jGrrl is interviewing me…kind of like Barbara Walters on the ‘fascinating people’ show! Of course this interview is exclusive and I sure as hell hope the paparazzi don’t camp out in front of my house now!!

1. If you had three wishes - what would you wish for and why?  I would wish for money. Not so that I could be rich. Just enough for Hubs and me to comfortable in our old age. I would wish for a new back for Hubs and me. We are both sick of the pain. I would wish to have a  party and the means to get all of my blogger friends together in one place. (This means the ones in the Netherlands, France and Canadia too.)

2. If you could change any one thing about yourself - what would it be and why? I would want to be a little more tolerant (or would it be patient?) of ignorant people. Instead, they piss me off and I want to punch them in the back of the head or stab them in the eye.

3. If you were transformed into a guy for twenty four hours - what would you do? I would like to play sports - especially hockey and baseball. These things are just not same played by women. I’d also like to scratch my balls and jerk off just to see what that is like. And maybe have sex with a woman (cuz I’m not gay or bi) Ooh, yeah!! And write my name in the snow!!! (Hmmm…I sound obsessed by the penis.)

 
4. If you were a superhero - what would be your special power and how would you use it? If I were a superhero, I’d like superspeed so I could be two places ALMOST at the same time. And invisibility because I wanna know what that bitch over there is saying behind my back.(And then I’d kick her ass with my invisible fists!)

5. Tell me one strange little known random fact about yourself. I don’t know if it is strange but in high school, I took classical studies (Latin and Greek) for two years longer than was required for graduation. I read the “Odyssey” in Greek. I also took Spanish for four years and was chosen to represent our school in a competition among other Catholic high schools. Because of this, I can swear in seven different languages, and can understand just a smidge of several languages.

Now, the rules….

1. Leave me a comment saying, “Interview me.”
2. I will respond by emailing you five questions. I get to pick the questions.
3. You will update your blog with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

I cannot guarantee that the questions will be family friendly…..or in English….and there will be no extra credit!

How do you like me now?

When I was in New Mexico for vacation when I was twelve, I had the opportunity to see and do many things which I had never done before and probably will never do again (although I hope I can go back there again someday).

Eagle Dancers

While I was there, it was time for the Corn Festival. This was like a great harvest celebration. People gathered from all over for dancing, music and food. The music is something that speaks to my soul. I don’t understand the words (or lack of words) I don’t understand the movements involved in the dance. But when I heard the music, the drums beat in my heart. When encouraged, I joined the women and girls in the ‘circle dance’. And it was like I was raised with it. It was in my blood after all. I saw the costumes trimmed with intricate stitching and beading. I saw the feathers. I saw the makeup. I understood that though it was a public event, these things were still sacred to us.

In preparation for the feast, my uncles joined other men from the village to hunt for game. They left long before I had woken up. They were gone for three days. As I was playing in the hay loft a few days later, I heard a deep rumble. The sky was clear blue. But what was that thunder?

The men were returning.

The thunder of the horses hoofbeats reached us long before we could see or hear anything else. All of the women ran from the houses and lined the road. Finally, we could hear terrifying screams. The men were giving war cries as they rode in. Their “Hai! Hai!” and yips were so loud to my ears. The hoofbeats reverberated in my chest. The ground shook as they passed.

Deer, rabbit, pheasant and prairie dogs bounced on the sides of the horses where they were tied. Only the deer had been gutted. The rest needed to be done right away. I followed my uncles into the barn, where they hung strings of rabbit. My mom told me to leave. “You don’t want to see this” she said. Granpa admonished her.”She will never see this again. Let her stay.” My mother left the barn. She couldn’t bear to watch.

I, however, did watch. I saw the rabbits skinned and gutted. I saw them prayed over as Granpa rubbed their bodies with salt. I saw how he gently handled their fur as he told me some of the myths that surrounded our tribe’s relationship with the earth and the animals. I wasn’t traumatized. On the contrary, I was fascinated.

Even now, I can hear the hunting cries in my head. I can hear Granpa’s voice as he sang prayers over the animals. I can hear the flutes and the jingling of the bells as we danced at the feast. I can hear the drums.

This is one of my most cherished memories.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I still haven’t found my list. So if you have moved since last year, or if you would like to receive a holiday greeting, email me with your address or message me on Facebook or leave me a comment asking me to find  you. Hurry! I’m almost finished!!

My mom was born and raised in Taos, New Mexico (Not Mexico, the country next to Texas, but NEW Mexico, next to Arizona and Colorado). Specifically in the Taos Pueblo reservation. Growing up, whenever we referred to where Granma and Granpa lived, it was called ‘back home’. I had the opportunity to visit ‘home’ when I was twelve.

