Browsing Archives for February 2011

The Lost Thing

February 28th, 2011

I was fortunate to get to see the Oscar nominated short films in Lawrence last weekend. Dear Charles had encouraged me to see them, so when the CD discovered they were showing at Liberty Hall in Lawrence last Saturday we loaded up three extremely reluctant children and headed out. We made a day out of it and watched both the animated shorts and the ‘regular people’ shorts.

Our sixteen year old was the least receptive to the idea of spending his Saturday watching obscure films with his parents. There was much weeping and gnashing of teeth, but he did seem to enjoy the films. And last night when he discovered that ‘The Lost Thing’ won the academy award, he called out to me,”Hey mom! The Lost Thing won the academy award.”

Me – What?

Calder – The Lost Thing… it won the Academy Award.

Me – It did?

Calder – Yes.

Me – Oh good! I really loved that one.

Calder – Yeah – me too.

And that was the extent of our conversation, but I would like to point out that it contained undeniable tones of civility and pleasantness.  And for this I would like to thank the academy for bringing a teenage son and his haggard, forlorn, perpetually weeping mother back together again like when he was a pliable, sweet, wonderful little boy of six… if only for 3.2 seconds.

The Lost Thing is a terrific story. I deeply identified with the ‘lost thing’ feeling very lost myself most of the time these days and only wishing that someone would find me and place me ever so gently in the brightly colored fairy land where I belong.

I think you can get The Lost Thing on I-Tunes. You can also watch the other short films on ITunes.

God of Love won in the live action category of short films.  It is the story of a lounge singer/precision dart thrower who receives a magical gift which he must learn to wield with honor and unselfish intentions.

With the exception of God of Love, the short live action films are all somewhat disturbing. Should you decide to view them, might I point out that watching them with your nine year old, your twelve year old and your sixteen year old might not be the best idea depending on your comfort zone with exposing your children to high levels of human desperation. They cover topics like ‘cancer ridden teen desperate for first sexual encounter before he dies’ and ‘proper Catholic child desperate for interesting material for first confession’ and ‘Rwandan henchmen desperate for Tutsi blood’! I will say that you and your children WILL NOT BE BORED!

And you will always have the memories!

Remember that one time me and your dad forced you to watch that film about the teenager with cancer who only wanted to have sex before he died?

Meditations on a Pantry

February 27th, 2011

Calder is very disciplined in his thrice nightly contemplation of the contents of the pantry.

Not to be confused with his hourly oversight of the contents of the fridge.

Hi everyone!  It’s me!  The Pie Near Woman!  Tap, tap, tap.  Is this thing on?

I wanted to talk about the wild mustangs on our ranch today because it is how we give back.

We just give and give and give.

We give so much it hurts.

IT HURTS!

It’s like having breasts so full of milk they are like two extra tight bongo drums and you can bang on them all night long and they will feed all the babies in the world but what if there are no babies to feed?  No babies to feed for a hundred miles?  And what if your bongo boobs are red and tender from a mean awful case of mastitis?  And what if they feel like they are on fire?

That’s how much it hurts me to give.  It hurts real bad.  And sometimes, to relieve the agony of my bongo boob giving til it hurts agony, I will pull the old suburban over and nurse a flea bitten jack rabbit, or a grouse or a cockatiel or a basset hound named Charlie or a rogue cow named Snowball or maybe a rangy pea hen or a laid off cowboy or a straggling rattlesnake if I can find one.  Sometimes I nurse Tia Juana our free rangin’ native who lives in our basement and cleans my house in the wee hours, but she hates it when I do that.  She says it isn’t right to make her stay in the basement all day long, write my books all night long and then suckle me back to comfort before the break of dawn.  But I just remind her of her former life in that tee pee on the reservation and she quiets down and starts suckling from my ta tas pretty quick.

Or sometimes…

if I am in really bad shape…

And can no longer bear the fiery bongo boob agony any longer…

And I am all alone…

In my suburban…

And no one can see me…

I set my IPhone to vibrate…

And stick it in my hoo haw.

And every single time I get a texted or get a tweet…

I also get twatted!

It helps girls!

It helps me to give back.

And that’s what I am all about.

.

What was I telling you about?

Bongo boobs…?

Nursing a rattlesnake…?

Secret fun in the suburban with my IPhone…?

Oh yes!  The mustangs!

Oh look!  There’s my likable, attractive and clearly more well adjusted to ranch life sister-in-law Missy.

Hey Missy!  You want to nurse me?

Cause I got the mastitis bongo boobs again and it is literally killing me!


Missy never wants to nurse me.

