Christmas 2017 Out of Office (OOO)

I like to make feisty Out of Office (OOO) messages for my company people. I mean, who wants to read: "Hello, I am currently out of the office I will return on _____."

BORING.

I only took the day after Christmas off, and while over Thanksgiving I tried to anticipate needs (check out my post: Thanksgiving Week 2017 Out of Office Message) for this OOO, I just wanted to point out the type and quality of information you get from me.

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Hello,

Your email has successfully reached Maddie, Learning Analyst on Training and Talent Development.

If you require any learning, analyst, training, talent or development related products or services, I suggest YouTube or perhaps a warm cup of a beverage of your choice as I will be out of the office until Wednesday, December 27.

If this is some type of emergency that is suited to my profession – you can send an email to the team and someone who didn’t get into the nog will get back to you.

Here is some content to mull over:

• Mercury is out of retrograde.
• My brother was a child prodigy and he now attends circus school.
• Partridge prices remained steady but pear trees rose in value.
• The next full moon is the Wolf Moon and it will be a super moon.
• “Dad” is slowly becoming an adjective.
• I have gone over 100 days without maceing myself.

Maddie

Direct Line: XXX-XXX-XXXX

Non-Direct Line:  XXX-XXX-XXXX ext. XXX

Email: StoriesbyMaddie@gmail.com

The Little Drummer Boy

What I like about “The Little Drummer Boy” is that this kid has nothing but this drum he can play, like, all he has is his creativity and probably this handmade skin-over-wood drum, right? 

And you gotta understand, he’s going to visit this group of people and a person who are bigger than anything that has ever existed in his world. This boy is walking to see the savior of the world…even if you don’t believe in Jesus…it’s probably like seeing the biggest celebrity you love or scientist who changed the world or thinker who changed a country.

Someone really big who you have one chance to impress. And everyone else is bringing their best and most expensive things as tribute. Imagine going to a royal wedding - what gift would you wrapped up to prove you are worthy?

See, all this kid has is music and a God-given talent.

And that’s the gift. Grace. Grace, the verb, means to honor someone - grace and honor are intangible. It's not gold or like a really cool pair of shoes.

The grace in this song is that everything given to you by birth and life and by God is meant to be shared and given to others. When the Little Drummer Boy played his drum, it was the grace inside him that he gave.

That ability to give grace, falls on all of us because we are put on earth with this radiance inside of us.

You are put on this earth with the radiance inside you. A radiance that is more than worthy to set before something or someone as big as God.

So, what are you doing with your radiance?

Something-Something Birthday

When I was a kid, my Mom told me no one was around in the summer, so, I couldn't have a birthday party. Honestly, I had no idea where people went - they went to the beach, or, as we say around here, down the shore - or Europe or whatever. We didn't do that or have another house somewhere.

As a child, I always had family birthday and I love my family and it was always fun and everyone around me had fun. I just never had a party with friends or did anything, really.

By 16, I was pretty much over birthdays because I hate being the center of attention for no constructive reason.

When I turned 18, my Aunt told me that I was an adult and there would be no more presents or parties. I also hate parties ESPECIALLY parties about me or for me. I think I actually threw up in my mouth a little thinking about it.

I never understood the "birthday month" or "birthday week" or whatever. It was just a day and I was an adult. So, in general, I never thought birthdays were a big deal, ya know. Now it's really awkward because - and I assume because I am female..

People: Awww, hey! Birthday girl! You turning 21
Maddie:...Uhh...
People:...*WINK WINK*
Maddie: Nope. I'm like over 30.
People: Birthday week or birthday month? What are you doing? Fancy dinner out? Casinos? Trip somewhere?
Maddie: Well, it's a Tuesday, so, I'll be here at work...and I have to take my cat to get his anal glands squeezed.
People:...
Maddie:...
People:...
Maddie:...Well met, friend! Back to work. Tralala!

I mean, what am I going to do?

My whole birthday experience can be summed up in a four year process from high school. Every year I would wish this guy in high school happy birthday on his birthday. Now, in high school, when you wished someone the opposite sex something it normally meant you liked them...in that way.

But we had a SPECIAL connection.

And every year we had this conversation:

Maddie: Happy birthday!
Dude: Oh, thanks. Yeah.
Maddie:...
Dude: ...Uh, you know, it's weird you always remember my birthday and I never remember yours.
Maddie: ...Really?
Dude: ...*ahem*...yeah
Maddie: ...
Dude: ...
Maddie: ...*narrows eyes*
Dude: ...
Maddie: ...
Dude: ...
Maddie: ...
Dude: ...
Maddie: ...
Dude: ...
Maddie: IT'S THE SAME DAY!

Websites I Waste Time At

If I have to waste time, these are some of the places I go. Take a look-see and maybe you can waste some time playing around with some pretty or unique little games or. . .activities? IDK what you call these things.

Enjoy!


The Genius Deck
http://thegeniusdeck.com/
I use this when writing and I am stuck on what to do next in the plot or something. Sometimes things are a crossroad and I don't know what to do with it. So, I click on this sight to get some advice.

Bouncy Balls
https://bouncyballs.org/
I often get mad at this one, but, I do enjoy playing with all the settings and watching the colorful balls bounce around. Balls. WEEEE!

Feed the Head 
http://www.feedthehead.net/
This is part game, part fidget-toy. I thought I knew everything about it until I found other things I can do. Two thumbs up! Go play.

Silk
http://weavesilk.com/
I play with this during conference calls - sometimes I share my screen and play with it while other people watch. Sometimes they play on their own. You can even save the image.

ThisIsSand
http://www.thisissand.com/
This is not sand, this is just a fun little activity game thing. You can create sand art like when you are a kid and you have that colored sand stuff at carnivals.

Too Close

These actions are far too close to each other to create a supportive and safe space.

Karl the Jello

Otis: I have a question, when you moved, did you take the Jell-O with you?
Maddie: You mean Karl?

STORY TIME!

When I moved into my second real apartment, probably in like 2007-2008, I decided I would do the most adult thing I knew how to do.

I made a box of orange Jell-O. I poured it into my highball glasses and…that’s about it. I mean, it’s Jell-O.

I ate all but one of them because by the time one was left , I didn’t want it. I actually found I often leave a little behind when it comes to food or quick-grab things. Anyhow, the Jell-O stayed in the fridge.

On what seems like an unrelated note – but totally related – around this time I was really getting into Norse mythology. I was reading “Lay of the Rig.”

In this poem...you read about...a lot of stuff. Let's not get into that.

The point is, there is a character, Karl (Churl), and Karl represents the freeman. The working class. The people who make stuff happen and who aren’t noble but aren’t poor.

And I was like THAT’S ME! This is who I was, this was who I wanted to be. Rough complexion, fighting for the common person. I was in year two of my treatment, I had just sorta mostly beaten death. I was on my own.

Yeah! I was Karl. A non-servile peasant inclined to uncivil or loutish behavior. Mostly through burps and farts.

Or more specifically, that’s what I named the Jell-O because I had a name and I wasn't going to throw out the Jell-O so I might as well name it.

And Karl just stood in the back of my fridge showing me where the back of the fridge was and not bothering anyone. The water evaporated out and left this orange shell which was slightly textured but overall quite plastic-like.

Fast-forward to 2015, I was married and we were moving from my apartment and into an adult-place. I mean, what do you do?

Pack up Karl and take him with you, obviously.

Karl still remains in the back of my refrigerator, close to the jar of bacon fat, letting me know where the back of the fridge is. What sort of person would be if I had thrown him out?

Sometimes I even take him out for dinner parties.

And that is the Story of Karl.

For future reading:

• The Lay of Rig from The University of Pittsburg
• Wikipedia entry on Rígsþula
• What is Jelly Made Of?
• How Long is Does Jelly Last?

The Sad-Happy-Face Time Story

I had this group of friends from college, we don’t talk NOW but…we were inseparable during those years and maybe a year or so after. That’s life. Sometimes you have really good friends and you just sort of move on.

That’s not the point of this story.

So, since I saw them so much, I got to know their faces.

I am never sure why the stereotype of men, or anyone, is that they don’t notice when something on someone had changed that they love and see everyday – like a haircut or color change or when their style is different. When you see something every day one way, and then it changes, wouldn’t you notice?

 I think you should notice.

You have to notice.

