Tis the Season to Recycle

Fa-la-la-la-laaa, La-la-la-la-laaaaaaaaaaa

Anywho, I've been thinking about Christmas. Christmas is lovely, what with the presents, friends, family and eating. Oh, the eating. However, this amazing holiday does have a dark side: the incredible amount of waste that results from our festivities. As someone who has gone as far as putting bubblewrap on her windows to add to the insulating value of her house, I find all the wastefulness a little disturbing.

There are many ways to lower your environmental impact this Yuletide. Here's a not-very-comprehensive list of more fun ways to reduce your holiday waste this year:

1. Don't mail Christmas cards. I like the idea of getting a card in the mail. It's very cheerful. But it's a huge use of paper, not to mention fuel for transportation and a stamp. And stamps are like, what, $60,000 each these days? Why not save a little money and some trees to boot by emailing cards instead. Someecards have some pretty... nontraditional... ones to help spread that holiday cheer (or a lawsuit, depending on which card you choose).

2. Have a Wrap Party. I don't know about you, but by the end of the season I end up with 6 feet of random, brightly colored scraps of wrapping paper that I can't use . I have a theory that it's related to the gnomes that steal random socks and sprinkle pennies all over, but that's neither here nor there. A great solution to this is to have a Most Festive Wrapping Party. The benefits include being able to exchange scraps of wrapping paper so as to cut down waste, add variety to your present display and, of course, sneak a peek at what people are giving you so you have time to drop obvious hints of how acceptable said gift may or may not be. Win-win-win!

3. Shred used wrapping paper. Why waste valuable bubblewrap on protecting fragile items when you could just reuse shiny, colorful paper? That way Auntie Muriel's incredibly ugly vase won't feel so dejected when you pack it away for future use since you "have no room for it anywhere." Besides, that bubblewrap could be insulating your windows!

4. Have a white elephant gift exchange. Gift the gift that keeps on giving: an used gift from last year! Just because you think that cookie tray is twelve kinds of too fancy for your house doesn't mean your best friend does.

If you're feeling really ambitious, start looking into ways to cut back in other areas. Saving the world is always a good New Year's resolution. There are a lot of ways to do so: start a compost. Use more public transportation. Recycle everything you can (plastic bags, bottles, printer ink, the broken shards of Auntie Muriel's vase that you 'accidentally' dropped).

Not to mention Santa is watching you. I'm pretty sure the actual lyrics to "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" is Don't toss that out/You better not try/Recycling's hot/I'm telling you why!/Santa Claus is makingenvironmentallyfriendly your town!

All the Single Turkeys, Part 2

RESULTS:

Items Burned: 3

Chunks of food dropped on the floor: millions

Dishes washed: One hundred billion

Number of times I dribbled raw chicken juice all over: 3

Number of times the cat stole the bread: 2

So. Let me just say that I made the most delicious chicken ever to pop out of an oven. That's quite statement... but it's true. It was crispy, super juicy and oh-so-garlicky. Very much worth the effort put into lassoing it. (Side note: chickens don't want to be tied up. They're very evasive).

The day began with a little squash. Mm. Eggs, cheese, and a vegetable you can't taste because it's covered in CHEESE? Yes, please! I'm pretty sure if all foods I don't like were covered in

cheese I'd eat just about anything. Can you imagine? Sushi with cheese? Wasabi cheese? Sounds so wrong it has to be right.

Look at the cheese!!! If you're lactose intolerant, look away. I don't want you to get a stomach ache just from looking at the cheese.

And then, for post-dinner-pre-desert snack, roasted chestnuts.

Look at them, exploding with joy at the thought of joining me for watching Meet Me in St. Louis.

All and all it was a delicious, delicious day. It was so delicious even the cat decided she wanted in. She stole the bread not once, but twice. Once it was even covered in plastic, so I'm guessing she was pretty excited about all the feasting that was going on. Too bad for her it was too heavy to drag into hiding...

Look at her, contemplating eat the squash seeds right out of that vase. I'm on to you, cat! Away with you, food thief!

All the Single Turkeys, Part 1

Ladies and Gentlemen, I am doing a strange thing: I am spending Thanksgiving at home. Alone. Due to circumstances either out of my control (holiday traffic) or slightly perilous (the bright orange glow of the check engine light on my car) I will not travel to St. Louis to visit my closest located kin. I will brave this year's feast Bridget Jones style: alone and probably very clumsily.

