Ingenious Ingenuity

I posted this link on Facebook and a friend asked what on earth had happened to American ingenuity. This was my response: We used it to design "green" vehicles that get the same gas mileage as suvs so we didn't lose any power, genetically modified food that does God knows what and factory farms that are hell on earth for the animals so we could poison ourselves with our food. Oh, and we used it to particularly good advantage to figure out how to game the system so we didn't have to pay taxes, or much to employees (for that matter), or anything to clean up our pollution or toward making a safe product - to figure out how we could get the absolute last dollar from the poor saps buying our BS. Then we (the saps - the 1% who raped the world were off somewhere sunning themselves, swimming in the warm Caribbean, and eating organic nummies prepared by world-class chefs) freaked out and stuck our heads in the sand and wailed, "This is not happening, this is not happening, this is not happening," as the world collapsed around us on absolutely every possible front. Apparently, the 1% is too busy congratulating themselves to have figured out that it's their world, too.

Bring out the violins - and not that world's tiniest, either!

I just called my mother: Mom? Can I call you and just whine?
Sure, honey.
Okay - I don't feeeeeel gooood and I'm feeeverish and my husband is a lousy mother! He has no maternal instinct at all.
Awww, poor baby, I'm sorry. You're right - he's not at all maternal. Poor baby.

Right before calling her, I called him: I'm going to bed if you're not coming home soon. I'd called him to be kind, sort of. And perhaps to lay a trap, unintentionally. I couldn't help it. There was no winning answer (You've just won bitch of the year for a wife! Ha ha, you lucky devil! Wrong answer!). I had mixed feelings. On the one hand, I didn't think it would be cool to have him come home and watch me shiver while listening to me whine when he could be hanging around with his fun buddies who weren't pitiful and greasy and wearing the same sweat pants for a week and a half. On the other hand: Come home you #*@&#^&^^ - don't you know I'm sick?!? I'm feverish! (Okay, temperaturish, whatever.) I don't care if you just made buckets of money - you only going to spend it on your new young trophy wife after I DIE OF THIS MISERABLE FLU (okay, cold maybe, or possibly a sinus infection - but it's a really bad one)!

In his defense, he just closed his biggest deal this year (That's nice, dear. But did I tell you that I had a fever?) - and he went out to celebrate! While I had a fever! (Ok, so it was a temperature - but it did hit 100! Briefly. Mostly it was around 99. But that's high for an adult! My eyeballs feel hot!)

He left me here with two (well, one really, but the other one was still coughing yesterday!) coughing children. And I can't get the ornery 4yo to stand still and put her cool little hands on my face - or even bring me a glass of ice water or some juice! Yeah, I know she's 4 - and she's too short to reach the freezer - but she could get a chair or something.

It's time for someone to take care of me! I've been in this house with a bunch of sick people for 2 weeks! I am running a fever (okay, okay, a temperature). Still! Where's my poor baby? Who's bringing me some soup? And juice! I want some juice! And a pet on my aching head....

Mom???? Mother? Where are you?

Oh wait, that's me now. Wow! What a thankless job. Sorry, Mom....

Clean Freaks

Eh, what the heck. I never get to post anymore and this was just too funny. First read the blog. Then read my comment. (Sorry, Honey, couldn't be helped.... This was a story that needed to be told.)

I love the way you clean! Me, too! That was hysterical... Last night, and I post this only because I'm basically anonymous, my husband "cleaned" the tub by swishing his body around in an epsom salt bath. I high-fived him over it. Unfortunately, he was unable to get the sides of the tub "scrubbed."

It's Complicated

I just read the NYT review of It's Complicated. Under viewer reviews, comment after comment on the food porn. Of course, the movie targets people of a certain age (over 40). I suspect I would not have been reading comments on the movie images of food were I reading about New Moon. Right before checking out the review, I read IamBossy - also food porn. My last conversation with the sister closest to me in age? Food porn - followed by an email with the recipe. Same also for recent facebook posts.

