nakedjen

Saying "Goodbye, I Am Done"

“Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain.” - Neil Gaiman

Almost a year ago, as those of you who have been here that long know, David informed me that he was done.  And our marriage ended.  We also know that I really didn't get to participate in that decision.  It was his decision.  Not mine.  He decided to end our marriage.  I decided that it was certainly not worth trying to force him to stay in a marriage that clearly made him depressed and unhappy.  So it ended.

It was then that I began quite an interesting journey.  One that I didn't really plan to take.  One that I never imagined was going to be on my life's path.  First because I had never planned to get married at all.  I married David because I did believe that love could last forever, because I did believe in forever times infinity (a phrase we shared together) and because, well, I thought he was my soul mate.

The months that have followed his pronouncement and the separation of not only the entwining of our physical lives but our hearts and souls, as well, have not been at all easy for me.  I keep throwing up and banging my head.  I keep waking in the middle of the night unsure of where I am and reaching for him and finding no one there.  I keep wondering, some days aloud, if this is all some cruel joke? 

I've talked with my own therapist about this for hours and hours and hours.  Oh the hours!  Oh the words!  Oh the time I've spent talking.  But my head and mouth (and even fingers) are really good at talking and articulating things.  My heart, however, is not so good at actually taking it on and living it.

I have realized, slowly and surely, that I can not be friends with David because I do not know how to be his friend.  I have never really been just his friend.  From the very moment I met him, I became his lover.  I have always been, at the very least, his girlfriend.  More importantly, I have for a longer time than not, been his wife.  It is the role I play best with him.  It is the role I know best.  It is what my heart still wants and longs to be, as stupid and crazy and silly as that sounds to the majority of all of you.

So, I am here to say, that today I am done.  Really done.  I am refusing to have any contact at all with David for at least 12 months.  I am telling all of you this because I'm going to need support in this, I think.  There are so many moments in each and every day when I think to myself, "Oh, I should share that with David.  He'd really laugh about that..."  or "Oh, I can't wait to tell David that.  It will make him smile.."  I want him so much to still be a part of my life, to still be my husband, and that is not doing either of us any good.  But it is especially damaging to me, I think.  Because it is not allowing me to be the best me I can truly be or allowing my own heart to heal and be open to the possibility of new love.

I will not be doing that anymore.  For the next 12 months (maybe longer, who knows?) I am taking care of Jen.  Period.  I need to learn who I am without David in my life.  At all.  I was a fabulous person, I know, before he came along.  I am still fabulous, actually.  But I want to be even more fabulous.  I want new and incredible love in my life.

I have no predictions, at this point, if I will ever be friends with David.  I'm going to try not to project or think about it, actually.  It won't serve me and it won't serve what will be.

I have lots of amazing projects to focus on.  Lots of truly beautiful friends here in Salt Lake.  I do, fortunately, have a beautiful and fulfilled life.   For all of that, I am grateful.  I am also grateful to still be here on this planet.  The past year has been very difficult.

I am not alone in this journey.  I know that. 

I am just done.

Round and Round and Round It Goes

The irony here is that I spoke to David tonight and in our conversation I actually told him that I rarely, if ever, blog about him anymore.  And here I am blogging about him.  Well, truthfully, this will be about me.  My reaction to a conversation that I had with him.  So, no, not about him.  About me.

I probably should know better by now than to actually call David on the telephone.  I suppose my psyche is still trying to sort out exactly how David and I fit together?  It hasn't even been a year yet, since we've been separated, and I think, honestly, my brain is still just a bit confused over where exactly he fits in my post-marriage, post-David life?  Are we friends?  Are we close?  How much, exactly, do I share?  What is really too much information? 

I won't go into the details or reasons for my phone call this evening.  I just called.  But during my call, I learned some other details that, well, with complete and utter surprise to me, upset me.  Yes, I say surprise because I found myself running to the bathroom and throwing up after I spoke to David. 