Guys, GUYS. This is how the pod people are going to get to us. They are going to get in there and steal someone and make a copy they'll get like a couple details wrong and if you don’t notice…well…end of dayz.

In all seriousness, changes in appearance or behavior, however slight, could be deep indicators for other things.

Anyhow, about a year after graduation, I’m living up to my potential by working a part-time retail job in a stationary store and my friend, let’s call him Akeno, comes to visit. He's going to grad school because he's smart.

He's talking to me and something is weird on his face. He always had this birthmark mole thing above his eye and today it looked like it threw up. So I say:

Maddie: What’s wrong with your face?
Akeno: Uhh, nothing, why?
Maddie: It’s like your birthmark threw up all over your forehead. Get that look at or something.

A couple weeks later Akeno messages me and the conversations could be boiled down to this:

Akeno: Hey. Hi. How you doing? Good. Good.
Maddie: What’s up?
Akeno: I went to the doctor and that thing on my face was skin cancer.
Maddie: Eww.
Akeno: Yeah.
Maddie: You going to die?
Akeno: Na, he just removed it so now I have a scar. He said it would go away. I have to go back for tests later, but, he said nothing to worry about.
Maddie: That’s a bummer. No scar? Chicks dig scars.
Akeno: And how.
Maddie: Dude, you’re a cancer survivor.
Akeno: I totally am.
Maddie: Can you get like discounted stuff now?
Akeno: Maybe. Anyhow, I wouldn’t have noticed that if you hadn’t said something. But you said it and I went to the doctor. So, thanks.

The point is, always tell people if their face looks weird or if these little things are off. And if someone tells you your face looks weird or something seems unhealthy, have that checked out by a professional as soon as you can.

Fixing The Broken Systems

If anything turns my lip, it's these posts. How do you manage to stay married?

You don't get divorced.

Being married doesn't mean you are happy or even living with your spouse. Marriage does not indicate love, respect or...anything. It is a legal and often religious binding contract

Sorry, folks.

Divorce also doesn't mean someone broke "marriage." Or because you got divorced, you didn't work hard enough or you aren't good enough. I have family members and friends who have been married for a long, long time and see each other a couple times a year for public type functions. Otherwise, they just do their own thing.

Anyhow, for this post - if this couple has been married for 65 years, let's assume they got married in the 1940-1950s, right?

Remember, a woman's career and life-work was considered working on getting married and being married - she was not expect to go to college or work, she was only expected to find a husband. After finding a husband, she was expected to breed.

Not that there is anything wrong with this arrangement - it's just that it was the ONLY arrangement that existed for men and women.

Let's check on a little timeline of why marriages worked so well based on this slice of "when it was broken we fixed it."

• 1908: Oregon limits the workday for women to 10 hours
• 1940: WW2, most men went to combat leaving women alone
• 1941: Wonder Woman is introduced (Just like to mention this)
• 1940: Marital conflicts were usually handled within the home and kept private (Problems? We didn't talk about them so they didn't exist)
• 1950: Domesticity was idealized in the media, and women were encouraged to stay at home. Women who chose to work when they didn't need the paycheck were often considered selfish, putting themselves before the needs of their family
• 1950: Sex was viewed as a key component of a marriage. Without an effective female-controlled contraceptive, young wives faced three decades of childbearing before they reached menopause
• 1974: Equal Credit Opportunity Act passes in the US. Until this, banks required single, widowed or divorced women to bring a man along to cosign any credit application, regardless of their income. That's right, women could not get credit or often have access to money without a man
• 1978: The Pregnancy Discrimination Act is passed in the US. Until the law was put into effect, women could still legally be dismissed from their jobs for becoming pregnant. Can't get birth control? Married? Pregnant? Get thee home!
• 1980: Sexual harassment is first defined by the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission, although a court had heard the first case in 1977. Up until this point, women could be openly abused outside the home.
• 1993: Marital rape becomes illegal. That's right. 1993, it became illegal for men to rape women

Experts suggested that wives consider whatever they were doing or not doing to cause their husbands to cheat, drink or abuse them. Women could not leave their marriages, they could not support themselves and "experts" easily told them it was their fault.

Husbands and wives of the 1940s began having children at a younger age on average because of lack of birth control. Therefore, most spouses learned to relate to each other in the context of parenting together early on. Couples had more children on average as well, as birth control methods were significantly limited.

Imagine that burden on people today.

So, is this to say all people who have been married for 60+ years are unhappy or all the marriages of those times were unhappy? No.

But, let's not pretend because time has past after a contract has been signed, everything is fantastic and we all need to learn a thing or two because that contract was not broken.

Make you own decisions. Walk away when it's right to walk away. Ain't no shame in admitting a mistake, in leaving a bad situation or even trying again. Don't stay in any type of bad relationship because you think the length of time you suffer is a "good" thing.

Be equal. Be smart. Be kind. Love.

The Chip Kid

Growing up in a crime-free type suburbia of engaged parents and lots of grass, I know I had a very certain childhood. I knew this more when our neighbors brought in a kid from a really bad area outside this landscaped world where horrible things were kept quiet until they were found out..and then someone’s parent went into the woods to off themselves.

This kid was in some type of program, my mother said, where they got “adopted” for a summer and lived up the street from me.  There was a good gang of us on my street so having another kid to hang out with and stuff was cool – we didn’t need some type of explanation or resume.

Another neighbor had her nieces stay over once. They left after some type of trial…anyhow…

I didn’t really get it as a child.

As an adult, I totally get how getting your young child out of the roughest part of the city during a time when there is no school or stuff to keep the kid occupied – it could be lifesaving. I don’t remember the kid’s name, but, he was younger than me. That was a big deal because I was always the youngest and…like…less fun than the other kids.

He could hang out with the older kids, though. I was still annoying.

I do remember one time, he walked around with a box of matches, he was lighting them and throwing them on the grass while he ran around with some other kids from our neighborhood. I told him I was going to tell on him, which is the worst thing you can tell another kid.

Kid: *lighting match* It’s my word against yours
Me: WHOA. Well…well…I can get evidence!

I spend most of that afternoon looking for matchsticks in the grass. I didn’t find any, as I recall. I told my Dad about it – not because the grass could catch on fire but because I could find proof to back up my story.

So, for us, he was a bad kid. He was dangerous and rebellious and funny and there is nothing better than that when you are like seven-years-old. Givin’ lip to adults and stuff. Phew. He was a blast.

But, he really wasn’t a bad kid or a dangerous kid. He was just a kid. Like us. Bored.

So, we had this neighborhood picnic once a year where we all went to the one house with the pool. Hanging out there, he was this calm, funny kid who was both out of place and so welcomed in our group. I remembered we all had burgers and the adults were asking if we wanted chips.

Kid: I want one chip
Us: What? One chip?

He held up one finger. He put the chip IN his burger and ate it. This was probably – wait – literally – the greatest thing he taught us. CHIPS IN THE BUGER! For summers long after, we would put a chip or two in our sandwiches or burgers so we could get a bite of chip with each bite.

As an adult, I can see the crunch-worthy structure. I can also see a kid who probably was taught that food was finite and by putting one chip in your sandwich, you don’t need as many. So, you have more for later or a sibling.

He never came back to our neighborhood and years later Mom told me that his brother had been shot and killed. I think everyone just lost contact in the shuffle and about a year ago the lady who “adopted” him died, too.

The thing about the Chip Kid, parents saw him as the sum of adult choices. He was become the sum of their worries and controls. They were running damage control on him. He was dealt a bad hand, no argument there. And yet, when he was allowed to just be a kid - even in the midst of all this stuff - he was...living this story.

For all the stories he had lived and all the ones he lived after - this was the story that the adults didn't see or that they couldn't see. Or that they didn't need to see.

Sometimes I tell my friends who are parents – who are stressed and trying to be all like Pinterest and over protecting the micromanaging process of living - that they are forgetting what it’s like to actually be a kid.

Childhood is inherently magical, even when it isn’t.

There is always magic.

Fringe Thanksgiving Message

For all you who struggle to eat and struggle with food, who are equally bombarded with the classic “how not to gain weight” and “how to lose weight” from MLM schemes urging you to buy their powders and potions to keep slim and appealing.

And when you say “no” you are met with, “I wish I could be ____ as you…”

For all those whose daily life is impacted by a tricky or broken digestive system that is too graphic to talk about polity and is easily dismissed because “you don’t look sick.”

