MFA Mama

I am still out of sorts; here is a cute fuzzy bunny

Figure One: Nine days and a little fuzz makes a BIG difference! Much cuter now.

Figure Two: And here is a bonus photo; I think it's one of the best I've ever personally taken. This is one of the MFA Honeybees working the borage in the front strawberry bed. Borage flowers are delicious in salads and on cakes and cookies. Bees love them too, though, and will buzz your head aggressively as you pick.

the one where I turn into no one from my family tree, apparently

   I was going to start this post out by saying that I've turned into my own grandfather, hobbling around nursing my bad back and carping at the kids that if I had a nickel for every time they opened the dadblamed door I could use that money to pay the power bill...except then I remembered that when my grandfather's back was acting up that was a euphemism for HEMMORHOIDS. I briefly considered who else in my family I might currently resemble...my father, for all that he has ninety-nine problems (of which a solid half-a-dozen involve bitches), never had a bad back. And while The Narcissist frequently SAID she had a bad back, that was usually a euphemism for GOT NEW TITS AGAIN and she never cared about the power bill anyway and I DON'T KNOW, OKAY, I AM LIMPING AROUND LIKE SOME WHOLLY NEW INDIVIDUAL RISEN FROM THE GODDAMN SEAFOAM, OR MAYBE AN AMALGAM MY BRAIN COBBLED TOGETHER FROM STOCK CHARACTERS ON NICK AT NITE.

   My back hurts and my kids will. not. stop. going. in. and. out. of. the. front. door. They even invite their FRIENDS to come over here and go in and out.

   But I actually came on here to tell y'all about a genius new time-saver I came up with for eating backyard salad.* All you need is failing vision, a devil-may-care attitude, and a peppermill. Ready? OF COURSE YOU ARE!

1. Go cut some salad.

2. Toss any obviously non-lettuce leaves, yellowed ones, and leaves with slugs attached into the compost heap. 

3. Rinse the salad.

4. Chop other things into the salad.

5. Make your dressing, and before you apply to your salad, coarse-grind some pepper in (rainbow peppercorns are the best for this).

6. If you see a speck in your salad? Just tell yourself it's pepper and keep eating.

   Trust me, y'all, this is MUCH faster than going through it a leaf at a time. 

   Now, what do I win?

 

*   Which, shockingly enough, IS NOT A EUPHEMISM FOR ANYTHING, GET YOUR MIND OUT OF THE GUTTER. Seriously, GAWD!

OH (the "only at my house" edition)

Hotter (bringing in a tray of seedlings): These look like mushrooms!
MFA Mama (turning to look): Which?
Hotter: These. The tall ones (jiggles the tray so that some canteloupe sprouts that are getting leggy wave back and forth).
MFA Mama: I...they're green. I don't see how those look ANYTHING like mushrooms.
Hotter: They're tall and skinny! Like straw mushrooms, you know, tall and skinny with weird little heads?
MFA Mama: Ohhhh like Chris Brown's dick! 
Hotter: WHAT!
MFA Mama: You haven't seen that picture of him, on the innernet? It's all long and skinny...with a weird little head.
Hotter: How is it that there are genitals on the innernet that you've seen and I haven't? He's not even your type!
MFA Mama: Eh. That's what happens when you remodel a Soulless Corporate Megalith store on the graveyard shift. Everybody gets tired and someone compares a long, skinny shelf bracket that just hit someone to Chris Brown's dick and everyone but you laughs and then they're all shocked you haven't seen it and tell you to go home and Google it.
Hotter: Huh. I guess you learn something new every day. 

in which I have a mostly good weekend and clearly it angers the gods

*   Friday night Hotter came down with Middle Child's most recent GI bug.

*   Undaunted, and fortified with Immodium and a fabulous purse filled with snacks, we sallied forth on Saturday and saw The Hunger Games with those movie vouchers. It was excellent.

*   Sunday I mowed, edged, trimmed, and weeded ALL THE THINGS. Which is good, because it rained all damn day Saturday and rained again today and the plants (the grass included) are all growing like mofos.

*   Today was Big Child's birthday. In preparation for that I went into work an hour and fifteen minutes early, left early, ran to Trader Joe's with my rubber checkbook, and got groceries (we were out of EVERYTHING). Then I headed straight home, brought the groceries into the house, and...threw my back ALL THE WAY OUT reaching to put a package of organic string cheese away in the fridge.