Throwing up.  That's my reaction when I am upset by things that he has shared with me, as we all know. 
Throwing up.  And banging my head.  Where it stops, nobody knows?

I am not naive.  I am aware that there are depths of my heart and my soul that I have yet to unravel and yet to purge.  I just really wanted to believe that I was doing better than I am, I suppose.  I wanted to believe that my heart, that my soul, was over him. 

I'm not over him.  At least not yet.

How To Tell That Your Brain Has Moved To Utah

You're walking your dogs at 5:00 a.m. in shorts, a flimsy T-shirt and flip flops (an outfit, I promise you, that has NEVER been worn by you at any time of the day in Santa Cruz) and you actually say out loud...

"God, I can't wait for it to start snowing!"

I promise you I did not say this from lack of sleep.  It was a genuine heartfelt statement.  It was over 80 degrees here at 5:00 a.m. this morning.

I'm ready for the snow.  I think I like things cold rather than this fucking hot.

Or something like that.

All of you are very free to remind me of this august moment the minute I start complaining about that white stuff that falls from the sky.

Certainly Not So Anonymous Anymore

The following is an absolutely true story.

I was working at the University today.  It's a short, temporary gig.  I enjoy working at the University as it allows me to meet new people and make new friends.

A handsome fellow approached me while I was working.

"Aren't you that blogger?", he said.
"Yes, I am, a blogger.", I replied, unsure if I was THAT blogger or not? 
"I thought I recognized you," he said. 
"Oh, wow.  Well, isn't that fun?!"
"Are you a blogger, too?"
"No, I'm just a geek.  I just know people who know you."
"Oh, well, I guess that's certainly possible."
"Didn't you just have dinner with Dave Winer and a whole bunch of other people?"
"Yes, I did. Just a few nights ago.  If I had known you, I certainly would have invited you, too.  Wait, he's coming back through town.  Would you like to maybe have dinner with him?"
"Really, that would be so cool!"
"Send me an email.  From my blog.  I'll see what I can do..."
"Thanks.  I'll do that!"

And off the handsome gentleman went.  I don't even know his name.  And to him?  I'm just THAT blogger!

I love it when things like that happen, though.  Really.  Our gigantic world is just getting smaller and smaller.  And moments like that?  Well, they really are some of the moments that make blogging so very worth it.

There's A Reason McCain Can't Remember How Many McMansions He Owns

I just came across this:

LEAST FAVORITE FOODS TO EAT

McCain: “I don’t do too well with vegetables.”

Obama: mayonnaise, salt and vinegar potato chips, beets, asparagus (“if no other vegetables are available, he’ll eat it”), Soft drinks (he prefers water)

We all know that Obama won my heart when he said he didn't like Mayonnaise.  But, he lost it when he said he also didn't like beets.  BEETS!  I am going to have to have a serious heart to heart with that man.  No, really.  I am.  It's honestly too bad that I am not going to the Democratic Convention next week as I would have a small talk with Mr. Obama about beets.  I'm thinking no one has provided him with some properly prepared organic ones to try.  And we all know that can make the biggest difference in the world.

As for Mr. McCain?  Well, seeing as he doesn't do too well with vegetables, is it any wonder that his 72 year old brain is now a pickle?  And that he can't remember how many mcmansions he owns?  Vegetables keep us healthy and keep our brains young.

He if has a problem with vegetables, I have a problem with him.  But then that should not surprise any of you, now should it?

Oh...and speaking of vegetables...a huge SHOUT OUT to whomever is working the salad bar at the Whole Foods near my house.  You know the one over there on 400 South?  Yeah, that one.  I've been asking those folks to please give me a tofu option in the protein options since I arrived. 

Well, somebody finally got my message.  There's now tofu there.  Every day.  There's also edamame.  Thank you, you guys.  I know it's a little thing.  But it makes my life that much happier! 