I get the frustration of this time of year when all professional “team building” and social media games consist of being asked “what’s your favorite thanksgiving food” or “what is your favorite candy” or “what is your favorite pie” to be followed up by “but if you could eat, what would it be?” in attempts to dismiss conditions and struggles to normalize everything.

For all of you out there who get that this time of the year will never be about food, and knowing how hard that is to say because the rhetoric of the season untimely means family and friends are almost equal to a green bean casserole or slice of pie and sometimes people don't understand that you cannot “just sneak a bite, real quick.”

For all of those who finally found that thing you can eat so you can sit at a table and eat with people and feel normal… and then someone say “Is that all you’re having?” or “ewww, that’s gross, I could never be happy with just that.”

For all of those who are tempted by well-meaning people who earn commission by saying they can fix you if you buy that trendy thing... but your struggle does not have a quick fix because you are not broken. You are who you are and I, for one, am perfectly ok with you.

And I get it.

I love you.

I am thankful for your bravery, your ability to smile, for your weight (whatever it is), for your courage and snark. For your humor, your perception and perspective. I am so happy when something works for you and I am so sorry when it doesn't. You are awesome and you are more than your struggle.

Mostly, I am thankful for your person and that there are culturally appropriate times to express that without the need to consume something to make it palpable. 

Happy Thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving Week 2017 Out of Office Message

I like to make feisty Out of Office (OOO) messages for my company people. I mean, who wants to read: "Hello, I am currently out of the office I will return on _____."

BORING. I like to anticipate needs, hopes and dreams with equal gusto. I also like to prove that I probably can be replaced by a machine.

Here is my current one since I took Thanksgiving week off.
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Hello friend,

Today is a day you are emailing me – the excitement is palatial!

I, however, am not in the office and I’m not checking my email or voicemail or anything like that. Why? I’m on PTO. I’ll be back on Monday, November 27.

Here is a text base system for getting answers to your most pressing questions:

How can I book a training room?
Send an email to the local team and one of these locals here will get back to you.

You made me review online courses and I finished it. What next?
Fantastic, email me your findings and I’ll get back to you when I get back. You can also email Head Busy Bee your results for faster and more professional service.

I need to contact your direct leadership to let her know you’re awesome
Send that message directly to Manager. Copy Director if you are feeling extra sassy. It’s only with support of people like you that I stay employed.

I am IT and I found that file you accidentally deleted
I don’t use the term “hero” often…but you, my friend, are a hero.

Can you tell me why sometimes we use “payer” and sometimes it’s “payor?” I mean, what’s up with that?
Payor is a post-classical agent noun. In current English it is chiefly used in legal documents but not in the vernacular since “payer” is closer to how English styles its agent nouns.

What?
Agent nouns are nous that specifically refer back to a skill, trade or profession - basically, a verb. In English, they are built off of the verb and end with –er.

For example, if you bake you are a bake-er if you dance you are a dance-er. Thusly, if you pay on a bill, you are a pay-er.

Why is there “payor” then?
About 40%-60% of English comes from Latin and those roots are preserved in all types of wacky ways. Agent nouns from the classical and post-classical Latin period pick up the suffix of -or.

For example, if you have a book published, you are an auth-or. If you operate on people, you are (hopefully) a doct-or. If you conquer a nation, you are a conquer-or. So, if you pay, you are a payor.

Then it would be beggor or begger...?
Beggar is from Old French and keeps that French tradition in the form of its suffix –ard.  ‘cept English chopped off the “d.”

Don’t worry, you can still see this French tradition in words like bastard, buzzard and coward.

So it is lieor? Lier? Lieard?
Liar is an agent noun probably from Anglian that got into Old English and trumped a lot of similar Dutch and High German words.

Ok, ok. Payor or payer, which is right?
I would consult with your institution’s manual of style. When in doubt, I would use “payer.”

*wink*
*double finger gun*

Maddie
Direct Line: XXX-XXX-XXXX
Non-Direct Line:  XXX-XXX-XXXX ext. XXX
Email: StoriesbyMaddie@gmail.com

The Time When I Learned About PTSD Before I Knew It Was PTSD

After I graduated college and got fired from my first job – ‘cause I’m excellent – I had to move back home. My parents were always clear that I could always come home because they weren’t going to support me if I couldn’t support myself if I wasn't at home. I mean, within bounds of reason.

My second job at the time of me being fired paid about $40 a month, which, was not a good deal. So, I had to move home while I looked for ways to support myself.

Anyhow, I was working at the Body Shop part-time in the mall and I was working with this girl. I actually forget her name – she was pretty, though, with short blond hair. I’ll call her Suzanne because that’s the first female name that came up on the TV while I was writing this.

She was fun, actually. A little quiet, but, fun. The store was high-volume but very small so working with someone you got along with was key to having a good day.

We had a good day working and we were closing up.

When closing the store you had to do some register stuff, then count all the cash. The ticket from the register tells you how much you should have, then you take out everything but $100 and put it in the safe. We close one register about a half an hour before the mall closes, then the other. Tacks on about 30 minutes to how long you are going to be there.

I still remember that because it’s like the same everywhere and I worked a couple retail jobs after this one.

So, I close the doors and lock up and she is standing at the second register – and like, shaking. She’s got the money in her hand and you can tell she isn’t counting. She’s trying to count or rather, going through the motions of counting and just shaking.

Then she is scampering between the office and the register as if she isn’t sure how to do the cash thing. There is a chaos to her as if she is a child and some parent is screaming at her and she is trying to…I don’t know…fix the broken vase she just knocked over.

I wanted to get out on time. And I've dealt with crazy. So, I moved in and helped her count the coins. She is getting more upset because division of labor is part of the whole retail thing – you got to carry you half and I closed the other register so she is either going to close this thing now or she is hopeless.

I don’t think that, but, the unwritten laws of retail are harsh.

Suzanne: I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.
Maddie: No big deal. Look, we’re done.
Suzanne: I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry…
Maddie: Nothing to be sorry about.

And then in the midst of all this...

Suzanne:…A year ago today I was sexual assaulted and it’s dark out and…

I have no idea what else she said. I also didn’t really didn’t know what “sexual assult” was. This was back in the day when women were either proven to be raped or “nothing happened.” Unless a penis goes into the vagina – I guess it didn’t really count no matter how little you wanted to be touched – anywhere. I think this is important because we hide behind these terms to make something that is violent and and crime more ok to other people.

Maddie: Do you want me to call security?
Suzanne: I call them so much, I can’t do it again. They always come but…

It’s a guy. Security is always a guy. She would be alone with some guy while reliving what some other guy did to her.

Suzanne then tells me what happened – I don’t think I asked because it wasn’t important to me to know it, it was only important to support her. She tells me she was active on her campus for women’s safety. Making sure women know they can call someone if they need to be walked home from the library to their dorm at night and stuff or even making sure security is around and going through buildings and stuff.

She tells me she was part of this committee that worked hard to get the school to put in “blue boxes” – those phones when you pick them up they automatically ring at the security place and you can get help.

One memeber was this guy who was her friend. And one night, after they had a rally or meeting type thing on campus, he walked her home saying he wanted to make sure she got to her dorm ok since her roommate had gone home for the weekend. They got to her dorm and he wouldn’t leave. At first, it was like when a friend stops by, you maybe invite them in, watch a TV show. Whatever.

But, she said he wouldn’t leave and then he…sexually assaulted her. And she can't be out at night in the dark because it happened at night and she doesn't like to work night and she had to today and it's too dark now....

As an older adult now, I think there was more than just someone grabbing her boob or something. She was alone, she was trapped, no one was coming into her dorm room. He hunted, targeted, trapped and did whatever he wanted with her. It was rape.

A year to the day after it, she is a living wreck, pouring the story out with all these little details. Not about the event – just everything.

I do what I know how to do – I just tell her it’s ok. I mean, her situation wasn’t ok, but there was no danger around her right now, it's not happening right now, it was only inside her. I can’t fix what is insider of her. Then I did the only think I knew I could do – protect the f**king hell out of her.

Maddie: I am here! You hold my hand. You stay with me. I’m going to take you to your car, I will follow you home, I am going to do anything you need, you got it?

She is crying – not like sobbing or like crying in gratitude – it’s the type of cry where you don't know you are doing it. You vision just blurs. I, at least, know that type of cry.

