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Monday, May 9, 2011

this iron man would be easier to kill than the real iron man

We spent about two hours on Saturday plastering our ward and some of second ward with anti-biodiesel flyers, and today we'll do the rest of second ward, and maybe up into first ward if we have time before Wednesday. Well, I guess the flyers aren't really anti-biodiesel, more like anti-idiotic rezoning. So angry, you guys. Who, who in the world wants to be greeted by a factory when they get home from work? Who wants to welcome residents, visitors, and potential residents with the stink of stale fries if we're lucky? Who wants to come home from the park covered in a fine sheen of used oil? Because if this really is about money, which unbelievably seems to be the case (given how extremely piddly is the sum we're talking about), then people need to understand that in the long run, the biodiesel plant will hurt, not help us. We'll get far more money from houses than a factory, and nobody wants to live in a stinkhole! Of course I don't like the sound of houses, either, but given a choice between the two, I'll take houses on five-acre lots, or even one-acre lots. Good night, what a mess.

Whatevs. I just can't talk about it calmly. John is going to write a script for me to read at the meeting on Wednesday night, because I can't communicate with people I don't respect, and I start saying horrible, mean, untakebackable things.

Yesterday for Mother's Day our present was a candy bar and some lotion, which is a vast improvement over past years. The dads always get candy bars and pop, but they give the moms some lame thing like a little booklet on motherhood, which I throw straight into the trash. What the crap? Give me a plant, give me lotion or candy or a handkerchief or nothing at all, but don't give me a reminder of all the ways in which I'm blowing it.

My parents came over on Friday night and tilled our garden and fixed our lawnmower, because they are that sort of bear. I'm sure they go home from encounters like that thinking, "How do they feed themselves?" But we are thankful for their awesomeness and now our lawn is mowed and I can plant my tomatoes, if it ever stops freezing. I decided not to do any brassicas after all, because the row cover is wicked costly. I'll see how it goes this year, and if I do a good job we'll get some row covers. Maybe the world will have gone kerplooey by then and I won't need to worry about it, because the cabbage moth larvae will be good extra protein in our new, currency-less society of disconnected, wandering tribes, each with its own unique dialect composed mainly of words that mean "hungry" and "cold."

2 comments:

Jennifer May said...

You make me laugh so hard! I just die when I read your posts......and then I have to find a dictionary soon after I recover. You have a unique way of talking!

All8 said...

You made me laugh too. And if it makes you feel any better, we always get a LONG Stemmed, Single Carnation. Um, yeah; can't you give me something with roots, if it needs to be a flower. I guess they're damned anyway you slice it.

Hey, maybe the fine film of stale french fry oil will deter cabbage moths??? I'd have to read too.