Category Archives: humor

Scrap the Pizzas!

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Do you know, it almost feels weird to be writing about normalcy again, after the long occupation?

A pleasant sort of weird.

Today’s crisis involves 120 bagels, a vat of tomato soup, and a whole lot of plastic.

It has always struck me as ironic that the Save the Earth and Feed the People groups can’t find cheap ways of working together. I have a thousand two-ounce plastic cups which I will be filling with cheese today (well, a couple hundred of them) and then lidding with yet more plastic.

Now the good thing about all that plastic is any lidded container is a treasure to the homeless people lucky enough to get motel vouchers so they can stay in a 10×10 with heat and tv and–best of all–a microwave and fridge so we can give them some heat-and-serve food. They will reuse the little plastic cup until it falls apart – or someone shrinks it in the microwave. :] Things happen.

We (my friends Amelia, Michele, and I) were all set to do bagel pizzas on Sunday. We had all the fixings for veggies and cheese, and Amelia very kindly was bringing summer sausages to slice up and add for meat options.

Enter snowmageddon, and our fun fellowship of cheerful women slapping pizzas together has turned to Wendy shoving frozen bagels still in plastic wrap out the door with little cups of cheese for make-it-yourself faux grilled cheese sandwiches (call them bagels au gratin?) and a large styrofoam cup of tomato soup. Yes, stryofoam. If you don’t like us using it, buy us some stuff that’s biodegradable but still warms your hands if you’re not one of the lucky ones and you’re camping up behind…. never mind where. The police will go rip it up if they know, sadly. God bless everyone involved in those decisions and I don’t fault the officers for doing what they’re ordered to do. I fault the ones who ordered it. Thanks.

So here I am, alone in my kitchen, surrounded by plastic and feeling desperate to shove these meals out the door before the snow flies. And thanking God that the people whose names and stories I have come to know are safe inside motel rooms.

Some of them might get in trouble, because if they have two beds and only use one, they will share. They may “rent” out the other bed. They may have friends and relations. They may just know someone from the food bank. If they get caught, everyone gets in trouble.

Sigh. Gotta go stuff little plastic cups with cheese now. Have a great day and stay warm, wherever you are!

Occupied: Day 55 (Why Yarn is Better than Xanax)

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I’ve seen the week between Christmas and New Year’s called the lost week online. Netflix even recommends some binge watching for this “week without purpose.”

Me, I’ve been clocking the Mondays. Dec. 22 was the two lawyers meeting for the judge to set paperwork war parameters and order me an inspection on Dec. 29.

Dec. 29 was that terrifying inspection, with the resultant pursuance of a protective order.

Jan. 5 is the eviction hearing, and the separate protective order hearing.

There are times when self-care becomes survival, but the question is, what does it look like in that moment? When you literally go numb and wonder what else could drop out just as you think you’ve reached bottom. Chocolate and bubble baths aren’t going to cut through the fearsome static that fills the void of silence, wondering: will this ever be over?

It being over is a blog for another day, and an interesting part of tenancy law. This week, off from my day job and trying to be myself, I have taken up arms by taking up yarn.

I made this hat for a friend going through extreme stress.

Self-care is better when it’s calm rather than indulgent. What do you need most? OK, find that. I need calm. So I am crocheting a stained glass bedspread in Rennie Mackintosh blocks. And logging a lot of Netflix and podcasts. Fortunately, it’s a good time of year to be binge watching and listening to stuff.

Yarn is better than Xanax. When I sat in court waiting to speak to the judge about a protective order, I fetched my yarn from my car so I could crochet. The lady behind me also seeking an order grinned. She knew.

Now, as that imagination that makes me a writer also runs crazy with “what next,” I am finding the zen of repetitive movement helpful. Slide the hook through the hole, grab the yarn, everything is interconnected. Enjoy the moment. Let your mind slide with the hook.

Crafters know how to get to The Zone. We enjoy the fact that, at the end of not thinking about what we’re thinking about, we have something to show for it. Sometimes the stitches are tighter in certain places, but they are all holding together. This time, the center can hold. So can our nerves. Yarn is cheaper than Xanax, doesn’t have side effects, and amounts to something when it’s all put together.

Taking up yarn today and I might just finish this bedspread. I’ll post pics when I do. Best wishes, y’all–and thank you so much for your kind comments, private or public. It means a lot to know other people have survived this kind of difficulty with their sense of humor and faith in humanity intact.