You may wonder where I'm going with this. Tonight, for Christmas dinner: (all ingredients organic, of course) angel hair with olive oil, salt, pepper, bit of pesto, cremini and maitake mushrooms, heirloom and cherry tomatoes, broccoli, collard greens (don't ask, cleaning out the fridge), red onions, garlic along with toasted crusty bread slices dipped in pesto (basil, raw pumpkin seeds, raw walnuts, olive oil, salt pepper, raw garlic, bit of water).

After licking his plate, my husband rhapsodized about my talents in considerably greater detail and feeling than he had following his former favorite treat (which used to be in the bedroom) two nights ago. I’ve just realized – we are now middle age. I never thought it would happen to us.

Google Sucks. I'm Going to Bing.

This is just wrong. The whole idea of a search is that you don't know already so you get to learn something new. If the search is personalized to you, where is the new information coming from? Where is the opportunity to learn something? So, if I've got this right, according to another article, if you're a far right-wing conservative with a racial bias and you google Michelle Obama, now you would likely get a racially charged image of her re-affirming the bias you already have rather than information you might not have known about her that might present her in a different light - say that of a real-life human being just like you - which could have the potential to educate you and open that warped little mind of yours. Oh, great gadget, Google, great gadget. It's the end of the world as we know it - but I feel fine....

Palinized

Holy cow! I thought I'd been Palinized, as in I could no longer be shocked by something said by Sarah Palin. Guess not. Does she even think for a second before she speaks? Unbelievable! She is just so totally scary. Or really, that people would listen to someone who would say something so totally ridiculous, ill-considered, and immature is what's so scary....

Cancer in the Kitchen

I just emailed this message after reading Cancer in the Kitchen in the NY Times: Thank you, thank you, thank you. I have two young daughters and I am just horrified by the idea that they're carrying a toxic chemical load. I'm trying to protect them as much as I can, but it is an impossible job - and not in at all in any kind of normal sense, not the way protecting our children is supposed to be impossible. What is being done to our children is a crime against humanity. It seems like every week I find out about something else that I've inadvertently exposed them to - their binkies, their teething rings, their toys, their "gentle no tears" shampoo, the bottles my husband gave them of my breastmilk when I was at work. It's heartbreaking. I feel so totally powerless.

Lord, I hope this has some effect eventually. I'm nearly overcome with fury every time I think about it.

Conflict of Interest? Nah...

Found this from my friend Cory - an admonition to find out who funded a study before you buy a bill of goods. What's that old adage? A statistic for every occasion? I just saw in several sources an article about hot chocolate relieving stress and boosting immunity or maybe curing cancer and bringing about world peace - something like that, anyway. Then I saw one that mentioned the organization that had conducted the study. Guesses anyone? Umm, Nestle? Bingo.

Like Fennel for Chocolate

I was cooking again. I've got to get the stuff out of my fridge before the big Thanksgiving organic order for the buying group. I had 6 or 7 yellow squash so I made a casserole.

The kids, especially Maryn, get so happy when I cook. Maryn was going on and on before bed about how much she loved me and what a great cook I was - best mother in teh world and all that. All I could think of was Josh at about 2 or 3ish? Telling me what a great cook his mom was as she was making cardboard pancakes from a box. "Mmm! My favorite, Mom, pancakes! Yay!" Worst pancakes I ever ate in my life. I'm not sure I made it past the first bite, even though I remember that I was starving. But Scott also raved, so maybe it wasn't too bad.  Here goes:

Organic ingredients, ungreased glass pan, 350, 30+ min.
Layer sliced yellow squash; minced shallots, garlic, and red bell; sliced cherry tomatoes, shitakes, lots of cut fennel greens, little bits of cheese (I used organic probiotic); light salt, pepper, & ground nutmeg. Repeat layer but without seasonings. Then, for top layer, put yellow squash, cut fennel greens (sprinkled lightly), spread little pieces of whole grain bread and ground walnuts, season lightly again but add a tiny dusting of cayenne; put on some more cheese and drizzle with olive oil.