his personal mission to make me less lame in the movie department.  He has taken it upon himself to expose me to the Indian Joneses, Mel Gibson and Kevin Costner's finest inspirational speeches, and we are working our way up to sci fi any day now. So in keeping with his mission I have now been shown the first two of the apparently 10 Friday the 13th slasher flicks and the first two Nightmare on Elm Streets. Freddy, Jason and I are getting to be BFFs.

So again, slasher flicks are an entirely new thing for me. I have had a vague concept of the mythos surrounding them thanks to pop culture references that I have continuously been exposed to throughout my media saturated youth. So I kind of figured I would get it without seeing it. I was wrong. There are so many valuable life lessons that I had been missing out on! Below, a list of important take aways from new found education in slasher flicks.

5) It is okay to suspend reality

Apparently, I am not a fun person to watch these kind of movies with. Most people, having seen them again and again throughout their lives, usually beginning at a young and impressionable age, are able to just deal with the complete lack of congruence in the slasher universe. For instance, if Jason drowned as a boy, leading Mrs Voorhese to avenge his death, how does he come back in Parts II through X to avenge hers? Is he supernatural? If so, how did he get that way? Was it a steady diet of fish blood and lake water that turned him into a flesh craving monster? How did the guy in the wheel chair get up all those stairs in the first place so he could macheted in the face and fall down 8 flights of them? Why wouldn't blonde broad number 2 ram the pitch fork inside Jason, set hs corpse on fire and then blow up the camp as she hightailed it the fuck out of there instead of stopping to contemplate her good fortune at the lake after merely bludgeoning him with a lawn chair? Like a lawn chair bludgeoning is going to stop JASON, dude survived like 20 years in a goddamn lake! Also, he seemed to still be a kid monster in part I but somehow became a full blown grown up monster in part II, riddle me that? Anyway, what I learned whilst irritating Boss to no end with my barrage of questions, is that questioning the reality of the slasherverse is like questioning God. We aren't meant to know the truth. If we do, our heads will explode. Just sit back, relax, and enjoy the gore. This is not an easy task for me as i am sure you will see by the next 4 life lessons.

4) If you are in your underpants, and its raining, you gone die.

In both parts 1, and 2 of both movies so far, there have been multiple scenes of young, sexually precocious women prancing about in their underpants in completely inappropriate fashions. And she who remains fully clothed manages to stay alive if not frightened to death. In both films multiple ladies can be seen wearing rain coats and underpants, and once a sweater and underpants, venturing forth into the darkened wilderness to shut windows, use the bathroom, check a fuse, investigate a noise, whatever. The one thing they all have in common is that they eventually die, horrifyingly gruesome deaths, in their underpants. As a person who went to camp for many years I can not remember a single instance of running about outside in my underpants, and I did a lot of strange things at summer camp. I have concluded that this is the only reason I am still alive to this day.

3) Always listen to Crazy People

You know that guy that is lurking about, ominously chanting "you're all doomed...DOOMED I TELLS YA" everyone seems to disregard him as "crazy Ralph" the local nut who's just crazying it up over there. Ralph appears to understand what all of the supposedly "sane" teens in the town do not, Camp Crystal Lake is full of head chopping murder-ness that should generally be avoided. The same goes for Nightmare, where "crazy Nancy", the one kid that knows the true nature of Freddy's ability to turn a bed into a teen eating garbage disposal and she is literally barred into her house to keep from spreading her crazy about town. If there is one thing you should always keep in mind, when headed up to a desolate place you have never been, or experiencing mysterious deaths that look like all natural laws have been violated, it might be time to listen to Ralph.

2) Don't be an absentee parent

The kids that seem to be listened to the least, taken care of the poorest, and have parents with closet drinking problems, all seem to end up fighting for their lives against supernatural villains all alone in the end. Why? because their shitty ass parents either didn't believe them, shipped them off to summer camp so they could spend the summer doing god knows what or are too busy with their cavalcade of boyfriends to listen when their kids are screaming for their lives in the middle of the night. Kid wakes up with cuts all over their arms after screaming profusely all night long? Looking for attention. Leave mummy alone so she can hump in peace. Parents, don't let your babies grow up to be victims.  In this same vein, negligent parents and babysitters are also the cause of our beloved killers, not only their victims.  The bastard son of 1,000 maniacs became the man that haunts our dreams, somehow i don't see those maniacs attending many little league games,  do you?

1) Of course, remain a virgin and don't do drugs

What are slasher flicks if not morality tales? It isn't often that the virginal, non grass smoking teen winds up stuffed in a television set or with a machete through her face. I don't really even need to tell any of you this one, unlike me, you have all probably seen enough horror movies to know by now that if you are making sexy times at camp with your recently stoned boyfriend in your underpants in the rain, you gone die.

As of finishing this blog posting, i have now watched 2 Jason's and 3 Freddy's, moving on to Texas Chainsaw Massacre as soon as I finish the Craven trilogy tonight.

What is your favorite horror flick? What lessons did you learn from the slashers?


7/20/11

Grumble

I am getting old. Its official. Not in that, "I am actually closer to death and therefore questioning my own mortality" way, more the "why does everything ache more than it used to, and the didn't this used to be FUN?" kind of way. I am very nearly 30, an age which seemed impossibly old when I was in high school, but now just seems like something people are as I get closer and closer to it. Yes mom, I know if I feel old, how do I think YOU feel? Probably pretty damn old I'm guessing.

