Anti-domesticism

I love Anne Taintor “vintage images with Anne's own interpretation of what these men and women might really be thinking”.


I have a magnet “domestically disabled” and it really can’t be far from the truth. I am truly not gifted in much of anything domestic. I guess it wouldn’t really be a disability so much as a chronic condition. Due to unforeseen circumstances, I am unable to live up to my womanly expectancies. I was born without the gene.


I don’t like to cook. I can cook but I choose not to. Nothing about cooking excites me. Not even the part where I get to eat it. I have no drive to cook. Sometimes I think it would be fun to learn to cook but then the thought is forgotten as soon as it is thought. However, I love to bake – go figure.


I hate cleaning my place. I just hate it. I hate it so much I can easily put it out of my mind as if it’s an unrequired task. But I’ll gladly clean someone else’s home. I do the minimum required.. It’s not that I don’t have the time. I just don’t do it.


I can’t sew anything other than straight lines. I can’t follow a pattern. I’m envious of anyone who can but I have no real drive to learn. My mom can make anything. So can my step mom. Lucky them.


Okay, I can knit (the basics) and cross-stitch and I really enjoy both.


So much for those Home Economic classes I was forced to take throughout grade school.

The Great Minnesota Get Together

Last Saturday I went to the MN State Fair. The weather was perfect and the food did not let me down. We went early - 10:30 am. It wasn't that crowded and the lines weren't bad. Suddenly around 1:00 we realized the place was packed. Somehow we managed to stay another three hours shuffling our way through the crowds.

A sea of people

I love going to the animal buildings. My friend's daughter spent the summer in Iowa learning to barrel race so she loved the horses. We walked through the cattle barn and lastly the swine barn. There, plopped in a pen is the 1240 lb. sow that is always featured (a different one each year).

That's some pig!

And when you come out you turn into piggys.

Going with a group of people allows a person to try a little bit of everything. A bite of this and a bite of that. Grazing all day long. This year I tried many more items than normal.

1. Battered & deep fried pickle chips dipped in Ranch dressing
2. Cheese curds
3. Foot long hot dog with ketchup, mustard, fried onions and sauerkraut
4. Luigi Fries (cheese covered bread sticks dipped in marinara sauce)
5. Roasted corn on the cob
6. Seasoned pork chop on a stick
7. Chicken egg roll on a stick
8. Chocolate covered banana and strawberry on a stick
9. Sweet Martha's chocolate chip cookies
10. Strawberry banana smoothie
11. Root beer float
12. Taco burrito
13. Chocolate covered bacon (served cold. It wasn't bad but it wasn't good)
14. Alligator on a stick
15. Several lemonades and waters

I feel like I might be leaving something out but that's the gist of it!

Pig Lickers - Chocolate covered bacon

That's enough for one year. Now the countdown begins for next year.

The beastly board meeting

I am the VP of my condo association. It's not as impressive as it sounds though.

Last night we had our monthly meeting. I mention ages because of the behavior that is exhibited. It helps to understand the absurdity of it all when you know these people are not in Kindergarten. They are usually pretty entertaining although, there hasn't been an instance like last September when a 30-something year old woman pushed down, I say again, PUSHED DOWN, a 60-something year old man.

Anyway, last night my drunk neighbor showed up and sat in on the meeting. She and another man from another one of our buildings chatted through a presentation from a local cable company. I finally spoke up, ask them to please be quite during the presentation. The remainder of the meeting my neighbor stared me down.

This woman is 53 years old. She got drunk, disrupted the meeting and then left in the middle. Meanwhile the man she was talking to sat in the back of the room brushing his greasy hair up in the back.

Next up, the heated argument between the 72? year old President and the 60-something year old secretary. The argument? Landscaping. You know, weeding, watering. Secretary doesn't like the current state of your grounds (agreed) but President is trying to explain we have no, zero, nada, nothing in the budget to pay for someone to come in and do this (agreed). Hence, the constant asking of volunteers to do such jobs. Secretary's face got red and blotchy. President banged on table. Secretary's voice quivered with frustration. It was finally put to rest but not resolved.

I live with these people.

So what? I'm a picky eater

It's kind of a joke with my family and friends about the way I eat. I have certain rules and rituals that must be followed. It gets to be complicated.

