Number Nine

Really!!??

2011-08-24T16:28:00.000-07:00

I'm in the great American class known as "working poor"...at least I think that is how the government identifies me. I have a job and so does my husband but we both work for small companies and neither of us is full-time. We get by but we don't have health insurance. Which means that for things like birth control and infections we have to go to the doctor and pay everything out of our pockets. I had a thing, a little bout of pancreatitis, a couple years ago and just paid the hospital off last month. The doctor that I used to see moved and left me with no doctor so when it was time for my yearly lady-parts check-up, I just went to Planned Parenthood...$400 bucks later (that was with the "poor people 40% discount"), I walked out with two months supply of birth control and a prescription for the rest of the year. That was six months ago. Today, I was due for a new round of b.c and went in to pick it up. They called me to the back after a few minutes and informed me that after today, I would not be approved for any more birth control until I had a mammogram.

A mammogram!? Really? And just what exactly is a mammogram going to do for me? Tell me if my breasts have cancer? And what if my breasts do have cancer? Does the mammogram price include the cost of cancer treatment? Because if it doesn't, I'm going to die if I have breast cancer because I can't afford the treatment. And if I don't get a mammogram and I do have cancer, I'm still going to die...I just won't have wasted any money on a useless mammogram. And to top it all off...whether I have a mammogram or not, whether I have cancer or not, I'M STILL GOING TO DIE!

We are all going to die.

So, no. Thank you. I will not pay anyone to squish my breasts between to plates and zap them with radiation, so that I can die with the knowledge that had I been able to afford health insurance I might have lived to be an old lady with very nice fake boobs.

The thing is...I can tell you I am not going to get breast cancer. My family, we have a strong propensity for diabetes and heart disease. If I am somehow fortunate enough to avoid (not super likely) any death-inducing accidents, I know I am going to die of heart failure so the mammogram is really not necessary.

Melancholy

2011-07-29T22:04:00.000-07:00

Melancholy: a gloomy state of mind

That's me. Kids are gone for their summer trip, this year to Virginia. I hate it. I recently had an epiphany about them. Someone said something about having "freedom" while they are gone and how happy I must be...blah, blah, blah. It occurred to me that I am most definitely not happy for my "freedom". The epiphany is that without them, I would not be who I am. All the best things about me really have come from being their mom.

The truth is, I am not a good person. Not only am I not a good person, I would be a very bad person if it were not for them. I actually cried almost daily for the last eight months of my pregnancy with my oldest child. I would have cried the whole time but I didn't know I was pregnant for the first month. I am not proud of this fact but it is truth. I cried because I didn't want a child. I didn't want to be a mother. I had plans for my life and they did NOT involve a child. I was going to do something important, be someone important and make money. I wanted freedom and to do MY thing. Instead I had a kid and I knew, I was finished. MY life, the one I had planned, was over. The thing is, I had great parents and I knew what having a kid would mean. I already knew what it would mean to be a good parent and the biggest change would be that my world would no longer get to revolve around me. I knew that whatever I did, where I lived, the food I bought, the places I went, the work I did, all those choices would not be made with what I wanted or what's best for me in mind, but what was best for my baby. That was the example my parents set for me and I knew I would lay everything down for that kid and that's why I cried for all those months.

That kind of decision, it changes you. There is no escaping the change. I'm not perfect and I don't have it all figured out as a parent by any stretch of the imagination. But this week, I realized that those kids saved me from myself. The truth about me is that so much of what I do or don't do, or haven't done is because I know/knew it would not benefit my kids. I see this most clearly when someone wrongs me or someone I love. The first thing my brain goes to is the best way to retaliate. I don't just want revenge. I don't want anyone to think, "Yeah, I deserved that..." when I get them back. I want them to be scared shitless and move to Ohio. And I don't think about it for a second, I think about it, I develop a plan, I rehearse the scenario where I tear open a can of "All Hell" and dump it on them. I never think about making the score even, I think about how I can make that person pay for every sin they and their daddy ever committed.

But I know there is a better way... up on that "high road". And that's were I live because that's where I want my kids to grow up. I know that nothing good comes from destroying someone else. I know that forgiveness and grace is where real freedom lies. And those kids of mine, they keep me there because I have a job and a purpose to teach them right from wrong, to show them that Love is better than anything else and that forgiveness, hope and grace bring real freedom. And all I can do is be grateful that I am that I found all of it for myself when I became a mother.

Not so neighborly

2011-07-09T21:06:00.000-07:00

Neighbors. Neighborly. Neighborliness.

I live on a corner. Nearly all my yard is fenced to keep out wandering neighbors and their dogs. I wish I was neighbors with the guys in Robert Frosts poem, "Mending Wall". But I'm not. In fact, it appears that my good fence has made one of my neighbors a particularly bad neighbor. And by "bad neighbor" I mean that she goes around to all the other folks in the near vicinity telling them how much she hates my fence.

Half way through building the fence she came by to tell me that my fence was in violation of the the CC&Rs (Contracts, Covenants and Restrictions) for my neighborhood. I gently informed her that my house is not in any neighborhood with CC&Rs. She begged to differ. We continued to build the fence. I checked the disclosures on my house sale. I emailed my real estate agent. My house does not have CC&Rs.

Next day she brings over CC&Rs for my neighborhood. I was neighborhoodwinked.

We finished the fence. It's been almost a year. She still hates it. She still tells me. Even though only a small part of my fence is actually in violation of the CC&Rs and it is not the part that even faces her yard. Whatever. The rules state the the fence has to be approved by the developer which has been defunct since 2006.

The worst part is that now that I know about the CC&Rs, I feel an obligation to honor that, even though I didn't know about them when I bought the house. I also feel a little bad for all my neighbors too because they have an expectation about their neighborhood, that I clearly have yet to meet.

Blech.

Thoughts on Feelings...

2011-06-21T22:19:00.000-07:00

For more years than I care to admit but suffice it to say, it has been a vast majority of my life, I have worked hard at keeping my emotions not just under control but out of sight. There is a small but trusted number of people who have seen me weep in my brokenness and there is an even smaller number of people who have seen me let off steam from my anger. And when I say "let off steam" I don't mean, like a tea kettle that gets to boiling and promptly releases steam, I mean the pressure cooker variety kind of steam.

Maybe I like the pressure of keeping my emotions under control. Maybe I have some unacknowledged control issue that manifests in keeping my emotions stuffed and under wraps. Maybe I got the impression growing up that how I felt about stuff wasn't relevant and maybe that was reinforced by my culture and in the relationships that I chose. I have lived a life of stoicism and stiff upper lips and all that. And, I think it is not that I like pressure or like control so much as old habits die hard.