I have never been one to worry about aging. I don't have a skin care regimen to speak of (despite Boss's attempts at correcting this) I smoke (I know I know spare the lecture) and I only remember my vitamins when PinkOne brings them to me at night time and forces me to take them. I've always figured, old is what you make it, and why fight what's meant to happen?

While getting ready this morning, I looked at my eyes, they have always been one of my favorite features (next to my boobs which are also not quite as fabulous as they once were) and damn. You know that thing you saw your mom do, where she pulls the skin back on her face to see what it would look like if it were just a bit tighter, just a bit younger looking? Yeah, I totally did that.  I looked like Mickey Rooney in Breakfast at Tiffany's so I stopped, but seriously, these are not the eyes of a young person anymore.

Things are popping, things are cracking, bedtime is getting earlier and earlier and I am starting to resent all of those young whippersnappers out at all hours of the day and night. Who are they to be galavanting?

With the exceedingly stressful events of the last year, I think my age is finally starting to catch up with me.  I think back to what it was like when PinkOne was first born, and all I remember is being exhausted.  Boss and I have discussed the possibility of future multi color headed children, and I wonder to myself, dear god if I was tired at 22, whats it going to be like at 29, 30? I'm tired just thinking about it.

Give me some hints blog-o-verse, what do you do to feel young again?

7/9/11

What they forgot to tell me...

When you have kids, there is this long contingent of people queuing up to let you in on "the things they don't tell you" about parenthood. From the minute my belly started to show (which was when i was already 8 months along, fat chicks grow wide before they grow out) obscure relatives, strangers on the bus, and every elderly woman that's ever even heard of a baby was desperate to pat my belly and advise me on all of the amazing and also troubling things that will occur before, during and after the birth of my blessed miracle.

"Your feet honey, they will never be the same, and they don't tell you that!" says someones grandma

"Your sex life, its going to be non-existent, they don't mention that one in What to Expect" says great aunt of a casual acquaintance

"Sometimes you poop on the table! bet the OB forgot to mention that!" says the woman at the grocery store.

and so on and so on ad nauseum until i had heard every episiotomy story, every "I nearly died..." anecdote and every philosophical waxing you can ever imagine about poop.

So once the kid was born, I thought that I had heard every version of what may have been forgotten to be mention in the copious books on birthing, rearing and not breaking, my new squirming and confusing infant. I have since discovered however, that there are still things that have not been mentioned.

After doing this parenting thing for 6+ years, I kind of thought that this would stop surprising me, but now that Boss has moved in, from a formerly childless universe, I am starting to see all of those "things they didn't tell me" once again.

1) Swimming is no longer relaxing



We took Pink One to the local pool today, and I'm not sure what was expected, but I think Boss was a little surprised by the stark contrast of going to the pool as a childless adult vs an adult with a small child in tow. Gone are the days of one bag, some sunscreen and a cool drink with an umbrella watching the pretty girls go by. A trip to the pool with a 6 year old means kick boards, frantic bathing suit searches, knees and elbows in every orifice and watching for the umteenth time as she does a "swan dive" (cannonball/belly flop combo) off the side of the pool drenching every person in a 10 mile radius.  Cries of "throw me! Catch me! Watch me!" accompanied by flailing arms and legs nearly causing irreparable brain damage to the both us highlight the trip. The sheepish hightail to the parking lot as you dodge the kid she nearly drowned is highlighted only by the fact that your bra is soaking wet and you forgot underpants.

2) Snot is just no longer an issue



When you have a kid, there just seems to be a thin layer of slime on like...everything. She will sneeze on your face, directly into your mouth, you will wipe it with your bare hand, and it will likely encrust 84% of your wardrobe. Pre-Pink One, the first person to sneeze in my eye would have been beaten with in an inch of their life and i would have spent the next hour bathing in a 30% bleach solution. Post child, snot is like the morning dew on the front lawn.

3) Hygiene is simply not inherent



The first time you have to explain to a person, albeit a tiny person, that fully wiping their own ass is necessary and important, you realize that the general hygiene you take for granted as an adult is simply inconvenient to a child.  "you mean, I have to wash my hair AND body? UHHHHHH" "well why should i have to brush my teeth?" And for some reason, "because I fucking said so" just doesn't seem to cut it as an answer. Also on the list of things NOT to tell your child, "Nobody likes the stinky kid" and "I will beat you if you ask me again". As a childless adult you just assume that every person is born with an innate sense of what is, and is not clean and or healthy for you. Kids just don't get it, which is why as adults we have to teach them that toothpaste is essential, underpants are worn every day, ALL day, and even though snot apparently tastes delightful, it should never be put in ones mouth intentionally.

4) Genitals are no longer exciting nor subversive

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I have seen more genitals since becoming a parent than all of my swinging college party days combined. Every night, a squealing, naked child does her "toodie time" touch down dance on top of the ottoman while we beg her to get in the damn bath already and try not to laugh. Childless friends can not seem to get used to this, and though we often attempt to convey the importance of propriety and reduce the amount of vag flashed at non-family members, every once in awhile someone is bound to get an eyeful. Honestly, I don't even notice it anymore. When watching other friends kids I have seen tiny hands all over tiny wieners and positions only before seen on late night skin-a-max attempted without hesitation on the front lawn.  The day you wake up with a tiny butt in front of your nose and your first reaction is not "how much did i have to drink last night?" but "Well, it must be Wednesday..."  you have crossed over into parenthood.

