MFA Mama

masturbation: ur doin it wrong

Dear Spammer Who Left The Following Comment On a Post That Mentioned a Sex Toy:

"I can fit up 2 as well, but try not to do that too often as it makes me get a headache. . I suggest that you should minimalise usage of vibrators as it is just unhealthy, mentally.. . I used to have those 'competitions' with my friends to fit them up but eventually my friend suffered from a severe nose bleed, so I stopped using them ever since.. . And regarding your answer on my question, backyard monsters is a facebook game. Don't be silly..."

1. I never said I could "fit up 2." In fact I'm pretty sure I can't.

2. What competitions?

3. I actually didn't ask you a question, so maybe add "hallucination" to your list of symptoms.

4. I don't want to tell anyone else what to do with their vibrator, but if it's giving you headaches or nosebleeds? I'm pretty sure you're doing it wrong.

Hugs, MFA Mama

victory

*****************************************************************************************************************************   

   This was supposed to be a post about an "everyday victory," and honestly I was going to come up with something a little more poetic, but some days my victory is that I survived. 

   Those of you who have been reading along for a while know that the past year and change have been pretty tough here at Casa MFA. After losing my teaching job of nearly a decade when Middle Child was admitted to the hospital the day before a key deadline, I temped and held various "weekend warrior jobs" to make ends meet. It hasn't always been pretty. Heck, I don't think it's EVER really been pretty. But you know what? I made it work, and pulled us through it.

   I haven't wanted to say too much about what's been going on at my new job, but now that the crisis is over I feel like I can talk about it. About a week ago, when things were looking so very grim, I was informed that the person who'd hired me on as "fulltime with benefits" had overstepped in doing so, and that I was (and would remain) a part-time employee (sans benefits). This really took the wind out of my sails, because it meant not only that I'd left my temp job at PseudoCorp for a job that paid $3 LESS per hour (but was supposed to come with benefits), but also that I'd have to go back on the job-hunt, because Hotter needs benefits through me before January rolls around and the Medicare "donut hole" becomes an issue. Today, though, after much complaining to HR and Management on my part and the serendipitous (for me and mine, anyway) firing of a former co-worker, I was informed that I'd been changed over to "full-time" in the system and would be eligible for benefits once my ninety-day probation was over with.

   The news couldn't have come at a better time. Today was not an easy day. Due to the afore-mentioned termination I was the only person waiting on a banquet room of seventy people tonight. I pretty much had to be like an octopus busing those tables, but you know what? I pulled it off, the guests were happy, and I wish the couple whose wedding rehearsal this dinner was a part of all the best.

   If that's not an everyday victory, I don't know what is.

****************************************************************************************************************************

Hurry in to Kroger and Kroger Banner Stores for P&G’s big sale event, June 10–23!

At Kroger and its banner stores, more than 30 of your favorite P&G brands are at HOT sale prices through June 23, including Tide, Charmin, Cascade, Pampers, Crest and Olay. Look for tags with special prices throughout the household needs and health and beauty aisles, and be on the lookout for even bigger offers – like getting serious dollars off when you buy a bundle of products.

Before hitting the store, visit P&G’s event page on Kroger.com: http://bit.ly/KG6dw5

You can play games like basketball, track and gymnastics to win money off your next Kroger trip, download digital coupons, print a shopping list, and learn more about P&G products!

And as part of this event, consider trying one of these fab products from P&G:
Vicks Nature Fusion, Charmin Basic, Downy Unstopables, and Swiffer Duster Extenders!

I was selected for participation in this campaign as a member of Clever Girls Collective.

roadside attraction pie

Thank you COOL WHIP for sponsoring this post. Join us on Facebook for inspiration and recipes for everyday treats. What you add makes it. #coolwhipmoms

 

   First, you need to find some blackberries. Don't go to the store, where you'll pay five bucks a pint for organic blackberries (if you're lucky enough to find them), find yourself a field by some woods by a country road with brambles all around the edge. Take the kids. Take the dog. Pick wild Queen Anne's Lace to put on your table. Get dirty. Pick berries until you've got four cups of berries (not counting the ones you've eaten).

   Go home. Check yourself for ticks. Wash the dog because she ran through a mud puddle eleventy-five times and she was having so much fun you didn't have the heart to stop her. Rinse your berries and pick through them for leaves and stray grass seeds.

Figure One: See that half-ripe one? Get that out of there! Who let that one in, anyway? Eat it even though you know it's going to be sour. 

