Saying yes...

Parts is Parts...

Stop reading if female parts scare you...

Laura's and fish's posts, as well as political discourse, has brought back memories... memories of being a young, single woman in the city... with a very dismal and unreliable paycheck. I believe I was working freelance jobs along with two part-time jobs... but still, paying for medical care was an issue, so I went to one of the Planned Parenthood-inspired places. It was not officially PP, but was basically the same deal. You paid for what you could, and most prices were reasonable.

Even though we were well into the latter half of the 80's, this place was right out of the 70's. Lots of ferns, lots of paneling, lots of Free to Be... You and Me stuff on the walls. I was fine with FTB...YAM, but did not necessarily want it every time I went for a check-up. It got even worse once I had to go a little more often. You see, you could not get your beloved birth control pills if your blood pressure was too high. I am notorious for having low blood pressure, but when in this place, with all of the questions, all of the doubtful looks, mine would shoot sky-high.

"We'll give you a month's worth of birth control pills, but you  must come back and prove you're BP is ok!"

Before these visits I would chant... think of dolphins, think of dolphins, think of dolphins...

But when they'd come in to check me out and would ask something that merited a smart-ass answer, with me giving it, and them taking me seriously, my BP would shoot sky high. I knew the drill... take the woman, who may or may not be abused, to a dark room... and let her think of dolphins for 10 minutes. Test again.

Most of the time I could chill, and the Rx was mine.

There was one time though that 3 women came into the room and suggested it was time to get to know my body.

Huh?? I was in my 20's! I knew my body?? What do you mean?? Know my body??

They produced a plastic speculum and a mirror... I kid you not. I scanned the ferns for hidden cameras...

They told me no women truly owns herself until she can examine herself... see the beauty of her cervix. I told them I was fine with a hidden cervix. My cervix was doing what it needed to do and I also trusted the professionals who checked it out...

They took this 'no' as an issue. I was like, "No, you don't get it... I was raised by a very down to earth mother who was nurse and called a spade a spade. Sure, my father might have been a little squeamish about the workings of daughterly parts, but Mom was fully on board with open discussion. I don't have issues... in fact, I'd like to use my parts with the man I love, the man who doesn't beat me, the man who accepts me as I am... while I myself am accepting me as I am... OK?? Take the Pap test and let me be on my way!"

But they insisted... which I felt was incredibly wrong, but hey... I was at peace with my parts, and as I mentioned, wanted to freely use my parts, so I did it. Woo-hoo! Look at my cervix! Woo-hoo! Yay! It looks like... a cervix... Can I go now???

They tried to give me a speculum to take home, but I think I shocked them when I said I preferred the flesh variety. Fortunately, soon after, I got insurance and was able to go to a Dr, who never once suggested I get in touch with my cervix... a Dr who seemed to understand that I was hip to my stuff... but relied on a professional to look up under my chassis.

(Heh... when I go to add a link to type up above, TypePad says, "Insert Link"... See?? These are the kind of thoughts that got me into trouble at the Women's place!)

Summer Blogging in One Post!

Garden. Garden. Flower. Butterfly. Fucking rain! Dog. Dog. Dog. Lake. Grizzled. Garden. Lamblet. Lamblet. Lamblet. Driver's Ed. AHHHHHHH! Lamblet. Hot! Too chilly! Wet! Where's the rain?!?! FUN!!! Woo-HOO!! Grrrr! WTF?? Still can't access any of ZRM's many blogs... 3B's! What contest?! Garden. Garden. Painting. Painting. Grrrr. Life is good. WTF??? Dick joke. Dick joke. Thought-provoking post. Dick joke. Garden. Animules. Painting! Grrrr... painting!!@!1 FRUSTRATION! In the zone. Fireflies!! Ah, summer smell. Butterflies! Orbs!!! Orbflies!! Thundra. Von. LOL! Garden. Dogs. Frustration. Satisfaction. Good. Bad. Love everyone. Hate everyone. Weeds. WEEDS! BG!! Lake. Reading. Thinking. Anniversary. Snag. Birthday. Cicadas. School? Already?

Parallel Conversations, Part II

Grizzled just butt dialed me from work. I could hear him walking and thought maybe if I yelled loudly enough, he'd hear me. He didn't. I heard him though. In the midst of all of the moving noises, I heard him say, "I'm sick of everybody."

This is not a waste-free post... it will waste your time...

We have approximately 10 more waste-free lunch days until I am free... YL will be leaving elementary school and we will finally be free from the militant waste-free lunch mother wardens who have turned me into an evil being... a being who once loved the Earth, but who now does spiteful stuff just because.