She doesn’t understand the helping part.

Anyway.  Back to our wild mustangs and giving something back.


I made a pie chart to help explain.

Get it!  Pie Near Woman!

Pie Chart!

Oh my stinkin’ heck I am funny!

OMSH!!!!!!

Aren’t I?

Aren’t I hilarious?!?

Tap tap tap – this thing on?

I like to call this itty bitty titty pie chart of mine…

The Circles of Life.

Not just because it resembles a part of my body that nourished my punks, my readers and pretty much every, plant, mammal, reptile, person and small electronic device I have ever come into contact with, but also because these lovely round and abundant pie chart orbs flow with a never ending green river of American dollar bills.

Let me slice my pie charts up for you!!!

Slice #1

Ranchers in the big western states get virtually free public land on which to run their cows which was intended for the wild critters such as the feral horses that roam the West.

Slice # 2

Pilots make as much $200.00 an hour ramming little burros and elderly horses with their helicopters to make the wild round-ups go faster!  Who can blame them?  They get paid per horse.  Git along little dogie!

Slice # 3

Land baron Ranchers (like Marlboro Man!) in Kansas and Oklahoma make millions babysitting the feral horses from the western states for the government.

Slice #4

America makes more beef than it can consume running 93 million cows on cheap public land and fattening them up fast  in crowded feed lots on subsidized cattle feed made from genetically modified corn and soybean  as well as ground up dogs, cats, blood, manure, plastic, and a variety of some other crazy ass shit that is referred to as animal ‘protein’

This results in cheap subsidized hamburger being sold for an absurdly low price to fast food chains while the leftovers are dumped on third world countries at a price that undercuts farmers and ranchers in developing nations!

Slice # 5

Third World farmers and ranchers cannot compete with the cheap subsidized meat and grain from the US.

Slice # 6

Third World ranchers lose their farms because they can’t recoup their expenses from selling their crops and cattle for less than it costs to grow it in order to compete with cheap food from the US.

Slice #7

The third world rancher moves from his family farm to urban squalor in an attempt to find work to feed his family.

Slice # 8

The American rancher gets a million dollar payment from the government for babysitting the wild horses that were moved off of the public land to accommodate other ranchers in the west in order to raise cheap subsidized beef for the world.  He may also get hundreds of thousands of dollars in subsidies for various other crops that he grows much of which will also ultimately get dumped on developing countries forcing even more third world farmers out of business.

Are you seeing the circle in my circle of life yet?

Isn’t it such poetic justice!

Slice # 9

The American rancher uses his big government subsidy checks to fund his wife’s rise to internet stardom.

Slice # 10

The American ranch wife photographs the million dollar wild horses on her ranch and talks about all the giving she does thereby making a million MORE dollars on her blog!

Slice # 11

She cooks something with lots of butter in it on national television and makes even MORE money

from selling her cookbook on the QVC!

Slice # 12

She talks about corn fed beef being the best tasting in spite of the fact that it makes cows sick and requires huge doses of antibiotics to keep the cows alive prior to slaughter.

Slice # 13

She smears a steak with butter and talks about how jiggly her bottom is.

.

Slice #14

She photographs her husband’s ass.  (Over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over again)



Slice # 15

She crawls into bed with a Pottery Barn quilt and eats her antibiotic laced, growth hormone fueled, corn fed beef on the internet for all the world to see.

Slice # 16

The third world farmer unable to find work in the city, dies of starvation.

His son turns to a life of crime to survive and his daughter becomes a prostitute who will die of AIDS at age 23 after giving birth to three children who will wind up as slaves if they survive past age three.

Slice # 17

The ranch wife buys a new $200 dollar flowy top.

Slice # 18

She then writes a love story about how she met and married her handsome, rich virile cowboy

and that book becomes a best seller too!

Slice # 19

A developing world farmer in South Korea stabs himself in the heart and dies to protest the cheap subsidized American food that floods his country forcing him out of business .

Slice # 20

Amen

I just love this country!  Isn’t it awesome how the American government takes care of people?

Everywhere!

All over the world!

Especially me!

It is such a blessing!

Hey check it out!

Tia Juana took my pie charts and made me an outfit!

That girl is so hard to figure out!

Sometimes it seems like she hates me and other times she makes me a beautifully handcrafted bikini

that is simply rife with meaning for my family!

She said the ‘bottoms’ represent the biggest piece of the pie which belongs to me and Marlboro Man.

I don’t know what she meant by that, but I love symbolism!

Love ya more’n my luggage!

Pie Nubby Wubby Ding Dong Diddy Doo Doo Die