5) Things that were once erotic, are simply not okay when done by your kid



Lightly nibbling an earlobe can be fantastic, until your kid is the one doing it, then its just plain skeevy. Pink One regularly insists on 1) tweaking my nipples 2) licking my neck and 3) prancing about in shorty shorts and high heels. How do you explain to her that "if a 22 year old girl were doing the same thing, and it turns me on, its not okay for you" when she just thinks she's being amusing and adorable? Pink One has come out of her room wearing outfits only the most high class of street walkers would dare to don.  This child has legs for days and her shorts and skirts become too short for comfort in a matter of weeks. She chooses to pair them with tube tops that must have fit at one time, but now create the air of a tiny, pre-pubescent tramp out for a bad time. Once, a friends 5 year old nephew attempted to tongue kiss me for god knows what reason, and all I could think to say to him was "its simply not okay for kids to kiss like that" while I shivered with both heebies and jeebies for the next 1o minutes.

Parenting is always rife with surprise, something that makes it both interesting and exciting in its way. Every day I find some new element to the whole experiment that just shocks the hell out of me. Tomorow, I may think I've got this whole thing in the bag, there ain't nothing that can surpise me anymore, and then Pink One will emerge from our bedroom holding something that is CLEARLY not a children's toy and demand to know why the flashlight won't turn on...

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What was your biggest parenting surprise?

6/30/11

The Vicious Cycle of Crafting

Boss took it upon themself to clean the kitchen the other day. Not just clean, but CLEAN. While this is fantastic on so many levels, it has let Boss in on a deep, dark secret that I have attempted to hide from all but my closest of kin. I am, something of a hoarder.  *shame*

Not the like, 2 dozen cats and 20 years worth of newspapers appearing on A&E kind of hoarder, but the "I'm totally going to use that at some point..." kind of hoarder.

It all started with my mother. The Martha Stewart of recyclable's. I like to fancy myself something of a crafty individual, able to create useful objects from various and sundry bits of crap found around the house and the local dollar store. I have NOTHING on my mother however.  Every event was a potential treasure trove of crafting paraphernalia, every recycling bin fair game. Soda cans? a little spray paint and some googly eyes and they become ghosts for a festive Halloween wreath. Plastic forks you can't seem to unload? No problem, add some lace and spray starch and you have a delightful wall hanging just in time for spring! Plastic bottles, hospital grade plastic tubing, bits of this and yards of that, everything had crafting potential. It all lived (somewhat) neatly, in our garage in the receptacle termed affectionately, "the junk box". No Camp Fire meeting was complete without Mom pulling out a bag of what one would assume is garbage, dousing it in glitter and tempera and returning with art.

I always admired my mothers ability to both save, and create and I have attempted to model this behavior in my adult years. The saving, that I have down, the creating however, not so much. When Boss began the process of cleaning out the kitchen, this became...rather apparent. The most abundant source of craft-ables (this is my new term for shit I intend to craft with) are plastic grocery bags.  I have saved plastic grocery bags since i began to grocery shop. My mother would save them in artfully created fabric sleeves with drawstring, conveniently placed about the kitchen for use as garbage bags, lunch bags, impromptu over night packs etc. I however, do not have the patience to create artfully designed fabric sleeves with drawstring, and instead cram them in whatever bit of space I can find in my kitchen and bathroom.

When questioned about my hoarding of said bags, my response is always;

 "I'm saving them" 

"For what?" Boss asks quizzically.

"I don't know, something...." and I wander off hoping the question will die and the bags will go unmoved. No such luck.

"I googled some ideas for their use"  Boss says helpfully.  Apparently such a thing as "Plarn" or Plastic Yarn can be made from my stock pile of grocery bags. This "Plarn" then can be crocheted into useful objects like reusable shopping bags! genius, I can do all of those things and save the environment to boot! I have a mission, the bags have a use, Boss can no longer justify throwing them away...conversation over...No such luck.

"Will you actually do this?" Boss asks, eyebrows raised.

"Totally!"  an edge of doubt in my voice betrays my optimistic reply and enthusiastic nodding

"Honey, will you ACTUALLY do this? or will they continue to collect here, awaiting your use, until one day I open the cupboards, they fall on my head,  and before I kill you, say once again, 'honey, WHY are you saving these?'

"Well..."

"I'm throwing them out."

"Wait! I might do it!"

"I'm throwing them out!"

And this is how it goes. With my bag of dryer lint that I promise to one day turn into fire starters, my 16 boxes of super cheap paraffin just right for making candles with the 6,000 broken crayons I have stashed in PinkOnes craft drawers (never have to buy Christmas presents again!) My vat of almond oil and bags of dried herbs and flowers I've procured for making my own scented oils, the 2 dozen egg cartons I inexplicably stash about like a junky hiding from the narc squad and the inexplicably large amount of flower-less plastic stems left over from my frenzied need to create 40's era hair clips from dollar store silk flowers.

Dude was not successful in liberating me from my treasures, Vulcan had a little more success, getting me to move them over to my friend Monica's who (luckily) has an equally cumbersome trash fetish with infinitely more space in which to hide them. Boss however, does not accept my plaintive cries of "no really! you should SEE the hair bows I can make out of that!"  and tosses them anyway, like...well like trash.

