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Tuesday, May 28, 2013

she needs to lose that hat

Guess what, a cupcake place is going in across the street from the gas station down the road from my sister's house. Why don't people listen?  Why don't they read?  CUPCAKES ARE OVER.  It's only a matter of time.  Sure, because it's Utah they might have a few more years before the bubble bursts, and supposedly this place is going to make pies as well, so maybe they'll be okay because they are diversified, BUT STILL.


Sometimes I'm downloading my emails, and my phone bings, and I'm all excited, and then it's something about elections from the American Dairy Goat Association.  It makes me feel nerdly.  

If you could be any animal besides a human, what would you be?  I was thinking orca, but the whole thing about living in the water but not being able to breathe water gives me pause.  But it would be pretty great not to have to worry about sharks anymore, unless the megaladon has in fact survived in the deep places in the ocean and is just waiting for an event such as an underwater volcano to create the warm currents necessary for crossing the cold deep ocean and emerging into the upper brine to recommence its reign of terror.  

Do you think all documentaries get their music from the same warehouse?  I'm watching The Business of Being Born, which I can already tell  is going to make me mad, because I have met too many people who I know would watch it and rather than analyzing the movie would simplistically condense its message to "HOSPITAL BAD" and grab just any so-and-so who said she was a midwife and end up dying in the bathtub because they refused to accept that medical intervention is ever a good thing.  Can we not agree that there can exist a happy middle ground between making a woman feel weak, negligent and cowlike for taking advantage of some of the wonders of modern medicine on one hand, and burning midwives as witches on the other?  Either way the mother is made to feel inadequate, what a surprise.  Sometimes doctors and hospitals kill babies.  Sometimes midwives do too.  You know how I hate the "but it's been done this way for thousands of years" argument.  Antiquity does not bestow virtue.  People used to be idiots.  People still are idiots!  Babies and moms used to die all the time.  We learn from experience.  The way to fix the shocking infant trauma and mortality rate, and the bizarre clinicalization of childbirth in the U.S. is not to blindly accept all "natural" home birthing methods as acceptable, nor to accept all modern birthing methods as such.  (I think we might want to try EATING BETTER and getting MORE SLEEP AND EXERCISE for a start, but I'm a Pollyanna.)  Maybe it's just my particular experience, and maybe I'm over-generalizing, but the ladies around here are not always the most discerning about what is really in their best interests.  Mormons are often what one might call "trusting," which in practical application equals "super gullible."  Yikes, do your research.  You are not doing the practice of midwifery--which we very much need to stay vibrant, and become more accepted, because I so wish I had been more prepared, and had realized what other options I had when I was having my children--any favors when you treat them all as equally proficient.  Doctors aren't equal, why would midwives be?  

Pardon my froth, but it extends to the entire health industry--it makes me frustrated that people either believe that only troglodytes would refuse to take statin drugs or have an unmedicated labor, or that conventional medicine is the devil and it's all moon phases and radio waves from here on out.  Why are there so few doctors who practice the best parts of both disciplines?  

EDIT:  Okay, I'm a few more minutes into it, and I'm liking it and agreeing with it.  I could eat a placenta right now!  

Saturday, May 25, 2013

I'm not shy, so I asked for the digits

I have a bad habit of putting my fingers in my eyes.  They get stuff in them all the time, and I've got to dig it out, and I try to do it carefully and with clean hands, but sometimes your hands just aren't clean.  Sometimes you've just been touching dirty things.  So for whatever reason, I seem to frequently get pinkeye, go figure.  Yesterday I was getting something out of my eye, and I had just been pushing a shopping cart, and as I was digging in my eyes I thought, "I should have washed my hands."  So this morning my eye is all goopy, yay me.  But I've got a tube of medicine, and I will overcome.

The baby chicks live outside in a rattletrap mess of a cage I cobbled together, and although it means I can't park in the garage, because they are in there at night, it has been a real pleasure to not have them in the house covering all the surfaces with chicken dander.  I think they like it too, because I put them outside on the grass all day, and I put a garden stake through the cage so they can practice roosting.  We got three more babies, only one of which we had ordered, but of course she needed company.  We named them Skunk, Musk Ox, and Yam Hill.  It's a real party out there right now, with the big chickens pooping all over the yard and driveway, and the little chickens pooping all over the floor of the garage, and John is probably going to have a mental break about it any day now, but in my defense, he's the one who wanted to order the new ones.  He hasn't said how he plans to deal with the old ones, but he does sometimes talk about mink farms.  Of course we're not going to put them in a chipper-shredder to make chicken slurry for mink, but we do need to do something.  Twenty chickens is too many, unless they stay in their pen, which they don't because the fence is too short and I evidently suck at clipping wings.