1. No mushrooms - none whatsoever. I will pick the microscopic pieces from anything made with cream of mushroom soup.
2. Jam only - I don't like chunks of fruit in my spread.
3. No fruit chunks in my yogurt either. However, I will eat the pina colada flavor.
4. All sandwiches not prepared by me will be opened and rearranged so that there is an even amount of ingredient in each bite.
5. Raw onions on hamburgers only.
6. Tomatoes on Mexican food only.
7. Nothing that live in water. That's right, no fish, no seafood (shrimp, lobster, all of it). I note what's in the parenthesis because if I say this to someone usually the first thing they ask is, "No shrimp or lobster?" No, I'm not missing out because I can't stand the taste and texture. The exception is tuna... from a can... from Subway.
8. Eggs have to be eaten with toast or in a tortilla. I can't eat eggs plain.
9. I don't eat oranges but I'll suck the juice out.
10. No meat on the bone - chicken especially, ribs, pork chops.

I will try things before I say I don't like them and I will try them every so often to see if my tastes have changed.

A few items I am afraid to try with absolutely no explanation:

-Lychee
-Mango
-Pomegranate
-Kumquat
-Plantains
-Papaya
-Avocado
-venison
-duck

Needless to say, I pretty much live on cereal.

A piece of me

I was scrolling through my MySpace blog (which I haven't updated for many months) and found a blog that hit me again. I must have been missing someone or feeling especially lonely when I wrote this:

November 20, 2006 What is "happiness"? What makes one person happy can make another indifferent. Finding pleasure in the simplest thing is what makes me happy. I cherish my alone time and crave it when I've spent too much time with others. Am I lonely? Not so much but I am alone which are two different things. One satisfies me the other makes me feel like I'm not in my own skin. Loneliness is a silent killer waiting for its prey in dark shadows in places where isolation brews. Keep the lights on; it's too dark in here. It's depressing me and it's claustrophobic. Darkness is for sleep when I am alone with my dreams. Dreams of vivid color and smell and portraying someone I never have the chance or courage to be in "real" life. I can fly. I can breathe under water. I can love and be loved. I am invincible. No one can hurt me… but I hurt. It hurts right there, right where I can't reach yet I can't let go. The past has a death grip on my heart that has left it hard to breathe. So much sadness and disappointment in a lifetime. Why do I feel so much, so hard? Why does my heart continue to break over and over when I think of friends I had, family I've lost and those who have had the pleasure of receiving my heart. Friend, lover and foe, I will not let you in, you have to tear down the walls built over time. I'll hand you the tools but I will not help with the blows. Once the walls are torn down, my soul will bleed into yours and you will always have a piece of me.

"Loneliness is a silent killer waiting for its prey in dark shadows in places where isolation brews." Yikes - where'd that come from?!

I've been reading a book that has brought on a flood of memories. I almost put the book down several times because it just didn't make me feel good to relive the past. A past that may have contributed to the above passage. I'm suppose to say that I wouldn't change a thing that has happened to me because it has made me who I am today. But I can honestly say, that I wish with all my soul that I could change February 2001 - June 2002. I would completely erase it and I believe I would be in a much different, more positive place today.

So, I continue on...

Condo hotdish

I got together with my good friend Jenny for lunch at the Olive Garden. She had soup, salad and breadsticks. I had spaghetti and Italian sausage that is so good it brings tears to my eyes. Here, another exchange in oddities that leave me wondering if I am a 12 years old stuck in my 36 year old body.

It doesn't matter what led to this particular exchange because there never has to be a reason.

J - You're sort of like a sandwich.

Me - Yes, because I live on the second floor and...

J - Someone lives above you and below you.

Me - Yeah. Actually, I'm more of a filling because I also have people on both sides of me.

J - (stiffling her laughter)

Me - Actually, I'm more of a hotdish. An ingredient in a condo hotdish.

Or maybe she said "condo hotdish" because at this point we were laughing too much at each other because we really are hilarious.

Wonder Twin powers - ACTIVATE!

My big brother and I were superheros.

I can remember getting up early in the morning on Saturday's to watch cartoons. My brother and I had bedrooms on the upper level of our old, creaky house, our parents' room was downstairs. At the bottom of the stairs was a hallway, at the end of that short hallway was the door to their bedroom. In the mornings we'd get up, sit on the top step of the blue carpeted stairway and contemplate our next move. Slowly, and ever so quietly we would scoot on our butts, stair by stair. Once we were safely at the bottom we'd tiptoe to the door, knock and ask if we could turn on the TV.

So, maybe it defeated the purpose of being so quite but it made sense at the time and it took planning and courage. Something all superheros need.

Often we'd get up and my brother would help dress me like a superhero. I don't recall this particular day that this picture was taken but I'm so happy I have it. It embodies so much that was my childhood. I looked up to my big brother, we were quirky, we knew how to have a fun (we knew how to fight). I just look at this picture and smile and remember a much more innocent time. When do we stop dressing up and consider putting a bear rug on our heads to be perfectly acceptable attire?