I am making some updates to my blogrolls, here and on my home page. It’s tedious, but it’s been on my to do list for a long time. That’s because I really LOVE to read other friends and writers blogs and share their great ideas too.

However, since I’ve/we’ve started morphing to Facebook and readers and Twitter, I’ve gotten out of the habit of adding my friends on my blogroll here. I think I keep waiting for some kind of miracle of technology to tell me it has some kind of Google Search shortcut to find out all my favorite sites and dropping links to them on my blogroll.

Let’s face it: I am sure that widget exists, but I haven’t found it yet.

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So anyway, as I was doing that today, I realized I’d broken my blog. If you are one of those people who reads it at the actual site you might have notice the formatting has changed. I had to dismantle it entirely because a plugin I installed started chomping away at its insides. Yes, that is the technical term.

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Which is fine. I really want to update the theme here, but I haven’t been able to decide what I like yet. All of this has made me forget — ARGH! — what I meant to start by telling you which is that I stopped by Amy Oscar’s blog today. I’d been away from her for awhile, and the minute I returned I was in love again.

The design isn’t all that fancy. It’s just her VOICE I love to hear. She sounds so comfortable and regular. It’s very hard to achieve that in writing. You have to practice being yourself ALOT in everyday life. Another friend of mine — Alma Schenider, who has the great cooking blog “Take Back the Kitchen” — also has this sort of easy voice on her blog. Makes you feel very at home. When you meet Alma in real life, she very at home in her own skin too. I haven’t met Amy in real life, but I bet she’s cool like that too.

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Which is just to say that I keep on forgetting to just chill out in my writing. The month of small stones, though, helped. (Thanks Fiona) And the poetry is helping too.

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Oh, and in case you are curious what’s a favorite topic of conversation at the dinner table around here, I can tell you: it’s llamas.

All llamas, all the time.

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I have a super great old friend from college, Jen. She’s a writer (here’s her book) and a journalist. And a mom.

She lives in Des Moines and recently she acquired chickens.

She and her husband and her kids have chickens in their backyard. 

Do you ever look at your friends, when they do something cool/amazing/odd/wonderful/outrageous and think:

“Uh oh.”

Here it comes. The Existential Chicken Crisis.

The other day, my friend Deb was over and she mentioned chili or something and then she said:

“Ah I saw that article you posted on Facebook, what was it? The 10 Foods You Should  Never Eat? And I thought OH NO!! Here I thought I was doing something great, making homemade chili! But I use CANNED TOMATOES! Ah shit. They were on that list.”

See?

Uh oh. Existential Tomato Crisis.

There are times — many times — when I have wished I were a moron. Existential Chicken Crises are definitely one of them.

Oh don’t worry. It’s not a permanent feeling. It’s just passing moment when I think:

“OH wouldn’t it be so much easier if I were an idiot and didn’t notice ANYTHING at all and could just work as a waiter forever, and then come home and roll around mindlessly on my Made in China sectional, right after I put ALL of the wrappers from my fast food — include the recyclable and compostable ones — in the trash can?

Then I have  to say no to myself. My days of waiting tables and eating quesadillas at midnight — for the most part– are over. That’s fine with me.

It’s just then I have to DEAL with the new information. I have to DECIDE: am I going to be a person who hosts chickens in MY backyard, or am I going to keep buying them from the chicken factory?

Or something in between.

Once new information seeps in, it makes just living a decent life a tussle.

I don’t think it’s keeping up with the Joneses so much. It’s keeping up following our own ideology: what our family wants to be.

Existential Chicken Crisis commence.

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The following blog post is part of the BIG QUESTION series for September, asking “What does America want?”

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Search term: ”Halloween Costumes for Little Girls”

Search Engine Platform: Google Images

Top four hits:

This can't be her body.

"I want to suck your blood.... but that tooth is loose."

I am sure there is nothing implied here with this perfectly innocent French maid's costume.