While I will never take up my mother's reign as Queen of Recyclable Crafting, I do now have actual counter and storage space in my kitchen. I find it challenging to release my habits. Particularly these sneaky, potentially useful ones. I still dream of a day when my mother will say to me "well isn't that lovely! Where DID you buy it?" (we are of course wearing Victorian garb and speaking with affected British type accents while sipping tea for no apparent reason) and I can reply, "Why mother! don't you know? I MADE it!"  (she will then gasp in awe and commend not only my crafting prowess, but my thrifty nature as well, there may be applause involved, I haven't decided) 

But, as Boss says, "If I let you keep these (insert garbage-esque item Boss is unable to see the crafting potential in), the vicious crafting cycle will continue. You will stash it away, look up something to do with it, stash it away with a plan in mind, forget the plan, and then 6 months later come across them again and say...'gee i should look up something to do with that..." Boss is, as usual...correct

Oooh...2 liter soda bottles....

1/29/11

I.DON'T.WANNA!

I've decided, I'm done with this grown up nonsense. Paying bills, making reasonably priced healthy meals, doing laundry, it's all bullshit and I quit. Vulcan and I have spent the last hour attempting fiscal responsiblity by making various charts and graphs to track how much money comes in, and how much goes out. All I really know is that my happiness to talking about money ratio is completely out of whack.

As you can see, my desire to discuss financial matters today is only .005 of the whole regarding my desire to do pretty much anything else, as illustrated by chart (1) above.

According to Vulcan's charts, I should have around $500 a month with which to buy groceries, put gas in my car, and to compulsively buy silly knick knacks that I can not live without at the grocery store (that secrets of the zodiac love sign combination candy bar and squirt gun is still the best purchase i've ever made) So here is what I would like to know, where the HELL is that $500 bucks?  This payday in particular I am racing about trying to make sure the latest of the late bills are paid and calculating just how much milk should go in each bowl of cereal so we don't run out before the food stamps come in. (That's right dad, we're suckin' off the government teet, you must be turning over in your republican grave.)

If I think about it, I'm fairly sure I can tell you exactly where that $500 bucks a month has gone.

1) My lungs and the lungs of my friends.



Yes, I know that smoking is bad and wrong and gross and disgusting...but I love it so much. I look so cool and rebellious, like James Dean. It's an instant conversation starter. "Can I bum a smoke? Oooh menthol, really? Ugh I need to quit..." all fantastic ways to meet new people and influence others. At nearly $9.00 a pack here in the land of the free and about 5 to 6 packs a week, there's nearly $200 bucks a month right there.

2) Eating above my means

I LOVE going out to dinner and cooking and ordering in...I love all of those food related endeavors. We get about $2oo a month in food stamps which gets us meat and veggies and rice and other staples of living. But, when you have a hankering for salmon risotto on a Thursday afternoon, and you don't currently have chicken stock, white wine, chanterelle mushrooms and heavy cream, not to mention rissotto rice...well it adds up. What better way to celebrate a small victory, like cleaning out the car than buying pizza for your nearest and dearest? Why WOULDN'T I spend $40 on dinner out when I could make mac-n-cheese? What has Mac-n-cheese ever done for me? Red Robin entertains me with their various kitschy objects adorning the walls and pleasant college age staff covered in flair. So, if i do this even three times a month, there's another $150 bucks.

Those two issue pretty much say it all don't they? The last $150 a month goes to things like pull ups (for an incredibly stubborn 5-year-old who shouldn't need them please note) dog food, dish soap, tampons and toilet paper. All completely legitimate expenses, unlike the other two which are purely detrimental to the health and well-being of myself and my wallet.

See what I mean? were I NOT an adult, I could say: Fuck it. I'm going to wipe my ass with rolled up newspaper and buy a pack of smokes instead. Fuck it. bills-shmills I'm taking a road trip to Canada right now. Fuck it. Who really needs tampons anyway? Okay, maybe that one I would continue to procure, but I might do it by knocking over a tampon machine instead of paying $4 a box. 

I know realistically that grown up land is the place to be, that my kid, vulcan and I will be just fine if we cut back on the smoking and family chain restaurants, but it still makes me want to stamp my food, jut out my lower lip and throw a pinkone style tantrum of epic proportions. I NEVER get anything I want. I NEVER get to have any fun.

FUCK YOU GROWN UP LAND !


1/24/11

Defending my Cervix

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WARNING: Mom, this post contains information on my sexuality and descriptions of a gynecological nature, you might not want to read it!!

After much debate and weighing of various pros and cons, I have decided that it’s time to get back on the birth control. One of many recent steps taken to help me be a “responsible adult” or whatever, when it comes to my sexual liberties as a newly single person.  As Dude and I were trying for the last 2 years to have another pink headed potato, I wasn't too worried while we were married. After him, all of my partners have been women until rather recently, so this hasn’t been an issue.

Lately though, one thing has led to another and if I'm not a bit more careful, someone is going to end up with a potato they didn’t plan for. Since that’s how I wound up with the first one, I’ve decided to go ahead and exercise my right to easily obtainable birth control and head down to the local clinic to have my IUD put back in.

My gyno up and moved her practice to Seattle leaving me in the hands of the local not for profit sector and I was feeling a little nervous. I haven’t been to a gynecologist in sometime, about 2 years if I remember correctly. I haven’t been to the local Planned Parenthood since I was but a youthful college tramp, so this was going to be something of an adventure for me. Upon walking in I was greeted with the usual mishmash of progressive college students, unwed and possibly wed mothers, broke ass mothers to be, and terrified looking teens. I slid my ID under the bullet proof glass and was buzzed in once it was determined that I did not carry with me a pipe bomb or photo of a dead baby.