   If you're me, you'll have a good-sized stalk of rhubarb kicking around from the farmer's market that's maybe gotten a little bendy, and you'll decide to throw that in there, too, so it doesn't go to waste.

Figure Two: When the youngest asks to taste the rhubarb, tell him it's too sour by itself and he won't like it. If he takes that as a challenge, go ahead and let him taste it anyway. Laugh. A LOT.

   Whip up a batch of pie crust. Nothing too fancy, just two cups of unbleached all-purpose flour sifted with a teaspoon of salt, two-thirds of a cup of the butter of your choice (I'm a grassfed cultured kind of girl, but whatever cranks your tractor), and five tablespoons of water. Cut the butter into the flour/salt mixture until the largest chunks are the size of baby peas, sprinkle the water over that, knead briskly, just until you've got a cohesive ball of dough, and divide into two parts. Roll one out for the bottom of your pie, fold in half, then in half again, and position the corner at the center of your pie pan/dish/Pyrex thingy. Unfold--voila!

   Put a cup and a half of the sugar of your choice (we're an organic evaporated cane juice household) mixed with a quarter cup of flour within reach, and decide at the last minute to pave the bottom of your bottom crust with thin slices of unpeeled apple in the hope that the pectin will keep the berries from getting too runny. By now you'll be running behind, covered in flour, peevish, and too sticky to take a picture. That's okay. We've all see apples before.

   Layer half the berries and rhubarb over the apple slices, sprinkling with the sugar/flour mixture as you go. Add another layer of apple slices, more berries and rhubarb, more sugar/flour mixture, until you run out. Sprinkle with about a teaspoon of fresh lemon juice, and dot with a tablespoon or two of butter. Roll out your second ball of pie crust dough, cover the fruit, and pinch the edges of the two crusts together. If you didn't end up with a perfect circle, patch it with a piece of extra dough. Nobody's perfect.

   Pierce your crust to vent, brush with milk to make it shiny, and sprinkle some vanilla sugar on top. Bake in an oven preheated to 450 for ten minutes, then turn the heat down to 350 and bake until the crust is golden-brown (about another forty minutes).

Figure Three: Yeah, the pie is a little cosmetically-challenged. But hey, it's homemade and delicious!

   Let your pie cool while you make dinner and a tub of COOL WHIP Whipped Topping thaws. Eat dinner. Bargain with your kids over bites of chicken. Tell them to sit up. Tell them to sit down. Tell them to put their legs down and use their fork and OH MY GOD CAN'T YOU JUST SIT LIKE A NORMAL HUMAN BEING? Avoid eye contact with your spouse lest one of you laugh and ruin the ferocity of your disapproval.

  Get everyone another fork and plate and cut the pie. If it's runny, shrug and switch to bowls and spoons, then cover the unsightly mess with COOL WHIP and dig in. It'll be delicious either way.

   I make everyday desserts like "Roadside Attraction Pie" up on the fly on my days off to give my family a tangible reminder that I love them even when they're acting like total savages (and to use up bendy rhubarb). Plus fruit pie is ALMOST a balanced breakfast.

   Almost.

 

Sponsored posts are purely editorial content that we are pleased to have presented by a participating sponsor. Advertisers do not produce the content. I was compensated for this post as a member of Clever Girls Collective, but the content is all my own.

jam

   Today, after work, once The XY showed up to take his visitation (a miracle unto itself), Hotter and I went berry-picking. We're still overdrawn, and I don't much care for the pesticidal ways of most "pick-your-own" places anyway, so we went first to a nearby roadside I've had my eye on and then to a clear-cut then overgrown access path through the woods under some power lines. Blackberries were plentiful in both places, although the season is just getting started here, and the sun was shining.
   About a quarter-mile into the woods we came across a muddy washout in the path, teeming with tadpoles--when I scouted this location out a few days ago by myself I saw lots of little adult frogs, too, although Isis scared them all away today. We let her offleash while I picked (Hotter doesn't see color or perceive depth well enough to pick safely or effectively, but came along to keep me company and wrangle the dog) and she went nuts! I have rarely seen her so rampantly joyous--she ran through the foot-deep water as fast as she could, snapping at tadpoles as she ran. When she came to the end of the water she'd go just far enough to get a good running start, turn around, and do it again; she did this over and over, getting filthy and soaked, tongue streaming. She had a blast! We all did.
At home, I picked the blackberries from our backyard, and that gave us slightly more than eight cups of berries. I made them into seven eight-ounce jars of seedless jam. The kitchen is trashed, and I'm sorely tempted to judt pitch the food mill, but all in all today was a wonderful day.
   I have tomorrow off, and am getting sleepy after my bedtime snack of fresh jam on a biscuit and milk, but I just wanted to let y'all know it's not all gloom and doom over here.
Sometimes it's also jam.