Anyway, I am now married to a man who keeps reminding me that my feelings do matter and I honestly don't know what to do with that. Especially when I have negative feelings about something he does. I almost feel sorry for him but how do you feel sorry for someone who willingly walks into a train wreck and makes a home out of it? I said, "almost". What I really feel is that I am extremely fortunate. This man...this person...he loves me better than I have ever been loved and all at the same time it is humbling, frightening and wonderful.

Mistake

2011-06-13T00:16:00.000-07:00

Oh...look at me...blogging again.

So, my friend, I shall call her MCW came to visit recently and she told me about a show called Hoarders that she watches sometimes on Netflix Instant Watch. So tonight...I was browsing on the TV through the instant watch options and saw it and thought, "I'll give that a shot." I watched 1.5 episodes. CRIKEY! I am really quite disturbed by it all.

I realize that people who hoard like those on the show have some deep-seated, unmet-emotional needs but wow!

I couldn't finish episode two because I had to take Mo's friend home and I am glad because I did not want to see the bathroom full of dirty man diapers. There is a limit to what I can stand and that is definitely on the other side of that line.

Back in the Saddle

2011-06-12T20:25:00.000-07:00

It has been so very long since I wrote. A dear friend recently asked me if I was going to start blogging again and I answered that I didn't know but it made me want to write again. The thing is, I haven't been writing anywhere for the last 8 months. In the past, sometimes I would be silent on one blog while writing up a storm on another or writing something elsewhere but I haven't been writing anywhere...except for that one little rant I helped Ty write to his school principal (truth be told - I wrote - Ty watched and edited). Rest assured this was not a school assignment, it was merely a giant complaint about his school's lunch system.

But I digress...I do miss writing. I have been at school. Beauty school to be exact. It is weird, I know. But I did it and I had fun. I even learned some skills. I finished last week with all my hours and criteria at school so all I need to do now is go to the state capital and take the State Cosmetology Board's written exams and then I will have a certificate that will allow me to put fake nails on people and/or remove their body hair with hot wax.

School has also ended for Mo, Tmo and Ty. That was Friday, last. They had friends over for the annual Ice Cream for Dinner Party. Then yesterday Tmo turned 15 so there was that party too. So this means that I now have a 16 year old, a 15 year old and 12.5 year old. Crazy.

In other news, I got married on May 13 to the best guy. He is better than anyone my imagination could have conjured for me and even though it has been an adjustment to learn to live with someone again and share a bed and a room with someone again, he has managed to earn even more of my respect and admiration. Turns out, I like things my way and for the last eight years, I have gotten my way. Being single has a way of facilitating self-absorption. If it weren't for having kids, who make being self-absorbed difficult, this transition would have been a lot more difficult.

Anyway...that's about all the riding...err..writing I can manage after having been out of the saddle for so long but I am hoping I will muster up some discipline and get back out here again. I think I have some stuff to say.

2010 Closeout

2010-12-26T11:23:00.001-08:00

So here we are, another year done...

The highlights for me:

watching my Mo play softball on her high school JV team
having my brother & his family stay with us for two months...this was both challenging and wonderful. I love them so much and getting to do life together like that was really good. It was hard to find a place to eat, though :)
watching Mo take her first drive after getting her permit
seeing Tm finish middle school with flying colors
every hug and kiss from all Mo, Tm and Ty...I hope they never let up on this and at 15, 14 & 12...I think I have a pretty good chance
my favorite man (FM) coming home after travelling the world for 9 months
floating the river with Eeyeore
camping with FM, Mo, Tm, Ty and KK...nothing says fun like teenage girls fighting in the dirt and food poisoning in the middle of the woods
McBeth and Dra moving here
starting cosmetology college
watching Ty play drums in the worst holiday concert EVER
FM making sure I got time alone when it seemed impossible in December
Christmas with family

I learned a lot about myself this year...and as painful as some of my personal growth has been, being on the other side of it and being loved and supported unconditionally thru it all has been the greatest highlight of it all.

harassment

2010-10-25T10:53:00.000-07:00

My daughter has been harassing me about writing here. It has been four months. It's not that I don't have things to say or stuff happening in my life. I have a lot going on. And quite frankly, sitting in front of a computer and writing when the sun was shining all summer long just didn't really hold any appeal. I am also not exactly sure where I should start.

Life changes, sometimes you see it coming and other times change just sneaks up on you and you wake up and look around and your whole life is different. So where do I start? Do I write about love? Parenting? Community? Friendship? About teaching my daughter to drive? Picket fences and unhappy neighbors? Soup? Going back to school?

Yeah...so much going on. How about the fence....

Two years ago I bought this house, it is a .13 acre corner lot. In addition to my lot, which was almost completely landscaped with the lowest quality sod that money can buy, I am responsible for maintaining the adjacent city-owned strips of property between the sidewalk and the street. These strips were also landscaped in the same lowest quality sod as my lawn. To make matters worse, my property is located on the route to a trail that leads thru the woods to the river nearby and many people in the neighborhoods nearby walk their dogs on that trail every day and some twice a day and my lawn evolved into the neighborhood dog urinal. Which means that my pathetic lawn is made even more pathetic by the never ending stream of dogs and their pee. Which is especially lovely in the winter when my snowy yard is filled with dog tracks and yellow spots everywhere. All this loveliness inspired me to get rid of the sad sod on the city property and put up a picket fence to keep out my neighbors and their dogs. So six months ago, I rented a sod cutter and got rid of a lot of the nasty grass in my yard.

But picket fences cost money so when I started on the plan, I removed the sod and installed a hardy bark mulch. My neighbors all came out too praise the progress on my yard, while I simultaneously apologized for having the ugliest yard in the neighborhood. I told them of my plan to install the picket fence and asked everyone for their opinion. They all approved, nodding with understanding about my pissy yard. Fast forward to two weeks ago.

We finally began the installation of the fence. On day one about 4pm, our fence-installing-for-a-living friend came over and dug 20 some post holes around the property. He then placed several posts into the holes so that anyone walking along would not miss the holes and cause themselves injury. He worked for 2.5 hours and then quit for the night. Late the next afternoon he came back and he and my favorite guy cemented the posts in. On the fourth day, my neighbor who lives across the street from most of the fence stopped by to say that she thought the fence was in violation of our CC&Rs. I told her that my house doesn't have CC&R's and that I had purchased it in part because there were no CC&Rs. She said that maybe my house was not part of the same development as hers. I wasn't sure. She said she would get me a copy, which she brought by two days later, whilst we continued to build the fence. This was when I learned that my property is in fact governed by CC&Rs which state that front fences must be approved by the developer...A developer that has been defunct for four years.