When I was called back to the sterile room I was asked a slew of pre-established questions regarding my visit today.
“Have you ever had an STD?” the earnest young CNA asks
“Does pregnancy count?” I chuckle
“No.” she is un-amused.
“Oh, umm then no” my joke going unappreciated
“Do you have any of the following types of sex 1) Oral 2) Vaginal 3) Anal?”
“Uhhhhh….(answer removed in case my mother decides to read this)”
“Do you sleep with 1) Men 2) Women 3) Both?”
“Both….” *starting to feel rather sheepish
"What are you currently using for birth control?"
"Um, well nothing actually"
"Nothing?" *insert quizzical look*
"Well, my husband and I...and then...umm, yeah, nothing" she shakes her head, makes a check, and moves on.
“Are you in a committed relationship?”
“Well that’s rather complicated, I’m going through a divorce and I live with this Vulcan but….”
“Yes or No please”
“Okay…no”
"Are you sexually active?"
"Define *active*"
"Are you having sex with one or more people?"
"Well, yeah...usually just one at a time...heh heh..." another joke goes unappreciated
“You’re getting divorced?”
“Yeah”
“Did he ever abuse you, 1) physically 2) emotionally 3) sexually?”
“Not officially I suppose…but you know it’s…”
“1, 2 or 3 ma’am”
“Uh, no then I guess”
“Have you ever been raped or sexually mistreated in any way?”
“Well, yeah…”
“Here is the number for the local sexual and domestic violence support groups please call if you have any questions concerns or thoughts of suicide. Please strip, put on the gown open to the front and drape the paper over your legs.”

Somehow I had managed to let a complete stranger into the inner workings of my insane lifestyle and sexual indecision, my sordid past, and my uncertain future all using form questions and without once looking me in the eye. I was feeling a smidge exposed and I wasn’t even wearing the paper shrug yet.

For a clinic that purports to be inclusive of all women, they do NOT make paper shrugs for the “full figured” lady of today, I can tell you that much. Desperately clinging to what little modesty I have, I attempt to close the thing over my breasts only to rip it and create an even bigger gap with which to expose myself. I opt instead to pull the paper drape a little higher and hope for the best.

Once I was adequately covered by itchy paper the worlds oldest Nurse practitioner walked into the room. This woman must have been scoping cervix's with stone tools at the dawn of gynaecology. She proceeded to work her way through the same list of exceptionally personal questions the CNA went through, this time with slightly more detail requested, but still using the 1,2,3 system and once again refusing to acknowledge my witticisms. Once I had given her the name of every person I’d ever slept with, their bank account numbers and names of their first pets we were ready to move on to the health history portion of the quiz.

Apparently, I am fat. So that’s been established now. She took a look at my BMI and habits; something she said was new, and was apparently was not an issue back when dinosaurs got pap smears. Now, I’m used to doctors telling me to lose weight and quit smoking, it is not the first time that a doctor has looked at me like a complete idiot when I tell them that I still, even in the age of almost $9.00 a pack, and a widely accepted link between my favorite habit and crippling cancer, smoke cigarettes. However, the look that Doctor Grandma Moses shot me, when I told her not only that this was NOT the heaviest I have ever been, and that yes indeed, I do smoke about half a pack of cigarettes a day, will forever be burned into my skull. I could have told her that I have been humping the devil himself and I don’t think she would have looked half as horrified.

After promising to continue losing weight and give up the cancer sticks, she was finally ready to inspect my nether regions and prep me for the eventual temporary sterilization I have requested. I realize has she's prepping the tools that I had forgotten to shave my legs, which is for whatever reason, more embarrassing to me than all of the other questions I was forced to answer combined. After a muffled apology, and wondering why they decided octopus gloves with tiny eyeballs were the appropriate stirrup covering apparatus, I was able to calm down and let her do her thing.

The rest of the visit went routinely, despite my rampant sluttiness and disgusting personal habits, apparently my cervix is just ducky, so that’s good to know. I go in next week to see the Cro-magnon gynecologist and get my IUD inserted. Hopefully they will have my fascinating sexual history neatly filled in on the form so I don't have to repeat the sordid facts of my past. I suppose if nothing else it will make for another amusing blog post!

1/12/11

Vodka and Oreos

None of you may remember my former blog as it was housed on my now defunct Myspace page and was only rarely updated. I promise not to hold it against you.

Back in those days, I ran a feature called “Tales from the Cube” in which I chronicled my adventures in corporate America as a newly working mom with a brand new potato at home. I was full of promise and cynicism, excited to spread my wings in a business appropriate, suitably Office Space kind of way.  

 Here we are 5 years later, the potato is a pink headed demon child and I’m still with the same company…that’s about all that is the same.

 There was a fourth round of layoffs at my company yesterday, eliminating pretty much my entire team; a team that I helped to build from the ground up four years ago. I get that companies need to do what they need to do to survive and god knows I’m grateful that I still have my job but damnit, I am pissed off. And what is the point of having an internet based, relatively anonymous outlet with which to write, if I can’t bitch a little bit into the blog-o-sphere?

 In the ranks of those laid off we have single moms, young adults that were already barely making enough to continue living on their own, mom’s on maternity leave, and people who are right on the verge of retirement. Not a single one of them deserved to be laid off and not a single one of them gave any less than 110% every day of work. I will give my company credit though, they offered them a fantastic severance package and will not fight them on unemployment. I don't know what to say about the actual decision makers in the company, but as far as the supervisors and managers go, they have done everything they can to keep us our jobs for as long as possible and in failing that, have made sure that we are taken care of while looking for new ones.

 So why am I bitching?