Photographer said: "Pretend you are thinking about your next spelling test" right?

Halloween is now a night for girls gone wild!

But this is old news. Even mainstream media has been squawking about the sorry state of costumes for girls (not to mention women!) since at least since 2007.

Drama Queen Major Flirt

Still, nothing has changed. In fact, we are getting even sluttier!

Four years on, and not even the exact costume mentioned in Newsweek – “Drama Queen Major Flirt” (pictured above) —  has been changed to make it less offensive. Or less packed with innuendo. Here’s the description…

“Make any soldier with an attitude drop and give you twenty when you suit up as Major Flirt, the highest-ranking Drama Queen in the army! This classic girls costume comes with military green dress, vinyl studded belt, Major General’s hat and matching glovettes–all you’ll need to get them to stand at A-tten-tion!”

I am not exactly sure what makes a military officer cross over into Drama Queen status.  That doesn’t even make sense. Oh, and are vinyl studded belts standard issue in the Army now??

Gee, couldn’t the good designers at Spirit at least give her a belt with  real grenade and actual gun? So, just in case someone “accidentally” misinterprets her 6-year-old, just-off-the-bus girlish charms with something a bit more consumable, she could protect herself?

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Sexing up little girls to make money in Halloween goes beyond the ridiculous. At what point do parents stop buying this crap and just use whatever junk they find in the house and dress their kids up like a hobo or ghost again? Soon I hope.

Homemade isn’t easy! I know… I, too, cringe at the idea of hot glueing my child into something he/she might be ridiculed for.

But don’t you think it has to be done? Because if we decide to settle for something quick and easy, (seriously, pun intended) then what you get is a whole world of “Sweet Lil’ Treat.”

Mmmm. Yummy.

Now on sale for $25 at Target. She’s a sweet lil’ bargain.

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Here’s some links for homemade costume ideas.

MY MOM MADE THIS!

Family Fun’s Costumes for Kids

No Sew Costumes for Kids

75 Homemade Costumes for Toddlers

Daily Green’s 25 Costumes Made fro Recycled Materials

9 Awesome Last Minute Costumes

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In October, I will be one of thousands of bloggers writing as part of Tara Mohr’s  ”The Girl Effect.” Do you know the impact girls have on the world? Go ahead and click on that link (after you put your comments in the box below.) XO Thanks.

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It’s a question I ask myself everyday, really.

I wanna know what my superpowers are!

Mind Melding? No thanks! Too much going on up there as it is.

Invisibility? Could I deflect that power onto others at times?

Levitation would be super-cool though I am not sure how useful. What does one do once you get the people up there? Can you also tickle them from a distance?

Firestarter? I could see where this might work as a niche business plan. Maybe. In Canada.

FLYING! This could be fun. But wait. Is there a weight limit? How many kids can I take with me? I can hear the arguments already….

Super Strength sounds nice. Though I am not sure how practical the ability to pick up a cement mixer is. I can already carry 9 grocery bags at once.

Sonic Scream? Check.

I guess I’ll keep thinking on it.

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Fine, Matt. This is posted because you told me to.

I am about to tell you something really gross that’s going to make you puke, so get the bucket.

I don’t have to work at all if I don’t want to.

(Go ahead. Heave away. I’ll wait while you blow your nose.)

Back? Feeling better? Let me help.

Yes, it’s true. Colin makes a decent salary, and we have some help too around the house. So even though I am officially the “CEO” of our house (which is work to be sure), there are definitely days I could lay on my bed from 9 to 4 and that wouldn’t majorly impact the course of life in our home.

However, who wants a life like that?

Do you? OK, maybe you want a day or two like that, but all the time

No, trust me, you don’t.

Did you know that working makes you feel valuable? I do. I know that because ever since I got married (NOTE: this has NOTHING to do with Colin. Anyone who knows him knows this) and I haven’t been required to be the primary wage earner, my own sense of personal value has changed.