Waste-free lunch has been a burr under my saddle for years now. It used to be it was just one a month and anyone can handle anything for one day a month... plus it was for a good cause. We were teaching our kids how to reduce the waste that goes into landfill... (never mind that Grizzled and I do this on a daily basis. We've learned that nothing really counts unless it happens at school.) Of course, this message wasn't important enough on its own, no there had to be prizes. Kids need to get prizes for their participation. Grizzled and I often discussed the waste that went into making those Oriental Trading Co. prizes, not to mention them being waste themselves, but hey, let's not confuse things with the facts.

I think the thing that has frosted my ass the most since the inception of waste-free lunch days were the random rules, decided on the day by whichever militant mother volunteer showed up, exercising the power that she so missed in other areas of life. Waste-free lunch seemed to be one of those carnival games you never won and the child was then shamed for killing the planet.

During EL's years, I purchased a multi-compartment lunch container that took care of all items to go into her lunch. Did El get her prize? Hell no... I received a note one time that the rules were, there must be at least 2 reusable containers in the lunch. She only had one... never mind that ALL of her lunch items fit into this one ecologically sound container. She needed to bring two. I debated with them over this, but they refused to see my point and I refused to not use the container I had specifically purchased for waste-free lunch day. EL still has scars, but is not alone...

Sometime during YL's years at this school, waste-free lunch day became a weekly event. I upped my prescription for ulcer medication at this point, but continued to try and run the waste-free gauntlet set up by the new batch of mothers in charge... It seemed they had lightened up on the 2 or more container ruling so I thought I was home free... not to mention, I always use a metal spoon in her lunch. Her lunches were waste-free... until I got the notice about the cloth napkin. It seems it didn't matter now that her lunches were packed in waste-free containers and that she had a reusable spoon, I was including paper napkins, which I might add, are recycled napkins. I should have used a leaf.

But still, EL explained to me that I must continue to try as the shame of not having the perfect waste-free lunch weighs heavy on a young soul, and although she liked to bust her sister's chops, she didn't want someone else doing it. Cloth napkins it would be. I could do that. But... I also found myself rebelling in baaaad ways. Instead of buying a large container of apple sauce, I'd buy the individually wrapped ones... open one and put it into a reusable container. This gave more glee than it should have, but I am a sick individual when pushed to it... I did it with other things as well... sending in the supposedly waste-free lunch with a wicked, knowing smile. Screw the Earth I loved so much! Spite was so much BETTER!

The final straw (plastic straw!) came the other day when I was packing YL's waste-free lunch and asked her to get me the beatific cloth napkin. She said to just use a paper one, she didn't care... for one thing, they don't hand out prizes anymore, they just write "WF" on your hand with a marker. Grizzled chimed in at this point and said they forgot the T that goes in between... YL said she wouldn't even get that anyhow because she drinks milk from school... a milk contract that we purchase in the beginning of the year... milk that is ordered specifically for the number of kids with a contract. I was missing something. Why would that enter into what she brought from home?? She said the mother told her the milk did not come in a waste-free container and therefore, she did not have a waste-free lunch. We explained to her that it would be more wasteful if all kids who normally drank this milk did not on this given day. She said she understood, and just didn't care. She didn't care anymore. Hooray... they successfully killed what should have been a good thing in my kid's mind and in mine. Instead of encouraging any form of reducing waste, they made it impossible to do a good job. Did I mention, we'll only have about 10 of these left?!?! I can't wait.

In the meantime, Grizzled has been reeling off suggestions for the ultimate waste-free lunch... "How about we send her in with a live cow! That would reduce packaging and waste! The mothers can butcher it there in front of the kids and serve it for lunch! RAW!! So we don't waste energy cooking it!!!"

I believe another suggestion was sending her in without any lunch since any form of lunch involves some form of waste, including bodily waste... Can't have that... can't get WF marked on your hand if you poop.

Have I mentioned?? I'm so ready to be done with this...

The Crank Doesn't Fall Far From the Tree...

Mom has temporarily given me, EL, temporary control of her blog to explain a metaphor I was telling her this afternoon.