The next day we began putting up the pickets and getting close to finishing the fence and when I saw my neighbor pull into her garage I went over to have a chat with her. She was actually frightened of me. While my favorite man and his parents worked on the fence, I chatted with her for nearly an hour. I told her that I did not know about the CC&R's and that the seller disclosures said there were no CC&R's. We talked about the particulars of the defunct developer and her loathing of my fence and I told her to give it a chance. I said that there is no one to enforce the CC&Rs except other homeowners in the development and if she wanted to sue me that was her right. She said she wasn't going to do that. She said, "We're friends. I don't want this to come between us." In the end, I smoothed things over but I think she will forever hate my fence. The funny thing is, the part of my fence that she looks at is on my side yard which is not covered in the CC&R's. The only rule is in regard to a fence or hedge between the front setback from the street, which is a really small part of the fence.

The other funny thing is that this is the same neighbor who came to me for help three months ago, when she got arrested for breaking into her ex-boyfriend's house and stealing a painting she gave him for his birthday. She was really mad at him over the breakup and decided to go see him. But he wasn't home so she broke into his house, drank his beers and stole the painting. Of course he called the police. She came to me because of my legal field experience so I gave her the name of a good criminal defense attorney who promptly made everything go away for $300 an hour.

I doubt she will ask but I will not be giving her the name of a civil attorney.

Remembering Thankfulness

2010-06-07T23:44:00.000-07:00

I've been struggling lately...worried about stuff. Stuff I don't need to worry about but have just been caught up in anyway. One of my dearest friends has been going thru a hard time and I told her recently that when she is worried and fearful that she can overcome it by being thankful. I learned this because another friend told me about some research she read that showed that gratitude and anxiety/worry cannot co-exist in the brain at the same time. So I suggested to my friend that she make a list of the many things she is thankful for and when she starts to feel worried about things she cannot control, that she review her list. It works. So here is a list for me...

I am thankful for:
sunshine
blue skies
puffy clouds
our dog
my amazing roommate
my delightful, loving, funny kids
my brothers
a car that works with brakes that never seem to wear out
brothers who are always there for me
a big comfy bed
hot water
cold water
coffee
hugs
funny movies
lotion
work
friends, far and near
pesto
good books
health insurance
the trail by the river
hair brushes
summer vacation
my bike
the internet
laughter
trees
sleep (which is what I need to do now)

facebook thinking...

2010-05-20T00:29:00.000-07:00

I don't think I understand this whole FB thing...no offense to the people who I am "friends" with that I am not really friends with but I really just don't get it...I should probably lighten up and go with the idea that FB Friend doesn't mean Real Friend...but still...I don't like to call anyone a "friend" who isn't really.

Obviously there are levels of friendship...I have friends that I have met online...blogger friends and I actually care about their lives and how they are doing, even though I haven't necessarily met them face to face. I have high school friends...people I went to school with a long time ago that I have reconnected with online and it's actually cool. Then I have people that I knew once upon a time and then we connected on FB and then...nothing...not even a note or a wall post. Why did I agree to connect? I don't know. I want to break the connection and sometimes I do...but really shouldn't I always. I have friends who seem to accept all friend requests...and they have hundreds and hundreds of friends. I hit the 200 mark and I start looking for people that I can eliminate from my list.

...maybe this will offend some people and tomorrow I will have fewer "friends"...maybe I should categorize all my friends and real friends and FB friends...Maybe Facebook should make that as an option. I think it has...I can put people in groups and then limit the group's access to everything. Then I won't feel like wondering if there are any pseudo-stranger-voyeurs from my past snooping around my life. Or maybe, each time I get a friend request, I can just deny it or not and send a note that says, "I'm sorry, I have reached my limit of friends at this point and I don't have any openings, but I will keep your request on file, in case I decide to eliminate my sister's garden gnome or my friend's dog."

Dreaming Again

2010-05-04T22:23:00.000-07:00

Last night I woke up from a nightmare (if there is a spider, even if they are nice, I still call it a nightmare)...

In the dream, I was climbing across the top of a fence. It was the kind that has boards that are on both sides and instead of a 2x4 on the top it was more like a 4 by four because I could walk on it, in between the vertical boards. Anyway, I decided that I wanted to get off of the fence but it was really tall and I didn't feel like I could just jump with out getting hurt so I was going to climb down but every where I would go to reach on the top of the fence, there were spiders...and spider webs. I thought it was odd because I was pretty sure that if I had just walked across that fence I would have noticed all the spiders but apparently...I got the point where I was some other way. Anyhow...I didn't want to touch the spiders so I kept moving along the fence trying to get away from them and trying to find a place where I could grab and I couldn't. There were multiple kinds of spiders but I was scared because I was seeing hobo spiders and then I saw a black widow...both common around these parts, and both are the kind that bite and cause problems.

Anyway, I didn't like the dream enough so I just woke up.

Here's a little something from Dream Moods:

If you dream that you are on the fence, then the dream may be a metaphor indicating that you undecided about something.

To see a spider in your dream, indicates that you are feeling like an outsider in some situation. The spider is also symbolic of feminine power. Alternatively, a spider may refer to a powerful force protecting you against your self-destructive behavior. To see a black widow in your dream, suggests fear or uncertainty regarding a relationship.

So that is that. I need more sleep.

You are beautiful.

2010-04-14T00:32:00.000-07:00

I am reading a book about how beauty is an essential part of woman, every woman. It talked about the wounds we receive through our lives that can harm, hinder and hide our beauty. And it occurred to me that the little girl me and the adolescent me and eventually the woman me, can count on one hand how many times I can remember being called beautiful. Worse than that, even as a little girl, I was never called pretty or any other favorable thing about how I look. What I heard regularly was, "You look just like your brothers." I heard often from other people how good looking my brothers were but not me. Never me. It made me feel masculine. My mother thought I was adorable with short hair and so that's what I had. I will never forget the time I was told to get out of the ladies room at a park by a lady who thought that I was a boy. It was a defining moment for me that summer I turned 10. I would not have short hair anymore.