And, yes, I realize that TOFU is not a vegetable.  Just like ketchup is not a vegetable.  But it is something I add to my salad.  Which has LOTS of vegetables.  Vegetables that Candidate McCain does not eat!  Actually, looking at my current salad?  I don't think Candidate Obama would eat it either.  I'll have to rethink my dinner menu before I invite them over.

Okay, Internet.  You're having the Candidates over for dinner, what are you going to serve them?   Please share.  You might make it sound so good, I'll come over.  Har!  Like you want me showing up for dinner?!

Questions and Answers

1.  There are many among you who have asked about the fairy dust I'm licking off my the very tip of my pinky finger each and every evening.  That special dust that is causing me to sleep for 12 hours at a time and then take two hour naps in the afternoon on top of that?  I do wish and hope that this dust will work just as well for all of you, but I must first share that it is NOT meant for slumber.  That is just one of the multiple side-effects this particular pharmaceutical happens to have on my brain.  I am not at all certain that any of you would have the same experience.  However, I'll share what it is.  It is a drug most often used to treat seizures.  Which, as we all know, I also experience.  Pretty often.  Pretty dramatically.  So my doctor wasn't at all concerned with adding this dust to the mix.  And, yes, I really am taking dust.  I crush the smallest available Tegretol (that's the drug!) tablet and then brush my pinky finger just across the top and then lick it.  That's all I take.  Just that much.  Each evening before bed.  I am still, actually, on my first crushed tablet.  I am supposed to add "more" to my daily dosage, but until I start sleeping less and feeling less groggy during the day, I'm not going to do that.  I believe Tegretol is also used to treat some bi-polar illness in some folks, but I have no clue about how else it is used.  I do not believe it is used to treat insomnia, however.  We have to remember it wasn't insomnia for which I was being treated.  It was mania.  Two very different things, according to my very good doctor.

2.  There are others who have inquired about whether or not I'm still making my holistic teas? I am, I am!  In fact, if you're suffering from Insomnia, you may want to try the newest addition to the cupboards which is a tincture instead of a tea.  I brewed up some of the Tranquilitea in a tincture format and it is just a little more potent and means that you can just take a dose right under your tongue if you'd prefer instead of having a cup of hot tea before bed.  Personally, I still like the hot tea before bed as it is a relaxing ritual.  However, there are many who find all that extra liquid before bedtime means extra trips to the bathroom that also disrupt their slumber.  So I developed the tincture as a solution.  It is not available through the website, but if you email me directly, I will definitely make sure that you can purchase it if you'd like to do so.  The teas, of course, are all still available on my website.  And I have a few new ones that I need to add.  I'll be doing that very soon.

3.  My niece and nephew started school this week.  They are in public school.  Here in Utah, of course.  My sister, who is a school teacher, as well, had to pay nearly $500 for the two of them to attend school this year in "fees".  When did public school start charging fees for the kids to attend?  Isn't public school one of the reasons all of us pay state taxes?  Even me?  Who doesn't have children?  I pay them so that we have public schools and teachers for our kids?  So why is my sister being asked to pay additional fees for her kids?  And this is not the band fees.  Or the lacrosse team fees.  Oh no, those will be additional!  This is just so her kids can go to school!  Fees!!  I asked her what happens if you can not afford the fees?  She said there were payment plans.  Payment plans so your kids can go to school! 

I kept thinking about those families (and there are lots of them in Utah) who have 9 or 10 kids.  That's a LOT of fees.  All so their kids can go to school.  And the family is already paying taxes to live here.  I just don't get it?  What am I missing? 

Meanwhile, I called my sister yesterday afternoon to ask her if she wanted to attend the Jack Johnson concert with me (and more importantly did Heather, my niece want to go because she LOVES him) and I was told that Heather had a headache.  She's 13.  It was her first day of school.  I guess that was a tad too much for her. 