She gets her things and I march out of that store with her. The mall is dead closed - all the gates are down. It sort of peaceful when you work there but I could see every shadow she saw. I made sure to march down those halls and look around corners for her even though I knew no one was there.

I took her the fast way out through the loading docks, which are actually super creepy and smells like pee. She was ok with that. We took the elevator to the top of the parking...thing and I remember having her stand back while I walked into the box, checked it top to bottom and then had her come in. She didn’t want to take the stairs because it would be easier to be attacked there. I kept her behind me while we rode to the second level. Then I walked out first and told her it was ok to come out.

Suzzane: I don’t think I parked here…oh no!
Maddie: Ok, come with me.

I took her to my car and we drove to her car. I mean, I wasn’t going to walk around all over the mostly empty parking garage. And she was a mess.

Suzanne: I'm so sorry. You must think I am crazy. I’m so sorry.
Maddie: YOU HAVE NO REASON TO BE SORRY, SUZANNE! NOTHING ABOUT THIS IS YOUR FAULT! YOU ARE NOT WRONG YOU ARE STRONG AND AMAZING AND YOU DO WHAT YOU GOT TO DO BECAUSE I AM HERE!

(no, I didn't yell that, it was just what I was thinking so hard at the time)

I got her to her car. I followed her out of the mall parking lot to the stream of normal evening traffic. I never saw her again.

That's dramatic. It's not because she died but when you work part-time you generally don't see a lot of people again and again.

I just remember her story about what predators really are. I wondered which of my guy friends would rape me for a moment. In present day, maybe it's a thought a lot of people don't want to have or a thing that happened that people don't want to express.

I remember she kept apologizing for her fear. She kept saying how sorry she was. Like my care of her was somehow an inconvenience to me. Like I cared about...having to care...and she needed to be sorry.

She should not apologize, ever, and we all should care. And because we care - because someone cares - it makes what happened wrong and that guy a bad guy and a criminal and not someone who belongs mingling in society like nothing ever happened. He needs to be sorry, she does not.

Later I learned about PTSD. That’s PTSD. She was suffering with PTSD. She couldn’t function as soon as the sun went down. She couldn’t even call for help. She just lived in this state of fear and being sorry for someone else's crime that hurt her.

Once it was named, I don’t know, it felt less approachable than Suzanne's story was. If someone had PTSD it was because they went to war and the media said you just avoided them because you don’t know what will trigger them or what will happen.

I also had this feeling....belief.... when I learned about PTSD, that it was something I couldn’t do anything about. I’m not trained. I’m not good at it. I was powerless against it and so was everyone but people went to school to study it.

And that's not right, either.

I think if one person can wreck another person like that – we all have to step up. I learned from her I didn’t have to experience what she was going through to step up. I didn’t have to dismiss it or process it at any level other than she needed help. I had to walk into that war-room of her fear and do something to protect her. To take some small piece of stress from her.

I don’t know what happened to her. I would like to think the worst of the nightmare is over for her. I would like to think that she is using her story to touch other lives and walk into the war-room of other people’s fears.

I'll never know for sure, so, I'll believe that.

Words I Like

Here is a list of words I like from each letter of the alphabet:

• Alchemy
• Aprication
• Bobcat
• Catharsis
• Cattywampus
• Dodecagon
• Equinox
• Fiscal
• Fester
• Fritiniency 
• Gubernatorial
• Havana
• Ink
• Juxtaposition
• Kibble
• Lapis lazuli
• Mantel
• Melancholy
• Nomenclature
• Noodle
• Opioid
• Pugnacious
• Platter
• Quintet
• Retrograde
• Retort
• Rubric
• Silk
• Salon
• Tray
• Ukulele
• Vehicular homicide
• Waterloo
• Xiphoid
• Yack
• Zebra
• Zipper

The Time I Got A Boyfriend in College

Back in college, my roommate Wanda found this guy online. Since online stuff was still pretty new to her and meeting someone from online was scary – and we were in college – she set up a meeting.

I use Wanda's fears as something I didn't have. I was no great expert at this stuff, that's for sure. 

I went as the muscle because I’m a large-and-in-charge type lady. I also had a group of online-only friends so I was less afeard of being weirded out by meeting someone. You just want to avoid being killed and raped. Or raped and killed. Whatever.

Not to be outdone, her soon-to-be boyfriend showed up with his own large-and-in-charge friend. Big dude.

We all sat down and talked in this coffee type coffee place that was not really public – but whatever. And when the time was right, she and her really-boyfriend walked off to have some alone time chatting without the fear of murder and/or rape.

I look to the dude across from me...

Maddie: We going to make something of this?
Him: Uh. Sure.

And that’s the story of how I got my first boyfriend.

The Time I Went Casket Shopping

Back in the day, I was trying to be useful by getting all my funeral stuff down. So, one lunch break, I went coffin shopping. I mean, it's good to be prepared...

Friend: What are you doing?

Maddie: Looking at caskets.

Friend: Why are you looking at caskets?

Maddie: No reason.

Full nondisclosure, it wasn't for "no reason." I had been planning my funeral so if I did die it would be easier on people. Most people are not exactly into doing that, so, it's more normal to claim I'm whimsical than in a bad situation.

Maddie: Ooo, this is a nice one. $900 bucks! Dark brown, light copper finish. Oh crap, it has those creepy praying hands on the inner lid. I don't want to be looking at that.

Friend: First, you'd be dead. Second, you are being creepy.

Maddie: Look at it.

Friend: I mean, it is a cool looking casket. What about the purple one?

Maddie: I hate that flower detailing. Plus, it's over $1000.

Friend: You only die once.

Maddie: True. Also, since the odds of me getting married are slim to none, I'm sure I could spend any wedding dress budget on a casket.

Friend: How much is a wedding dress.

Maddie: Let's say, low-end, $2000?

Friend: That's a lot.

Wedding can be expensiveness, so are those dresses. Now that I survived a wedding, I can say I'm so glad I will never have to go through that again. I wish I could not have gone through it at all.

Maddie: What's with these flower detailing? Urg. It's like an old person's home.

Friend: Old people are the largest consumers of caskets.

Maddie: Ooo. How about an urn? This one comes with a stylish display box. And this one has six min-urns in one display box. Would six people want my ashes?

Friend: These are a four-pack.

Maddie: And an oversized one. Hm. Do you think if I got really fat I'd need an oversized one?

Friend: I think humans are like 80% water. Oversized urn people have got to be showing off. Do you want to be cremated?

Men generally produce more ash than women do because their bones are denser. The body fat is all consumed during the cremation process. The amount of ashes that remain after a body is cremated is around 1-2 pounds

Maddie: I could get this six-pack urn set, right, and then auction each off. Also, I think by the time I am dead, whatever the living want to do with me is fine. Maybe I could donate my body to science.

Friend: You'd probably be dissected by some med student. Hey, here's one with the American flag.

Maddie: I do like America.

Friend: It says, "In fact, at an average cost of $2,400, a funeral may be the third most expensive consumer purchase after a home and a car."

Maddie: Maybe they have a used casket/urn section. . .

Friend: Yeah, I don't think so.

Maddie: This selection is sort of a let-down.

Friend: This conversation is a sort of let-down.

Maddie: OMG. Urns that are pendants! You can wear me.

Friend: Uh

Maddie: OMG, you can put the ashes in a pendent and wear them like a charm bracelet.

Friend: Mm.

Maddie: Earrings.

Friend: no.

Maddie: I don't have pierced ears. Ooo. An hourglass urn! I could be useful even in death! I hope I get to haunt something.

Friend: Really?

Maddie: Or get turned into a diamond. Yeeeeah. Years from now, some poor guys is going to be like, "Marry me Jane" and it's a diamond of my ashes. Bwhahahaha.

Friend: Unique, as always.

Maddie: Ok, back to work.

So, if you want to have some fun, plan your funeral. There are a lot of options out there. 

Why I’m The Worse ER Delivery Girl

One year, when I was in college, my mother said that summer I needed to get my wisdom teeth out. So I never went home. I got a “summer job” as acting station manager and program manager in the communications department.

Most of this was fancy talk for…uhh…IDK. I just made sure stuff was running while no one was around and painted stuff.

All of the college kids were moved to one dorm since the college rented out the other dorms to summer camps, sports camps and the Christen camps. The worst were the Christian ones – if you didn’t fall over kids having the sex with each other two to three times a day, it was weird. The other groups were far better behaved as far as tripping over them.