Sent from The Precious

the one where my head explodes and hits my ex below the belt

   An actual text-message conversation with my ex-husband:

MFA Mama: Could you please call Big Child? He has a field trip tomorrow that costs $9, and I am overdrawn because I loaned you that $40. He wants to know if you'll bring him the money so that he doesn't miss the trip.

The XY: Field trips aren't planned overnight. Why wasn't this paid for in advance when you signed the permission slip?

MFA Mama: He's been wanting to ask you. It isn't his fault (or mine) that you haven't taken any of your visitation in weeks. It is YOUR fault, however, that I am overdrawn. So maybe you should shut your hole or even APOLOGIZE instead of giving me grief.

   I can't believe he hasn't remarried yet, y'all. 

   I'm not the only one having baby-daddy troubles. Go and love on Annie, of MFA Blogroll fame. She has since posted an apologia of sorts, in which she takes the high road on discussing HER ex's "dick size." Today? I am MORE THAN HAPPY to tell the whole wide innernet that The XY is packing a derringer. After all, one of the ironclad defenses against libel is TRUTH.

the price of poverty

   In case you didn't follow the comments on my last post, the bank covered the rent check (we were short by less than twenty dollars)! So we're overdrawn, but we won't get evicted. That's the good news.

   The bad news is that this:

Figure One: This is our current balance. The fees won't kick in until tomorrow...

...will cost us a twenty-eight dollar overdraft fee. Then the power bill will try to automatically draft from the account. I seriously doubt the bank will cover that, too, but they WILL charge me another twenty-eight dollar fee to reject the payment. So that's fifty-six bucks down the drain. Then the utility company will kick us off the budget plan, and we'll have a $400 power bill next month that'll eff us in the a for most of July.

   I'm not done yet.

   On May 31st, the last of the traffic court dates resulting from my expired tags (which were a result of poverty), the judge ruled that I, as a "repeat offender," would have to pay sixty-four dollars in court costs. Those are due within fifteen days or my license will be suspended and I'll have to pay a seventy-five dollar reinstatement fee in addition to the court costs to get it back. 

   Payday isn't until the fifteenth, which means I'll miss the deadline by ONE. FUCKING. DAY. And that's assuming I'm not pulled over during the ONE DAY that I'll be driving on a suspended license. If that happens, well, shit, I don't even want to think about it (I already pay more for my car insurance than someone with an identical driving record and a decent credit rating). I am a safe and cautious driver, and the tags and inspection on the MFA Minivan are currently up to date, so it SHOULD be fine. With my luck, though, a light will blow or something.

   Poverty: it's more expensive than you might think.

hate all the things

   I am off today; it's not REALLY a good thing because we need money, oh god do we ever need money, but it's KIND of a good thing as my back and my lungs are just DONE. I've been coughing like a TB case and have a groaning expiratory wheeze in a minor key going on that's not the least bit cute; my back isn't that bad right now in and of itself (it's the normal "working on my feet for twelve hours at a time given What Ails Me bad," not the "fuck you string cheese" bad) but gets wrenched every time I cough, so...yeah.  I went straight from bed into a hot bath, with mentholated epsom salts in, and was JUST starting to be able to a) breathe and b) cough productively without crying when the phone rang.

   "Hello Mrs. XY, this is Dumber-than-a-box-of-hammers Clinician calling from Local Elementary School. Middle Child has diarrhea. HE NEEDS TO GO HOME."

   I have told everyone at the elementary school time and again that I prefer Ms. MS, people! I am not Mrs. XY any longer. They all know this because they all have the custody order that is part of the final decree of divorce on file, and were around during the Protective Order phase of the marital dissolution. PLUS I HAVE TOLD THEM ALL THAT I PREFER MS., OMG WHAT DO I HAVE TO DO PRINT IT ON A SHIRT? I got out of the tub, ranting to Hotter about the inherent misogyny of the English language. He unhelpfully pointed out that there are words like Madame and Senora and such and therefore it's not JUST the English language. I peevishly pointed out that I only speak and hold an advanced degree in ENGLISH and so I therefore do not give two fucks about the others (not actually 100% true, but I was not my most all-inclusively fabulous self, okay?). We agreed that Hotter would go into the school and I would sit in the car braless in my cowgirl t-shirt coughing with my dripping hair.

