Monthly Archives: June 2014

I think I’m Bacon-ed Out.

Vegan, Vegetarian… I have been all of them.
I was raised macrobiotic starting at birth, which switched to vegan, then vegetarian, and the sudden occurance of a soy allergy in my mom drove our family to pescatarianism. By 7th grade my family was eating red meat on a weekly/monthly basis after a doctor informed my mom it would be healthier for my celiac, graves dieseased suffering sister. It worked. She ate steak and eggs for breakfast for years.

While I tend to not eat chicken unless it’s perfectly cooked and don’t usually go for beef (No steak and eggs for me!) I eventually chose to continue eating meat.

I consider myself an omnivore. Human beings have teeth made both for meat and plants. Who am I to argue with that?
I have thought about becoming a pescatarian again, but not vegetarian, I could never give up sushi. There is one particular food that keeps me from being a pescatarian.

It is so delicious, and so versatile! Need a quick protein to go with a pasta? Bacon, carmelized onions, some herbs and spices with a olive oil… mm, perfect.

You can put it in candy, cupcakes, cookies, salads, dips, sandwiches, everything is better with bacon. Except drinks. Can’t make a good drink with bacon, sorry, eww. And milkshakes count as dessert, not drinks.

While I do enjoy and love really good bacon, I don’t a prove of the over use of bacon that our society is so found of.
The following are real items where bacon is being abused.

Bacon Lubricant & Massage Oil – I don’t care how much someone loves bacon, I am not licking bacon flavoring off of some guys lollipop. It’s not appealing. Hell, I am addicted to sushi and smoked salmon bagels, but those would be crappy libricant flavors too!

Bacon Soda– I have said it once, I will say it again, bacon and drinks don’t mix. Also, the idea of meat soda makes my stomach churn just as much as bacon mayonaise…. yuck.

Squeez Bacon– For those days you want bacon but not the hassel of cooking, just like squeeze cheeze, we now have Squeez Bacon. Disgusting! How much real bacon could possibly be in here? From how many different pigs? Just pop a few slices in the oven on 400° on a cookie sheet, it cooks as the oven heats up. Easy, and no need for a tube!

Bacon Soap– There’s nothing really wrong with this. Hell, it’s your body, you can smell like bacon as much as you like. The website warns that it will make you irresistable to dogs, which isn’t terrible unless you’re walking through a dog kennel or shelter. It just reminded me of this: Why Was There Bacon In The Soap!?!?

The food world always seems to move in trends. One day it’s all about cupcakes, the next cronuts. Soon we will move on to a new hit food item and there will be clothes, lipbalms, candles, and toothpastes made out of it. I just hope it’s sushi!


Letter to Parents Magazine

This letter is about 6 1/2 years too late. That is what happens when you are a parent. You mean to write that angry review about a defective product and bam! 6 1/2 years have passed. This does not however take away from severity of the complaint. This is not a complaint of a defective nature or warning of injury. This comes from a more “You should have known better!” nature. The target? The magazine/company Parents.

My son turned 8 on Saturday May 3rd. It was a very emotional weekend for the both of us. We shared stories about his birth, talked about his daddy and how badly we wish he was still with us. G had a sleepover with his buddy R who he met after G had open heart surgery for the second time. R is the kind of child who just loves everyone and everything so much that he tends to forget about personal space and boundaries. G is goofy now, but was very serious as a toddler. So when we first introduced G and R, and R instantly climbed into G’s bed, and pulled up the covers. This threw G off. He looked to me questioningly, and slowly scooted away towards the edge of the bed. If we hadn’t warned R before hand about not hugging G as his chest was still incredibly sore he probably would have thrown his arms around G.

Playdates became frequent. As the parent of any toddler will tell you, children at 2ish don’t tend to play with each other, but play adjacent to each other. G would play with a toy in the yard or in the house, R would instantly find the toy in G’s hands as the best toy in the world and want it badly. G wouldn’t care, he was happy with any toy as long as he wasn’t disturbed. Taking turns was difficult, but not impossible. R would get his turn with the amazing, incredible toy that G just handed over but within minutes he would decide that his toy was crap and yet again G had the absolute best toy ever and instantly want it. G would get upset because we interrupted his playtime once again for another round of “share the toy.” And the cycle repeats!