Before: I worked two jobs to support myself. If I wanted ANYTHING, I worked and then I earned enough money to pay for it.

After: I chose to focus on writing, to work for “life” and to see where that takes me. I make a bit of money, bring in “extra cash” for us. Enough to buy “little extras” and to pay the babysitter. By and large, we live within the means of our combined incomes: that is to say, within the means of what Colin earns.

This is like a brick to the head. Work makes people feel valuable, but not just work: it’s the paycheck, too. And it’s not just the paycheck, as those on unemployment benefits will tell you. It’s the combination of the two.

Also, with the kids (and even before them) I do LOTS of work around the house in my role as “CEO” of the family. But I don’t get a paycheck for it. I’m not complaining, by the way. Colin’s paycheck covers everything we need and want and that is something we share. However, our nanny helps with many of the same tasks around our house — organizing kids schedules. dishes, playdates, helping with homework, laundry, cleaning up, etc. — yet at the end of each two weeks, that work is affirmed, with a piece of paper that can be exchanged for money.

Some work done without compensation feels empty. At least if it is done over and over again. And this is true, even if people are grateful. I find it is nice to hear the thanks, but at the end it doesn’t matter so much if you are paid in kindness.

Show me the money.

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I used to be one of those annoying, know-it-alls about education.

“School is the only place for a child to learn what it is REALLY like out there in the world.”

I’d sneer.

Well, then, what happened was:
I actually MET people who homeschool.

I spent time around their kids.

I learned more about how children learn, in general.

AND, I then I got a big dose of how schools are today (versus the cushy experience I had at St. Paul the Apostle growing up).

And I met some of the actual students who have emerged from actual schools and entered the college system.

And I cried and cried and cried.

Homeschooling – You Can’t Handle the Truth!

…because the truth might be that most public schools are letting our kids down. And the truth might be that even though we all are branded with fear that if we homeschool, our kids will be weird, underneath it all we find, ALL KIDS ARE WEIRD.

My friends who homeschool are amazing. They do use curriculum from websites but they also have a great deal more freedom.

Sounds nice, doesn’t it?

Let’s be real: that’s like saying “working from home and owning your own business is SO much easier than showing up to a desk someone picked out for me, working on a computer someone bought for me, writing emails through a complex IT system (with firewall and virus software) that is supported just on the other end of that really nice phone someone gave me.”

In fact, homeschooling to me sounds really hard. Sure there are curricula to work from, but you still have to create an entire learning system for your OWN kids. And it has to be done (to a certain extent) from the confines (yes I do intend to make that sound like prison) of their home.

Homeschool sounds HARD.

And like madness, torture, and some kind of Pilgrim experiment created by people ALOT smarter than me who are of the ilk who would say something like: “I don’t LIKE being persecuted for my religious beliefs! Come on, family. Let’s all take this boat and sail across the ocean to unbroken land and build our own colony and be free! How bad could the winters be?” And then do it.

And I think, maybe, because it sounds really hard — and kind of “different” — some people who don’t see themselves as wild, maverick-y pilgrims of educations are much more comfortable making fun of homeschooling.

Rather than learning about it. Ironically. But perhaps not surprisingly.

They, like me, like living in La-La land Utopia of what we imagine “school” is — that happy place where everyone gets treated fairly, everyone learns at the same pace, and the rooms are filled with the hum of brains growing.

Because at best, “good” schools are culturally unbalanced and performance driven. At worst, the bad schools are nothing short of Thunderdome.

But that’s off the subject because….

Today,  I am praising my often maligned and usually misunderstood homeschooling homies — the moms who spend ALL day, ALL week, MOST of their time with their kids, not just shaping their values and wiping their snot, but teaching them about metamorphosis, derivatives, class and race issues surrounding the Civil War, how to play the steel guitar and basket weaving.

Oh, and about the whole socialization thing... I feel confident these homeschool kids can learn intricacies of what they are missing —  bullying, techniques for making out with your tongue, and how to text my Facebook status from my phone.