I was telling her about how my friend in art class last year had posed the hypothetical/philosophical question, "Why are there no metal sporks?" This is my theory:

Forks, spoons, and sporks are like lions, tigers, and ligers (oh my). Forks and spoons were made in metal before they were conceived in plastic. Similarly, lions and tigers were wild before they were anywhere close to being domesticated. Sporks, in contrast, were made originally in plastic, as ligers were bred as a result of human intervention. Sporks are a pathetic utensil, that after three years of junior high, I can honestly say I have developed a disliking for. They are useless, confused ingrates. On one hand, they fail to hold soup because someone cut triangles out of them. On the other, they fail to stab anything sufficiently because their points are dull and short. Nobody created sporks with the intention of them actually being good for anything. Ligers are incapable of living in the wild because they were raised by humans, and hence have lost touch with the vast majority of their animal instincts, and are incapable of reproduction. They would have never existed naturally because under realistic circumstances, the situations where a lion would breed with a tiger are few.

HENCE, in summation, sporks and ligers are alike victims of human experimentation, and therefore can never be independent/metal.

Adminstrator's note: Tigers and lions were not manmade as were spoons and forks... even if made of metal... otherwise, I'm going with it... It makes sense, somehow.

Challenging Kathleen...

I'm thinking of listing all of the books I started last year, but didn't finish. I bet my list would be longer than Kathleen's. :-P

The sad thing is, there was a time when I could have gone toe-to-toe with Ms. Voracious Reader (although good word has it she sometimes scans...), but now, I'm lucky if I remember I started one before getting another... It only takes one dust bunny excursion under the bed to find the "Home of Abandoned and Forgotten Books". I am ashamed.

New Year's Resolution #3297: Don't get anymore books before finishing the existing piles.

I used to pride myself on having never abandoned a book... now I treat them like chocolates... take a bite, move on.

3B's needs a product development team...

Or people will continue to steal their ideas... While reminiscing with Pinko over the old Glock in the condiment aisle contest... I ran across this.

Heh. We all know neither ketchup nor mustard had the gun.

Thoughts on Chocolate

I cannot stand the latest Nutella commercial. Unfortunately there isn't a YouTube of it yet... only a site hinting at the spiel. Nutella... part of a healthy breakfast... because it itself is also healthy... The mother, on the commercial,  busy slathering Nutella on all sorts of healthy foods in order to get her kids to eat them, but it's ok because Nutella is chocked full o' healthy items (ignore the main two ingredients... sugar and oil)... You know, like nuts and skim milk... and a touch of cocoa. A touch? I don't know. That last time I got down with my bad Nutella jar, it wasn't for just a touch of chocolate. When Nutella beckons, it's because you're in the mood for more than a touch...

Don't get me wrong. I LOVE Nutella. I think the person who created it is a genius. I think the first person who put milk chocolate and hazelnuts together was a genius. If someone yells "Milk Chocolate AND HAZELNUTS!!!", I'm off like a prom dress... I'm just not going to have it for breakfast, or convince myself that it's a daily, healthy choice. It's not. Nutella is a spreadable candy bar. 

...Of course this is coming from the same person who, this weekend, was broken down to the point of buying the lamblets Chocolate Chex. To be honest, I wasn't even thinking of it as a breakfast choice. We all like cereal, but go for more of the twig/stick varieties. I thought it might be eaten as a bad snack. 

The verdict?? Neither lamblet could get through an entire bowl... and a small bowl at that. They said there was something too sweet about it (this coming from the Youngest Lamblet who has been known to eat sugar straight), something just kind of gross as well. I had to try it. First bite? Not too bad. Definitely too sweet for my taste, but there was something else it reminded me of and and couldn't quite put my finger on it... then it hit me... a McDonald's chocolate milkshake after it has "thawed". Yep, that's it. It had that, "Ugh, it's not frozen enough anymore to disguise the ingredients/sweetness/flavor" aspect going for it and it tasted like cloying faux chocolate syrup and gawd knows what else. I didn't finish the bowl either. 

Friday Ramblings

Still trying to catch up from time lost last week. Somehow we've come to the end of another week... I'm not sure if ground was lost or gained.

Insurance has been a frustration this week. Not a surprise I guess. It was announced last December that our health insurance premiums would be raised 30%... They've gone up consistently over the past decade, but this was by far, the biggest jump. Our annual premiums are now solidly in the 5 figure range. Our annual family deductible is now definitely in the 5 figure range. All in all, we're a fairly healthy bunch, but we still keep paying more and more with less and less assurance that when it's needed, they'll actually come through.