Figure One: This is the shirt. It isn't the best photo of the shirt and I am no longer this thin. I am too lazy to take an updated picture though, and am STILL not wearing a bra, so here you go.

   Hotter and I headed for the elementary school. On the way there, we stopped at the bank. The car ahead of us was a Mercedes with personalized plates reading "MRS ___." I went apeshit. "YOU SEE THAT? SHE IS PART OF THE PROBLEM, OMG. I SWEAR I AM GOING TO START GOING BY YOUR LAST NAME JUST TO END THE MRS. XY-ING!" I ranted. "Then they'd prolly call you Ms. Hotter," Hotter pointed out.

   At the school, I sent Hotter in. Then he came out alone. "I don't have my driver's license," he said, "and they said they don't recognize me." Hotter is on the list of people approved to pick my children up from school, and I am quite sure Middly greeted him happily by name. I realize these policies are in place for a reason, but this morning I am NOT REASONABLE. 

   I stalked into the school, coughing and wearing a wet cowgirl-flipping-the-double-screaming-eagle t-shirt. "Hi there Mrs. XY, we just need to see ID from anyone picking up a child," said the front desk lady. I slapped my license down on the counter. The clinician came over and glared at me. She still hasn't forgiven me for all the hours she (as a non-nurse) lost while Little Child needed daily tube-feeds (which meant that an actual nurse had to be on premises). I glared right back. 

   On the way home we passed a marquee board in front of Local High School reading "COGRATULATIONS GRADUATING SENIORS!" I weep.

   The real kicker is that our rent check is going to bounce over a matter of $26. The XY owes me $40. I covered an expense he was supposed to take care of for the children so that they wouldn't go without needed medical care, and THIS IS WHY I AM SO VERY RIGID ABOUT NOT DOING HIM ANY FAVORS. Every once in a while, usually when it's to the children's benefit, I cave to the pressure of various well-meaning parties (Hotter included) who don't TRULY understand how the XY is. And then I hate myself for it, especially when the rent check is going to bounce and a kid is missing an end-of-the-year party because I don't have the $10 fee for him to participate.

   I really hate myself today.

there is no free lunch, except when there literally is

Some things about New Job are terribly disappointing, some promises outright broken. I am sad. The rent payment (I THINK, because the power bill is queued up too and if I think too long about it I will cry) is about to bounce, and then there is a week to get through (I filled the gas tank and the Prograf and we just have to ride forth into the suck).

One thing about New Job that does not suck is that while Hotter is down with Middle child's tummy-virus (again, no not that one a NEW ONE, SOME MORE OMG), it didn't matter that no one had cooked. I brought home extra boxed lunches the kitchen told me I could pitch or take home, and New Job food is locally-famous for a reason: it's delicious. Little Child pronounced their fruit to be the best he'd ever tasted.

I am not having the food item the hotel is best known for tonight. I took enough for all of us to have one plus a couple extra, but there are a couple of guys who stand along the roads I drive every day holding signs that say things like "Homeless and Hungry" and "anything helps." Today I pulled over twice and gave out boxed lunches.

The line between me and those guys has never been so thin, but I'd already had plenty to eat today.

Sent from The Precious

I never write, I never call

Dear Blogland,

I am still here. Barely.

My new workplace has been in kind of a state of emergency since my second day, and I've been doing the jobs of about five different people at various times. While this means things have been interesting, and opportunities to prove myself and excel have abounded, it's also fucking exhausting.

Meanwhile, the garden and animals are in full swing. Our yard has become an oasis amongst the suburbs for wildlife and beneficial insects. The MFA Honeybees are thriving, and have expanded into a second "deep." During my last hive inspection I observed bees on ten frames and DRONES. Drones are a sign that the colony feels secure in its' workforce, queen, and resources, so I was happy to see the beggars. The bunnies are also doing well; all eight babies are hopping around, grooming themselves and each other, and starting to nibble on clover and alfalfa. We're getting excellent salads from the garden, with lots of borage and squash blossoms to add color and flavor, and it looks like our blackberries will be coming in on my upcoming days off. I've got plenty of jars, sugar, and pectin at the ready, and will be taking the wagon out full of berry containers to strip a few nearby roadsides as well as our yard when the time comes.

Currently I have a miserable chest cold, and Bad Ear is crackling. I'm pounding fluids and taking lots of vitamins. We'll see I guess.

How are all of YOU?

Sent from The Precious