So, as a woman-person, I was in the ladies hall. I made friends with the other girls – maybe there were three or four of us on that hall. We all worked different times and stuff but I ended up hanging out with a couple of them and we had a good time.

Let me break it down:

• Rainbow: Had a car and tricked out dorm room with a rug and bean bag chair.
• Sprinkles: Always happy, fun. She was my summer-roommate. 
• Someone: IDK, I just know there was a third person. .maybe a fourth. Whatever. She bitched-out like a pussy when the sh** hit the fan.

The Set-Up
One night we decided we were going to go to the diner, because Rainbow had a car (ok, maybe it was Sprinkles, unimportant), and then watch a chick-flick and have a girl’s night in. We had a great time at the diner and then headed back to the dorm. I checked my messages when I got back while Sprinkles went to the ladies room and Rainbow set up the movie in her room.

Then Rainbow appeared at my door and says the following:

Something happened to Sprinkles. I think something happened to Sprinkles. I think she was attacked. I'm calling security

Well, I type that something happened into the messenger window to Boguslav Nikola (we were just starting to date - he is also featured in the Sexy-Time Cake Story) and that I needed to check some stuff out. In the course of Rainbow telling ME something was wrong, I became my human duty to fix it. And find Sprinkles.

I don't have a lot of friends, I can't let someone attack the few I got. Right?

I head off the bathroom to see what happened to Sprinkles. Help is useless if you only have a corpse when help gets there, so, I was going to see WTF was going on.This is when the other people who had been with us left. I stopped keeping track.

...Ruining my movie night...some type of killer in the bathroom.

Honestly, it wouldn't take much to get into the dorm and, as I later learned, there was no security you could count on to help you out.

The Stuff That Happened
Anyhow, these bathrooms are totally like every Japanese horror game, and per that horror culture, some awful sh** happens in these bathrooms. They are all small tile floors and walls, sinks lined up in one place, stalls in the other. You KNOW something bad could totally happen in there.

They are super clean and stuff, just...creepy...

I'm an America - I played games like Wolfenstein (the first one), Rise of the Tirade, Doom...and like Jedi Knight. I was prepared to deal with whatever because I learned everything I needed to know from this cluster of games and Resident Evil.

I was low to the ground, stalking in...

There is Sprinkles wearing her shirt and underwear but no pants. While I am a fan of not wearing pants myself, she was standing in front of the full-length mirror with a glazed look in her eye and swaying back and forth slightly. Something was up. Or at least off.

Maddie: Sprinkles, are you ok?
Sprinkles: [big smile] I’m fine.
Maddie: You sure. Let’s get you back to the room.
Sprinkles: [big smile]: OK
Maddie: Do you need help?
Sprinkles: [big smile] No

Sprinkles, apparently not noticing she is missing pants, walks toward the door and careens right into the row of sinks as if she was on some type of boat that just shifted. BOOM. Right into them. Almost goes down.

I did notice there is no blood or otherwise signs of a struggle.

Maddie: Let me help you
Sprinkles: [big smile]: I don't need any help

Sprinkles has a strong right-side lean. As in she was hugging the wall and sort of unable to straighten her body or stride. I tried to take her arm and she was not having in – in the nicest way possible. Because she's a really sweet girl.

Maddie: Do you notice you can't walk
Sprinkles: [big smile]:I can walk
Maddie: No you can’t
Sprinkles: [big smile]: I'm fine
Maddie: You sure you don't want help?
Sprinkles: [big smile]: I'm fine. I can walk just fine

I got her by the arm and helped her because she wasn't really able to fend me off or something. Also, Rainbow is really judgy when it comes to not helping people. You'll understand later.

Anyhow, our room was on the wall she was plastered to, and I didn't want her falling through the door or something. Rainbow was there, just getting off the phone and got Spinkles into her bed. Knowing Sprinkles was safe - I make a bee-line back to the bathroom:

• One: I want to find if there was a motherf**ker in there who messed up my friend.
• Two: Pants.
• Three: Evidence?

I quickly search the bathroom - I kicked open all the stalls - so probably a GOOD thing no one was in there. I ran to the other end of the hall to see if someone might have slipped out while I was helping Sprinkles to the room. No one. No one for miles. I couldn't find any evidence of an attack. Sprinkles herself was not bloody and if she had been raped in the slim amount of time she was alone in the bathroom, why would she still have on her underroos?

I found her pants - it looked like she walked out of her pants after she peed. She also peed successfully. No sign of weirdness there. I did not flush. Evidence...people, evidence.

I trot back to the room and Sprinkles is out of it. She is replying ok to what Rainbow is asking her, but, she’s not there. Then she passes out - she just falls asleep.

Now, I don’t know much about things, but, sleeping is like being dead and I didn’t want her to die so I got her to wake up and just kept rubbing her back and tying to make it uncomfortable for her to go to sleep again. And she says the most terrifying thing -

Sprinkles: What happened?

Then she passes out as Campus Security arrives. FINALLY...an adult. Campus security comes in and looks as us. We look at him. We are like all under 20. Sure, adults, but, totally not adults. We are actually scared, we called for help and help had arrived and we wanted so badly for someone to tell us what was happening - and that everyone was going to be ok.

Sprinkles starts to cry – the last thing she remembered was being at the diner and she has no idea how she got into bed, why her pants are missing, why we are calling someone – anything. Rainbow just makes sure Sprinkles is covered – because it’s not a crisis until someone sees your panties.

Campus Security: You ladies take any drugs tonight?
Rainbow: No
Maddie: No
Campus Security: Did she take any drugs?
Maddie: No
Rainbow: No – but she had cancer when she was a kid and...
Campus Security: Does she normally take drugs or drink?
Rainbow: No.
Maddie: No. Look we need some help here. Can you take her to the ER?
Campus Security: That’s not really what we do here. We don't know if she took something not around you guys.
Maddie: But something happened...
Campus Security: You sure you all didn't take some drugs?

Sprinkles is crying, I am rubbing her back. I'm ready to give a run down of everything in the bathroom while Campus Security continues to let us know it's not his job to do...anything?

Rainbow LEAPS into action – because the motherf**ker we just called for help only was interested in what drugs we had, not about the fact that something really, really wrong was happening and someone was in distress and we needed help.

I had a strong suspicion movie night was ruined, at this point, also.

I don’t know when the guy left, he was not even going to call 911 or something.

He just left.

Looking back, I wonder how much blood or gore would make him want to take action. Or if he would just say it’s “not my job" or "rape/murder/broken bones/etc isn't really what we do here. Are there drugs?"

Let's focus on the real hero - Rainbow.

Rainbow speeds out of the dorm to get the car and bring it to the front of the dorm so we don't have to walk Sprinkles that far. Then I get Sprinkles up (and in pants) and we are walking out while she still can’t quite get her rudder straight – she keeps pitching right.

As the largest of the women folk in almost any group, I knew I could keep a firm hold on her and keep her from crashing into things like trashcans, doorknobs...the ground.

Our entire walk down a hall, out a set of doors and to the car was this:

Sprinkles: I can walk
Maddie: No you can’t
Sprinkles: I can walk just fine
Maddie: No you can’t
Sprinkles: I can walk
Maddie: No you can’t
Sprinkles: I can walk. You can let me go
Maddie: No you can’t
Sprinkles: I can walk
Maddie: …fine…

I picked a really bad time to prove to Sprinkles that I'm a dick - and by that,  I mean,

• First: She was in obvious distress and when someone is in distress, they can say and do whatever and you just make sure they are safe 
• Second: We had made it to the pavement and not grass, carpet or anything soft 

She goes down like a ton of bricks and busts her knee on the curb. It is a spectacular fall, because she is still leaning right so it's not like she went down like a normal person.

Maddie: Still think you want walk?
Rainbow: OMG, Sprinkles! Are you ok?!
Sprinkles: [laughing]: I'm so clumsy
Rainbow: *DEATH LOOK AT ME*

Yea, yeah. But, to my credit, Sprinkles was more open to help.

We got her into the car. She is bleeding pretty good from her knee but it’s one of those superficial bleedy things. Nothing is broken but since the skin is so thin, you get a LOT of blood. We gave her some take-out style napkins. You know, problem solved.

No blood in the car.