A couple days after I moved to Oklahoma to go to college, I borrowed my brother's car and had to buy gas. Since I was from Oregon, I had never pumped gas in my life so I went to the full-serve at the station and the attendant was a 20ish college guy. He asked me why I didn't know how to pump gas and I said I was from Oregon and he asked if I went to the local college. I told him yes and his reply was, "Well, it's about time they got a good looking girl up there." I was flattered for a moment and then immediately thought that there must be some really unattractive girls up there, if I was qualifying as "good looking". Then as the years went by the compliment I would sometimes get was "You're photogenic." Which made me think that I looked better in pictures than in real life.

It wasn't until I had a child of my own that I began to think otherwise. Not because I saw myself differently, but because people would say that my daughter looked just like me and one thing was absolutely clear to me...she is beautiful. It's not that I think or thought that me being unattractive was the end of the world...it just was a fact, that I avoided thinking about. But the truth is, it wounded me.

I watch my brother now, who has two little girls who are 4 and 6 years old and he absolutely delights in their beauty, he talks about how their mother is beautiful and how they are beautiful princesses.
And as I read this book, I am convinced that my nieces will not grow up to be obsessed with their looks, but they will grow up believing more in themselves and that an essential part of womanhood is that they bring something mysterious, soft, tender and yes, beautiful to the world, their families and relationships, in a way that men simply cannot do.

So as I drove my high school aged daughter home from school today, I turned off the music and I told her about my wound and I told her that she is beautiful and for the whole of her life, people (those we know and many strangers) have told me, "Your daughter is so beautiful." And I told her that she should know that, that I see her beauty, inside and out.

Eating it...

2010-01-25T21:29:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I wonder about whether or not these incidents are a matter of self-fulfilling prophecy or what...

Today, I went to the store and found a fantastic deal on a lovely curtain rod, which I purchased. So early this evening, I decided to install it over the sliding glass door in our family room. Prior to installation, I had to remove the hideous vertical blind that came with the house. So to do both of these projects, I spaced our three 24" bar stools in front of the door and stepped between them as I uninstalled the blind and then began the process of installing the brackets for the curtain rod.

Just as I was tightening the third and final bracket, something happened. I am still not sure what, exactly. No one saw it actually happen. I have become accustomed to noting my thoughts in those moments of anticipation after I have crossed the threshold between solid footing and solid contact with whatever is beneath me. Today, the thought was, "this is really not...."

"Good" was what I would have thought, but by the time my brain finished with "this is really not" part, it was being sloshed back and forth as my head bounced on the floor of my family room. I do remember the stool tipping under my foot and I remember being horizontal in the air before I began making contact. I have new bruises: left shin, left hamstring, left ring finger, back of right arm and a fantastic blood blister on the middle finger of my left hand. No doubt, tomorrow I will have trouble moving my neck and back because that head bouncing thing was quite the jostling.

So there it is Jane's Annual Wipe Out.

At least I can check that off my list for the year.

Last night....

2010-01-23T22:11:00.000-08:00

My roommate bought eggs the other day...30 of them. There was a sale. She actually texted me and asked me if we needed eggs and told me there was a sale. She neglected to mention that the eggs are brown. So when I opened the fridge and saw brown eggs...I said (with a little horror in my voice) "Those are brown eggs."

They're the same as white eggs!

Not for me. You don't understand, every time I have purchased brown eggs, there will invariably be one with chicken parts in it.

When was the last time you bought brown eggs?

A long time ago...but it doesn't matter. Because after I quit buying brown eggs, my SIL still bought them and whenever I would open one...there would still be chicken parts. So I'm sorry...I just can't open brown eggs. I am sure that if you open them all, they will be fine. But not me, if I open them, there will be chicken parts or blood.

You hate everything. I need a list.

Check my blog...there are at least two lists. I should update that.

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

So here it is Jane's 2010 list of Hates and Loves....

Jane Hates:
Trespassers on her lawn.
Portobello Mushrooms (still)
The notion that "driving slow" equals "good driving in snow"
Broken keyboards
Diet Seven Up - major disappointment
Vertical blinds
Dull knives
MySpace
Dirty dishes in the sink, filled with scummy water (still)
Speed bumps
Being cold
Pumpkin thieves
Alarm clocks
When people drop their ass onto the couch, instead of actually placing it there, giving her sideways whiplash. WTF?
Car warning lights
I.P.A.
Tuna Casserole
Eggs with chicken parts inside
Peas, beets and all manner of canned vegetables,
When her kids miss the bus
Feta and Blue Cheese
When people use her dish towels to wipe up spilled milk. By the time that towel is going to be washed the scent of sour milk will forever be embedded in that towel and the first time she smells it, anyone in ear shot will experience a major rant followed by the towels disposal in the trash. Just don't do it!
When people refer to themselves in 3rd person, unless they are being very clever.

Jane Loves:
Green Purses
Freshly painted walls
Art done by friends
Plants that stay alive in her house
Dancing
Cooking
Homemade Mac & Cheese
Reusable shopping bags
Facebook
Dried mangos with blue cheese (crazy, I know)
Rechargeable batteries
Lone Pine (the coffee and the shop)
Pale pink nail polish
Simple jewelery that never has to be removed
Hazel eyes and curly hair
A fearless 14 year old
Floating the Deschutes on hot days, with good friends
Pulled-pork barbecue nachos
Parking in my garage
Boys who open car doors and carry bags
Dreaming about shooting pumpkin theives on the next Halloween with paintballs.
Rum and vodka.
and
Roommates who bring home milk and eggs, even brown eggs.

Good morning. Now get the hell out of my yard!

2010-01-22T19:47:00.000-08:00

I was close to leaving this morning to take TM and TY to school. I just needed to shovel the drive a little since it had snowed in the night and was still snowing. I hate those tracks that stay until everything melts if you drive on the snow on your driveway so I always like to shovel it before I drive on it. (Can someone say OCD?)

Anyway, I had just grabbed the shovel when an unleashed dog meandered around the front of my house and into my garage. This is not an uncommon occurrence in my neighborhood but I still find it particularly annoying because I live on a corner and my grass if half dead because every dog has to mark it: winter, spring, summer and fall. Still, I don't fault the dogs, I have yet to see a dog owner with control of their dog when it is off leash. This wasn't actually the problem this morning. Just as I stepped out of my garage, the owner of the dog nearly ran into me with her other dog (on a leash). She was actually cutting through my yard. And not cutting 10 feet off her walk but more like 35 feet. She was so close behind her meandering dog that it was not possible that she was chasing her dog. She also didn't know that my garage was open so she was stunned to see me. I, too, was stunned because I grew up being told not to go through other people's property without permission. They used to call it "trespassing".