Now, before you succumb to the image of me sitting cross legged on the kitchen floor, sobbing with despair into a box of chicken McNuggets with an empty bottle of cooking sherry lying by my side, keep in mind that I have a very large family. That means a lot of time will be spent on the phone with parents (4), siblings (3) and grandparents (2). That's enough phone time that I had to check to make sure I had enough minutes to cover all that not-quite-face-time. Plus there's always Lawyer Friend's Cat, who is venting her feelings about staying with me for the holiday by knocking over my possessions with great skill*. How could I ever feel alone when I need to run around the house every three minutes to see what that crashing sound was?

While many a friend and coworker has been very kind and invited me to their shindigs, I have thought it over and decided since I will probably be spending a lot of time on the phone, that might not be the best idea. Plus a little fairy lent me $25 so I could go out and buy a real Thanksgiving turkey! Well, okay, chicken. Whatever. The point is that I will probably be very busy with The Great Cooking Extravaganza To Celebrate The Feast In Solo-lady Style. (It's a working title, don't judge).

I have taken it upon myself to create a full on food parade tomorrow, complete with breakfast, snacks, two course meal AND desert. Admittedly it's a bit more than $25 (I already had eggs, bread, spaghetti squash and homemade frozen pumpkin soup), but I'm pretty excited about this challenge. I mean, who really knows how to tie up a chicken in their spare time? It's gonna be intense.

Here's the menu:

1. Spaghetti Squash Gratin

2. Bruschetta

3. Pumpkin Soup

4. Thomas Keller's Roast Chicken with Root Vegetables

5. Oven roasted chestnuts

6. Stove popped popcorn

7. Ice cream

Excitement! I'll post pictures of my delicious (or disastrous) outcomes tomorrow and the inevitable story of how I caught something on fire.

*Meaning I have successfully completed Phase One of becoming a Crazy Cat Lady--spending a major holiday at home alone with a cat that may or may not be mine.

A Brief Moment of Dissent

Well Internet, it's official: I am going to school in August 2011. *insert cheery marching band music here* It's been a hard fight, what with the setting files on fire, parking tickets, and the closed-door back room meetings and all, but in the end, the people have won; I am going to University.

Still, there is a bit of a roadblock. I haven't decided what to do with my life.

People get pretty bent out of shape when you say you don't know what you want to do with your life, let alone with that $20,000 piece of paper. Whenever someone asks, "What are you going to do with an English degree?" and I say, "I don't know... read books?" deep set wrinkles begin to criss cross their brow. They press their lips tightly together and steam starts to billow out their ears.

Then, suddenly, they smile. They have a solution. Easily I could become a writer, professor, journalist, school teacher, ESL teacher, research analyst, editor, engineer, lawyer, technical writer, librarian, or go into publishing, advertising, or public relations. With a little focus and a master's degree I could be any of these things, but please, for the love of God would I just choose a direction?

Today I've decided to say no. I refuse to pick a direction. I refuse a designated path. I went to college six years ago with the idea that I needed to become something right then and there. It didn't matter what I became as long as it wasn't uncertain. I conformed to the anthropologist, archaeologist, art historian, and English teacher tracks. I lived and breathed for the sense of stability and control such a mind set can give. Now that I have left school, I've realized there is a narrow line between the ambition that takes you to your career and the circumstances that keep you there. Leaving a profession you chose at the ripe age of 20 is perilous and expensive. I can't even decide what I want to eat for dinner as I'm making it.* Why would I put myself in such a difficult position when I know I'll change my mind in a few years?

I'm going back to school and that's pretty exciting. But I'm not going to school so I can be educated enough to join some sort of prestigious white collar position as soon as humanly possible. I'm going because I like books and I would enjoy spending all day everyday reading and discussing them with people who feel the same. Yes, that's a hell of an expensive choice. And no, I won't know what to do with myself when I graduate. If it makes you uncomfortable to know that I will be 27 with no career chosen and no set set path in life, don't think about it. I'm the one who has to follow that course. Just know that if I have been able to carve a little life out of having no degree or working world skills--and a good life at that--then I'll be just fine carving a little life out of having an expensive piece of paper and more books on my shelf. It just won't follow anybody else's schedule.