These kids seem pretty smart. And self-motivated. If they don’t figure it out by college, I KNOW they will look it up.

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I'm having steamed fish and broccoli for lunch

Here’s my Zen meets Don Draper assessment of life: Everyone Eats the Gummy Worm.

I’m thinking about this, because  I’m getting sort of a mish-mash of people on my Twitter Feed with no organization at all. Yes, I know there are list-y things, but I am not where I can use those to my (diss-)advantage yet.

SO, there’s @Zen_Habits comingling with @DonDrapersLiver… what the hell is wrong with this picture?

What Does it All Mean?!

Hmmm well…

Maybe it’s a little bit like killing the buddha on the road when you meet him, and then going to the bar afterward to ponder the consequences. Which then leads to getting so drunk you forget where you parked the car, so you let a really hot guy drive you home and make out with him in front of your house until your Mom comes out and pounds on the window and says “Where the hell is the car?!” and you pull away from the handsome redhead and suddenly think:

“Wasn’t I 40-years-old and in India at the beginning of this story?”

Then, of course, other questions follow

Why am I so human? Did I ever actually READ “The Hitchhiker’s Guide” or did my husband just talk about it a lot?  Why am I so interested in what in your closet today, you supremely wonderful, semi-famous-y other normal person?

Poor Buddha. He had no idea I was coming, that I bludgeoned him with that thrift store andiron, and that afterward I slugged back that unworthy bourbon, and and cheated on my guru.

My Twitter feed prompts me into such trouble. It is a rambly-pambly edible metaphor of who I dream of being, along with the hauntings of my distracted life. I love both parts of that life so much. I love consuming the beany fiber of daily inspirations and rah-rahs that spur me to action, reminding me I’m GOOD!

But at the same time, I roll my tongue luxuriously over the wriggling sweet candy of black humor, word play, exhaustion and personal angst that TASTE so good.

Handily, It’s a also great place to grab a pile of  life coaches and to stare into their beatific smiles.  I love them for that.

But I crave, too, the rolling-rumbling beer bellies and grease-slick smirks. I am not going to eat quinoa (I don’t know how to pronounce it yet) at every meal, even if I lie to you and say I will.

Yeah, I crave black beans on Tuesdays, with tortillas and a margarita and time with Tammy.

But I like dessert. I like crunchy sugar worms that no self-respecting carp would ever fall for.

Shouldn’t  we all?

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Fuck I hate that word.

So there in my email is a simply GORGEOUS woman smiling at me and underneath her is the prompt for the day and it just so happens to be one of single words in the English language that I hate more than any other.

ACHEIVE.

Ergh. How does it make me FEEL??? (Note: Please stop reading now if you’re the sort that likes stuffing your feelings deep down inside. Or only expresses them in cherry pink and sparkle colored smiles, as appropriate in public).

SO, I want to ACHIEVE not feeling like a human being and a big fat failure this year. Unfortunately, right now, I am FAILING at that and just going on one of those stupid useless and cyclical rants caused my lack of sleep, general malaise, and FEAR of exposing myself as a human being with flaws.

I mean, don’t get me wrong: I get ALOT done, and am often very successful at what I set out to do. I ACHIEVE everyday!! But fuck if it hardly ever feels like “to bring to a successful conclusion; accomplish; attain.” (Thanks Free Dictionary)

Top 10 Reasons I WILL Achieve Everything I Desire in 2011, (Yet Still Feel Like Shit).

10. Self-esteem (every form) appears to be chronic.

9. I haven’t yet been able to snatch the horizon and put it in  my pocket.

8. Oh look at that girl over there! She’s got even BIGGER earrings and TALLER boots than me. Please pass the ice cream.

7. I have naturally curly hair… you know what THAT means when it rains. Or when you go to the hairstylist.

6. The sore throats just keep coming back.

5. The word “saboteur” is too cool a word to banish from one’s personal collection of identities.

4. My copy of The Common Book of Standards (With Which To Measure One’s Self Against in Any and Every Case) was lost in a bacon pan fire.