It was a brief moment, and then she said, half apologetically, "I was looking for a trash can." This, as she held up a plastic bag of dog shit. I didn't move. I just stared. I am certain, disgust was written all over my face. She looked toward the side of my house and then back at me. Involuntarily, my eyes narrowed and I continued to stare, saying nothing (out loud). And then, she took off. Out of my yard and down the street, not a full on run but definitely not walking. And I just stood there staring. My sons, watched from the garage in silence.

By the time she was 1/2 block away, I began to shovel the snow and then I found my words....I am not exactly sure what I said but the litany went something like this: "What makes you think, it is okay to trudge through someone's yard? Sure, bring your shit over to my house? That's real neighborly. REALLY! I don't want your sack of dog shit in my garbage can any more than I want you in my yard! Are you okay with strangers trekking through your yard, right next to your house? Do you want people bringing their trash over to your house? That's real nice of you to pick up your dog's crap, why don't you bring it over to my house? I don't have enough dog crap. It's so good of you to share."

I can see it now, as clear as today...one day, I will be an old woman, with overalls, and purple hair and I will sit on my porch and shoot rock salt at humans and dogs who would dare trudge through my yard. And I will put "near beer" cans on top of an old car parked on the street and use them for target practice. People will cross the street to avoid my house. They will walk 50 feet out of their way to avoid me. And my lawn...my lawn, lovingly maintained by a 50 year old, mildly autistic man who lives across the street, will be AMAZING.

Well said.

2009-12-20T01:35:00.000-08:00

"What Christmas Means to Me" an essay by C.S. Lewis, November 27, 1957

Three things go by the name of Christmas. One is a religious festival. This is important and obligatory for Christians; but as it can be of no interest to anyone else, I shall naturally say no more about it here. The second (it has complex historical connections with the first, but we needn’t go into them) is a popular holiday, an occasion for merry-making and hospitality. If it were my business to have a “view” on this, I should say that I much approve of merry-making. But what I approve of much more is everybody minding his own business. I see no reason why I should volunteer views as to how other people should spend their own money in their own leisure among their own friends. It is highly probable that they want my advice on such matters as little as I want theirs. But the third thing called Christmas is unfortunately everyone’s business.

I mean of course the commercial racket. The interchange of presents was a very small ingredient in the older English festivity. Mr. Pickwick took a cod with him to Dingley Dell; the reformed Scrooge ordered a turkey for his clerk; lovers sent love gifts; toys and fruit were given to children. But the idea that not only all friends but even all acquaintances should give one another presents, or at least send one another cards, is quite modern and has been forced upon us by the shopkeepers. Neither of these circumstances is in itself a reason for condemning it. I condemn it on the following grounds.

1. It gives on the whole much more pain than pleasure. You have only to stay over Christmas with a family who seriously try to “keep” it (in its third, or commercial aspect) in order to see that the thing is a nightmare. Long before December 25th everyone is worn out—physically worn out by weeks of daily struggle in overcrowded shops, mentally worn out by the effort to remember all the right recipients and to think out suitable gifts for them. They are in no trim for
merry-making; much less (if they should want to) to take part in a religious act. They look far more as if there had been a long illness in the house.

2. Most of it is involuntary. The modern rule is that anyone can force you to give him a present by sending you a quite unprovoked present of his own. It is almost a blackmail. Who has not heard the wail of despair, and indeed of resentment, when, at the last moment, just continued on other side as everyone hoped that the nuisance was over for one more year, the unwanted gift from Mrs. Busy (whom we hardly remember) flops unwelcomed through the letter-box, and back to the dreadful shops one of us has to go?

3. Things are given as presents which no mortal ever bought for himself—gaudy and useless gadgets, “novelties” because no one was ever fool enough to make their like before. Have we really no better use for materials and for human skill and time than to spend them on all this rubbish?

4. The nuisance. For after all, during the racket we still have all our ordinary and necessary shopping to do, and the racket trebles the labour of it. We are told that the whole dreary business must go on because it is good for trade. It is in fact merely one annual symptom of that lunatic condition of our country, and indeed of the world, in which everyone lives by persuading everyone else to buy things. I don’t know the way out. But can it really be my duty to buy and receive masses of junk every winter just to help the shopkeepers? If the worst comes to the
worst I’d sooner give them money for nothing and write it off as a charity. For nothing? Why better for nothing than for a nuisance.

SNL Parenting in the Village

2009-12-04T23:26:00.000-08:00

Three days ago I went into TMO and TY's school to pick TY up and as I was standing in the office about to sign TY out, the office lady (OL) told another student (PAB aka TLS) to go to class. He replied, "Why bother?"

OL: Because I want to see you get an education.

PAB: What is the point of that?

OL: You need an education and I care that you get one.

PAB: Yeah, but what is the point of it anyway.

I couldn't take it...I had been staring at TLS looking to see if he was serious and then my mouth started running...

Me: Really?

TLS: huh?

Me: Are you for real? What is the point of an education? (I mocked his tone.)

TLS: Yeah, what is the point?

Me: The point of an education is that you will be able to get a job, so that you won't be a burden on society, or homeless or living in a van down by the river....

He interrupted: That's what college is for.

Me: You won't get into college if you don't finish middle and high school.

This was stated by OL, as well.

TLS: That's what money is for.

OL: You can't buy your way into everything and money isn't everything.

TLS: Yeah, it is.

At this point...I restrained myself. I realized that this kid was a brat and that I would be wasting my breath. Soon enough life will teach him the truth. Unless of course, his parents let him fail to launch...And he will be their problem until they buy him a van to live in down by the river.

2009-11-27T00:10:00.000-08:00

For real? How is this possible? This was an ad on FB today...I am trying to figure out who in their right mind would buy one of these, let alone three! "Stock up and Save"??? Stock up and save people the trouble of wondering if you have zero fashion sense?

Crikey...this thing is hideos and ridiculous, times three.

Stock up and save our company from going belly up.

Broken Drumstick

2009-11-19T00:57:00.000-08:00

I went to pick up TY at his buddy's house and his mom told me that she is chicken-sitting a friend's four chickens while the friend is in Costa Rica for a month. She said that one of the chickens broke her leg and so for the last week it's been rolling around in a cardboard box in the den. I called my dad to see what he would do with a chicken with a broken leg.