*Side note: macaroni and cheese tacos are not nearly as brilliant as they sound.

WWtCotED?

There’s a phrase out there that mentions something about lemons, lemonade, and life. There’s also one about questioning what Jesus, Buddha, Ronald McDonald, or some other religious figure would do when faced with aforementioned lemon. I think those ideas aren’t particularly applicable to daily life. That’s why I came up with a better one: when life hands you a lemon, just think, “What Would the Captain of the Enterprise Do?”

When I’m faced with a particularly nasty situation, I usually become perplexed then cry hysterically. If those solutions don’t fix what ails me, then I bust out my best Captain impression. “What would the Captain of the Enterprise do if his devotion to his future education* were called into question?" I ask myself.

If it were Picard, chances are he would start out by making a stern face. Then he would learn everything he possibly could from Data, get his emotion-reading lady to be all therapist-tastic, find some way to almost die, learn a valuable life lesson, then win.

Example: Picard strolls into the advising office. “I’d like to know why you think I’m not as awesome as I know am,” he says, holding a steady gaze. The receptionist faints. “Computer! What are my records here?” he orders.

“I think you’ll find there is no on board computer system for 2007. Allow me to pull your paper file and read it super-fast like a freak.” Data offers. Of course, Picard agrees. Meanwhile, Troi senses all the office staff are extremely frightened. Riker loudly announces that they are just really, really nontraditional students while mumbling, “Captain, I think they are getting suspicious…”

Suddenly Data accidentally knocks over the filing cabinet, crushing the Captain. As his heart rate rapidly drops and his life flashes before his eyes, Picard realizes that the key to proving his worthiness is to accept responsibility for his past, treat the entire advisement committee to a drink and negotiate admission terms. Dr. Crusher brings him back to the brink and he does just that. Picard wins.

Captain Kirk has a bit of a different problem-solving approach. When faced with a difficult issue, Kirk woos every creature of the opposite sex in sight while simultaneously avenging the death of random red shirts. Spock stands in the background to make sure everyone watching knows that someone on that ship is logical, it just ain’t Kirk.

Example: Kirk strolls into the advising office. He winks at the receptionist. All the female office staff swoon and faint. “Quick!” Kirk yells. “Set your phaser to ‘destroy student records!’

Spock and various red shirted officers change their phasers and begin shooting at file cabinets and computers. Several of the shots bounce off computer monitors, mysteriously maiming and killing only the red clad officers. “Captain, this is highly illogical.” Spock calls out as he sets fire to a desk. “They’re bound to have back up copies of your record elsewhere. We cannot destroy everything in time.”

“You’re right!” Kirk mutters as he throws an unconscious woman over his shoulders and begins to haul her away. “But according to this conveniently placed, brightly colored document, all the committee staff are female. I’ll buy them all some drinks and that will solve everything!” Kirk does just that and wins.

Given these scenarios, how would I approach the same problem? I’ll give you a hint. My phasers are set to “I am awesome.”

*this is clearly a totally random, completely hypothetical situation. It bears no resemblance to any problem ever faced by anyone ever. Especially not me.

Ants, or The Zombie Apocalypse is Upon Us

Everyone thinks that ants are the ultimate creatures. They're highly organized, occasionally destructive beings. In fact, they are the little communists Stalin always dreamed of: mindless drones go about and search for food, destroy other insects that get in their way, shun all other ant societies and colonies that are not their own, and then bring all the yummies back to the colony in digestible form so the higher order ants can eat until they explode (literally, in the queen's case.) Sounds awesome, right? Wrong.

Question: what do humans fear the most? I bet if you made a person sit down and write out the top ten things they are most afraid of, the first 9 would be lies and the 10th would be true. That 10th item, ladies and gentleman, is zombies.

Zombies are disorganized, completely destructive creatures who will eat everyone in their path. Depending on the type of zombie, they can be ridiculously hard to kill and will probably eat you before you have time to find your chainsaw.