3. Jay Leno just KEEPS coming back. CHIN!

2. Too many previous examples of flattened souffles to eat my way through.

And, finally…

1. The Baby New Year does not look at ALL happy that top hats and irony are predicted to be OUT this season.

So, in conclusion, my BIG GOAL for 2011 is to just find a bunch of random people on Twitter and take whatever advice they happen to doling out that day, in the hopes that the best bitty chatter will land me in some useful place of joy for some small slice of time.

Achieving, ultimately I hope, a busted-down but beautiful mosaic year, full of promise, spontaneity, and as little sadness as I can muster.

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On Day 27 of #reverb10, Brene Brown asked:

What was one of your most joyful ordinary moments this year?

My moment was an accumulation of split-second realizations: each about the same and exquisitely lovely. They were those moments when you are looking into the eyes of someone and you suddenly see the glimmer of returned love and friendship.

Because we have passed mile marker “Year 3″ in Connecticut, it seemed logical that some of our friendships have started to stick. But logic has nothing to do with that vast expanse of loneliness that I always seem to forget about when I get all excited by the prospect of moving somewhere new. I was glad this year to start to feel that “safe” feeling with my friends: where you can begin the task of ordinary friendship and all its wonders.

It’s all well and good. After all it should take a LONG TIME to find “the people” again; you know the ones. The people who:

• get me
• forgive me and come back
• ignore me when I forget to flip the “tact” switch
• (Actually find my lack of tact sort of charming, and kind of a relief.. in that “She said that! Hah! WOW! I would never have said that. Hmmm, but it WAS what I was thinking….”)
• laugh AT me at at just the right moments
• laugh with me the rest of the time
• don’t act all that surprised if they find me blubbering over in a corner now and then
• wear their own skin like the most comfy fleece ever!– because those are the only kinds of people I seem to attract
• carry VIP membership to the Generosity Circle of the Universe.

So today, right now, I am thinking of the sweet friends I earned, gained, grabbed, nabbed, or just got lucky enough to nudge into with the minivan in 2010.

I often am unsure why they hang around me, (waiting for Colin to get home and make dinner?) but I am thrilled to have them for any reason.

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The #reverb10 prompt for today is about “soul food” which to me has always directly translated into “comfort food.”

And who can speak more about the extensive need for comfort food than Colin and I?

Colin and I are wrapping up YEAR 2 of ” Creme-Filled Uncertainty” with a big sidedish of “Deep Fried Instability.” We like to garnish our days, as I have mentioned before, with a tangy relish of Denial.

At the end of the day, however, when the house is quiet and we’ve laid down our arms on the battlefield once again with sibling rivalries and beating back Princess and Iron Man useless plastic crap, we inevitably comfort our emotional wounds like people have done for centuries.

With food.

In particular, I myself — no longer getting to go OUT for buffalo wings and now being the goddess of fruits and veggies, must be a good example myself — love to partake in a little bowl of Pennsylvania Dutch treat: Snyder’s of Hanover Buffalo Wing flavored pretzel pieces.

I tried them once, and two years later I have not looked back.

Colin has other snack-hour favorites, and when we have guests, he will even do the complicated and special process of making real buttered popcorn for them. Which is treat that we share with the rest of the family once in a while, on movie night.

But, for the two of us, the sanctity of our down time has been marked by an opportunity to go blindly into the snack cupboard, and to come out sighing in relief.

We have plans to wean ourselves from this habit over the new year and I am confident we will. For the time being, however, as we walk on our path of questionable circumstance, we aren’t giving ourselves too hard a time over a little comfort food therapy.

This post was part of #reverb10, and the prompt was Soul food. What did you eat this year that you will never forget? What went into your mouth & touched your soul? (Thanks to author Elise Marie Collins)

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