 Because IT SUCKS! My people were working full time, and still on food stamps. They begged for overtime, they worked with fewer resources and higher demand in an ever changing industry with little complaint. They busted their asses, some of them for over 10 years…and now….nothing.

 As I mentioned, this is the FOURTH round of layoffs, and our company was one of the biggest employers in town. So needless to say, the job pool in our smallish town is getting more and more shallow.

 I should be happy right? They get a good package, I still have my job, they get unemployment, and everyone is acctually in pretty decent spirits about the whole thing. Then why am I so pissed?

 I think I feel  lied to.

 When we were kids, we were told to work hard, finish school, do your best, and you will be rewarded. I was given the impression that a college degree equaled riches beyond my wildest dreams and security for the rest of my life. Well kiddies…that’s bullshit.

I graduated from college with only fast food work experience, becuase that was the only kind of job I could support while taking 22 credits. I got knocked up right out of college (don't listen when they tell you that you can't have babies, until they acctually remove the baby making parts, you can still have babies. USE A CONDOM!) and took a year off to do the mom thing while I sorted my life out.

When I was ready to go back to work, I realized that short of a fancy piece of paper and the ability to bull shit my way into sounding like I know everything, I had no marketable job skills. I was blown away by this realization.

In school, we are told again and again that the shiny piece of paper was what you needed to make it in the world. No diploma, no future. Work hard, get your paper, get the job, get the car, get the house, get the life, live the dream. While the shiny paper certainly doesn't hurt anything, what it symbolizes is no longer the gaurenteed future and white picket fence of my dreams.

 There are no constants, no “for sure” and no guarantees. When I graduated from high school, slated to attend a nice, midrate state college just far enough from home that I wouldn’t have to see my mother every weekend, I thought the world was in front of me. I felt terrified and inspired and ready to take on the world.

 Here I am, 9 years later and I’m working in a cubicle, busting my ass for low, but adequate pay (just above the poverty line thank you!) and it means very little. A down turn in the economy and the work I’ve done, the heart I’ve put in and the big fat shiny degree I worked so hard for means bubkiss.

 Thanks a lot elementary school for filling my head with fantasy!

 Okay, enough bitching for today, I promise to come back with something suitably optimistic next posting so you don’t all run screaming for the razor blades and vodka.

 To my friends that got laid off, you are all handling this far better than I am, and I admire your optimism and positive outlook. Good luck out there guys and lets get together and drink copiously as soon as possible!

 PS: You know what helps EVERYTHING? Vodka and Oreos it’s a can’t miss combination!

9/11/10

Dear God

Hi. Its been awhile. I feel like we haven't talked in ages and I'm not sure why.  I've been busy, but you know that. I'm sure you're busy as well, maintaining the universe and all of that, i'm sure its quite time consuming. I'm looking for something right now. Something is missing from my life. I'm kind of afraid to find it to be honest. I've spent so much of my life running that its hard to slow down and just let things happen to me. I have allowed myself to be told how things are going to be and I don't want to do that anymore. I controlled the situation by giving up control when it came to the most basic parts of me. I don't want to control the situation anymore. I want to let you work through me, i want to know you. But sometimes i'm not so sure I know where you are, who you are. I'm not sure how to find you. Are you lost, or am I?

I am in the process of changing my life and I'm scared. I feel really alone most of the time. I am realizing more and more that the life I thought I had never really existed. I don't know if it was a lie or if it was just wishful thinking. Or are those things really one in the same? I want to ask you for help but I don't know how. I'm usually the one helping. I don't do vulnerable very well. When I start to feel vulnerable, or out of control, i go numb. When i go numb, i look for something to make me remember that I am real and alive. This isn't what you want for me is it? I have this feeling that you want me to present in my life. That you want me to live every day for you in some way. i don't know how to do that yet but I want you to know that I'm looking and I'm trying.

I've made mistakes, I've lived a life that wasn't mine for too long. I'm working on that too. I don't want to do that anymore. I want to make changes that help me live the life you meant for me. Again, i'm not sure how to do that yet. But i'm working on that too. I am going to go ahead and thank you though. Thank you for giving me this chance to change my life. Thank you for my little daughter, so pink and perfectly flawed. So much like me in so many ways, so strong. Thank you for my village, those people that for no reason but that they love us are there every day helping me find truth. Taking away a little of the burden just by being there. Thank you for Steve, despite the trouble he has caused me and that I have caused him. He gave me this little person and showed me that I am so much stronger than i could ever give myself credit for. By checking out, he has allowed me to see the world again and know what it is I don't want in my life. I hope he tries to write you a letter sometime soon too. Thank you for your grace. For extending your hand so that I know you are there when I'm ready to take it.

I know its been awhile but I promise that i'll be checking in regularly from now on. I don't know what tomorrow is going to bring, but I do know that i'm ready to find you. To be re-introduced to you. So thats something.  I'm thinking this is going to be a process. Its going to be difficult and painful and cathartic. In a way, i'm looking forward to it, in another way, i'm terrified.

I'm heading to bed, but i just wanted to check in with you and see how things are going. I'll write again soon.

Scincerly,

Amy

7/22/10

Debbie Downer *whaWhAaaa*



Anyone who has ever ready my blog has to be familiar with "The Pinkone" and her many quirks by now.  She's bossy, she's bawdy, she's the very definition of precocious. She has been telling me for at least 2 years that as soon as she turns 6, she will officially be a grown up and will then be able to drink beer and get a tattoo, (the tattoo is of a rainbow pony in case you were wondering) and she is determined to be a Princess Doctor when she grows up. No, not a doctor that treats princesses, but a princess, who is also a doctor.