NeverNakedBeth was at Wal-Mart (GAH!!) with Justin purchasing him an $85 calculator for math class at school.  When I asked what he possibly needed an $85 calculator for, I was told it was NECESSARY!  I then mentioned that he had a BRAIN and couldn't he just use that like the rest of us did when we were in high school.  My sister then got very exasperated with me and asked me what on earth I was trying to imply?

I just told her that when I was in high school we were never allowed to use calculators.  Ever.  For even the most difficult of calculus or physics problems and I didn't quite see the value of using one instead of his very good brain.

Rather than continue the conversation, NeverNakedBeth sighed heavily and hung up the phone.  I suppose she had a very hard first day of school, too, and I wasn't helping matters with my questions about calculators instead of brains!  But really, don't you think a brain should be used instead?   I know that knowing how to use the calculator to solve a problem is certainly useful.  But isn't knowing how to solve the problem without relying on technology even better?  Perhaps??

 

4.  As I mentioned, last night I attended Jack Johnson's concert here in Salt Lake.  I was told ahead of time that this would be the GREENEST concert ever and that Jack was bringing his own Green Team.  Jack has a Green Village that travels with him from show to show and seeks to educate the public about their carbon footprint, getting out the vote, and other important environmental issues. 

This is all well and good and I understand, truly, that I am not the "target audience member" for this Green Village message.  However, I was really disappointed in them.  And more importantly, I was really disappointed in how this reflected on Jack Johnson who touts this as a reason to attend his concerts. 

The folks in the booths whom I spoke with were pretty misinformed when it came to environmental issues.  What was most disappointing is that they kept trying to shove their literature at me and tell me that "well, the literature says..."  The literature was created by big hungry corporations who are fed lots of corporate dollars by folks like Nike and The Gap and Levi Strauss and even Wal-Mart so that those companies can have these kids tell you that they are reducing their carbon footprint and you should shop there.  Ugh. 

I got even more upset that they kept hammering on about recycling and carbon footprints and yet every booth that Jack had set up was literally creating additional WASTE for the concert.  That concert, I'm not joking, was perhaps the messiest and least GREEN of any that I've been to.  I was so aghast after the concert at the amount of waste left behind by the concert goers.  They all claim to love their planet.  But the certainly didn't love the lawn last night.

The highlight for me?  I got naked at the concert.  I met a true "soul sister" last night and she was absolutely game to take the photo for me.  So while Jack Johnson sang on stage, I got half-naked on the lawn.  I was going to get totally naked, but you know what?  There were LOTS of cops at that concert.  And since it was my first naked photo in a truly public venue in Utah, I thought I'd not risk arrest right off the bat.  However, I totally could have gotten totally naked.  Not one single person even noticed.  I'm not kidding.  Not.a.one.!!

Perhaps I can get naked downtown in the fountains at the Temple after all?

She Wishes She Had Her Own Blog

Because Emily Gilmore aka NakedMom reads this blog religiously, perhaps the most religiously of all who actually do read this blog, she often has a response to the things that I write here.  She doesn't actually post the thoughts and responses that she has in the comments section but instead chooses to write to me directly (as many of you do because, I believe, it is far easier to do that than sign up for an account...I actually do not blame you for this and am sorry about the signing up to comment business, but I was getting so many spam comments and trolls I was forced to do that or password protect the entire blog!) and tell me just what she thinks of what I have most recently shared.

Today she made me laugh out loud.  I told her I had to share it. Laughter is, after all, good medicine!

ANYWAY, the story about being tested by the psychiatrist in DC made me feel like DAVE - ooops, DAVID.  Like you were saying things about me that I wish you wouldn't - but it's only a blog - who really cares?  I was NOT in cahoots with that doctor - it just took you a WHILE to understand all those test results.  Like 25 yrs?   anyway, I'm glad you saw the doctor last week and I hope you are sleeping better now.