*   Yeah. I can dig three-foot trenches, throw sixty-pound bags of potting soil around, hell, I can dead-lift my HUSBAND and carry him on a triumphant lap around our living room just to be a dick prove a point, but a one-pound bag of cheese sticks? Dropped me in my tracks today like I'd been pole-axed.

*   This is the worst back pain I have ever experienced, I think. Including the time I broke my goddamn back. I have taken a liver-damaging amount of Tylenol-laced narcotics and a hefty dose of naproxen (FUCK MY CLOTTING TIME! IN THE ASS! WITH EVERY DICK THAT EVER THERE WAS, THIS IS THAT BAD) and I still can't move any of my limbs without yelping. Also, my legs aren't working very well. Nobody panic, this isn't all that unusual for me when my back is acting up, it's just never been THIS BAD before. I like to think I have a pretty robust pain threshold, but this has me whimpering like a little bitch. If I don't wake up tomorrow miraculously improved I don't have any idea what I'll do.

*   Well, that's a damn lie. Unless I lose the ability to walk I will go to work anyway and be fucking MISERABLE all day, is what I'll do. But right now I don't see how I'll manage. Of course, I didn't see how I'd bake the requested triple-coconut/vanilla layer cake earlier, either, and I still did that, so I guess I'll do what I have to do and even smile during if need be. I'm just not particularly looking forward to it.

*   How are all of YOU?

today BROUGHT IT!

*   I may have a freelance gig doing something I am only marginally qualified to do for someone terrifyingly rich and important at PseudoCorp. When they asked me to meet with them I thought it was regarding PseudoCorp business, but instead they want my help with a personal project that is kind of neat but OH MY GOD DID I MENTION HOW BIG AND IMPORTANT AND RICH AND TERRIFYING THEY ARE? YES? WELL THIS IS ME DOING IT AGAIN BECAUSE GAHHHHH!

*   Okay. Deep breaths. I'm actually more qualified than I thought to do this, in fact it may be something I could start doing as a consultant on the regular if I can get over the overwhelming urge to puke on The Client's shoes and run screaming and waving my hands in the air, heedless to the enormity of my pit-stains (what, you don't sweat profusely when you're nervous? LUCKY YOU). I just...well. I have kind of a complex when it comes to rich people stemming back to my childhood when the only rich people I knew were banging The Narcissist and lavishing her with gifts, which I think my dad kind of accepted as his penance for transgressions of his own in prior marriages, but the whole thing kind of cheesed me off because it tended to throw fuel on the fires of her "I was meant for better than this" complex, with "this" meaning "me." WHOA. AWKWARD. I don't talk about The Narcissist on here (or anywhere else) much for a reason. ANYWAY. Rich people. TERRIFYING. Shit.

*   I have a strict "no turning down work" policy, however. I will put on my big girl panties and Do Lunch with the rich people next week and see where it leads. If I do a good job this might be a foot in the doorway to Better Things. So: YAY!

*   Then I came home and TORE UP the garden, and didn't even find and have to kill any venomous snakes in the process, so, you know, that was good.

*   And then...well. The boys had dinner visitation with their father tonight and I won't stoop ALL the way to juvenile lockerroom bragging, but...a bar has been raised in this house, and that's all I will say.

*   Hotter is feeling much better, obviously. 

*   I am starting to feel less panicky about Big Child's pending birthday. I Have A Plan. He has an Innernet Fairy Godmother who stepped in and is helping me out with the whole Red Robin thing (which is fabulous, because he will be thrilled but also because with his Asperger's if you do something ONCE you have set a PRECEDENT and if you don't do it again the next time the world will fly off its axis and crash into the sun and we will all DIIIIIIIIE...okay, not really. It's not QUITE that bad. But no matter how carefully I tried to explain it he would most likely internalize it as "Red Robin is where one goes for birthdays and we are not going this year because I HAVE DONE SOMETHING TERRIBLY WRONG" and start washing his hands raw again and making us repeat everything we say until we hit the magic number of repetitions, so: yeah), and the only thing Big Child has mentioned really wanting lately (my kids don't ask for much...they know we're poor and don't ask unless they're really, REALLY jonesing for something special) is a Hunger Games t-shirt that one of his friends has that he is convinced is ONLY sold at the very mall where the local Red Robin is located. So if I tell Big Child we have to wait until a non-schoolnight then I will have gotten paid and will be able to get him the t-shirt while we're there for dinner next Friday night. It'll kill me a little bit to buy it in person without a coupon or any cash back from eBates, but it'll make him happy so I will deal :)