So now at the age of 5, her various idiosyncracies are even more present in my mind as her foray into the "real" world that is kindergarten looms ever closer.

Her father and I could never be termed "normal", thats for sure. He looks like "The Dude" and I have the mouth of a trucker and the ability to ramble on  nonsensical about my new love of cheese making at a moments notice. But how does the child of two such socially awkward parents and a myriad of socially awkward "aunts and uncles" stand a chance in navigating the waters of kindergarten society? I suppose we can just dress her in black, re-dye her hair and call her "artistic" .

Her latest weirdness is of a more serious nature, and a weirdness I am ashamed to say she got from me. She is SUPER negative, to the point of exhaustion.

She is the kid that can be given 43 scoops of ice cream and be sad because she wanted 44. Her adorably cherubic face is in a perpetual scowl. She refuses to share and says the entire trip was ruined if one kid looks at her funny.

One particularly memorable day found our little family traversing back from a trip to see a movie she wanted to see, stopping to get ice cream, and clutching our brand new build a bears, all in all, a preschoolers dream day. When asked "did you have a good day?"  Pinkone responded thusly: "No mom I did not."

"why is that baby?" says mommy

"because i wanted to go somewhere else and do this other thing then go see auntie and I wanted pink ice cream and daddy got me green"

"fuck" says mommy

SERIOUSLY? the pink vs green ice cream debate was about 2 seconds of the entire day and OF COURSE that's what Baby McSadness has to focus on as the defining moment that ruined her day.

I was a negative kid, and  I still can't point to where it came from but it made it VERY difficult for me to enjoy my childhood. I spent an entire trip to Disney Land bitching that I was hungry and afraid of ride.  When i think back on it, i can't remember why I was so miserable at the  HAPPIEST PLACE ON EARTH, and now as an adult I can only imagine how pissed off my parents were at the time. It makes it really difficult to want to spend time with your kids when they shit all over every activity, game, story and joke you engage in.

So how do we fix it? Is this just part of her personality? Will she always be overly critical and self deprecating? Can this penchant for negativity some how manifest itself into a positive attribute later in life?

All I know is that I'm still able to find the licorice flavored jelly bean in an entire bag of cherry and drag everyone down with me when i want to. The difference is that I don't want to anymore. I don't know if my childhood negativity made me a more interesting and well-rounded person as an adult. I just know I don't want my kid to be Captain Buzz Killington at every party and always feel shorted in some way, even when she isn't.

Any ideas folks?

4/27/10

*Bang Head Here*

Such stress. So many things happening, so little motivation to blog.

I'm sorry blog-o-verse, and I'm even more sorry that this is propably the 11th i'm sorry i'm slacking blog I've written.

My child is driving me bonkers, so thats nothing new but now its even more special because she has this great new catch phrase; "nobody likes me, they only like the baby"

The baby is in refrence to our friend Sarahs adorable son  Lucas who stays with us on occasion. I wouldn't say he gets any more attention than any other child that comes in and out of our lives, but she has decided that his very existence somehow demeans her position in our lives.

Per The Pinkone: "If you like Riley (Lukey's sister) the you can't like me"

Per Mommy: "How is that true? I love you the most because you're my baby girl, but liking Riley doesn't make me like you any less"

Per the Pinkone: "No. If you like Riley, if you this she's pretty, then you hate me and i'm ugly."

Per Mommy: "okay, i guess i hate you, you ugly thing."

Per the Pinkone: "BWHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA"

Propably not my best parenting move, but seriously, she has been saying this over and over and over again this last week. It propably has to do with Sarah staying with us, and the fact that we've been looking for another place to live. Too much change for a tiny person.

Any ideas on helping the almost 5 year old cope with change? Or how to convice her that loving others doesn't make us love her less?

3/31/10

Dear Emotional Creature

I found this during my various interwebs travels and it spoke to me. This is exactly what I wish for my daughter. Thank you to my vicious pixie for turning me on to it.

Dear Emotional Creature:

I believe in you. I believe in your authenticity, your uniqueness, your intensity, your wildness. I love the way you dye your hair purple, or hike up your short skirt, or blare your music while you lip-synch every single memorized lyric. I love your restlessness and your hunger. You possess the energy that, if unleashed, could transform, inspire and heal the world.

Everyone seems to have a certain way they want you to be - your mother, father, teachers, religious leaders, politicians, boyfriends, fashion gurus, celebrities, girlfriends. In reporting my new book, I learned a very disturbing statistic: 74 percent of young women say they are under pressure to please everyone.

I have done a lot of thinking about what it means to please: to be the wish or will of somebody other than yourself. To please the fashion setters, we starve ourselves. To please men, we push ourselves when we aren’t ready. To please our parents, we become insane overachievers. If you are trying to please, how do you take responsibility for your own needs? How do you even know what your own needs are? The act of pleasing makes everything murky. We lose track of ourselves. We stop uttering declaratory sentences. We stop directing our lives. We forget what we know. We make everything OK rather than real.

I have had the good fortune to travel around the world. Everywhere I meet teenage girls and women giggling, laughing as they walk country roads or hang out on city streets. Electric girls. I see how their lives get hijacked, how their opinions and desires get denied and undone. So many of the women I have met are still struggling late into their lives to know their desires, to find their way.