I am sleeping better now.  Thanks.  Actually, I think I'm sleeping far too well.  The fairy dust is perhaps a tad too potent.  Or I'm licking too much off my finger.  Or something.  I'm sleeping nearly 12 hours every night without so much as a muscle twitch.  Not even a trip to the bathroom.  Highly unusual for me.  And I'm pretty darn groggy during the day.  In fact, yesterday I took a two hour nap ON TOP of my 12 hour slumber.  Sleep is definitely not an issue anymore.  The hours I am awake, though, I'm still pretty darn speedy!  So we'll see.  I go back to my doctor next week to "check in". 

This whole thing, as we know, is not an exact science.  It's all a big fat guessing game and my poor brain is the proverbial guinea pig.  There's a combination of herbs and vitamins and fairy dust and yoga and exercise that will work.  I've found it before.  I just have to be patient enough to find that blissful combination again.

Manic Depression

Half my life ago, when I had just graduated from college, actually, I agreed to a psychiatric evaluation by one of the best of the best in Washington, D.C.  I did this to appease my mother, Emily Gilmore, because we were having a very difficult time finding a common language or even a common piece of real estate on which to stand and I thought, in my very determined way, that I would submit to this psychiatric evaluation and they could tell her that I was perfectly sane, perfectly normal, perfectly 100% okay and she could then shut up already about all the things that about which she was absolutely certain were wrong with me.

The psychiatric evaluation took forever.  By forever I mean two separate 8 hour days of tests and more tests and meetings and observations and more tests after that.  It was exhausting.  I am a person who has to get 100% on all tests.  I have to get A++ as my grade or I am just not satisfied.  I am that girl in school whose answers everyone else copied.  Who built a cathedral complete with stained glass rosary windows and a nave for her European History class project in the fifth grade when a simple drawing would have done.  Who made a super 8 movie of the best highlights of Great Expectations as part of her book report.  It is a sickness, I know.  This need for absolute perfection.  This need to always come in first.  This need to get the A.

When I met with the psychiatrist a week later to find out the results of my evaluation, I was certain he was going to tell me that I had answered every question correctly and that I was better than fine, I was superior (whatever superior was) and that I could inform my mother that there was nothing wrong with me at all.

Instead I was told that I was a genius.  I was also told that many geniuses suffer from bi-polar disorder and it was no surprise that I did, too.  That I was most certainly a manic depressive and that I needed to be put on medication right away.  That he was surprised I had made it this long without any intervention and he was thankful my mother had seen all the warning signs and loved me enough to send me his way.

Emily Gilmore?  Loved me enough?   This diagnosis was not the A+ I was expecting at all.  My world felt like it was crumbling around me.  Manic Depressive?  Bi-Polar?  Medication? 

I asked what this meant, truly?  He explained it would be necessary to titrate me on the medications and we would try Lithium first and see how I did.  But I would have to be monitored carefully and it would be something I would need to take for the rest of my life.

I remember looking at him with a very strange curiosity.  And then thinking to myself, honestly, that my mother had put him up to this.  That the two of them were in cahoots and that this was just her way of controlling me further.  That I was, in fact, perfectly fine.  In my mind, a person with mental illness is not the Valedictorian.  She did not graduate Summa Cum Laude from college.  She didn't get straight A's.  She didn't win national playwriting awards.  A person with mental illness lived in a box.  And drank vodka straight from a bottle to keep the demons at bay.  She didn't function in every day society.

So, I looked at this $400/hr. psychiatrist that Emily Gilmore was obviously paying off so she could finally control what was in her mind a very out of control daughter and I said to him, "If you had grown up in my family, you'd experience highs and lows, too.  There's nothing wrong with me, other than being born a Neal."

And then I walked out. 

I never went back to see that very expensive best of the best psychiatrist.  His diagnosis has haunted me for the last 25 years.

For the last three weeks, I've most definitely been experiencing a period of mania.  This was diagnosed by my own good doctor here in the Salty City just yesterday.  I knew things were not quite right when I was subsisting on two or three hours of sleep and yet having more energy than ever.  I felt positively high.  Higher than high, actually.  Colors, sounds, thoughts, tastes...everything was as if it had been turned up to 11.  I had no appetite and was talking 100 miles a minute. 

