they'd be better if they were encased in a hard candy shell... or,
served between two slabs o' shicken (it's how the boy, whom I babysat
for long ago, said it. "I want shicken and sheese!") Maybe if it was
Gummi Pork Rectum. Rectum??? Damn near killed 'em! I digress... All I
know is, my lamblets owe Uncle Pinko (a stranger who buys them candy) a
DoD... in the meantime... discuss!
We stayed in a number of different places while on the road. Some were chosen in advance... some were merely chosen by where we wanted to go that day or when we wanted to stop. One thing did not change... when we got there, Grizzled let me decide which side of the bed I was sleeping on.
Grizzled and I have been sharing beds for over 2 decades now. He said he used to think I always chose the same side, no matter the room, but he soon learned that was wrong. He then said he thought it was the side farthest away from the door, but that wasn't right either. He then realized it was safest to just let me pick... my picking being done the minute I walk in. I sense the side I want and plop my stuff down. I have been known to switch sides during a visit though if the room doesn't feel right, even though I know switching sides won't necessarily help. Sometimes the bed is just off.
We stayed in one of these rooms while on the road. It did not feel good to me and neither did the bed. I woke up in the middle of the night, certain something was in front of me. I could feel it. If I opened my eyes, I'd see it and I didn't want to. I also knew I had a chair next to my side of the bed and had put a bunch of my stuff in it so that was probably it. I opened my eyes and sure enough, saw a large, dark mass. I reached out, felt one of my bags and then something else that didn't feel familiar. I jumped and made some panicked noise. I snatched my hand back in as fast as I could, pulled up the covers even though it was hot, and inched over to Grizzled's side... slowly enough that he wouldn't realize he only had 5 inches on which to sleep... and then I waited... it was a long night.
I'm not afraid of a lot, but my senses/imagination can have their way with me in the dark. Maybe it was too many horror movies as a kid... one too many scary novels, or camping out with friends and trying to scare the bejesus out of each other... or my brothers, who liked to torment like only brothers can... I like to be scared, but when I choose. I don't like to be afraid at night, which is why I'm glad I don't have to sleep alone... even when I was alone, I still had a dog.
I remember when I was much younger and my grandmother was still alive and living by herself, I would ask her if she was afraid at night, wasn't she tempted to sleep with a light on... somewhere?? (She had a creepy basement with dirt walls... and a scary attic... those two places would immediately pop into my mind if I was staying overnight at her otherwise wonderful house....) She said she grew up with no electricity so darkness did not bother her. She also had the Lord to look over her... Well, Grandma's Lord gave me a wicked imagination that likes to mess with me... so again, I am glad I don't have to sleep alone. I am also glad I have someone who can sleep anywhere... and doesn't mind that I need to pick my side of the bed... or who doesn't mind when I leave him only 5 inches to sleep on because I am sure that something out of Grandma's basement is sitting next to my side.
The sinister wooly bison still haunts me... and it was in our hotel room that night... I know it.
During our recent road trip, I heard a song that will forever make me think of fun and alcohol poisoning... I know, I know, I should not say those two things together, but thank gawd for whatever it is that gets us through our stupid decisions in life...
Imagine if you will... an endless heatwave... going grocery shopping with your roommate/bestest friend... deciding at 9AM that margaritas sound REALLY GOOD... so you buy LARGE QUANTITIES of STUFF at the store, deciding not to eat when you get home, but go straight to the margaritas...
Hours and hours later, after a person or two has left the party, and the margaritas became anything you and your roommate could mix with tequila, if mixing was really even necessary... and after the dancing around and on the table while wearing your roommate's red sheet; dancing to the song below, you decide you probably need a nap, but the man you've been seeing (and will eventually marry) has shown up, decides maybe you need dinner and prepares you food... and stays with you throughout the night, which is a good thing, because you wake up in the wee hours feeling sun burnt and insane... and he gets you water and helps you to the bathroom, and does all sorts of responsible things... while your crazy roommate somehow finds it within himself to actually go out on a first date!!!
That is what this song makes me think of... and when I hear it, I still smile... and thank my lucky stars...
This morning I started to write a post about pussy willows... I loved them as a kid. I still like them. It's pussy willow season. I can't look at them and not think of the millions of them that I wished would come to life. I was certain they were really animals. I'd break off one or two of the catkins and would tuck them in my jewelry box, on a little piece of cotton, sure they'd move at some point, or would make a sound, or something. Sometimes I left water or some grass...
Anyhow, I started to write a post about them... I Googled to find their scientific name, but Google was not giving me the goods. Every entry said "Willow". I didn't want willow... I wanted pussy willow! I knew this was a common name, not some local term that only a handful of people knew! Where in the heck were all of the entries for pussy willows?? (insert your rude joke here)
And then I saw the little notice:
The word "pussy" has been filtered from the search because Google SafeSearch is active
And then it dawned on me that I'd be making a huge mistake if I wrote about pussy willows given the general crowd that tends to hang out around here... and I'd have to listen to a million p-word jokes... and be reminded of the one night at Brando's when I dropped the p-bomb and people realized I was not just some nice mother who liked to paint, but rather a filthbot in disguise...
I still don't like the p-word, but I can ignore it if it's attached to willow... and thank gawd it's not the other p-word. Had they been panty willows, I would have hated them from the get-go!
I also just realized I wrote "low brow" in my categories instead of "lowbrow". This is my latest deal... I want to make evey thing into a compound word, except for actual compound words... those, I separate.
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...