Instead of trying to please, this is a challenge to provoke, to satisfy your own imagination and appetite. To take responsibility for who you are, to engage. Listen to the voice inside you that might want something different. It’s a call to your original self, to move at your own speed, to walk with your step, to wear your color.

When I was your age, I didn’t know how to live as an emotional creature. I felt like an alien. I still do a lot of the time. I am older now. I finally know the difference between pleasing and loving, obeying and respecting. It has taken me so many years to be OK with being different, with being this alive, this intense. I just don’t want you to have to wait that long.

Love,
Eve Ensler

3/9/10

Things That Make me a Bad Person

Its been awhile again, I'm totally slacking on my postage. Sorry all. But for today's enjoyment, here is a list of reasons I am a terrible person, and I kind of am.

10) I steal-mostly innocuous things. I've been known to slide a roll of Starbucks toilet paper in my purse in a weak moment. I've made off my husbands sweatshirt or a roommates granola bar.  I look innocent and stare at my feet when accused. Its wrong...and I'm sorry.

9) I haven't found Jesus-sorry everyone, I'm still looking. I'm pretty faithful, i'm a good person, (no wait, i'm a bad person that's why i'm writing this)  but i don't do the church thing. I don't get church, I've tried to get it, and there are a couple that I actually liked. But i hate waking up on Sunday, that really the main reason. Sorry Jesus.

8) I swear...ALOT. In front of children, i have such shame. Not just little d-bombs either, full on F-150's. My husband hates it, my mother hates it, it makes me appear less intelligent, but I love to swear. It enhances my sentences. Sorry kids. Don't repeat adults.

7) I am often late to work-usually by a full 5-6 minutes. In my defence, I have to get to work by 5am so the fact that I arrive at all, is pretty damn good.

6) I smoke. Everyone knows that only bad guys smoke. I secretly have a Snidley Whiplash mustache and a top hat that I wear whenever I light up my Camel Filter. Be careful, I might tie you to the railroad tracks

5) I'm a terrible driver. You know that kind you often accuse of being a particular race or age? well its me. I cute people off, usually on accident. I'm not one of the speeding reckless drivers, i'm one of the overly cautious 50 in a 75 zone kind of drivers. I'm sorry. It's just who i am.

4) I don't really like other people's kids. I'm okay at dealing with them for a while, especially babies, because babies are usually cute. (ugly babies though...well thats another thing that makes me a bad person) I was always a crappy babysitter, more apt to put on a movie and get on the phone than to engage children in various craft projects.

3) I judge. I don't want to judge, and i am constantly asking people to keep from judging me, but here we are...and I'm judging. I judge your mom jeans, and that guys need to ride a unicycle. I judge ugly babies and conservative bumper stickers. I'm sorry. I won't say it to your face if that helps.

2) I do that thing where i see someone i know, and if i don't want to talk to them, i put my head down or pull out my cell phone so they think I'm busy. I screen calls to. Also, please note...if i don't answer, don't come over, just a good rule of thumb to avoid that judgment i talked about earlier.

1) Finally....I blog. narcissistically. I expect the general public to give a shit about my life and eat it up, comment on it, tweet it, shout it to the roof tops. I blog. I'm a bad person. And I'm okay with that.

What makes you a bad person?

2/1/10

I Nearly Died...

I nearly died last night.

I tripped over a pink plastic mini sized car seat, fell on a plastic horse, twisted my ankle when it was caught in a princess dress and fell face first into a pile of torn coloring books. Guess whose room I was in?

The pinkone is officially drowning in shit. She has SO much shit. WAAAAY too much shit. Its time to get rid of the shit.

I don't know if I've mentioned it yet but i have one and a half new roommates, one invited, one kind of appeared, but is making herself very useful so I'm not complaining.

The first is my little sister who has been a big help cleaning and watching the pinkone during the week. She's the one that was planned and she's staying with us to get her official grown up life started and find a job in the wild world.

The second is Mary. I love Mary. She is super fun, she makes me feel all sexy because she's always grabbing my butt and telling me I'm hot stuff. However, much like the shit in the pinkone's lair, she just "appeared" one day, and hasn't left. She has also brought with her a resurgence of all our male friends resulting in somewhere between 6 and 12 people in my tiny house on any given evening.  Did I mention Mary is hot?

She is splitting her time between our house and her wonderful new boyfriends (Joe) and acting as kind of part-time nanny/maid/mommy confidence booster.

These two are helping me to act out my commitment to rid the lair of so much shit, much to the pinkone's chagrin. For the first time in her history we have two people who are not working, not exhausted, and are completely willing to enforce parental reprimands and attack any and all projects we set forth.

 King Daddy and I can proclaim that Princess Naughtypants shall heretofore clean her pit of despair or not receive unicorn rides after work, and the two servant girls will make sure its done. Normally, Princess Naughtypants falls asleep after an epic tantrum.  King Daddy and Queen Mommy, grateful to not have to hear the whining, sobbing, throwing and kicking, collapse on the couch and resolve to try again tomorrow.

Mary and Missy are our saviors. I look forward to coming home now because my house smells much less like urine since the sheets are washed same day. I look forward to cooking dinner because the dishes are cleaned by someone other than my husband who refuses to fix the dishwasher, and because he refuses to fix the dishwasher, i refuse to wash dishes, leaving two cranky people and a lot of unwashed dishes. My floor was even vacuumed the other day. it's a miracle.

So todays task is to clean up the Shit, give away some of the Shit, and hopefully toss a great deal of Shit as well. I'll be posting photos as soon as I can find my camera, its buried underneath all MY shit.