*   And now I am off to bed...how are all of YOU?

cottonmouth [ETA]

   So on Friday Middle Child's class went on a field trip to a local nature center. Among other things, they learned how to identify poisonous vs. non-poisonous snakes. I thought that was fabulous and took a moment to go over the ways to spot a poisonous snake with all three MFA Children (fat body, triangular head, patterns, etc.). Hotter thought I was being over-cautious given that we live in the suburbs, but there are woods behind our house and I am a big fan of safety.

   Flash forward to today after work, when I was clearing an overgrown patch of grass where the chicken pen used to be (I am digging trenches there and plan to plant corn in the extremely fertile soil the MFA Flock left behind). This is an area I'd allowed to go wild, because wild strawberries grow there and the bunnies like to eat those. There were also a lot of nice dandelions that I'd been picking (bare-handed) to make dandelion chips. I pulled up an old piece of tarp, and there underneath it was a tiny little coiled up baby snake. Oh! Another worm snake! Cute! But when I bent down for a closer look, I noticed a pattern. Oh. OH!

   So naturally I grabbed the little sumbitch (chill, y'all, I was wearing thick leather gardening gloves--there is no way in hell that little baby cottonmouth could've nailed me through those, and I grabbed it right behind the head), because mama loves a visual aid (and if I'd struck at it in tall grass with a shovel I might've missed and it could've escaped and grown up to bite one of my kids):

Figure One: Look, kids! A Water Moccasin!

   We all studied the snake, which I have since ID'd as a Water Moccasin, and then I grabbed my trusty sledgehammer, The Fraulein, and took the pretzel jar containing the snake to the driveway. I felt kind of weird about the whole thing. I mean, killing a chicken because we're hungry and planning to eat it is one thing, but we didn't stand to gain anything from this snake's death and it hadn't actually hurt anyone. I dumped it out of the pretzel jar, and immediately it assumed a belligerent, coiled-up stance as if to strike. ALRIGHTY THEN!

Figure Two: The Fraulein: 1, Water Moccasin: 0

   So yeah, I didn't relish dispatching that little snake, but I also didn't like the idea of having it for a neighbor, and gas prices being what they are the thing had to go (in the past I've been known to relocate unwanted snakes, but this week our finances don't have room for mercy toward venomous reptiles). And then I went and put my adrenaline rush to use digging a trench to plant some corn in.

   And how was YOUR day?   

ETA: I forgot to mention that yes, I mowed the wild strawberries and dandelions in the area in case there were more...I didn't see any, and there was only the one scrap of cut-up tarp there that would've been a good place to hide so I think we're good. But I'll keep my eyes open!

Friday night is alright for some suburban homesteading

   While I am still and as ever an atheist, this card really spoke to me when I was searching for the words to describe my day today:

Figure One: As my one true friend at work, who is fabulously and flamboyantly queer would say, "gay-men!"

   So I did what I do when I am burdened with more feelings than is good for me or those around me, and spent two hours mowing as fast as I could push the damn mower while listening to Belleruth Naparstek. It's how I find my happy place. IT BEATS DRINKING, OKAY?*

   I still had some feelings when the daylight deserted me and my hands threatened to blister despite gardening gloves, so I decided to put them to productive use. First, I made dandelion syrup, which I actually started yesterday after turning the MFA Children loose on the yard armed with safety scissors and a bucket (you have to let it sit for twenty-four hours as one of the steps when you make it):

Figure Two: How d'ya like my redneck double-boiler? The color of the syrup is so dark not because of spoilage or carmelization, but because I used organic evaporated cane juice instead of bleached white sugar.

   Then, while the dandelion syrup was reducing, I chopped comfrey and mint to make my own herbal oil (on a Twitter-friend's advice I used Sweet Almond Oil as a carrier). Comfrey is amazing stuff, but it's not advisable to take internally or use for long periods of time. That's okay though! I plan to turn the oil into lotion for Hotter to massage into my achy back, and since homemade lotion breaks down after about three weeks (because organic emulsifying wax does not work as well over time as petroleum products), when the lotion breaks down I will know it's time to lay off the stuff. WIN!