We applied for a different plan, one that cut out some of the bells and whistles that Grizzled's employer had to offer due to size of the staff, but found out we were denied. Well, 3 of us were. Again, I wasn't totally surprised. The Eldest Lamblet has been dealing with a chronic issue for the past decade. I was pretty sure that one would get us tossed out from the start, but still, we tried. We filled out reams of paperwork, underwent very, very, very lengthy phone interviews that were incredibly frustrating in that the same question would be asked 7 different ways... usually for something that had happened 7 or more years ago, even though only the past 3 years were supposed to make a difference. It was exhausting and frustrating. I'll never forget hearing the interviewing Dr telling me that "idiopathic" was not on her list of words therefore it didn't count as part of a diagnosis, she needed a better diagnosis. Strangely enough, it turned up in the refusal letter...

Grizzled was refused for an out and out lie. Their reason for his refusal was 100% not accurate. The reason did not exist, but there it was.

I was refused because at some point in the past two years, I discovered my vitamin D levels were low. That was rectified by taking an over the counter vitamin D supplement. Extreme, I know. But there it was, "Applicant has had a vitamin D deficiency of unknown cause."  Unknown cause?? What's the big mystery? I live in a frickin' northern city that is lucky if it gets sun for half the year, let alone the proper angle of sun, the right amount of sun, etc. Also, I'm pale and have been warned about the dire need to slather myself in sunblock lest I get skin cancer.

The youngest lamblet was welcomed with open arms! If you want affordable health insurance, you need to be 9... although, convincing them she was healthy was also a work of epic proportions. She'd had an echocardiogram when she was younger... her pediatrician thought she heard a heart murmur. The lamblet was fine. The insurance Dr who was interviewing me said... in many ways... many times, "So, she's cured of her heart condition??" I said, "SHE NEVER HAD A HEART CONDITION!" And then said it every way I could so that test would not be a pox upon her life.

We're lucky though. We're still insured with Grizzled's firm. We'll just pay more... and more... and more... and more... And at some point, they'll probably deny me because I'm pale... a preexisting condition...

On to happier rambles...

--raw carrots still give me the hiccups. I love raw carrots. I chew my carrots carefully, but cannot get through a carrot without getting the hiccups. It usually only takes one bite. I probably shouldn't admit this. It can probably be used against me during future insurance interviews...

-- there was the vague pre-odor of spring in the air this morning. While spring is my least favorite season, I also realize it's a needed transition. If I get any say, I'd like a dryish, flowery, mellow spring... no endless gray, muddy, soppy spring. Please! Be gentle with me, spring!!! And even if it's a dryish, flowery, mellow spring, I know I'll still find the cold wafting off of the ground and surrounding buildings unnerving as it melds with warmer air. I prefer the cool air/warm buildings that fall brings. The reversal reminds me too much of a tomb... Yes, spring makes me think of death, whereas fall makes me think cozy, life-affirming thoughts. Go figure...

I could continue to ramble, but won't. Have a wonderful weekend, everyone! If you get a chance, stop by Riddled, Another Kiwi has posted another of his wonderful poems. As usual, I liked it, and it didn't give me the hiccups.

Words That Make My Head Want to Explode

Ok, I've confessed to hating the word, panties, before... gads, even typing it makes my face start twitching... but the word... or words that can potentially make my head explode??? Well, come to think of it, it's not the words themselves, but the pronunciation...

I heard this particular pronunciation on one of the Sunday morning news shows and let out a roar/growl so intense that the youngest lamblet spontaneously started to pick up her toys...

The word?

Strength... or length...

The pronunciation?

STRENTH!!! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!! Lenth is just as BAD!

Even worse? Shtrenth.

While my less than crisp, clear esses have dogged me through my life (Your S is bordering on sibilant my dear!), it now appears to be ok to say sh for ssssssssssssssssssssss.  Adding the sh to the already mispronounced word is just rubbing salt in my wound.

I can't take it.

I can take many, many forms of pronunciation. I can find reginal differences to be charming. I can even deal with the occasional "matooer" instead of "machure" that I prefer. I could deal with the geomotry teacher who said, "mazeyoor" instead of measure. Lit-a-chure has been known to make me clench my teeth and need a moment to regroup, but strenth?? AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! JUST TYPING IT MAKES ME WANT TO THROW SOMETHING!

And it doesn't matter if I like you or not... doesn't matter if you could get away with any other infraction... strenth could make me have to turn and on walk away.

Even Elvis Costello, whom I dearly love, nearly lost me on this one... and I liked this song to start with... liked the song, loved Elvis... what could possibly go wrong!?

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! Yes... God give me strength to not stop listening to you Elvis!!! God give me strengggggggth to remember your scratchy voice drives me crazy. God give me strength to ignore.