Sprinkles is coming around a lot more. She tells us everything – she took no drugs (not that she was the type), she just remembers the diner. There was no one in the bathroom that she remembers. She is positive but scared at the situation.

She is also really happy she wore cute underwear.

Two thumbs up to Rainbow, by the way. While I was helping move the body, she got Sprinkle's stuff which contained her medication and ID and stuff. We were f**king lucky we had both Rainbow had a car.

We get to the ER – which is not that far away, might I add.

NOT THAT FAR AWAY, CAMPUS SECURITY. WITH A WHEELBARROW WE COULD HAVE GOTTEN THERE BEFORE DAWN

In the ER the nurse at intake looks at her knee. I mean, Sprinkles is still stumbling around but with blood running down her knee it just makes that visible injury look so much like the focal point.

Nurse: Oh! How did this happen.
Maddie: Her knee isn’t the problem, it’s her brain. Don't worry about her leg
Nurse: I'm the intake nurse, I'll figure out what's wrong...

Touché, second adult we have encountered. Touché .

The nurse gives her some gauze and stuff to suck up the blood and Sprinkles gives her all her information and what she remembered happened. Rainbow and I fill in the missing time and what we know.

Into the ER we go to wait for testing and all that. I’m not like a GOOD waiter type person. So, I pick up one of these children’s book and start to read it. Yes, they have a stack of children's books in the ER. We end up playing a game where we try to remember the lines or talk in silly voices while reading and reciting.

Sprinkles is laughing. Rainbow is laughing. You know – typical sounds from an ER situation. Some tech pokes his head in – behind him, someone is getting their stomach pumped or something. Someone is dying.

Tech: It’s just odd to hear laughter in here.

Yep. Well, this is f**king girls night. Recognize. Also, we are all really scared. We all know we aren't "related" we are young, not family...what if they discharge Sprinkles because they think it's drugs or tell us we need to leave her?

Sprinkles is taken in for testing and Rainbow and I just stare at each other...

Rainbow: Do you know her parents phone numbers?
Maddie: Nope.
Rainbow: She's going to be ok.
Maddie: Yeah. Totally. She's going to be fine.

Because when no one tells you what you need to hear, you tell it to yourself until you believe it. And when no one helps you when you need help, you help yourself.

#belikerainbow

So, stuff happens – she is deemed fine, gets discharged and we take her back to the doctor the next day for more tests. Ends up Sprinkles had like a fake stroke or real stroke - something strokey. She had brain cancer as a child which didn't help the structures of her brain and something just happened.

As it turned out, the next week or so she already was scheduled for a lot of post-cancer tests that she gets every year or so, so, that was good. She wasn't allowed to drive so her parents had to come get her.

I didn't sleep until Sprinkles' parents arrived to take her home. I just kept waiting for something else to happen. Even Rainbow stuck with her as much as possible when she wasn't in the room.

I DID get a tin of cookies out of it from Sprinkle's mom which I shared with Rainbow.

I hate chocolate, anyway.

And for this collection of events is why I am a horrible ER Delivery Girl. And, also, women are awesome.

Halloween

I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

I do not think that they will sing to me.

I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.
We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.

- The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by T.S. Eliot

Halloween Thoughts

There is always something to be said for those adults who are "into Halloween" who don't have kids. I mean, if you have kids it's ok, you have to be into it for them. If you don't have kids - I know how you look at us with your sympathy.

So, let me tell you what Halloween is.

Halloween is when you decide what you want to be.

Not be when you grow up, not be in 5 years - just what you want to be because we are human beings. When we talk to kids - or ourselves - about what we want to be...about what our SOULS are, we are talking about Halloween. Only on Halloween can you be anything.

October 31 - Suddenly, nothing is off limits, nothing is forbidden - crafty, sexy, gory, inspirational, funny - everything is ok. You can be a character, you can be on an adventure into stories, stores and shoes you might never wear again. But, what's really cool, sometimes you find something there - a look, a pose, a color - that never leaves.

Halloween is more than candy and kids and scary movies - just like Christmas is more than cookies, presents and jingle bells.

Halloween is when a child is told to dress as a superhero and the child chooses Chris Hadfield.

Halloween is when you take a perfectly normal, dirty squash you picked from a field and turn it into a masterpiece.

Halloween is when people come together and help each other out with gusto just to be a group of Smurfs or a bunch of flappers. We suddenly find common ground and things that bring us together in a world that seems to want to divide us.

Halloween is when you can see horror, we've all seen horror, and suddenly it's just a little bit more ok because we all jumped when the killer was behind the door. And if someone else jumps, if someone else is with you, suddenly you are a little more ok with the horror you have to face the day after Halloween.

Halloween is about being more than in or out of the comfort zone - it's about accepting all zones. Halloween is about finding objects and people and things and making them more real. Halloween is about looking horror in the face with a laugh.

I have had Halloweens that have stayed with me ever since...whispering...anything is possible...you can be anything...

My Vaguely Alarming and Scientific Food Issues

I have food in tolerances. This is a baffling and mythic part of my everyday that is not a part of a lot of other people's everyday. I know people who have allergies, intolerance and also food they don't like - just not as many as me.

I had a blood test to determine what my body was reacting to and then went through the process of removing ALL the foods and then adding them back in to see if I had a reaction. I had reactions to all of them and removing them from my life has made a huge different in my quality of life.

Not diet. Not skinny-girl talk. Nothing but my ability to carry on normal, everyday activities as free from pain as possible. This process took me well over a year.

I generally eat when I am home and have access to food that I know is safe. So, I eat about once a day. Most of the food I consume I have made myself, though I am working on trying to find brands of food I can buy and eat. This convenience is not part of my daily right now.

Here is a simple list of foods I cannot eat:

• Baker’s yeast
• Beans 
• Black pepper
• Brewer’s yeast
• Canola (rapeseed)
• Cranberry
• Dairy
• Eggs 
• Mushrooms
• Peanuts
• Soy
• Wheat
• White pepper

Here is the complex list of things I cannot eat - a lot of foods combine with more than one food trips everything. For example, I can have corn but I can't have corn with a cheese sauce. I can have bacon but not bacon which was cured in vinegar. 

• A1 Sauce
• Ailoi
• Atta flour
• Beans
• Bean sprouts
• Baked beans
• Baker’s yeast
• BBQ sause
• Beer
• Black Beans
• Black pepper
• Brewer’s yeast
• Bulgur
• Butter
• Buttermilk
• Canola (rapeseed)
• Casein
• Cheese
• Chutney
• Cider
• Clotted cream
• Cocktail mixes
• Cocktail sauce 
• Couscous
• Cranberry
• Creamer
• Crème fraiche
• Curd
• Custard
• Duck egg
• Duck sauce
• Durum
• Edamame
• Egg whites
• Eggs 
• Einkorn
• Farina
• Farro
• Frozen yogurt
• Gelato
• Ghee
• Graham
• Guacamole (store bought)
• Hoisin sauce
• Ice cream
• Kamut 
• Kefir
• Ketchup
• Khorasan
• Kidney beans
• Lentil
• Lima bean
• Malt
• Matzoh
• Mayonnaise
• Milk
• Miso
• Mung bean
• Mushrooms
• Mustard
• Navy beans
• Olives (in vinegar)
• Omelets
• Peanut butter
• Peanut oil
• Peanuts
• Pickles
• Pinto beans
• Quail egg
• Refried beans
• Relish
• Salad dressings
• Sauerkraut
• Seitan
• Semolina 
• Sour cream
• Soy
• Soy sauce
• Soybeans
• Spelt
• Sprouted wheat
• Sushi (made with rice wine)
• Sweet and sour sause
• Tabasco
• Tabbouleh
• Tamarind
• Tartar sauce
• Teriyaki
• Tofu
• Triticale
• Triticum
• Vinegar
• Wasabi
• Wheat 
• Wheat berries
• Wheat bran
• Wheat germ
• Wheatgrass
• Whey
• Whipped cream
• White beans
• White pepper
• Wine
• Yogurt

Here is a list of foods I don't like:

• Almond flour (almonds, in general, are not a favorite)
• Anything spicy
• Chocolate
• Cucumbers 
• Fish mint (aka: fish leaf, lizard tail, chameleon plant, heartleaf, fishwort or bishop's weed)
• Grapefruit

Hey, bright side, here are the foods I can and DO eat in the course of a year:

• Almond milk
• Almonds
• Anise
• Apples
• Artichoke
• Asparagus
• Avocado
• Bacon (not cured in vinegar)
• Banana
• Beef
• Beets
• Bell peppers (red, green, yellow and orange)
• Blackberries
• Blueberries
• Brazil nut
• Broccoli
• Brussels sprouts
• Cabbage
• Cantaloupe
• Carrot
• Cashew milk (FAV!)
• Cashews
• Cassava
• Cauliflower
• Celery
• Chard
• Chestnuts
• Chia seeds
• Chicken
• Coconut
• Coconut oil
• Coffee
• Corn
• Corn pasta
• Dates
• Eggplant
• Endive
• Flounder
• Frisee
• Garlic
• Gin
• Ginger
• Goat
• Goose
• Grapes
• Green beans
• Hazelnut
• Herbs (parsley, rosemary, thyme, etc)
• Herr's brand potato chips
• Honeydew
• Horseradish (not processed junk)
• Jicama
• Kale
• Lamb
• Leeks
• Lemon
• Lettuce
• Lime
• Lobstera
• Macadamia nuts
• Olive oil
• Olives (not cured)
• Onion (yellow, sweet, red)
• Parsnips
• Peaches
• Pear
• Pecans
• Pine nuts
• Pineapple
• Pistachios
• Plums
• Pork
• Potato vodka
• Potatoes
• Prunes
• Pumpkin
• Radishes
• Raspberry
• Red onion
• Rice
• Rice milk
• Rice pasta
• Rye
• Salmon
• Salt (all types, some even flavored)
• Scallions
• Scallops
• Shrimp
• Spaghetti squash
• Spinach
• Spring roll wrappers
• Squash
• Strawberries
• String beans
• Sunflower butter
• Sunflower oil
• Sweet potatoes
• Taro
• Tomatoes
• Tuna
• Walnuts
• Watermelon
• Yams
• Quinoa
• Zucchini

Brands I generally can eat:

• Bolthouse Farms: Most of their juices
• Cherrybrook Kitchen: Waffle and Pancake Mix
• Ener-G: Egg replacer and pretzels
• Herr’s chips: Mostly just the plain chips, nothing fancy 
• Miyoko's Kitchen: VeganMozz only
• Namaste Foods: Egg replacer, cake mix and waffle mix
• PlantFuision: Phood

That Time I Replied To Wrong Emails

I received an e-fax! An e-fax is like an email but the sender uses a machine from like the 1980s to send it.

It was for a credit reference between two companies. I won't lie, at first, I just deleted it assuming it was a scam. Then I kept getting them - it seemed less scammy and since I have tons of time on my hands, I looked into it.

Sure, who doesn't get a wrong number or have something sent that was meant for someone else? I think as part of our jobs as humans is to look out for each other. Really - wouldn't you want someone looking out for you?

So, I did what I could by replying to BOTH at the same time:

The text of the email is:

-------------------

Hello Parts Express and British Audio Services, 

I think you two should talk – like a little B2B action. I am really happy I could get you two together – honestly. I tried before, but, I have a good feeling this time. 

I have been getting the notices from Parts Express that I need to fill out a credit reference for British Audio Services. I’m pretty sure this is because someone fat-fingered a number somewhere. It’s ok – we can all still make magic work here before it is too late!

Parts Express: I want to connect YOU to your customers because business makes the world turn. I mean, I can tell Penny is a hard worker by the fearless way she penned “2nd request” but I can see there is some hesitation by that lowercase “e” – sure, she got her message across – or did she? Penny – you can BE A HERO by talking with British Audio Services and getting this whole thing fixed! Their number is (615) 891-1788 and they are (probably a little hungover in the morning) open until 10a-6pm M-F and 10-5p on Saturday. Just subtract an hour from that, you guys aren’t in the same time-zone. Oh, and they rest on the Lord's day. 

British Audio Services: You rock it, I know you do. Any company in TN with “British” in their name will walk into party with sock AND loafers and say, “What of it? I’m here to party.” If I ever go to TN, I will think about stopping by and making friends so I could fill out this credit reference for you. In the meantime, I think you have an order pending with Parts Express. Trust me, it won’t be that express if you don’t get this done, right? How about you give my friend Penny a call at Parts Express and get this whole caboodle fixed up? Just ring her at 937-743-3000. They are all being express over there from 8a-6p M-F and are a little hungover on Saturday with 9a-5p hours on Saturday. Just add an hour to that and you will be A-ok!

Ok – we all got our instructions? Annnnnnnd. . . .don’t let me die in your spam filter. . .GO!

-------------------

I totally thought I would end up in someone's spam filter or at the very least, get another notice about this mysterious credit reference - I did not! What a delightful success!

Here is the text of the email:

Hello Amanda.  A copy of your email below came to the Customer Service team today and we have since forwarded it to Penny who will get this “caboodle fixed up” right away.  Wow, thank you for getting involved!   

I just have to tell you much my team and I enjoyed your email.  We are still laughing after numerous reads! Your sense of humor wowed us and we all said “We love this gal!” The world needs more people like you!  Going forward, feel free to copy us on all your funny correspondence.  LOL       

And, if you are ever in southern Ohio, please stop by and make friends with 

How nice! I also got a response from the other company - go accurate spam filters:

Here is the text:

Dear Amanda,  

You've really got me laughing, thank you... And, my apologies for any inconveniences this may have caused you.  

You're obviously a real talent with a great sense of humor.  Your writing is extraordinary and you've put more effort into this credit app than the blokes at parts express. Haha.  

Please do visit us if ever in Nashville as I'd love to meet you in person and enjoy a cold beer together. Certainly it would be my honor.  

I will do my best to keep "penny" from faxing your line any more.  

Kind regards

I'm no James Veitch, but I think I made some new friends. And helped the economy. I'm like a hero. 

5 Things No One Told Me About Fostering Kittens

Kittens eat a lot. No, they eat A LOT

I would say on a normal day, a healthy growing kitten eats about two large cans of cat food. That's ONE kitten. Two cans per kitten. Plus dry food, which I keep out all day. 

And treats. 

And like part of your couch. Probably some hair ties. Probably a wicker basket and like two fake plants.

This means, a group of four kittens will be eating at least 8 cans of cat food a day. Sometimes I put down extra food and they eat that. There is no obesity crisis in the fostering kitten world and you should never deny a kitten food because you cannot overfeed them. 

You can only stare in wonder and keep buying more and more food.

2. Fostering is tax deductible!

That’s right! Since 2004, if the rescue you are working for is a 501(c)(3) not-for-profit organization, you can write-off cat fostering expenses. 

Items such as food, medicines, vet bills and supplies can be tax deductible.

If there's a room in your home solely dedicated to the care of fostering cats, you can claim a portion of your household utilities, as well. Save your receipts if you are paying for your fosters out of your own pocket!

3. It’s a little gross – ok a lot gross

Kittens brought in from bad conditions are going to have gross problems. If you are hoping for tiny, well-behaved love-balls, you’re in for a I’m-not-sure-of-that-poop-or-vomit wake-up call. Sometimes stuff just shoots out of their butts (like tapeworm segments) or appears on their head (like ringworm). 

You will be cleaning a variety of material from carpets and walls and probably finding hidden substance mixed with the food they tracked all over after they toppled their food bowls and rolled in it.

You will probably see worms in their butts or skin conditions like ringworm. You will see eye junk, nose gunk, cuts and more! 

4. It is unpredictable

I was going to take two kittens and six kittens were delivered. I was going to foster for two weeks and two months later, I still had a batch of kittens. 

I had to cancel plans to deliver a sickly kitten into the advanced care of another rescuer who I never didn't know...and met in a dark alleyway one night. I delivered kittens to potential adopters and about an hour later, these people were denied on the spot because something was “off” about them.

There is a lot of things that can happen when you foster that you probably can’t really plan for. It’s not because someone is after you or doesn’t appreciate you, it’s because this is what is needed. It’s unpredictable because – well, see 5.

5. It was NEVER about you

If you are trying to cram your house with more kittens than you can support (or that those living with you can handle) because life is cruel – reevaluate. If you are not making their situation better and maintaining your own healthy and happy situation, this is not for you.

If you are fostering to feel love or to teach your children something - reevaluate. These are not furry life-affirming-lessons which spread fun and easy sparkle-dreams. They are living creatures in need who have had a tough and rough start. Some of them are going to hate you so hard...