My dad wanted to know why I would care if a chicken had a broken leg. That is, until he realized that I was not talking about a dead chicken from the grocery store. He then told me that when they had a chicken with a broken leg..."I would cut its head off and eat it."

I think he meant he would eat the chicken, not the head.

Unfortunately, my chicken-sitting friend doesn't feel like she can kill the chicken without first hearing from its owners...since these chickens are pets. They have yet to respond to her emails. Meanwhile, the chicken will stay in the box in the den.

For all I know, it's just thrilled to not be outside and is just faking the whole leg thing.

Catching up...

2009-11-14T22:06:00.000-08:00

Life has been interesting the last month. Weird even. But then maybe my life is always a little weird. Never a dull moment and all that. Multiple times I have thought, "that's a blog post"...but whatever it was never made it to the blog. Something else came along and pushed that last thing out of my mind. And even now as I sit here, I don't think I even have anything to write about.

I had the H1n1 flu last month...I am going to say that is why I didn't blog. Really there were a lot of other lame excuses for not blogging as well and the only reason I am blogging now is because I missed a whole month and it made me kinda sad, because I used to be a rather prolific blogger...when I had a full time job which somehow translated into full time blog fodder.

But here I am, two weeks out from Thanksgiving...actually less than two weeks out and I am still mostly unemployed. I should have lots of time to blog. Hell, I should be writing a book. But I am not. I am technically under-employed. I have been working and I like what I am doing as a real estate assistant. I really like the woman I work for and so far, the work has been kinda fun. I am looking for more work but not really hoping for more work.

BUT...I am really looking forward to Thanksgiving at my house this year and the fact that most, if not all of my large family will be present. Two parents, four brothers, two sisters (in-law), one daughter, two sons, four nephews, and three or four nieces. And that's not all, my brother who lives here and I, we have local peeps that will be with us as well, and I am not even sure what that number is, but I am thinking about six to eight more will be joining us so I am looking at a number somewhere between 25 & 30. This is my favorite holiday. There is prep but it isn't like Christmas, you buy food (something I love), you make the food (something else I love), you eat the food (love that too) and you spend time with people you love and reflect on all you have to be thankful for. This is a very good holiday.

Last year, my kids were with their Dad's family and in all the years past, I have basically avoided one major holiday a year...disappeared really when my kids were with their dad. It's sad but I didn't know how to be thankful when my kids were a few hundred miles away celebrating with the other half of their broken family. But last year at Thanksgiving, when they left, I decided that I was going to be thankful anyway. I realized that I could be thankful for the fact that my kids are with me more than 85% of the time. I may only get to be with them 50% of Thanksgivings, Christmases, Spring Breaks and Summer Breaks, but I am so very thankful that I get to be with them ALL of the rest of the time. So last year, I took back Thanksgiving and didn't spend the day alone or with strangers, eating Burger King and going to the beach. I was surrounded by amazing friends and family and I was so thankful.

This year, it's Christmas that they will be gone. It's not my favorite holiday, do I really mind only celebrating it every other year? I don't think so, but maybe...I don't know.

What happened....

2009-09-16T20:14:00.000-07:00

So, last Thursday afternoon after work my guy and I met up and had a late lunch at about 2:30 at a local brewery. We shared some nachos and I had a beer. Afterwards we went our separate ways but we were planning to go to work on some stuff to prepare for his upcoming trip. About 5:30 I left my house to go to his and thought my belly didn't feel right and was wondering if those nachos were bad. Not long after I arrived at his house my gut was hurting so bad I went to the bathroom and threw up. The pain was definitely reminiscent of my bout with salmonella in October 2008.

I don't remember much about the rest of that night, I think we went to a movie or something after we did some errands and then I went home and to bed and spent the entire night contemplating the pain in my guts. At 3:30, I thought I might wake up my roommate and have her take me to the doctor, but I have zero confidence in Emergency Room staff for this sort of thing so I waited it out. At 5 am a new thought occurred to me and I got up to look at it up on the internet and promptly diagnosed myself with pancreatitis. So I was certain that I could wait to go to the urgent care center when it opened. My roommate drove me there at 8:00 in the morning when they opened and they were fantastic. With my helpful pre-diagnosis they were able to direct their blood testing in that direction and confirm that I did, indeed, have pancreatitis. They treated me with an Demerol and fluids, intravenously and then had me admitted to the hospital, where I stayed, rather miserably, until Sunday morning, with nothing but chicken broth, jello and cream of wheat to eat and not nearly enough morphine.

On Saturday, after a horrible pain filled night, thanks to an incompetent nurse who read that she was supposed to administer pain meds to me every hour showed up only after being called repeatedly every two hours. In the morning, I was so far behind in pain management that the prescribed dose of morphine wouldn't even touch the pain so Nurse Lazy got a doctor to prescribe a dose of dilaudid, which is considered to be 8-10 times stronger than morphine. It did the trick...to a point...it nixed the pain but I still ended up vomiting. Since she was too lazy and thought all the other nurses would be too, she got the doctor to order a PCA (patient controlled analgesia) device....aka my own personal morphine button. I was also told to expect with my "level of pain" to be there until Monday. All I wanted to do was throttle Nurse Lazy because my level of pain was really about her low level of competence, demonstrated by her inability to spend two minutes each hour in the middle of the night pushing one milligram of morphine into my IV. Really? All the other nurses one all the other shifts were able to accomplish that feat without any trouble whatsoever. They all had six patients. And while the day nurses had fewer sleeping patients, people to intake and discharch, Nurse Lazy only had to deal with people trying to sleep.

So after the PCA was installed and I could push my morphine button any time I wanted, it became clear that my pancreas was becoming less inflamed by the hour. So by 4 pm, I had pushed the button for the last time. I learned that in order for me get out of there I would need to be off the IV pain meds and tolerating regular food and pain pills. The doctor had already prescribed Percocet for me so I took 1/2 a dose at 6 pm and then got the night nurse to get a doctor to take off the IV. I asked him to do it but he said the can't violate the doctor's orders. LOL. Next time (I am betting on another bout of pancreatitis) I will take my own IV out. Just because I know I can't get fired for "violating the doctor's orders". I wonder if they would kick me out of the hospital....

I didn't take anymore pain meds and at 7 am I overheard the night nurse telling the new morning nurse (Nurse Grumpy) that I wanted out of there by 10 no matter what. And her heard her telling him that she more or less had no intention of making that happen. So she made her rounds to the sleeping patients but wouldn't come see me. At 8:30 I went and found her and told her that I wanted to leave as soon as possible and she bitched at me that I had not even seen the doctor. So I said, "Well, I am going to leave." And she said, "What are you going to leave AMA (against medical advice)." And I replied, "If I have to."

