By Wacky Boy, age 5

First you get lettuce, then you put an apple on there (that’s split in half).

Then you dip raisins into peanut butter (like it’s the glue), then you put the raisins onto the apple — those are the ladybug’s spots.

Then you put his head on — that’s the green grape.

Then you put his eyes on — they’re dots (smaller raisins).

Then you’re done!

Then you eat it!

(Thank you, Wacky Boy. WM)

I just wanted to be able to type that. I don’t get enough junk mail around here. No kidding, that’s the name of the film Hockey God and I watched last night — Live Nude Girls Unite! It’s a documentary about the strippers who unionized at the Lusty Lady club in San Francisco.

We like boobs around here, and unions. So it was the perfect film for us, no? (Their organizing efforts took place in ’96-’97 — the film is from 2000.) Here are their suggestions for how to unionize your sex shop, fyi.

Happy Sunday!

WM

You’ll find excellent photos of breasts right here.

Reviewed today:

It pains me to say this, Internet. But until I picked up a copy of “When French Women Cook,” Madeleine Kamman’s “gastronomic memoir” from 1976, I did not know how to make a pie crust. I longed to make blueberry pie. Apple. Chocolate. Lemon meringue! (That would have been a dazzling feat, requiring both the pie crust and the meringue, which I also didn’t know how to make.) Now, I can make a pie crust. No, I won’t tell you the tricks — you just have to buy a copy of this book or get it at the library.

Bon appetit!

Anna Jane Hays (author) and Linda Davick (illustrator) have put together the sweetest little book, “Kindergarten Countdown.” (Ms. Hays spent 29 years with Sesame Street and the Children’s Television Workshop.)

Wacky Boy’s review: “I don’t want to read any more of those books.”

So I read it by myself. It’s a rhyme book, and goes over everything a kindergartener-to-be might be thinking about: backpacks, lunches, saying the ABC’s, sneezing, games and writing. The illustrations are adorable. Don’t be put-off by my son — he is just not interested in anything that is unrelated to dinosaurs or snakes. The book came with a little sheet of stickers — I think he’ll like those.

Who’s Rumi? Not Raffi! Rumi! The Sufi mystic Rumi is what is getting me through this first month of school. I really appreciate his works.

“Move Within”
Rumi

Keep walking, though there’s no place to get to.
Don’t try to see through the distances.
That’s not for human beings. Move within,
but don’t move the way fear makes you move.

Namaste.

WM

This morning I tell my daughter, “Get up, daughter, and get dressed.”

She tells me, “You do not need to pick out my clothes.”

Me: “As if I would.”

I then tell my son, “Get up, son, and get dressed.”

He is now upstairs shouting, “It’s not rocket science! Big bacon! Big, big, big, fire bacon! Bacon on fire!” Then bursts into a rousing chorus of “Big, Big, Big, Big Water” from “Land Before Time XXIV.” (Or whatever one it’s from. There are so many sequels, all with singing dinosaurs.)

Hey Thirteeners and Usual Suspects,

Will you show me your breasts? Pretty please? C’mon. I just want to see them for a second. Hey! There ya go! Excellent.

Now I’ll show you mine — whooooooo! See how much fun that was? This week, I’m giving you Thirteen Reasons You Should Show People Your Breasts…

by Wacky Mommy, Inc.

13. I’ve been spending a lot of time with my somewhat out-of-hand friend. One of the mommies from school. Let’s call her Little Miss Honey Butt, because that’s her name. OK, it’s not. But it should be. ‘Cause her butt? Oh, honey. She really, really likes to flash the ta-ta’s around. Granted, she’s nursing, but the kid is, I dunno, four or something now? I’m kidding, she’s only 3. Ha! Gotcha! She’s actually 18 months or so. I lose track. Well, since the baby has gotten bigger, she likes to nurse sitting on mom’s lap, facing her. She also likes to do that simultaneously adorable and annoying thing that babies do (both mine did this, too) where they nurse on one side and stroke the other side. Comfort and joy, who can’t relate? But as a nursing mother I was like, damn, baby, it’s not bad enough we’re flashing one side — you want both of them on display? Babies think this is a fun game and everyone should join in.

12. Babies are right. Boobs are a lot of fun. At first I was thinking, Miss Honey Butt, how many times are you going to show my husband your tits? (We spend a fair amount of time together, our two families, at school and play). Then Hockey God, excuse me, Steve, grouses, “You keep talking about her tits, but I’ve never seen ’em” and I’m all, “How can you miss them?” and I’m thinking, “I hate her and her nice tits.” (Not for real hate, just a little jealousy bitchy thing.) (My tits are very nice, in their own right, in case you were wondering.) (Her husband? The man is just so mellow. He’s like, eh, there she goes with the tits again. I love that girl.)

11. Boobs can be a show-stopper.

10. A traffic-stopper.

9. A mood-lightener.

8. A real pick-me-up, even when they’re not all that perky. I mean, think about it…

7. Someone yells, “Show me your tits!” and you just raise your shirt, flash ’em, and go on your way. That’s stunning in its simplicity.