If you have an expectation of getting something in return, some reward or praise or rights to another life after you give your money, time and space - reevaluate. It is rare you get follow-up stories or get thanks or some type of parade. The goal is to get these kittens to their forever homes - not get a reward.

I have been bitten, scratched, got ringworm, had furniture and carpets ruined, been awake all night, smelled like sulfur for days, crammed pills and potions down tiny throats while they cried and been made fun of by friends and coworkers. I have canceled fun plans, made hard decisions and HATED everything at times.

It’s ok, though, because fostering is not about me. It’s about getting these animals healthy, trained and off to their forever homes. The reward is when they leave your care to a vetted and loving home.

Friendship for Hypothetical Reasons

One day, my roommate, let’s call her Wanda, brought over two friends she met through her classes – I don’t remember either of their names. I was never really great friends with any of them, either... but they seemed cool. I’m sure if we had more interactions, we would have been better friends.

Or worse. Let’s not get too optimistic.

One was a blond, I believe. Very German looking girl with a musical voice and quick smile. The other was a thin, brown haired boy with shifty eyes and quick, dark humor. That’s what I remember about them.

It was some point in which the four of us where hanging out. Probably had lunch or something. I think I mentioned that the new center they built looked a lot like something out of a level in Jedi Knight or Doom or something and I felt the need to carry a blaster or something.

German: I wouldn’t go around saying that! People will think you are going to do something bad.

Maddie: I would never – if you played the game, you’d see what I mean.

Boy: There’s not even enough people in the center to make it worthwhile.

Wanda: When I walked into class the first day, I saw you sitting in the back and I thought, that’s the guy who is going to get a gun and shoot everyone one day. I’m going to be his friend so he won’t shoot me.

And we all laughed.

And laughed.

And thought about it…and laughed more awkwardly.

So…anyhow, the point is, I always think about that in the wake of shootings or crimes, both great and small. I think about how we are in disbelief, we are angry, we are hurt, we are questioning something about others and laws and ethics and mental stability. We throw our hypothetical hands in the air and scream “why” and denounce whatever is convenient and bigger than us.

Then we quote Fred Rogers – look for the helpers. We try to become helpers and do become helpers through our donations of time, blood or acknowledgement. We try to remember the names for a week or so…then…since these situations are not about us, actually, we move onto what is about us in our own worlds which are untouched and unbroken. Or are at least easy to heal.

I do not know what makes someone want to do these things – like shooting into crowds of people. I don’t know what arrangement of life situations and circumstance make people do these things. I’m sure it is a great variety of things. If I try to think what would make me think that way, it would be a very long and dark journey - or something out of science fiction.

I have to think at some point – this person’s entire life told them that this action was the solution to a problem or an answer to an out-of-control situation. We can argue it is hate, intolerance, mental illness or anything – we can shut everything down and argue about things that probably never will be proven.

One of the truths - at some point, this person's entire life led them to a point where this was a solution or answer.

I wonder what would make me feel that the only choice in my life is to kill a mass number of people I don’t even know.

Is that empathy?

I think it would take a lot. A very much a lot. More than I ever think I would know that I could have - that’s my best English.

What swirls in the shadows of my mind is the phrase: “I’m going to be his friend…”

I'm going to be his friend.

I think – what if he was going to do something like shoot up the classroom. Would that single action and commitment prevent it?

Could it prevent something?

Has it?

It would never be reported – the friend who stopped another friend either proactively or subliminally from doing something really devastating. Because the devastation wouldn’t happen and only in devastation can there be creation; creation of money or enterprises or purpose or laws, even.

No headline would read: Person states at one point it felt like mass killing was the only answer and now feels like there are better options worth pursuing like adopting a kitten or getting a master’s degree

You’ll never read that.

When we look for the helpers, it is in the moment of most public destruction. Not the quiet peace and restoration of love. The helpers are there in these single moments as unseen as a heartbeat.

This concept of giving people options when they want to do harm to themselves or others - options through friendship and relationships seems far-fetched, it seems like it has a high rate of failure – humans are more complicated than that. To say attackers are unattached to any social fabric or mentally distorted, to say all of them are happily unloved and happy in destruction or are just created shadows with no reflection in hallway mirrors – is not always right.

Maybe, if enough of us took the time and shared as much of ourselves as we reached out to others – people like Wanda, the German or me – maybe one of us would notice something or provided something that could change the future of someone’s life.

Or a mass of people's lives. 

Because of this interaction in my life, I always think about the attacker for a moment and say to the universe:

I am so sorry that everything in your life led to the moment when this option was the right option for you. I’m sorry these thoughts and these plans never touched soundboard that could make this plan one of a million better options. I am so sorry no one was able to reach you, to comfort you, to talk with you in a constructive way to bring out better solutions. I am sorry that the depth and length of love around you could not comfort you. This was not the outcome anyone wanted for you or anyone else. From this moment on, the future will be able making the broken pieces of this stronger.

And then, I look to the helpers who in those moments of life-and-death choose to save. They work to rescue and restore what had been lost for no reason than something horrible happened and they can be the reflection of the good that surrounds that horrible action.

I wish I could sit next to someone the way Wanda did and say: “I’m going to be your friend…” and literally become the type of friend that is exactly what is needed. That I became the helper than no one saw because I didn't love only when it was easy but when it was most needed.

What I can do is tell a story.

Project Halloween: I’m Mouthy

What’s happening with Halloween? I’m building a mouth. So, I was like…I’ll get a couple pints….

Of latex.

That joke was not as funny as I thought it would be but I’m goin’ leave it.

I never used liquid latex before. It’s actually super cool and easy. It would be even cooler with I had some type of hand-art thing. You know, people who draw or paint or can build stuff – I’m not good at that. I am good at coming up with the ideas, but, not so good at building stuff.

Anyhow, I needed to build a mouth with huge teeth. Nom nom nom! I decided the best “teeth” material would be fake nails. Thanks, Amazon prime!

Now, if I was artistic, I would move beyond just painting the tips with Essie Bordeaux and calling it a day.

Artists: I started with a cream-peach base and added some yellow for depth and dimension. I used black by the gum line…
Me: HOW LONG HAS THIS PORK CHOP BEEN IN MY HAIR?!

I thought I was a super master of design by painting the top AND bottom of the nail. I rewarded myself with vodka.

First Concepts
I was going to build the mouth directly on my face.

No. I don’t have that kind of time to do every time I need to do a test run.

First Mouth
Originally, my inspiration was the mouth of a lamprey which is circular. I got a lot of cotton balls and spent some type building layers of cotton into a mouth and sticking the teeth into it.

Then I earned my face is not flat to hold the thing. I also ran out of face real estate. I am not sure how big my face is, but, to be fair, I don’t really see it that often. I’m behind it.

After building it, I noticed it was looking a little dried out…sad-ish. So, my friend…let’s call him Niall, who is really good at this stuff, told me to seal it with Mod Page. Wait. Modge Podge.

Of course I got the wrong kind! I got the photo transfer type and I needed the..glue type?

Lessons were learned.

Second Mouth
My second mouth I figured I would be more like a…uhh…football shaped. Like a mouth. I can’t eat food so it didn’t matter of I could eat.

I also learned rather than just building it of all cotton, I could make a “jaw bone” out of aluminum foil. Also, I could add foundation to the liquid latex and make it “flesh colored” so I wouldn’t have to paint it later.

Because…who am I kidding?

I did get the correct Modge Podge and was really happy with the seal.

Second-ish Mouth
Niall asked me why I didn’t make it two pieces so I could open my mouth. You know...like a normal creature.

So I cut the second mouth into two pieces and built a little bit of a connector. This mouth is HUGE. Like…sticking out. I thought it was a good size for my face, so, now I know I have a smaller face.

I also learned from my previous skin test to use liquid latex and not spirit gum. I had my doubts with the size of these two fake jaws, but, sh** works like a charm!

Third Mouth
Right, so, the mouth I have works and is huge. So, I thought I would make a more refined mouth.

This mouth…well…had potential. I don't have the fine art skills...so...this is a work in progress. I think it made it to long for my face, the jaw part but, I needed that space for glue.

So, this is about where I am right now in my first ever mouth...design. Horror mouth. Mmm.

Also, liquid latex stinks.