At that point the doctor appeared and went off on how I was on a PCA yesterday to leaving AMA today. And I turned and looked at her...really just stared. I may have actually sucked all of the oxygen out of the room so that I would have enough air to tell her about how the only reason I was on a PCA was because of her incompetent staff's inability to follow her orders and a whole host of other things wrong with the care I was given...but I all I needed to do was look at her because she instantly changed her tone and said she would get me out of there right away. Which she did.

So I have been home, not working and trying to not upset my pancreas by eating no fat and drinking no alcohol. And it is mostly working.

Weird.

2009-09-03T23:36:00.000-07:00

I woke up this morning after a strange dream. I was in this huge hall all by myself in a wedding dress, about to get married. It was like an auditorium with huge skylights and windows so it was very bright and I was standing in the foyer. I knew there were hundreds of people there but I didn't know any of them and I did not want to walk down the aisle, which worked out nicely because there didn't seem to be one. Instead, I went down a hallway which led backstage and then just inched my way out onto the stage until I was standing there next to the groom who was wearing gray. He seemed happy to see me even though I didn't know who the hell he was. Oddly, I didn't seem unnerved by the prospect of marrying a guy I don't know. Anyway, the dream sort of skipped over any talking until we were told we could kiss. But instead of kissing me, he took me in his arms and then fake kissed me on my cheek next to my mouth.

So I said to him, "What was that?"

And he said, "I dont' know if my breath is nice."

So I told him, "I don't care, we just got married, so kiss me for reals." So he did and it was way too sexy for a wedding kiss. So then he let go of me and I gathered up my dress and saw that I had no shoes on and I thought to myself that I wanted to find the bathroom, so I turned and ran out the backstage in search of a bathroom all the way down a long hall way, until I found the bathroom. I went inside and just looked in the big mirror at myself with my dress all hiked up with my barefeet and thought this was a strange wedding.

After that, I went outside of the auditorium to the street and sat down next to another stranger on a bench. We said, "Hey." and then I woke up.

I thought the whole thing was really weird...and also really weird that I could remember it with so much detail.

*****

Of course this took me to www.dreammoods.com and here is that it had to say...

To dream that you are planning your own wedding to someone you never met, is a metaphor symbolizing the union of your masculine and feminine side. It represents a transitional phase where you are seeking some sort of balance between your aggressive side and emotional side. Two previously conflicting aspects are merging together as one.

To see light in your dream, represents illumination, clear mind, guidance, plain understanding, and insight. Light is being shed on a once cloudy situation or problem. You have found the truth to a situation or an answer to a problem.

If you are kissed by a stranger, then your dream is one of self-discovery. You need to get more acquainted with some aspect of yourself.

To dream that you can not find the bathroom, signifies that you are have difficulties in releasing and expressing your emotions.

To dream that you are running alone, signifies that you may be running from some situation or from temptation. Or it may also mean that you need to hurry up in making a decision.

To dream that you are barefoot, represents your playful attitudes and relaxed, carefree frame of mind. You have a firm grasp and good understanding on a situation. Or you may be dealing with issues concerning your self-identity.

To see a stranger in your dream, symbolizes the part of yourself that is repressed and hidden.

To see or sit on a bench, signifies your tendency to procrastinate and put things aside. It also suggests that you often take on a passive role instead taking initiative.

Ok, I'll leave off the icing and strawberries.

2009-08-02T22:53:00.000-07:00

It's been a while since I have written anything and I have had multiple blog posts bouncing around in my head for a couple of weeks now but have not taken the time to write...but tonight is the night. There is a lot going on in my life.

This has been an interesting, challenging but wonderful year so far for me. When I was laid off from my 35 hour a week job as a paralegal on January 1st, I thought it would be no time at all before I found a new job. In fact, up until this year, I had never interviewed for a job and not been offered the job. And I have been working since I was 12 years old and I have had a lot of jobs since then. But I didn't get any jobs I interviewed for in January. Or February. Or March. Or April. Or May. But in June...I asked a friend for a job and she gave it to me, even though I had no experience and then an attorney called me out of the blue and offered me a paralegal job. So then I had two jobs. My friend has a coffee shop, which means that instead of making 20-something an hour as a paralegal, I am now making $8.40 an hour as a barista. And I have to say that in spite of the pay, I much prefer the barista job. It turns out the paralegal job has not panned out to be anything more than 8 hours of work so my boyfriend pulled a couple strings and got me a job, backserving (a.k.a "busser) at the restaurant where he works. In my whole life I have had only one job in a restaurant as a server and I was miserable. I learned to type in high school and thereafter was always able to get "clean" office jobs. But here I am with two minimum wage jobs and feeling quite happy...not in the least bit miserable. Of course the downside of this situation has been the huge dent in my income over the last seven months...but that aside, I have managed to not dig myself in to any deeper debt or lose my house. So I have a lot to be thankful for.

Now the reason I can even have two jobs and work all these hours is because my kids are in California, visiting their father's family. I miss them a lot so it is good to have something to occupy my time. My kids are 14, 13 and almost 11 so they are pretty grown and independent, even the youngest, who doesn't really seem any younger than the other two.

Last night they phoned me up and asked why they had to stay at their grandparents' house instead of with their step-mom (their dad is out of the country for work). I didn't know so I gave a call to the step-mom who then contacted the kids and let them know the arrangments. Apparently, the grandparents and step-mom are all uncomfortable letting the kids be unsupervised for any period of time. The kids think this is retarded. So do I.

Mo, TM and TY are all old enough to stay home alone and they do so, regularly, ten and half months out of the year. In fact, I encourage them to seek out opportunities to explore our town, float the river on their own, hit the library or candy store downtown, and to hang out with their friends. I foster their independence. I push them towards it because I know that they will, very soon, be adults who need to know how to navigate their way around town, interact with people and manage their time and their lives. Any time there is an opportunity for them to make a decision, I encourage and help them consider the options, pros and cons and then make the decision for themselves. They are very good at it. I would be surprised to find many children in this country who are as well rounded and capable of making as good decisions as mine.

So back to last night, they called me and one by one they each told me that they did not want to go to their grandparents church this morning. I have been to that church and I completely understand why they don't want to go. So I told them, "So just tell your grandparents that you aren't going. You don't have to go to church if you don't want to." I also told them not to tell their grandparents that the didn't want to go but simply that they were not going.