I knew I was headed for disaster and worried that I was going to start seizing and so I went to see my doctor.  She is one of the bigger blessings of my move here to Salt Lake, actually.  She totally gets me.  She understands that I would rather take a holistic route to wellness than a pill and she supports me in my journey.  That I found her here is no small miracle.

Unlike my meeting with the psychiatrist 25 years ago, I'm ready to admit that perhaps I am manic depressive.  That I do cycle.  That I have highs and lows.  That I am bi-polar.  I have a family tree that is so full of nuts you'd be hard pressed to find a branch without one!  So is it any wonder that I, too, suffer from a form of mental illness?

It is okay for me to be imperfect.  In fact, it is rather joyous to be imperfect.  I feel like I've spent the last five years writing this blog celebrating my imperfections. 

My doctor has supplied me with fairy dust (I'm not joking) to take for this recent bout of mania.  She actually knows that drugs and me are a very tenuous mix and we have to be careful just how much I take.  So I'm crushing pills into dust and licking bits off my finger.  I'll share that last night I slept for twelve hours from that little lick of dust.  Potent stuff is in there, potent stuff indeed.

And I dreamed.  For perhaps the first time in weeks. 

I am going to be better.  Better than better.  I am going to be well.

Shop Naked

Since I have moved to this Salty City in Utah, I have become something of a bargain shopper.  I know that that particular statement would make my exiting husband, David, choke on his (insert politically correct organic cereal that promotes Peace and is doused no doubt with Rice Milk instead of dairy here) if he were reading this right now, but since he very rarely reads this blog unless someone else tells him that he should go read it, because oh my god she’s talking about you in a not so nice way and honestly can you believe she actually said that, she’s losing it, she’s bereft, she’s…well, he’s not reading it so I can probably safely assume that no one in the Santa Cruz area needs to call 911 and rush over to his house to keep David from choking on the cereal because his exiting wife has discovered how to be a bargain shopper.

I mean this in all sincerity.  No, really, I do.  In our days of marriage, those long and lovely days of marriage, David would have shared with you just how very much of a non-bargain shopper I was.  How expertly I could purchase very expensive things.  It was a particularly annoying sickness with me.  Part of my mania.  And he wasn’t quite sure how to deal with it.  At all.   I’d say things like, “I make $200 an hour and this, THIS, only cost $150, so I saved $50!” and he’d roll his eyes and stress out about the fact that I had just purchased a t-shirt worth $4.00 that said, “Shop Naked” for $150 and justified it because I had saved $50.  David could share with you how we could walk into any store any where in the world and without even trying I could spy and choose the most expensive item in the entire place.  As my absolute, I must have it now, NOW, I want it NOW, item.  I made Veruca Salt look like an angel on most days.  Oh, yes, I truly was an enfant terrible.  And the thought of a bargain?  Just preposterous.  It made me break out in hives.

Is it any wonder that David decided he was done?

But there isn’t a David in my life anymore.  Now, it’s just me.  And now I don’t really have access to shops that sell $150 t-shirts that say “Shop Naked” since this is Utah and the idea of shopping naked is about as foreign as the idea of not slathering your French Fries in Some Dude’s Fry Sauce.   Of course, I’m sure I could find those shirts on the vast and glorious Internet.  But that’s just not the same for me.  I like to shop local and support my local economy!

Utah is home to not only Deseret Industries (oh my, Goodwill, but do you have some competition there) but it is also home to a little place I call the National Cash Store.  That is not its real name, but it is what I call it because the first time I went there I couldn’t figure out what it was called so I just named it that and have been calling it that ever since.

The National Cash Store is a repository for all kinds of things.  Literally.  Their inventory changes DAILY and you never quite know what you’re going to find there.  Have you ever wondered where all that “stuff” ends up from places like Target and Walmart and Costco that just doesn’t actually sell?  Well, it ends up at places like the National Cash Store. It’s become my new favorite shopping mecca.  And boy is it saving me money.

