July 28, 2011

The Grand MoMare Adventure
         A (painfully)  
Short Story


<ahem>


She arrived.

We ate heartily

nom

and drank (very dramatic) cups of coffee.


We lazed about and chit-chatted

 boop

and sat on sidewalks drinking tea



and swilling beer.



 We got to peruse many a-menu



 because that's what happens
when you eat a lot and are daunted
by giant flatware.

 RAWWRRR


We had fantastic hair




and gesticulated wildly



and made funny faces in public places



  until we nearly peed from laughter.



And even though we felt exhausted at times


oy

that didn't stop us from admiring the flowers



 I think those are weeds


eating radishes the size of baseballs

womp

and flaunting our fantastic bosoms.

yowza




The End.


A Nice Meander
















 Crotch shot

Pre Mom-Flying-Out-to-Visit Texts

Mom: Am packing!!!!!!  I have no clothes and what I have I hate!!!!!!  Aaaarrrgggghhhh! The bane of womanhood!

Mom (trying to send me a picture of an old tin canister with hand-painted rooster):  Do you love like hate or have no response to this?

...

Mom:  Did you get a pic?  Jim and I are tards . . .

Me:  Nope, no pic.

Mom:  How bout this time?

Me:  Nope.

Mom:  Good god damn how the fargity fuck fuck do you send a freakin effin picture with one of the fuckin fargin android fuckin phones anyway?  I've done it before . . .

...

. . . . .

.   .   .   .   .   .

<Successfully sends me a picture of her students in class. Hooray!>

Mom:  Take a pic of U and send it to my class.  Be butiful

Me:





















Mom:  I was freakin serious.  My perfect students want to see your face.

Me:  What?!  Don't I look butiful??

Mom:  Everyone here is puking.

July 6, 2011

Notes to Self:
new favorite word: incarnation
new favorite goal: binge on strawberries now to last you through the winter
long-time vice in a new way: refrigerated chocolate
long-time annoyance that always feels new: cramps
new favorite thing that feels like I've had it a long time: my grey Ikea nightstand
new laughs with long-time friends: simply superb

Word of Wisdom:

Think twice before you cut your own hair, especially if you are feeling rebellious, and particularly if the words "reinventing myself" are rolling around in your brain.

I didn't go so far as to cut all the way around my head, but the bangs are definitely Short Bus style.

Nothing a black t-shirt and lots of eyeliner can't solve, I suppose.

July 3, 2011

Well, Pepper Me Sideways...

I've done it.  I've splurged.

I've been operating on a pretty strict budget for about five years or so (I am suddenly appalled by the number of years it's been since college...) and even though I've got a reliable income, I still sometimes revert back to my just-moved-away-from-home programming, when spending seven dollars on a salad bar would have really set me back, and is only made easier to swallow by the handfuls of muffins I've stuffed in my purse.

Fast forward to seven-ish months ago and I'm in Fred Meyer shopping for Course Grind Black Pepper.  Without doubt, I spend no fewer than eight minutes on average standing in the spice aisle -- the labels are absurdly tiny, one garlic powder costs $1.99 and another one two rows up costs $4.99 (Why? Why?!), sometimes the cinnamon comes in a tin and sometimes a round bottle.  It might just be me, but it always feels frantic and disorganized in the spices, and I usually end up mad.

I figure pepper is no big deal, on par with salt and russet potatoes and lip balm, and I scan the labels for the right one.  If you haven't already heard, I am, without question, my mother's daughter (in more ways than one) and in its most recent incarnation, I am spiritually, religiously, and vehemently opposed to regular pepper, which I still lobby should be called That Powdery Crap.  Who likes a big sloppy clump of pepper in their eggs?  Nobody.

Scanning...scanning...scanning...*BING* there it is, only this particular Course Grind comes packaged in a GIGANTIC container and costs >gasp< ten dollars.  TEN. DOLLARS.  I choke a little.  I was expecting one, maybe two dollars, max.

I've never looked up the word "extortion" before, but I'd bet money this is what it means.

It's the only option for Course Grind Black Pepper in the entire store.  Infinite options for everything else in the marketable universe (Really?  Only six choices of organic, raw Kombucha?) but pepper appears to be a novelty.  Eff that.  I'm not spending ten dollars on pepper.  It's up there with deodorant -- I mean, it's important, but how important?

I pass on the Course Grind and eventually find a suitable alternative and go on my way.

Fast forward again to four days ago and I'm swimming in a mound of leftover cabbage that I don't know what to do with.  I'd made a Chinese food stir-fry thing with cabbage and I'd have used it all if my pan was big enough.  I ended up not being very interested in the stir-fry, so I packed it for Bear's lunch and he ate it for breakfast instead.

"Will, what do I do with all this extra cabbage?!"

"Make coleslaw."

Oh.  Good call.

(A few days later after I made the coleslaw, I suggested he eat some for breakfast and he said "That's not breakfast food.")

It only comes to my attention at this moment that I have never made coleslaw before.  I text Mom.

Ma! I need your coleslaw recipe -- stat.

She called a few hours later and left the recipe in a voice mail.  I jotted it down on a piece of yellow non-legal sized legal paper.

Ma's Slaw
Cabbage, diced
Celery, 3 or 4 stalks, finely chopped
Carrot, shredded directly into bowl
Salt, a little
Pepper, LOTS
Onion powder, a little
Mayo, until it looks right

Good deal.  I've got almost all of that, and you know what would be awesome in this?  Some Course Grind Black Pepper.  That's what Mom uses, and I want it to be just like hers, so I must retrieve some.

I'm standing in Fred Meyer slowly seething at the chaos of the spice aisle when Ah-HA! there's the pepper, then Holy Shit it's ten bucks?! then OMG I can't NOT have Course Grind Black Pepper in my coleslaw or it won't taste just like Mom's, but Mother of Pearl this is expensive, and if it doesn't taste just like Mom's I won't eat it and I'll have to make Will eat it, even though he'll eat anything I ask him to (he's the best-looking garbage disposal I've ever had) and I'll end up having to buy more cabbage to make it again to see if it'll taste just like Mom's and this is already turning into a disaster and Dude why are you freaking out right now? I don't know, I think the spice aisle gives me panic attacks.  Can everybody just stop crowding me for a minute?!  I have to think.

Zennnn.

Hey, Pea?  Remember you're not in college anymore?  Remember that you don't drink free Student Center coffee that tastes like a bathroom and have to wear the same underwear two days in a row to cut back on laundry expenses?

Ohh.  Yeahh . . .

I splurge.  I buy the ten dollar pepper, make the coleslaw just like Mom said, and *hot damn* it tasted just like hers.  This fact was further solidified when Brother came over, said he was gonna have a bite of my 'slaw, got down to the last two bites and looked up at me, mildly horrified.

"Dude. I ate all your coleslaw."

"YEAH you did."

I feel okay about spending that much money on something I thought would be dirt cheap, because  a) it's delicious, and  b) it is key to many things.  And, since that huge bottle will probably last me about three years, it's like paying $0.25 a month for pepper with no interest.  I guess I can swing that.