Figure Three:The mint is not medicinal so much as to make the comfrey smell...less...comfrey-y.

   And I know I had other things to say but I am falling asleep. Good  night!

 

 

*   And no, I did not participate in the "4/20" festivities either, haha. I am of an age where I would prefer to have clean urine in the event that a permanent job opportunity comes up, but I hope any of you crazy kids who...observed...had fun and stayed safe.

social media-y goodness, and some stuff you should do/join/try [ETA]

Figure One: It has no soul.

 

   If you like garden porn and don't already follow me on the Instagram, you are missing out.

   If you like free stuff and have yet to join Swagbucks and started searching with it, you're REALLY missing out (and so am I, because I'd get a referral credit, but mostly you--I just cashed in some Swagbucks for an Amazon.com gift card YESTERDAY).

   If you aren't a member of eBates yet, you should totally join AND USE IT, because look:

Figure Two: This is why you want to join eBates! Also because you love me and want me to get credit for referring you.

   And if you join BOTH then sometimes you will search for eBates' site with Swagbucks, win eleven SBs for the search, and then find out that your favorite store is today's daily double and you will be motherfucking THRILLED.

   Now if you'll excuse me, I am way behind on my sleep, and work is nuts, and WHY WAS TODAY NOT FRIDAY? I CALL SHENANIGANS.

   How are all of YOU?

 

ETA: See comments section for an answer to WTF IS THAT THING UP TOP???

still here, now with MOAR junk in the trunk!

   I'm still around, y'all. I'm just kind of laying low waiting for things to suck a little less so this isn't one big whiny depress-o-rama (I know, I know, FEW YEARS TOO LATE, HA!). Plus, lacking the funds to replace the video card on his computer, Hotter's solution was to plunk my laptop down on his desk, run the monitor cable to his Giant For The Blind Man Monitor into the side of it, move the charger to the outlet under his desk, and...yeah. I'm like a fourth-world nation over here, wandering around with my iPhone bundled up in a spotted handkerchief tied to the stick slung over my shoulder. It's super-tragic.

   Meanwhile, life goes on. I've added to the garden and there are now five twenty-foot rows and a 3x12-ft bed at the end of those in the back yard in addition to the six original beds out front and two new raised beds in the side yard. I DIG WHEN I HAVE FEELINGS, OKAY? As far as my feelings...eh. I'm still utterly panic-stricken about money, unsure of how long my job will last, and not feeling entirely fabulous, although (knock wood) Bad Ear is no longer painful and Jank Jaw seems to be subsiding somewhat as well. I am hopeful at this point that Bad Ear was the reason for Jank Jaw acting up, and maybe now that I'm not in pain from the ear the jaw will settle the eff down and revert to its' pre-ENT Clusterfuck of 2012 level of brokenness (status: effed up but nothing a $500 mouthguard and daily PT exercises at home doesn't keep to a dull roar). Bum Leg is doing better since I quit running (again), the Mystery Surgical Situation I mentioned before is no worse, and my lungs are behaving. I am quietly optimistic; maybe this won't be the bump that upsets the whole goddamn applecart of my health after all, and wouldn't that be nice? Most of what still ails me is, I think, the lingering effect of all the stress on my body (my adrenal glands, judging by the dark purple scarring I tend to do lately, are struggling more than usual, which makes sense given all the stress and steroids of the past couple of months and I'm bone-tired in a way that I was no longer accustomed to being on a daily basis--today, for example, it was utterly gorgeous and I came home from work, changed into gardening clothes, applied bug spray, and then crawled into bed and took a nap).

   Hotter's next dental appointment is in two weeks and I still have no idea how we're going to pay for that. Dammit, we really need to win the lottery over here (not that we play it, which might be why).

   I...still have nothing to say, really, unless you want to hear about how pissed I am that in over a month of religiously tracking my caloric intake and exercise using MyFitnessPal I have managed to...wait for it...gain eight pounds. 

Figure One: Weight loss. UR DOIN IT RONG! Center number redacted because my husband reads my blog and my weight is the one secret I have from that nosy, nosy man. If it weren't for him I'd tell the rest of y'all, if only as a PSA of sorts, because the number is one that commands some motherfucking attention and yet I don't look all that bad. Society is so stupid about womens' weight :(

   So either I have some kind of infection brewing, or I'm just legitimately gaining weight on 1200 or fewer net calories per day, and neither option makes my heart sing, but oh well. On the bright side my clothes still fit about the same (yes, I know that muscle weighs more than fat and I get a TON of exercise in the garden, but I still think this is a little absurd), so if I hadn't bought a scale in order to become healthier I'd never even know to be worried (no joke, I am thinking of just getting rid of the scale and going back to eating what I want as long as my clothes fit--I felt a lot better about myself when that was my system).