Granma’s house was unlike anything I had ever seen. It was made of adobe. It had no second floor. There was electricity in a limited area of the house and there was no indoor plumbing. (That wouldn’t be installed for another 15 years.) It was part of what they referred to as the farm. I would describe it more like a compound.

In the center of a circle was a large garden filled with fruit trees, area for vegetables, flowers and herbs. This was also where the well was located. Around the circle was a barn, a stable for the horses, Aunt K’s house and Uncle C’s house,the ‘horno’ oven and the outhouse. To me, it was like something from a movie and it was cool.

That dome in the front is a horno oven. It is fueled by wood.

It was alien to me to bathe in a large steel basin in water that was heated on the stove. I helped draw the water from the well. I helped make the bread that was baked in the ‘horno’ oven every day. I slopped pigs and fed chickens.I also helped Granma make her clay pottery. (She was famous for her pottery and some of it is on display in one of the museums in Santa Fe.) 

For playtime, I went across the dirt road and crossed a field to the stream that was clear as glass. I’d roll up my pants and wade through for hours. I could see small fish and water bugs skittering  atop the water. It was icy cold and I could drink right from the stream itself.

It was July of 1974. I would be there for a month. It was a different time, a different environment, and a different culture. But the most exciting memory for me was……*

*To be continued…..

Who knew that one word could bring out the curiosity in people? The word?

SCRAPPLE.

I live in a Philadelphia suburb, not far from Chester County - the home of Habbersett’s, the maker’s of Habbersett’s Scrapple. This means that scrapple was a staple in my diet ever since I can remember.

First….What is scrapple? It is the “lips and assholes” of pork.  Actually, it is all the things leftover after processing everything else. Extra scraps from the liver,kidneys, stomach, bones,– you name it, it’s ground up and in there. It is all the usable scraps mixed with corn meal and spices and made into a loaf. It has been around since the settling of the Colonies (way back before I was born!) George Washington and Ben Franklin both ate scrapple. Who knew?

This is what my normal Sunday morning breakfast looks like. Mmmm…..

It is cooked most commonly by slicing it (looking like a piece of bread) and frying it in a skillet until the outside gets a nice crispy, brown crust and the inside is like a mush. This is incredibly good.

I had assumed that it was available everywhere, but then folks started asking in the comments about it and when I linked it up, I learned that it is pretty much exclusive to my area of the Northeast( Pennsylvania, Delaware and Maryland mainly but it’s also found as far south as Virginia.)

If you ever have the opportunity to taste it, I highly recommend it. Close your eyes and taste it like a grown-up.

Now I wonder…..

What is the strangest thing you have ever eaten or what is one food that is eaten almost exclusively in your neck of the woods? Tell us!!!

My man knows me very well. Even better than I know myself sometimes.

On Saturday, while I was busy bitching and tearing up the house, he was working. He called around lunchtime and asked if I needed anything at the store because he was stopping. I couldn’t even think straight. I wanted ’something’ but what?  Food? I hadn’t eaten breakfast. Coffee? Maybe. I just didn’t know.

He asked what was wrong. I sounded funny on the phone. So I proceeded to tell him about searching  for the card list. Calmly, he told me that it would turn up. “I’ll get you some coffee and be home soon.”

When he came home, he was bearing a hoagie and he even remembered that I like hot and sweet peppers on it (Normally he forgets these.) He got my favorite hazelnut coffee. AND he even got me not one, but two cream donuts! I figured that I would eat half of the hoagie but I was starving and I devoured the whole thing.

I felt the anxiety go down a notch. The donut (only one) sweetened my disposition even more.

Later he surprised me by suggesting that we go Christmas shopping. This is a task that I have to begin planning three days in advance. I must beg and plead and threaten until he can stand no more. THEN he will drag his feet and we go. We went out and bought all of our major gifts. On the way home, he said,”Let’s stop in here (our fave restaurant) and have a drink or two.” We did and I also had a lovely bowl of Dutch Potato Soup. YUMMY! Now I was fed, liquored up and content.

We went home and relaxed, watching tv, chatting, and waiting for Babygirl and her friend to come home. Sleepy came and finally my aggravating day came to an end.

Sunday morning, he let me sleep in. This is also unusual. He took out the dog and sat quietly while I slumbered. When I finally opened my eyes, he suggested breakfast at the local diner. Pancakes, scrapple, and two eggs fortified me for the day ahead.

We will be going food shopping, shampooing the carpets for the holiday, and digging up some decorations. I will also be handling some laundry, and reading the newpaper. I am ready.