6. Everyone’s running around competing with each other, being catty with each other (women) being curious and dogs (men). Wearing their boob shirts, their decolletage calling out all woo-hoo, here I am! Think of it — you just cut to the chase. “Hi, here are my boobs. Now you know what’s under my sweater.” In a job interview? Someone’s staring at your tits and not listening to your answers to their questions? Flash! All good.

Johnny Cash: “I like to watch you talk.”
June Carter: “I’m talking with my mouth; it’s way up here!”

5. For women who have gone through breast cancer, I think this could be a real empowering thing. Cuz you know — you’ve gone through chemo, maybe radiation, everyone’s wondering, “Did they take one? Both? Was it just a lumpectomy? I can’t remember what Mabel told me. Did she get reconstruction? Is she wearing those jelly-boobs?” And they can’t even concentrate on what you’re saying, because they’re so preoccupied. Show them what you look like. Smile. Move along.

4. Boobs make babies happy. There’s a reason for that.

3. Men get to go around with no shirts — why shouldn’t we?

2. I realize that although showing your tits is not illegal in Oregon (thank you, liberal hippy state! Here, I’m lifting my shirt to you! In Oregon we like to be nekkid) in some states and countries this sort of behavior is illegal. Well, forget that! Let’s make some new rules! Women need to nurse, have some fun, throw the neighbors off their game. I have often been tempted to show the neighbor my boobs. You know why? Just because.

1. Breasts are beautiful.

Happy Thursday to you and yours,

WM

(Edited on Thursday to say — boy. When you use the word “breasts” and “nekkid” and “naked” about 40 times in a blog, you really get the junk mail. Dang.) (PS — Little Miss Honey Butt is fond of her new nickname.)

(Edited later on Thursday to say — I had the perfect chance to flash the neighbor today and missed it. She walks out her door, halts to stare me down, jangles her keys at me, keeps staring, goes to get in her car. Why couldn’t I flash her? I was holding two bags and the recycling bin. She caught me off guard. Dammit. Better luck next time.)

Here’s a good one from Anna. (Thanks to Stu from Grasshopper for the link.)

And no, if you’re wondering, I’m not writing about my son, my baby, going off to kindergarten. Things aren’t going as smoothly as hoped for.

But it’s only the second day.

Well, look who was quoted in the Portland Tribune today — that’s right. Hockey God, aka my husband, Steve-o.

I haven’t spent a lot of time at Humboldt, but the times I have been there, I’ve been impressed. (Do you remember that post, you old-timers to this blog? My legs were bruised for weeks. Harsh toke.)

(Now that we’re being interviewed by the media — and by “we” I mean Steve — do I have to stop saying things like “harsh toke”? How about “ride the fucking six pack”? Where do you stand on that? How do you feel about the “f” word? Hmm. Will ponder. Leave me a note in comments if you’d like.)

And Humboldt — excellent work, you guys.

(If you’re interested in more PPS archives, right here is where I started bitching up a storm about a little $5.2 million dollar grant that wasn’t getting spent in the Jefferson Cluster. And right here is where you’ll find a Willamette Week story about all the hard work Lynn Schore has been doing to track said grant money. And right here is where you’ll find one of the money maps my husband has put together.)

“It seems to me that our three basic needs for food and security and love are so mixed and mingled and entwined that we cannot straightly think of one without the others.”
– -M.F.K. (Mary Frances Kennedy) Fisher, writer (1908-1992)

For today’s Crockpot Recipes, my lovely Wacky Sister suggests:

Curried Chickpeas and Kale

2 Tbs ghee or vegetable oil
1 1/2 cups chopped onions
4 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 tsp cumin
3 cups chopped kale or 1 pkg frozen chopped spinach
1 1/2 Tbs curry powder
1 tsp ground ginger
1 tsp ground coriander
1 1/2 cups vegetable broth
3 cups cooked chickpeas
1 cup chopped tomatoes
1/4 tsp salt or to taste

Combine all ingredients in your crockpot and let it cook on low 7 to 8 hours, or on high for 4 hours.

Or perhaps you would like this:

Curry-Spiced Lentils And Spinach

1 1/2 tsp curry powder
1/2 tsp ground cumin
1 tsp ginger
1/4 tsp turmeric
1/4 tsp cayenne
1 medium onion — chopped
2 garlic cloves — crushed, minced
1 cup lentils — rinsed
1/4 cup converted rice
1 10-oz package chopped spinach, partially thawed and broken up
2 cups vegetable broth (or chicken broth if desired)
Salt to taste
Chopped tomato and mint for garnish — if desired

Combine first 11 ingredients in the crockpot. Cover and cook on LOW for about 6 hours, or until rice and lentils
are tender but not mushy.

Add salt to taste; serve garnished with chopped tomato and mint if desired. May be doubled.

Serves 2 to 3 main-dish servings.

Bon appetit!

WM

“How beautiful it is to do nothing, and then rest afterward.”
– Spanish proverb

My little tiny son started kindergarten today. I am crying.

wm