A Word About Flavo(u)r

Those of you who have read me for a while might know that I am on a very silent, lazy, and fruitless campaign to eradicate Monosodium Glutamate from the planet. Let's set aside the fact that MSG causes me and two of my sons to have migraine headaches, and focus instead on a radical concept: that humans don't really need that much flavor [flavour, if you are reading this in English].

For a while now, I've felt as if my taste buds are dead. I think they've been numbed by too much manmade flavor. It doesn't matter that I've stopped using table salt because of my high blood pressure. Or that, because I'm a smoker, I've slaughtered all the senses in my nose and mouth. No, it has to be all the crap they put in (and take out of) our food, and here's why:

One of the best things about living in the country is that you have access to meat. Like, actual livestock that you can take to the meat processor to have cut up and frozen in little packages that in no way resemble a live animal. Recently, we had a hog butchered, and it was my job to let the meat processor know how I wanted my unrecognizable meat packaged. When we got to the sausage, I was asked what kind of seasoning I wanted. I asked, "Does your seasoning have MSG in it?" They had to check, and the answer was yes. So the woman on the phone suggested something radical - "Do you want us to season it with just salt, pepper, and sage?" "YES!!!" I shouted, as if I had just discovered electricity.

So that's what I got. Sausage, flavored with salt, pepper, and sage. And honestly, it's the best sausage I've ever had. And do you know why?

Because it's full of TRANS FAT.

An Ethics Question

Suppose you hired a local mechanic/alcoholic (though you weren't aware at the time he was an alcoholic) to work on your car. Suppose you gave him $900 in advance of the work, and he proceeded to be in possession of your vehicle for 5 months. Then he never returned your calls, but when your husband finally stopped by and caught him at home, he told the tragic story about how his 94-year-old father was tortured and murdered by drug dealers in some completely freakish scenario, and when you looked it up on the internet it turned out to be true, so you felt a little sorry for him and understood why he might be stinking drunk all the time and not able to work on your car - not to mention that he was in a terrible truck accident about 10 years before and is in constant pain. So you let it go on a little longer until you've finally had enough, and you go pick up your car, only to find out he didn't do a damn thing to fix it.

What do you do then? Do you let it go, out of compassion, and consider it a lesson learned? Or do you stand up to be the one who stops enabling this person to be an alcoholic who is screwing people over (since you find out you aren't the only one he's done it to)?

Remember, there are no right or wrong answers, but keep in mind this guy is an alcoholic who carries a handgun.

By the way, I missed you all.

I just emailed the White House.

I call it "The White House" because I don't feel like calling it anything else. I also emailed my Congressman and Senators, and I wasn't very pleasant about it. The catalyst for my rage is a 23-year-old Infantry soldier from Idaho, who is, presumably, still being held by the Taliban. There, but for the Grace of God, goeth my son.

So on behalf of the mother of Bowe Bergdahl, and for my own peace of mind, I'll be writing to Congressman Steve Buyer, Senator Evan Bayh, Senator Richard Lugar, and "The White House" every day until they arrange to send my soldiers home.

They ARE supposed to be working for me. It's about time I let them know that.

Expect the worst and get it.

I've been gone a while. I'm not even sure why, except that the internet holds little appeal for me right now. (No offense.)

I was experiencing those few, terrible days which occur after the full moon begins to wane, trying to reverse my bad mood by convincing myself that my brain chemistry and thought patterns were completely responsible. It didn't work. On Sunday I went to church, something I rarely do. When I left the house, my kitty was happily dashing about the yard. It occurred to me to put her back inside, but everyone deserves a little freedom, even cats.

It wasn't until later in the day while cleaning house that I realized I hadn't seen her since that morning. I went outside and called for her. No response. This was unusual, since she usually stays very close to the house. I knew that my sons had been in and out of the driveway in their trucks, and I had visions of my cat splattered all over an engine, or, alternatively, a bold coyote having snatched her up by the spine. It sure didn't take long to convince myself that she was gone forever. I decided to take a break to visit the pond, and by the time I got there, I was in tears. My husband asked what was wrong, and I told him I was sure my cat was gone forever. I said it figured, as bad as everything else had gone for me lately. Story of my life, just my luck, God hates me, why would I expect anything different than to get attached to something and have it die. Yep, 'bad luck' has been my training program for years.

So it was pretty humbling when I got home about an hour or so later, and my cat greeted me at the door. On the inside of the house. Apparently she'd found an excellent place to nap.

There is a chapter in Norman Vincent Peale's book The Power of Positive Thinking called "Expect the Best and Get it." I know it's a stretch, but I'm going to work on rethinking my thinking. Of course then I'll have to deal with the agony of dashed hopes all the time, but hell. It's worth a try. I can always go back to the way things were.

My Son, the Cowboy

My son was walking out the door this morning when I convinced him to let me take some shots of him. Here are two:




I love and hate him for being so photogenic, even in work clothes.

Ben Stiller: the best time I never had.

It wasn't until I was drying my hair this morning that I remembered being with actor Ben Stiller last night - in my dreams. Though I can't recall any details, we were living it up. And he was incredibly funny; so funny that I woke myself up, laughing, at least 3 times. But was it Ben Stiller that was funny, or was it his comedy writer (me)?

The dream only illustrates to me how important humor is in my life. I've always considered myself more of a 'straight man' than a comedian, but I love to laugh, and I think people always appreciate you when you think they are funny.

Which reminds me of my inappropriate behavior this past Monday night.

My youngest son's high school baseball team played in their Sectional tourney and lost. On the way home, we stopped at a restaurant to eat. One of my son's teammates made it clear to everyone that he would be sitting next to me. Ronnie was a Junior this year, and he doesn't have any trouble growing facial hair. Let's just say it would be easy to forget that he's only 17. Plus, he's very funny.

So Ronnie and I sat together in the booth, with my hubby sitting across from us, and my son at a table nearby. I think it was one of those deals where teenage boys like to go on about "your mom is hot," only Ronnie had the added intent of harrassing my husband, too. The problem is that Ronnie is so funny and so engaging that it may have eventually appeared that I was flirting with him. In an innocent way, of course.

But I still feel like a perv.

"Change" You Can Believe In?

A cashier handed me this twenty yesterday after I bought groceries for my mother-in-law.

Obviously, the handwritten message brings up all sorts of questions. Where did it come from? Who wrote it? And why? Is someone trying to tell me something? And doesn't it look like a man's handwriting?

I've always been intrigued by the things people write on money. For a while, my oldest son collected dollar bills on which someone had stamped one of those cartoon dialogue bubbles with "I grew hemp" just above George Washington's head.

There's also a website where a person can track exactly where their money has traveled, as long as it is encoded with the www.wheresgeorge.com link, and the serial number has been registered, and other people have actually submitted notes on its progress.

What's the most interesting thing you've ever seen on money?