Hubby knew that I needed a day with him. I needed to eat without having to cook or count every calorie. I needed to leave the house while still getting errands done. I also needed something else that he gladly provided.   I didn’t even realize that this was what I needed to calm my frazzled nerves. Christmas is coming faster than I expected this year, and I was feeling rushed. I just couldn’t put my finger on the feeling.

Luckily, I married a good man. With all his aggravating little peccadiloes, I know he is paying attention–even when I think he is wearing blinders. He just saves up the knowledge for when I need it the most.

There is another contest out there in the blogosphere, and it involves one of the iconic movies of the eighties…..”Heathers”.

Ah, Christian Slater as the psycho-cool JD , Winona Ryder as Veronica and the wardrobe. Yes, I include the wardrobe as another of the ’stars’ because DAMN! Who can forget the ankle socks with heels? Or the trendy hats? And lets not forget the shoulders that were padded from here to eternity!

I loved this movie because I had a hot crush on Slater and girl-crush on Winona. And besides that, they were doing what I always wanted to do….dishing it up to the asshole ‘A-list girls’. It was such a shame that Veronica started to grow a conscience!

My favorite line from the movie was when Veronica got sick at the party and spewed. She told Heather to “Lick it up, baby. Lick.It.Up!” I must have said that for a year after that. I still use it every now and then.

Anyway, if you visit here, you can have a chance to win the Limited Edition Box Set of the movie “Heathers”. You really should do it. And if you aren’t into “Heathers”? Do it anyway. Christmas is closing in and I’m sure you want to send it to Metalmom. Or maybe send it for her birthday in February……I can wait!

All I wanted to do was dye my hair and write out my Christmas cards. That’s all. No unattainable  goals. Just two things.

I got done exactly ONE.

Let me ’splain…

I dyed me hair after waking up so that I could shower immediately afterward. This went without a hitch. I normally get dye all over my face, neck and ears but this time it was a clean job. After getting dressed, I took laundry to the basement, which was covered wall to wall with laundry hanging and waiting to be taken down, sorted and folded. Well, I took them down (Needless task #1) because I needed to get behind them for gift boxes.  (task #2) I took the boxes upstairs and put gifts into them (task #3) so that it would be easier to pile boxes than to kick bags out of my way to get to my dresser drawers. I went into the kitchen to put away those plastic bags and realized that the sink was full of dishes. Since it annoyed me to see them there, I washed them (task #4) and ended up emptying the trashcan, and cleaning the floor. (#5 &6)

As I walked out of the kitchen, I realized that I had done far  more than the two things I really wanted to get done. This started to grate on my nerves. “That’s it!” my mind yelled. “The cards. Get to the cards!”

Under my bed, for the past 20 years, I keep  two things that NEVER get stored anywhere else: a flat box that is filled with tape, scissors, gift labels, and bows and  a shoe box that holds my Christmas mailings. Leftover cards from the last year, spare envelopes, cards from relatives that show their kids in their ballet costumes and most importantly…. THE LIST.

The List is a sheet of paper with everyone’s name on it. Everyone I mail a card to. Business associates’ home addresses, new addresses for family and friends, names of people who send us cards, and those who didn’t due to cutting back. Some are crossed off to shorten the list. Everything is nice and neat and right where I need it. I don’t have to flip pages in my phone book. It is in order. Those that go out of state are first. Local are second. And those that I hand deliver are last.

I can’t find the box. Why would I move it? After 20 YEARS!!! WHY WOULD I MOVE IT??? This pissed me off to no end.

So I searched. And while I searched, I came upon some summer clothes that were waiting to be put away(#7), some crappy sweatshirts that I threw away (#8) , some books that were waiting to be boxed for a friend (#9). I came across my holiday pillows so I took them out and put others away(#10).

“What the Fuck???” my brain screamed. “This isn’t what you wanted to do today! We were going to relax and write cards!”

So I stopped. Right there in my tracks….I stopped…and stepped in a puddle of pee. I had neglected my dog in the frantic searching of the house. I cleaned it up (#11) and almost decided to clean my carpets!

I am frustrated. I am pissed off. I have that nagging feeling in my head that I get when I don’t do something that I had planned. I want to hit. I want to kick. I want to scream and curse. I’m going a little psycho.

I know….I got stuff done. That is NOT THE POINT!

The motherfucking cards are missing. My list is missing. (And don’t be the asshole who comments “You should put it in the computer!”–FUCK YOU!) I have done this the same way for years. It is my personal routine. It is comforting in its sameness. It is relaxing.

My eye is twitching. I need a donut and a cup of coffee.

And then I am going to tear apart the bedroom one more time. If I don’t find it…..pity the first person who comes in the door!

But hey! My hair looks fucking awesome!

