March 8, 2007

Why There’s No Post Today

Events of yesterday damn near killed me. Thank God for gin and tonic.

Car wouldn’t start, so late for Bible Study.

66% of boys in trouble, ranging from mild to severe.

Sudden growth spurt resulting in dearth of pants that fit; sent boys to school in flood pants.

Upcoming speech. Humongous pimple threatening to reveal itself, spoiling my image as witty,artsy, acne-free blogger at event.

Twinsanity happily playing Science Lab under house. Me so pleased they were being creative although they used copious amounts of baking soda and vinegar and drained my bottle of Tabasco. Later the strong smell of gasoline alerted me to fact they were but a step away from playing with fire and the imminent explosion they were enthusiatically planning was not wishful thinking.

Dog from hell (who, admittedly, has been improving,) pissed on den carpet.

Lectured duo on dangers of gasoline and confirmed that I had given that speech in the past and where the hell did they get gasoline anyway, burned broccoli while doing so. Shame, was only vegetable had managed to cook all week.

March 5, 2007

The Boulder On My Shoulder

I was standing in a lengthy line for the ladies’ room. I had to pee so bad I was crossing my legs and standing on my tip-toes, cursing the extra cup of coffee I’d had.   The door to the men’s room opened, and a man walked out.  I looked at the pregnant woman behind me.

“I’ll watch the door for you if you want to use the other restroom,” I offered.

She dashed inside.

A pudgy teen ambled up to the men’s restroom.  “Someone’s in there,” I volunteered.

He sighed heavily and leaned against the wall.  His jeans drooped below his waist and puddled over his shoes.  His hair was kinky-curly and obscured most of his face.  The Circle Jerks design on his t shirt was so faded I could barely make it out.

The bathroom door opened and the pregnant woman came out.  “Thanks,” she said.

“Apparently your big belly interferes with your ability to read,” the teenager sneered, as he rudely pushed passed her.

I was in shock, but not for long.

“Look here,” I said, blocking his way into the bathroom.  “Women spend their lives standing in line to use the toilet.   Men rarely have to wait.  It’s one of the benefits of having a penis, and you should be thankful, not rude.”

He ignored me and went into the restroom.

“And that’s not all!” I yelled at the door.

“You don’t know the misery of squatting over a dirty toilet with a purse in one hand and a coat in the other, hurriedly trying to wipe, while your quadriceps scream in anguish.  You can pee anywhere, standing up, without needing toilet paper.  So I guess you haven’t experienced that sinking feeling women get when they’ve already peed and then discover there’s no tissue.  It’s even worse when there’s no one in a neighboring stall to spare a square.  You have to rustle through your purse looking for something absorbent– a used kleenex, a minipad– once I used an old Publix receipt!”  I banged on the door for emphasis.  There was no response.

“Honey, it’s your turn,” a woman behind me said.

I went in and beheld a wondrous sight.

The door had a hook for my purse and my coat and the door stayed locked, so I didn’t have to sit with one foot pressed against the door for privacy.  I sat comfortably and my bladder was happy again.  It was a marvelous public bathroom experience.

I don’t really want a penis swinging around between my legs.  But when it comes to the bathroom inequality situation, I have a chip on my shoulder.

Or something much bigger.

March 1, 2007

Stormy Inside And Out

It’s spooky outside. The sky is pale and the air is warm and still, punctuated by sharp blasts of wind. The television blares announcements and warnings. Schools are getting out early in advance of the bad weather bearing down upon us. Conditions are ripe for severe tornadoes like the F5 that hit just west of us one night in April 1998. Thirty-two-people were killed.

I was pregnant with the twins, and Finn was two. Bill herded our dogs into the damp unfinished basement where we huddled uncomfortably. Finn kept slipping off my rounded belly as I sat in a moldy lawn chair. At one point Bill grabbed a golf club and brought it down sharply behind my head. I turned and saw a severed snake, the ends still wiggling.

Tornadoes here take a predictable track, and that one stayed on the ground for a long time. We listened to the radio as it hit the counties southwest of us and continued toward us. I remember the sheriff of one town saying, “In the morning when we can see the damage it’s not going to be a good scene.” As the winds picked up and the tornado came closer, we held a queen-sized mattress over our heads and squatted in the corner.

The tornado itself lifted about three miles before reaching our house. We were unharmed. The damage in our neighborhood was sporadic. On one street, there was a house whose roof looked as if a large hand had come from the sky and twisted it one quarter turn. The rooms at each corner of the house were exposed and filled with water.

I was happy when the boys went to school this morning, or more specifically, that Finn and his attitude were leaving. I’m not looking forward to seeing him any sooner than I have to, storms or no. Why didn’t anyone warn me that the mood swings of an eleven year old boy can be just as deadly as those of a crotchety mom?

Thus, I’ll be preparing for the storms outside, and getting our safe place cleaned up before the sirens go off. But I’m also girding myself for handling the tempest that is sure to follow Finn inside. I doubt that being cooped up with me and his brothers in a windowless storage area is going to thrill his pre-teen spirit.

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Many of you have asked for the oatmeal bread recipe. Here it is. I sure wish you’d tinker with it. I think it could be lighter and more flavorful, but I haven’t been able to make that happen. I toast it and spread it with butter. This recipe makes 3 loaves and I think it works better in round loaves than in loaf pans.

4 cups boiling water
3 cups old-fashioned Quaker Oats (not instant or quick)
7.5-8 cups unbleached flour
2 pkg yeast
2 T salt
4 T salad or olive oil
1/2 cup molasses

Pour water over oats and let cool. Stir in 2 cups of flour and yeast. Let rise uncovered until doubled (1-1.5 hours). [*NOTE this has NEVER doubled for me.] Punch down and work in salt, oil, molasses and enough remaining flour to make a stiff dough. Turn onto a floured board and knead at least 10 minutes. Divide into 3 equal pieces and form into loaves. Let rise again 1.5 hours. Bake 350 degrees 40-60 minutes until loaves sound hollow when tapped. Cool on rack before slicing.