   And that is all the non-news that's fit to commit to rambling pixelated print. Except that via TFLN I learned today of a sex act called The Pterodactyl and I haven't stopped giggling since (especially after Hotter attempted to pantomime how one might go about doing such a thing). How are all of YOU?

oral surgeon, etc.

*   I have lived in MFA Town for nearly thirty-three years of my thirty-three and change and managed to make it until yesterday without ever knowing there was a cookie-cutter office complex off Main Rural Drag with at least eleventy-five hundred oral surgeons', dentists', and maxillofacial surgeons' offices. AT LEAST. And they all had the same tooth-with-roots cutout on the side of their building, and the same three signs reading "ORAL SURGEON," "DENTIST," and "MAXILLOFACIAL SURGEON." And the same color and font used to paint their names on their office doors (the only variation in these offices was the names--I didn't even see any damn address numbers). After I found the office I was meant to go to I got out of the MFA Minivan and kissed the ground on my hands and knees, giving thanks for small favors like only seeing THIS place once in my life to date. Although I am sure it will be appearing in my anxiety dreams FROM NOW ON.

*   The oral surgeon seemed very smart and was quite engaging, which...well. I instantly wonder about him, because men who are people-persons usually lead me to make stupid decisions. Be that as it may, since he did have an advanced degree and years of surgical experience, plus the personal recommendation of Dr. JewishName, I heard him out on his interpretation of my Jank Jaw.

*   Jank jaw is jank, y'all.

*   Dr. PlasticFantastic thinks the next (and also, in my case, the LAST, on which more in a moment) step would be arthrocentesis of the temporomandibular joint.

*   Arthrocentesis (go ahead, Google Image that shit, I'll wait) may or may not work. My insurance company may or may not agree to cover it. It may or may not be a good idea for various reasons inherent to both general risks and specific physical oddities of mine. If it doesn't work, though, I either have to figure out how to live with the symptoms (which currently I do) or pursue pain management as an ongoing part of my permanent medical "team." Which? Barf. But my connective tissue disease (which I had stupidly neglected to put on my intake paperwork because seriously what would that have to do with my clenching and grinding my jaw? OH EVERYTHING APPARENTLY IN THAT AN ENTRAPPED PIECE OF DETACHED CARTILAGE IS BEHIND THIS BULLSHIT) makes any kind of open joint surgery (YES HE MENTIONED THAT) dumb(er even than for the general population--joints are like engine cases, people, you open them and it voids the warranty no matter how skillful you are about it). Bottom line is, my body is going to do what it's going to do, and any attempts to stop it will be temporary at best and crippling at worst. 

*   So I have to decide whether I want to pursue arthrocentesis (in theory--in reality I don't know for certain how I will feed everyone for the next six days and surgery? OH HAHA, YOU SILLY GOOSE!), which may relieve current symptoms, most likely on a temporary basis, or just shrug and choose to live with this evenifIcouldaffordtofixit.

*   Hotter's computer is totally dead. Like, giant lovingly hand-built paperweight attached to desk-sized monitor dead. He is very sad about that. And bitter. By which I mean prone to sniping at loved ones. But he's so upset I don't even really want to call him on much, so I'm gardening tons. "That's fine for you," he groused at me yesterday, "but what about MY rage and anxiety?" Implication being that I should come the fuck inside and keep him company. "I can't address YOUR rage and anxiety," I said, "I can barely handle my own." And I kept on digging, so. Yeah.

*   My health, aside from the various ongoing TMJ/ENT/Asthma clusterfucks and despite my major "diet/lifestyle/headspace adjustment," is not what I would like for it to be. I am retaining a TON of water right now (by which I mean more than ten pounds' worth that appeared literally overnight), which is uncomfortable, unsightly, and unsettling. I am starting to fear that my autoimmune bullshit is waking and stretching preparatory to looking for a nice snack. I don't want to talk about my health. If you asked me to describe it in one word I'd hiss at you like a cat.

*   So things are...not good here. At all. How are YOU?