I checked on my bees yesterday, and they are doing fabulously well!  They have all but six bars totally filled with comb, all the way to the floor.  So they've made as much or more comb in the last few weeks as those losers from last year (rest their souls) made the whole summer.  I bet it's the beefcake supplement and the fancy oils I've been putting in their water.  Tiny Tim WILL LIVE, I guarantee it.

Tuesday, May 21, 2013

jairo says he only needs two hours of sleep a night

Today when my phone beeped my Tuesday reminder to go volunteer in Ike's classroom I was in the midst of painting my fingernails.  Each fingernail is a different color, and I'm digging it big-time.  Red, mint, silver, powder blue, and brownish-maroon are the colors.  They don't match!  They don't even complement each other!  I am so free.  Then I went and helped the kids glue Tab A to Dot A and Tab B to Dot B to make a pop-out butterfly, and the teacher gave me Idle Isle nut balls (I think they're really called almond creme toffees or something, but nut balls is a more fun name) to thank me for my year of service, and I was all, "Nut balls?  Totally worth it!"  Then Willa graduated from kindergarten and I cried a little bit, but I made the tears stay in my eyes because I'm not going to be the sort of person who cries at a kindergarten graduation.  Then this afternoon Willa wanted her fingernails and toenails painted, and I figured, why not make myself look like I just clawed somebody to death with my toenails?  Done and done.  You can see the pictures on Twitter.  Good day.

Monday, May 20, 2013

her cat died, but in a really funny way

Here's my awesome idea for end-of-year gifts for my kids' teachers:  I'm going to buy some of those fancy pastas from Ross or T.J. Maxx, and I'm going to put a note on it that says, "Thanks for teaching us to use our noodles."  Get it?  NOODLES?  Ha ha, I crack myself up.  Maybe I'll get some fancy oil or sauce to go along with it.

Friday, May 17, 2013

it's fine chocolate, but it's not, like, the best

 Directorial comments at the shoot for this ad:
"Okay, that's good, but let's try this:  why don't you turn your body a little bit more toward the camera . . . no, keep your arms where they are, just turn your body . . . a little bit more . . . a little bit more . . . more . . . no, put your arms closer together.  Turn your face back away from the camera!  Arms closer together . . . turn your body more . . . no, keep your elbows down . . . okay, FINE, listen:  we're trying to get you to squish your boobs together with your arms and aim them at the camera without looking like you're aiming them at the camera.  GOSH."


This looks like studio magic trying to make her appear taller and thinner, like she's not one of the most beautiful women in the entire world.  Like they think they can improve her appearance.  Boo.

Tuesday, May 14, 2013

use of night soil is contraindicated

Yesterday when I was buying the tomato plants the greenhouse lady and I were talking about soil amendments, and she gave me this handy rule:  the smaller the animal, the less of its poop you can use.  Chickens, rabbits, etc. you can use about an inch.  Horses and cows, four inches.  Goats she thinks only about two.  I bet you could use six inches of elephant poop, so don't freak out if you've got a whole bunch of it lying around.  Blue whale just put the plants directly in the whale-pie, I guess.  Also don't use poop from meat-eaters (humans, bears, the Kraken).  You're welcome.

Monday, May 13, 2013

yes I know I'm a lucky guy

The thing on my computer that allows it to talk to the internet without being hooked up to a cable--the wireless thingamabob--is only operating in fits and starts and I reach a point of murderous rage about it at least seven times a day.  This is where my friends and family members with Macs are all smug, and I'm rolling my eyes about how self-congratulatory is the Cult of Apple.  I like Apple products, I love my phone, but it is impossible for me to go into the Apple store without feeling like I need to either throw up or run around with an enormous tack bursting all the bloated egos in the room.  Computers are non-sentient, and therefore are not imbued with virtue, so everybody needs to settle down.

The vendor the PTA bought our school t-shirts from called today wanting to collect the money for the shirts, only I already paid for them when I picked them up last fall, so I guess they'll have to find five hundred dollars somewhere else.  The guy we got the bounce houses from for the carnival only charged us half of what we agreed on because of the big hole, which was very decent of him.  I'm almost done being president!  We have our field day activity and a bazillion thank-you notes to write for the carnival, and then I'm home free!

We got some new chickens.  Their names are Cabbage, Nitrogen Rich, SpeedZone (like the herbicide), Giraffe-O, Penguin, Cookie Gugelman, and Brad.  They like to knock their food over and poop in their water, just like all the other chickens I've ever had.  This time, though, I'm not going to keep them in my house for six weeks, no sir.  As soon as I can get a pen put together outside that they can't escape from they are out of here.  This time I'm in charge.

I went a little bit crazy at the nursery today and bought so many tomato plants.  But how do you not buy at least one of every color?  Except white--I've been burned too many times by white.  I can hardly wait to taste them all!  I think the one I'm most excited for is the Kellogg's Breakfast.