So this morning at about 9:00 I had a phone call from their grandfather. He was rather upset because "the children are saying 'no' to going to church." And that Mo was being downright rude about it.

I asked how she was being rude and he told me that when he asked her to come to church she just looked at him and crossed her arms and said "No," with this smirky look on her face. I felt so proud. He told me that he was very upset by this and felt their behavior was not appropriate.

I said, "Well, I always give them the option of going to church, I don't make them go. Would you like me to talk with them?"

He was relieved and said yes and then handed the phone to Mo.

Mo promptly took the phone into another room with her brothers so that noone could overhear the conversation and then told me that her grandpa was repeatedly asking them to go to church. I asked her what she said to him and she told me exactly the same thing that her grandfather did and that he had told her that she was being rude. I explained to her that she was not being rude. That she handled it fine, although later I thought she could have said, "No, thankyou." I confirmed with each of them that they did not want to go and told them that they would not have to. Then I asked them to give the phone back to their grandpa. At which point I told him, that neither their dad nor I believe that they should be forced to attend church if they do not want to, so if they didn't want to go and would rather make plans with their friends that was fine.

Grandpa did not even remotely agree with me. It turns out that he feels church attendance should be compulsory like school. He also felt that it was very bad that my Three happily went to a barbecue at a grandparents' church-friend's house and ate their food and swam in their pool, but refused to go to church the next day. I thought, is it like those "free vacations" where you have to attend a three hour meeting where they try to sell you a time-share? Sure you can come to my barbecue as long as you promise to show up at a meeting tomorrow where I get to try to sell you religion for three hours. Boo.

So I told grandpa that was not at all how I viewed it. That religion and faith are very personal and that I absolutely do not believe it is right or wise to force that on anyone and that I don't force the kids to go to church. I also told him, "If it makes you feel any better, more than 90% of the time, they want to go to church." He protested that they are too young to make this kind of decision.

I reminded him that Mo is 14. He reminded me that she is not 18 and that Ty is only 10. I said yes, that is true but since they were very small I have been empowering them and teaching them to make their own decisions so that when they hit 18, they will be capable of considering their options and making good decisions and this is one that I have turned over to them. He told me he didn't want to argue with me. I said that the kids were fine on their own and fine to make plans with friends while the grandparents went to church. We said goodbye.

Later, I spoke with Mo on the phone again, after the grandparents left for church. It turns out that grandpa went ahead and tried to have the argument with them that he didn't want to have with me. He tried to tell them that they were not old enough or capable enought to make this decision and that going to church is what "their family" just does. And get this!...He also told them they were going to hurt their relationship with him by making the choice to not go to church. But they stood firm together. They didn't buckle or cave to the manipulation.

They get it and I am so proud of them. I told them, I am so proud of you. It could get harder because you may continue to butt heads with your grandpa but just remember who you are and don't be afraid to stand strong together and stand up for yourselves and I will back you up if you really need it.

And I will. I actually may call their grandpa and let him know that pulling that relationship damage manipulation shit is what is going to damage their relationship. And then maybe I will tell him that he is lucky those kids actually know who they are and are not afraid to stand up for themselves because they would resent him if they didn't. And then I might tell him that he is also lucky because they love him in spite of the fact that he tried to manipulate him and that because of that love, they will forgive him. But that eventually, if he continues, that they are likely to create boundaries to prevent themselves from being subjected to his continuing, judgmental moralizations.

And maybe for the icing on the cake I will ask him, "Didn't you already go down this road with your sons? And how much do they like going to church these days? Oh yeah, never."

And maybe for the strawberries on top of the icing, I will say, "Gee, this is weird. You are "pulling a JR", maybe you should rewrite your will so that the only offspring who get anything when you die are the ones who go to church every Sunday."

"I like the roller coaster"

2009-07-10T19:08:00.000-07:00

From the movie Parenthood:

[Gil has been complaining about his complicated life; Grandma wanders into the room]

Grandma: You know, when I was nineteen, Grandpa took me on a roller coaster.

Gil: Oh?

Grandma: Up, down, up, down. Oh, what a ride!

Gil: What a great story.

Grandma: I always wanted to go again. You know, it was just so interesting to me that a ride could make me so frightened, so scared, so sick, so excited, and so thrilled all together! Some didn't like it. They went on the merry-go-round. That just goes around. Nothing. I like the roller coaster. You get more out of it.

Damn Corn

2009-06-25T21:12:00.000-07:00

I am having a delayed reaction.

A few times this has happened to me. I go to a restaurant, read the menu, make a selection and what comes to the table is not what I wanted to eat. A couple months ago I went to a popular eatery that is known for poor service, weak drinks and among other things a really cool fireside ambiance. Anyway, I ordered a mini barbecue chicken pizza. What I got was a make-you-sweat-it's-so-spicy-barbecue-chicken-pizza. I was mad. I'm not a scaredy cat when it comes to spicy food. Because I couldn't eat it...I could no longer feel my tongue. I checked the menu. It said absolutely nothing about the pizza being spicy. And I was really hungry. Which is no good because not only was a really hungry, I was also really mad. So when the server came to the table and asked, "How's everything?"

I blurted out, "This pizza is horrible."

Let me cut to the chase...Tell you how I really feel...

They comped the replacement food.

Here's the delayed reaction...

Two nights ago, I went to a local pub-ish sort of place. It actually has "Saloon" as part of it's name. I wasn't very hungry, which I think is why my reaction was delayed. But I ordered something off the menu that said "Potato Chowder". Now in my mind, Chowder is creamy, maybe bacon-y. But the menu didn't describe it so I asked..."Is it mainly just potatoes?" No clams or anything else?

"Just potatoes."

But when she brought it to my table it was decidedly without cream. In fact, there was nothing even slightly liquid-ish about this so-chowder. It did have smoke flavored bacon, and a whole bunch of corn. CORN!!!! And butter. Now, in my book you pretty much can't go wrong with bacon and butter but if you are going to put CORN in something, you better effing tell people about it. Corn has a both a strong flavor and a distinct texture that cannot be ignored. You can't simply chew your potato bits and ignore the corn bits and you can't fish out 400 pieces of corn from your bowl of potatoes. But like I said, I wasn't that hungry and that didn't help my appetite so I just took it home. But 15 minutes ago, I was hungry so I pulled out my container of "Potato Chowder" and heated up the contents. Then I tried to eat some. It was a no-go. Damn corn. Can't get around it.

So now, I am drinking diet orange soda and trying not to say fuck.