It's funny because some ants are known to kill and eat everything and everyone in their path... and the ants in my house have proven to be very hard to kill... and everyone knows that the drones in an ant colony are not able to think for themselves and must do the bidding of the queen ant... and historically speaking, zombies are undead creatures created to do the bidding of a powerful man or woman... hmm.... *strokes beard*

Thus, by pure scientific deduction, I hearby conclude that ants are the zombie apocalypse. It has begun! Run away! Save yourself! Save your children! Save your picnic!

Think about it: little mindless beings enter your house and stop at nothing. You can kill as many of them as you want, but they keep coming, heedless of danger. They eat everything in their path. They stop at nothing. And there is nothing you can do. Sounds like ants? Sounds like zombies? Sounds like doom.

The time for action is now! I don't know about you, but I've spent many years stockpiling for the eventual zombie apocalypse. Chainsaw? check. Baseball bat? check. Miscellaneous handguns? check. Laboratory to conduct research in during my spare time, presumably to find a cure? check. But now all of these are useless. How can I cut a row of ants with a chainsaw? Or bash them with a baseball bat? And my laboratory does not have any tiny pins to stick ants with, so that's useless too.

Now that zombie-ants (hereafter called anbies) have changed the game on us, we need to change the game on them. First of all, we need to evolve so that we don't compete for food resources with the ants. I suggest we begin by adopting this photosynthesis mumbo-jumbo. If that doesn't work, we should eat the people we don't like to confuse the anbies and again, reduce the competition for resources. Then we should adopt a leader* who will help us destroy the invaders. Of course, we will have to trust this leader implicitly. Any wavering from her demands will bring instant brutal retribution. Also, I think we should all stick together in large, tight knit groups. Harder to attack when there's lots of us. Oh, and maybe we should live underground. They'll never expect us there! While they're busy invading our old houses, we will be tunneling underground and plotting our invasion of their homes.

What's that you say? My plan seems to turn us into the anbies we fear so much? You're so first on the list for 'instant brutal retribution'.

*I would make an excellent anti-anbie apocalypse leader. I'm really bossy and I know where all the cool fake beards are sold. Just sayin'.

Insomniac + Motorcycle = Hello Kitty

Dear Mr. Wasn't-Loved-Enough-As-A-Child,

Thank you for driving through my neighborhood during the wee hours of the morning on your engineered-to-be-louder-than-normal motorcycle. I could hardly sleep for thinking about how cool and rebellious you are. Your actions sent a clear message to society: you are the counter culture and you demand attention. Well, sir, I'd like to help you with your message. I'm all about stickin' it to the man and giving society the what-for. Plus (if I may be so bold as to judge you by your actions) you seem to be in need of a lot of attention; creating a ruckus in the hopes of making everyone look at me is my specialty. Please, allow me to help you help yourself.

Firstly, we'll need to replace that loud monstrosity with a neon pink Vespa covered in Hello Kitty stickers. I think adding a wicker basket with a lap dog of your choice in the front will add a homey, personal touch. The problem with your bike is that people close their eyes and wince when they hear you coming, so you won't garner the kind of attention you need.

Example:

George: "Who's that asshat on the loud motorcycle?"

Roger: "I don't know, it was so loud I winced and closed my eyes!"

George: "Who's that asshat on the neon pink Vespa covered in Hello Kitty stickers with a wicker basket and terrier in front?"

Roger: "Oh, that's Bill."

See what I mean?

Secondly, I'd like to switch out all your clothes for identical items two sizes too small. Riding around in comfortable clothes tends to give people a strange smug look on their face, almost as if they're singing "Can't touch this!" to themselves. And crowds of people tend to look away from smug people in jealousy. If you looked a little less pleased with yourself and a lot more uncomfortable, everyone who sees you would instantly feel a disturbing mix of pity and empathetic discomfort. They won't be able to look away because they will be unfortunately connected to your experience.

Lastly, I suggest you ride around crowded city centers in the daytime. Very few people are out and about the streets of quiet neighborhoods at 4 in the morning. Changing your bike and clothing will help you meet your goal for getting the most attention as efficiently as possible and I'd hate to set you up for failure.

Make these changes and I can promise you all the attention your little James Dean-esque heart desires. Ride through my neighborhood at 4 am at that decibel again and I can promise only the kind of attention a mysterious, violent murder of a excessively loud scoundrel can bring.

Diabolical Lawyer/Roommate

Well Internet, it has been about a week since I posted. “Why the long time between posts?” you might ask yourself. The answer is simple: my temporary roommate.

