Freedom Isn't Free!

Just Another Monday

Today started with shoveling snow off my car…yeah, that’s suicide right there, lol.  So I could drive my two dogs to the vet.  One for her usual acupuncture appointment (trust me, it works), the other for more blood work to chase out the reason he is underweight, throwing up occasionally, and drinking scads of water. 

First I upended up the vet’s office by offering that instead of barfing once a week per usual, we’d had a lovely 3 day (well ok, middle of the night) weekend of bile everywhere… So glad I just invested in that new carpeting…so now he needs to be shot up with fluids as well.

We get through the sticking of needles in various dogs, and I am standing at the counter to pay when I run into a friend and her dog coming out of a different room (distraction).  Dogs and I leave to vet #2.  (because there’s no time to drop acupuncture dog off at home in between, and it’s too cold for her to wait in car for dog 2, so we are both there for his appointment).  Some hours later, I am asked to pay (also exorbitant) vet 2.  Wallett????  Well I hadn’t stopped between vet one and 2, so…back to vet 1 for wallet left on counter, being grateful for many reasons besides the one that I had JUST ENOUGH gas to retrieve said wallet and make it to the nearest (also $$$$) gas station.   

And there is the simplistic version of my Monday.  Let’s not even go into the nuances of ‘the plan’.  It involves me driving my car coupled to a small trailer carrying a motorcycle.  In the car should be me, my two dogs, my dear friend of 22 years.  The goal? 3 months traveling Mexico, Belize, Guatamala.  An open ended, evolving as we go plan.  The current hitch? Yeah, this guy. 

He's worth it all. Stay tuned.

Buried

By now most of you know my strong aversion to funerals.  All that sad boo-hoo, woe is me, why did my loved one have to die?  I dunno, because he/she was 102 and that’s how life works?  Yes, it is tragic when someone living a wonderful life has to go, and you will miss them to the ends of the earth.  No doubt about it, death sucks for the living. But funerals don’t seem to me to be a good way to celebrate someone’s life.

My friends know what to do with me when I push off for the next port.  Cremate me; stick me in a clear mason jar.  Put me on the ‘round table’ at my favorite shipyard, where everyone gathers.  On a pedestal of course, so I can see over the booze bottles.  Make sure there’s lobster and mussels.  Have a big, happy party.  Tell funny stories about me.  No crying!  I lived well, and it was my time, even if it wasn’t.   Then, at the end of the evening, (maybe a less intoxicated person should carry the jar to the water, because I would hate to spend eternity pasted to the blacktop), whoever’s drunkest gets to dump me out the end of the pier in my favorite harbor, so I can theoretically drift on the currents. 

The only problem with this plan is that all my friends are significantly older, so odds are right up there that I’ll be the last man standing.  Which leads to my new plan, as I rapidly approach that age where the early leavers are starting to bugger off with hardly a see ya later.  I don’t want to watch my friends kick off one by one, facing  all those sad, somber funerals that the remaining relatives will put on, leaving no one left to come to my party. 

So, as much as I love you all, sorry, but I’m going to have to replace you all with a bunch of 20 year olds.  

*this post is for 1dozenraw.  Enjoy the next port my friend.

When Life Hands You Chickpeas

PANIC!!!

I feel so bad for these companies that show a bit of something that might actually kill the weakest of our species, which these days seems to be a growing number.  As someone who lives on an organic farm where all precautions are taken at all times, I know just how ridiculously low the acceptable numbers are.  Just like the level of acceptable radiation was low till the earthquake in Japan sent their nuclear reactors’ waste into the air and sea.  After that, governments worldwide raised the acceptable level.  Now a higher level than was previously ok won’t kill us?  Huh, imagine that.

Whenever a company shows a tiny bit of listeria, a common bacteria found in SOIL and WATER, everyone goes nuts and throws away whatever they may have, and will never ever buy that brand again.  I, on the other hand, go the opposite way and buy more, unless it’s already something I don’t eat, like ice cream, which is made with dairy and sugar, two things I avoid.  I still remember the glory days of tomatoes and cantaloupes showing signs of listeria, because, you know, they grow in soil and get watered.  I love both, and during that phase, stores were all but giving them away as no one would buy them.  I wish more fresh food would make this list more often; I could afford to shop again.  I ate gobs of tomatoes and mountains of cantaloupes, until the furor wore off and people forgot and prices crept back up again.

I know that although we are human, we are entities made up of bacteria, as is everything else.  If listeria levels across the board suddenly went up on earth and therefore in everything we eat, the government would simply raise the acceptable level as they did with radiation.  Then none of these ‘scary/dangerous’ foods would be a threat according to the new 'ok' levels.  What would remain the same is that only the weakest would be affected, which is nature intended.  Last I checked she’s still in charge, despite humans believing they control the universe.  And in nature, the weak aren't designed to survive.

I usually make my own hummus using sprouted chickpeas, as it’s cheaper and better, but now, stores will most likely be giving away hummus, so I’m off to the store to splurge.  Think I'll survive? 

Hick Chicks

We were parked outside the back door of one of the city’s finest restaurants, unloading boxes of organic greens, when a young woman popped out the kitchen door, approached us, and asked,

“Do you know where I can get the tea from here?”

I looked at my delivery partner; she looked blankly back at me. It turned out that we were both thinking the same thing: why would this person not ask the kitchen staff about their tea, and what was so good about it that she wanted some so badly?

I said, “ I’m sorry, what?”

“The tea,” she repeated. “You know, the train.”

Duh, oohhhh. The T. By way of explanation for my ignorance, I pointed to the out-of-state farm plate on the delivery van. She shook her head and went back inside the restaurant to ask less countrified people about transportation.