It been a long time since I have been out of the house with someone I am not related to. I have kids with me all week and other days my friends are working or with their families. So today, even though I am barely over being sick, when my friend said “Let’s go out to lunch.” I jumped on that shit like a starving fly.

I have laundry piled knee-deep all over the basement. My kitchen needs mopping. My floors need vacuuming. I didn’t care. I left my house.

Ahhhh….adult companionship. There’s nothing like it. I was feeling a little mushy in the brain. It was time to feed myself instead of another. I had a salad. I had chili and I had sangria. I had conversation. I had laughs. I had chocolate cake and ice cream. What a wonderful lunch!

I came home and promptly needed the bathroom. That’s okay. Most of it stayed where it was supposed to be. I was no longer weak and shaky. I was fortified. I was ready to tackle the chores that awaited me.

Hmm…is that light-headed feeling from being sick? Nah. I think it’s the sangria. I may lie down for a second. Just a minute or two…… then I’ll get to the laundry….in a second………ZZZZZZZZZ….

As I lay dying on the couch yesterday, I got a phone call from the mom of the kids I watch. I wouldn’t be needed today because her kids are sick….

with pneumonia.

Yup. Nu-mon-ya!

No, this isn’t what’s plaguing me. Mine is nowhere near my chest. I was lucky(?) enough to get something in my stomach. I almost start feeling better and decide on a pleasant cup of green tea and POW! Back down on the couch!

Anyway…I made appropriate sympathy noises and all the while my head screamed, ”WOO HOO!! No kids ALL WEEK!!”  And then the gods of vengeance slapped me hard…

“HOW DARE YOU LAUGH AT THE MISFORTUNE OF INNOCENTS??”

“But I was only happy about having time to sleep”

“DO YOU THINK THEIR MOTHER WILL HAVE ANY NAP TIME??”

“Um…no…but…”

“DO YOU THINK THOSE BABIES WILL HAVE AN EASY TIME BREATHING WHILE THEY ARE TRYING TO NAP???”

“No, but…”

“NOW YOU MUST MAKE OFFERINGS OF REPENTENCE! KNEEL BEFORE THE PORCELAIN GODS! PRAY FOR FORGIVENESS!!”

I knelt. I prayed. Oh God! How I prayed. “Makeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstop…”

I gave until there was nothing left to give, and still they demanded more. I tried to eat or to drink (Only to replenish my stash of ‘offerings’) They took all of that and much, much more.

Today I got my covetted sleep. All morning long I slept as if in a coma. I woke up to take out the dog and almost fell. The gods are done with my offerings. However, they are keeping the bones in my legs until a time they deem me worthy of having them back. I shake all over. My hands, my legs, my back….all twitching and shaky.

“makeitstopmakeitstop…..”

I have no kids today. I will have no kids tomorrow.

Oh, Jen, you poor young thing. I hope you are surviving with two kids full of pneumonia. I hope you squeeze in a nap here or there. Keep up your strength and spirit.

*Psst* Gods…I prayed for her. Now are we square?  Can I get better now?

*BLURGH!*  Makeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstop….

It happens every year. I go to a Thanksgiving gathering of family–sisters, brothers and many, many, many nieces and nephews. We hug ‘hello’. We kiss the babies. We give wine-tasting smoochy kisses. We pass the potatoes. We open and close the doors. We share more than family genetics.

We share GERMS!

For some reason, at these gatherings, we are all in the finest of health. We eat, drink, and laugh. Very rarely do I hear anyone cough. The only nose-blowing that I saw happened after we got a little weepy. No one got food poisoning. No one had an ‘accident’ while waiting for the powder room.

And yet….

We shared the unwelcome guest. Not just once. I saw everyone on Thursday, Thanksgiving Day. I had a houseful of people on Saturday for another large meal. And then again, I saw family on Sunday, as my niece’s new baby was Christened. Today, the little ones were dropped off with their noses making “green boogey icicles”. I cleaned them up for eight hours.

Oh how we shared.

Babygirl turned her stomach inside out all last night. Tonight, I fear a revolt of my own. My head hurts. My bowels are making noises that are usually reserved for horror movies. My knees are trying to convince me that there are no bones holding me up. There is something in my throat that is trying to make an escape. I think it’s waiting for me to sleep so it can sneak out unseen…..

Why do I never remember this shit? I should be so wise at this point in my life that I should show up with latex gloves, a face mask and sanitizer. I know better!! When someone tells me “Oh dear. My husband came down with something on Friday. I think he only overate.” I know damn well that that idiot had the flu. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he gave it away to everyone he talked to. And still… I will say “hi” and give him a hug and ask if he’s feeling any better yet.

Yep. That’s me. The fucktard who’s getting sick now.