Hazel and Sally are getting all jolly, which is a euphemism for fat, which is a reduction of pregnant. I reckon they'll start nesting any day now.

Mother's Day is not a big deal to me, and hasn't really ever been except for the first one I had with John after our marriage, and for some reason I was expecting him to get me something, even though we didn't even have any kids, and I was all wounded when I didn't get a present, but because I am candid to a fault I did not give him the silent treatment or say that if he didn't know why I was sad I wasn't going to tell him, but rather told him why I was upset, and nowadays I am my authentic self who doesn't really pay attention to calendars but wants presents all the time.  Much easier.  All of which is to say that I was pretty grumpy when I woke up this morning and found the kitchen and the rest of the house in the same mess I left them in, because the Mother's Day fairies had not come in the night and spic-and-spanned my house.  And today wasn't even Mother's Day!  You can't let Mother's Day get you down.  So now John is very helpfully cleaning the whole kitchen while I fritter away my noontime suppertime choretime too on the internet, and I do not feel bad about it.  Really it should be the children doing this, but it's okay.  John will do a better job anyway.

Tuesday, May 7, 2013

it's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life for me

It started out innocently enough.  The glass knob wouldn't come out of one of my cabinet doors, so I thought since I'm probably going to change the knobs anyway (sorry Beckster--the glass ones are going to go into storage for a bit), I'll just break this one and then I can get the machine screw out.  But one thing led to another and now the cabinet door is at the cabinet door hospital having emergency surgery.

I bought a terrible food at T.J. Maxx yesterday.  I was looking for things to make gift baskets for the ladies who helped me rake in lots of moolah at the school carnival (which was a frigging nightmare, but is blessedly over for another year), and there was this stuff that has caramel popcorn and pretzels and potato chips and dark and milk and white chocolate and I bought it and now it's almost gone.  I wish sweets were not so appealing to me.  I almost always overindulge and get a headache, but it's not until after I've eaten the sweet, by which point the headache doesn't do me any good.  I'm like a cat, people!  I can't connect consequences if they're not immediate!

The aforementioned school carnival was madness and mayhem, and half the people who were supposed to come run the games didn't, so I was running around recruiting people who were there attending the carnival and pressing them into service as carnies.  The fifth graders on the student council were so burned out by the time they were done that the free slice of pizza was not really enough to appease them.  One of the bouncy houses had a ginormous hole in the side where a seam had failed and been duct taped multiple times, which partly explains why this guy's estimate was $200 cheaper than the other people.  John came over just in time to win the auction for the wheelbarrow, which I had my heart set on.  It's the nicest wheelbarrow, you guys.  I don't know if we'll even put goat poop in it for a while.

We bought some beefcake protein supplement for the bees so they can be on teevee lookin' all buff, plus we got some essential oils to put in their sugar water.  I'll tell you what, if these bees leave or die or whatever I will be super T.O.ed.  I am giving them so many opportunities to succeed.

I was thinking about education today, not just formal education, but life-long seeking after knowledge, and I really do think it's the difference between freedom and slavery, between acting and being acted upon.  I don't think it's a coincidence that in oppressive societies the ruling class controls and limits access to education.  It makes me think about different ways to spend our local and national budgets, and what effect more and better after-school programs and tutoring and vocational training might have.  Just solving problems from the couch in my parlor, that's all.

Wednesday, May 1, 2013

that's not what you asked me

I just stimulated the crap out of our local economy.  First I bought a microwave at Murphy's, then chocolates at Idle Isle, then a tie at the place next door to Idle Isle (awesome ties, not much money, see how cute:)

then lip gloss at Treebee something.  I can't imagine it's very easy to stay in business in our little town, and I wish them luck.

Such is my reverence for the cave of wonders that is Costco that even store-brand convenience foods take on an air of respectability.  I was thisclose to buying a tray of heat-and-serve chiles rellenos yesterday, but managed to keep my head in the end.  The ingredient list was not bad, you guys.  Stop looking at me like that.

Last weekend we watched "Victory," a John Huston film; simplified synopsis:  Nazis are so bad they will even cheat at football.  It has Michael Caine in it!  I love him.  Plus Pele!  And Rocky, who at first is hateful times ten, but then I guess I got used to him.  I think you should watch this show. I got way invested in the storyline, and even cried at the end.

After putting two bottles of generic drain cleaner down my tub in the last month the thought occurred to me last night that maybe I was dealing not just with muck and grime neat, but muck and grime combining their powers with a giant clog of some kind.  So I figured out how to take out the plug, and there before me lay the horrible truth.  Long story short, the tub drains fine now, and is cleaner than it's been since the last time I cleaned it.  Normally the boys clean the bathrooms, but every once in a while I do a rotation so it gets a proper cleaning.