My ‘friend’ is staying with me right now. She’s been in my home, foraging my food, using my precious hot water and smearing her skin cells all over the place for about a week now. Actually, it’s been precisely a week. She came the afternoon I posted last. Suspicious? I’d say so.

You see, E* is becoming a lawyer. This week was the first week of orientation for little lawyers and she’s been running around like crazy trying to learn things, make a good impression, suck out souls, etc. It’s tiring work, pretending to be a lawyer. So tiring that you need to use all your resources, all your energy. Perhaps even other sources of energy if you can get your hands on it…

I highly suspect E is stealing my creativity. My evidence is pretty substantial:

A. I haven’t posted in a week. Maybe I was busy, maybe my mojo was being sucked out. Who's to say?

B. All of my jokes have gotten substantially worse over the last week. I went from being Jim Gaffigan to resorting to ‘that’s what she said’ jokes in just a few days. Days, people!!

C. My ability to cook, create an acceptable Pandora station, and put together an outfit has completely deteriorated. For example, right now I’m wearing a purple ballerina tutu, an olive wool sweater, men’s loafers, and a single red glove. At least when I’m operating full force I would have made sure all those items were in the same color scheme!

D. Meanwhile, E is slowly gathering study speed and reading hundreds of thousands of pages of legal documents in mere hours. How could anyone understand such flowery, dry language in a few hours unless they were stealing someone else’s life force and using it for diabolical study habits??

I rest my case.

*E stands for Evil, which she is.

Mathety Mathety Math

High school math really did a number on me. (Get it? har-har!) I am completely incapable of simple math because I keep trying to throw more complicated stuff I don't really understand in there. Here are two scenarios for you, Internet:

1. PRECOFFEE

I wonder how many vacation days I will have in December. Hmmm... Let's see, I know that I earn about 2.something-something every pay period, which is every 2 weeks, and there are...lots of weeks before Christmas, and there's 8 hours per work day. I think I'm supposed to divide by... pi? log? Ok, wait, I'll jot this down.

2. POSTCOFFEE

I wonder how many vacation days I will have in December. Hmmm... Let's see, I know that I earn about 2.something-something every pay period, which is every 2 weeks, and there are...lots of weeks before Christmas. I guess I'll have to look at a calendar...soooo... that's too much work. I'm far too busy and important for this. I'll say 3.

Either way, I aint' addin'. I blame high school. It made me phobic of using simple math. And red pens. And school lunches. And pep rallies. And everything, really.

Illicit Grapes

Confession: I ate grapes this morning. And, in fact, everyday for the past 3 days.

This may not seem significant to you Internet, but it is to me. You see, I don't eat vegetables, fruit, or really anything nutritional at all. Being a true anarchist, whenever The Man (in this case the USDA) demands that I eat precise amounts of anything, I immediately revolt by doing the exact opposite. If I could find a way to eat negative amounts of fruits and vegetables, I would. Besides, I am helping the evolution of mankind by eating only what is readily available and abundant. Someday soon the world will be covered in cheeseburgers and pizza, and your children's children will thank me for giving them the genetic mutations that allow them to digest such foods into Niacin or Folic Acid or whatever.

That being said, I made the mistake of grocery shopping while feeling snackish. As I hustled past the produce section, carefully avoiding any whiffs of grapefruit or lettuce or other rabbit foods, a voice crowed overhead, "Stick your seedless grapes in the freezer! They're a great summer treat!"

"God?" I thought. "You want me to...buy grapes...and freeze them? Curious." The problem with shopping on an empty stomach is that I'm easily swayed by such marketing ploys. I'm always mistaking loud voices for God and dust falling from the shelves as the dust of angels.

I bought the grapes and did as God bid and popped them in the freezer. One fulfilling cheeseburger later, I began to doubt the power of The Mystical Frozen Grapes. What could possibly be so wonderous about ice cold nutrition? The vitamins alone could kill me. Luckily I'm an adventurous lass. I put my life on the line and tried one. It was earth shattering. When properly frozen it has the temperature and texture of extra creamy ice cream. (side note: when they begin to thaw a little, they taste like very cold grapes, which nobody likes.) Ice creamy grapes? I accept.