Toddler arguments are stressful, but not impossible to handle.
A little wine, a nice dinner with friends and you can laugh it off as a funny story about life and parenting or a silly quirk.

The fight over this toy would become a legend. I still shudder at the sight of it. Hell, I got off my butt and wrote a post about it!  The devil toy in question is this:

Parents Magazine Bee Bop Band Play & Learn Drum & Instruments

Got a good look? Did you catch the design flaw in this drum kit? What did Parents Magazine miss?
The drum sticks are two different colors. The f#$king drumsticks on a toy for toddlers are two f$#cking different colors.

Both toddlers decided that the yellow drumstick was the holy grail and that us adults asking them to share it would mean the end of all humanity.
For 6 hours G and R fought, and cried, and whined, and sobbed, and screeched, and hit each other and shrieked that the orange drumstick was inferior and no other toy or instrument would suffice. Eventually R’s mom stashed the drum stick on stop of a bookcase. R walked away eventually but G’s eyes did not move from that bookshelf.
By the end of the night I was near tears myself. R’s mom and I actually popped open a bottle of wine (After much struggling. Those babies are hard to open if you aren’t experienced.) But neither of us are really drinkers and two 1/4 filled glasses of wine was sacrificed to the kitchen Gods in the sink.

It took about 5 months for G to stop standing next to the bookshelf each visit. Neither of us adults dared to risk bringing that drum stick back down.

A few years later, R’s mom told me she was cleaning the house and found it. It took her a moment to remember what the heck a yellow drumstick was doing on top of the shelf in the first place. I am not sure what happened to old yellow. Maybe it was handed down to another family where it can cause outragous fights between siblings. Maybe it vanished in to the abyss it originally rolled from. Or just maybe it is just waiting at some garage sale, waiting to curse the first family that comes in contact with the yellow stick from hell.

It Was Doomed The Moment I Laughed.

I have been with the man I am dating for 3 years. Like all relationships it is riddled with puzzles and complications that no one outside of us would give a sh#t about. I love him dearly, but everyone around me thinks he’s an ass. The problem with N is that he tries super hard, but rarely is the project, job, situation, cleaning, cooking, washing, scrubbing, and all other things handled or done correctly. The first few times I picked up a still dirty dish or stepped in a dribble of coffee on the floor, or a priceless object was dropped or accidentally destroyed it was sad or annoying, but I was able to look past it. Then it escalated. Slipping and shredding my knees on the floor because of a water spill that wasn’t cleaned up, multiple large egg shells in my breakfast food, my indoor cat escapes and never returns because of doors being left opened. Suddenly, the carelessness isn’t endearing. But you are in love, so you ignore the faults, point mistakes out gently and sometimes just clean up after him.

Now we are at 3 years. 3 years of accidental injuries, shards of metal in your food, two pairs of broken glasses, a nook broken on Valentines day, a whole set of broken dishes and thrown out silverware, and mounds of important paperwork destroyed, moved, lost etc.

So when I was spending the day at this beautiful river called Stickney Brook, my son in his boxers sliding down the flat rocks like a water slide, and the peaceful sound of birds chirping and the river babbling, I wasn’t exactly expecting N to turn to me while I am stacking rocks and ask me to marry him.

He was probably not expecting me to explode with laughter.

I laughed and laughed, for quite some time before I finally said “No. No, no, no, ha aha! No.”

We continued to jump on the rocks, and look around at all the beautiful trees, and watched G come screaming down the small water fall side for the 15th time until his lips turned blue and his skin became covered in little goose bumps.

On the drive home I explained my answer to N.
As much as I love him, N is not ready to be a husband, to be a father to my son. I need to see him take charge, and grow up a lot. And I will know when he is ready for that step. I have to wait until the time is right.

He asked me “When will you know when the time is right?”

I told him “When you have a ring. When you put me first, save up money,  or find a family heirloom, find one in the ground, whatever! Either way, when there is an actual ring I will know you are serious.”

Where was I going with this? I’m not sure exactly. Maybe there is no point, and all I am leaving you with is a story.
Enjoy it. And, men? When you are going to propose, make sure that the woman in your life is on the same path. You might get an answer worse than laughter.