Yesterday I went.  Of course, I never know what I’m going to find and that’s part of the fun!  So yesterday I got the following:

6 boxes of Zen Puppy dog treats for 33 cents each. 
4 bottles of Santa Cruz Organics Lemonade for 50 cents each.
3 boxes of organic penne pasta for 44 cents each.
2 pounds of organic sugar for 44 cents each.
2 cans of bon ami cleanser for 67 cents each.
1 box of Reynolds wrap aluminum foil for 50 cents.
1 Soy Dream organic ice cream for $1.49
2 big cans of pumpkin for the dogs on diarrhea days for 33 cents each.

That’s it.  For under $10 I got all that stuff.  I’ve gotten 5 lbs of organic spinach there for 99 cents.  Honestly, you just don’t know what you’re going to find.  But the thing is, you’re going to find serious bargains.   Those dog treats have been a godsend.  Buddha and Stella can not have treats that have corn or wheat in them and the Zen Puppy treats are some of their favorites.   They also have Newman’s Own Organic Dog Food there right now for just 99 cents!

I know that no matter what kind of salary we’re making, every one of us is struggling right now with increased gas prices to make our dollars go just a little bit further.  A store like the National Cash Store really helps us to do that.  I have no idea if you have a store like this where you live.  I’m guessing there are more like them in bigger cities than in smaller ones.  But it is definitely worth seeking out!

In other bargain news, I’m about to start brewing my own Kombucha.  I’m tired of paying nearly $3 a bottle for that stuff.  All that money I’m saving at the National Cash Store, I’m just turning around and handing to the folks at Whole Paycheck for that very addictive elixir in the glass bottles.  I drink it every single day.

It smells like vinegar and doesn’t taste much better and is probably another reason that David said he was done.  No, honestly, it probably is.  He told me I often smelled like the remnants of a frat house after a very wild party only without the excellent sex.  Just with the stale beer sloshed on the floor from all the people who missed their mouths during Beer Pong.

Lovely, huh?

Still, I continue to drink it.  Like it’s the best and most delicious juice ever created on the planet.  So I’m going to brew my own.  Because it just seems a tad ridiculous that a woman whose all about the bargains is still paying $3 a bottle every single day for some stale beer.

Sleepless in Salt Lake

I'm definitely in one of my manic phases.  How do I know?  I'm not sleeping.  At all.  No, seriously.  I'm sleepless here in Salt Lake.  This happens to me every once in a while.  Creativity strikes, I get inspired.  Things start whirring.  I forget to eat.  I forget to sleep.  I talk reallyreallyreally fast.  And I tend to make those around me just a tad more uncomfortable than they already are when in my presence. 

The dogs enjoy these phases because it means more walks for them.  Walks through sleeping neighborhoods.  Salt Lake is rather lovely at 3:00 a.m.  It slumbers pretty darn soundly.  The dogs and I wander up and down and all around and rarely even see a stray car, much less a stray cat, lurking about. 

So last night while I was up and about and putting together notes and ideas and building a vision board for my latest grand adventure and project, I came across this great video.

And I, being me, the manic one, immediately thought of all of you.  Those folks out there that I'm encouraging to eat locally. Well, you can't get much more local than your front lawn.  Trouble is, Fritz seems to only do this as art installations!  That's not so helpful for you and me and the guy living next door to us now, is it?  So, I went off to find more information.  You know, for those of us who are not being hired by the Tate Modern (not that there's anything wrong with that at all, I'm super duper impressed actually, as I think if the Tate Modern is signing on for this project it's a beautiful thing and is bringing the idea to the masses) but instead have postage stamp sized front lawns that we want to serve as our own edible estate!  

America, it's time to rethink our lawns.  Let's use them to feed all of us a healthy and organic meal.  And share the bounty with our neighbors.  Invite them over to dinner.