So today I drove my recyclables to the recycling center, snacking on frozen grapes with a smug look on my face. I was incredibly tempted to shout out, "Look at me! I'm practically a hippie, what with my recycling and my grape eating habits! You could even mistake me for a vegetarian!" It's all so totally unlike me that I can't help but wonder if these grapes are life-altering. What could be next? Jumping out windows of 12 story buildings? Eating Kiwi? Wearing high heeled shoes? All drastic changes. All made possible by eating The Mystical Frozen Grapes.

Working Hours

I’m not really a morning person. The only way you could possibly get me to be nice to you upon waking is if you woke me up while holding a huge cup of good coffee. And a bacon sandwich. And you brought Nick Drake in to croon quiet, wakeful songs to me*. Then, once you have assembled all this and presented it to me in a nonthreatening, gentle, and subservient fashion, you have to slowly back out of the room while facing me, so I know you’re not up to something sneaky like opening the windows or switching out my delicious bacon for broccoli.

Given all this, it is amazing to me that I have a job that requires me to be there at 8 a.m. That’s 8 As in Morning. Not 8 Post Morning. I mean, who comes up with these hours?!?

I think I know what happened. Some guy was sitting at his loom (since this was back in the days of looms) and said, “Hey! This is the way of the past! Time for a new way to work. Let’s all get up at 6, sit in traffic for half an hour just to drive 5 miles, and then work for 9 hours!” Since they used to wake up at 4, sit in mud for half an hour because the cows needed to be milked, and then wandered around the farm and fixed things and then went to bed at 8, it seemed like the wave of the future. Or, to put it in their language ‘Ye New Fangl’d Wave of Le Futschur’

But this is a new time and age. That idea to get up at 6 and work at 8 was for their future, not our present. So, in the name of Worker’s Rights, Civil Liberties, Children’s Futures, and Other Important Causes, I hereby declare the new new work hours of the future: 11 a.m.-1 p.m., Siesta break, 3 p.m.-5 p.m.
That schedule gives just enough time to get work started, take a nap, go back to work to finish up, and then go home in time to catch some sun (unless you live way up North. Then you’re on your own.) This kind of schedule coincides with basic European principles which we really ought to adopt anyway. They’re crazy productive (just look at all the historical crap they churn out all the time!) and they work for 30 hours a week and take 3 months of vacation. Clearly they know what’s what.

I’ll give the president two months to hash this out with congress and labor unions and announce it to the U.S. I’ll even let him claim it as his own idea, just this once.



*n.b.: like from a time machine Nick Drake, not an undead, zombie Nick Drake. Zombies do not make for good mornings. And they only croon ‘braaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaains’.

Bears: The Ultimate Running Companion

This morning I went for a jog. Well, actually I just ran about for a few blocks and then my instincts kicked in and said "Whoa, whoa! Where's the fire? It's 6 a.m. If you're not running to a coffee shop, there's really no reason to be running!" You can't argue with that logic. So I walked a little bit and began to philosophize about what was really going on.

Running was invented by some guy in the prehistoric ages who needed to escape a large, many toothed, hungry animal. Probably a saber tooth tiger. With wings, for added danger. Since then, people have been running because they find themselves in emergency situations, such as being out of coffee, or because email hasn't been invented yet and the Emperor needs to know something right away. Not so some out of shape 24 year old can feel demoralized first thing in the morning.

"If only I had a reason to run," I thought. "Something that would make me want to run really fast and never stop!" Then it hit me: Bears.

Bears are really dangerous creatures. They have teeth, claws, weigh an absurd amount, and like trash, which is just suspicious. These elements combined make for an excellent running companion. I mean, who wants to be mauled by something that is super heavy, super sharp and has trash can breath? No one. So all you need to do is convince a bear to chase you for 15 minutes. You'd definitely run faster than ever before, and you will not stop for any reason. When you get so tired you think you might collapse, you can climb a tree for your 'cool down' exercise. You can even do some yoga while the bear attempts to climb the tree to get you (be sure to climb a tree bears don't like). Plus, the bear gets some exercise, and that will make animal rights people happy too. Nobody loves a bear with high cholesterol.

So tomorrow morning I'm going to walk into the wilds of the suburban forest and find a bear. Then I'm going to get the best workout of my life.