First Rant of 2017

Posted in Airing of Grievances with tags , , , , , , on January 7, 2017 by Bekka

I just saw a magazine cover with a beautiful artisan-looking pizza with fresh veggies and all — looks yummy, right? The headline was “Guilt-Free Pizza”. Trigger angry rant…

Why are you implying that pizza comes with guilt? Pizza is food, not cheating on exams or spouses, not embezzling from charity, not lying to get out of jury duty. Yes, healthy pizza is good for your body, but if you choose to eat greasy, meat-laden monstrosities with cheese-stuffed crust and indigestible consequences, you own that choice. Own it hard and make no apology.

If you “know you shouldn’t”, then don’t. Easy as that (OK, sometimes it’s difficult, but ultimately, you control your body’s movements. Refuse to guzzle that dish of gravy. You have will power). You better make good food choices for your children, and you’d better model good eating habits for them, but if you are an adult, YOU choose what you eat and when. I’m sick to death of this culture of “oh, all the food I want is Bad, so I have to self-flagellate every time I enjoy a meal and say I just couldn’t resist.” Stop it. I will give zero quarter to that talk. I will straight up ask you if the box of chocolate put a gun to your head. No? Then it seems like you made a fully-informed decision to eat them.

Let’s not “resolve to eat better” this year. Let’s resolve to take responsibility for our choices (how about all of them, not just food choices?) and stop pretending we are slaves to desire and circumstance. Then guess what? When you have the power and responsibility over your own life, you tend to take that responsibility more seriously. You tend to make the choices that are better for you and then, when you start feeling better, those good choices are reinforced. And when you occasionally want to gorge on truffles and wine? Do it. But don’t lie to yourself and everyone else about who made the choice. “Tonight I was sad and wanted to eat my feelings and get buzzed while I watched reality TV to make myself feel better about my life. And it was everything I hoped it would be. No regrets.”

Then, another wonderful thing will happen. Stupid cultural messages designed to make you feel powerless and guilty about your life choices will not be able to inspire vague impulses to spend money on things you don’t need. You’ll see “guilt-free pasta/dessert/cocktails” and laugh and laugh. Because society and magazines and water-cooler-talk have NO POWER to make you feel bad about your food choices — only you do.



Taste Tester

Posted in In Real Life with tags , , on March 26, 2015 by Bekka

Margarita with lime in a margarita glass.The other day, Garian was mixing up one of his delicious margaritas and the Spawn naturally found this whole pouring, shaking, glass-embellishing process extremely fascinating. By the time he tucked the lime on the edge of the deep blue glass, she was begging for a taste. I envy those who have not yet met the gut-wrenching gaze of her huge, pleading hazel eyes, as she says “Peeeeeese? It’s so bootiful…” The adorable is almost too much. But we are good parents and that won the day, so Garian finally let her just lick some salt and lime juice off the edge of the glass while he explained that it was a grown-up drink and she probably wouldn’t like it. She stared earnestly at him and replied, “But I might like it. You should let me try.”

Ever regret teaching your child to think positively?

We do encourage her to try things and she is far from a picky eater, so I have let her try a drop of coffee before, knowing that the bitterness would reinforce the rule she already knows well: that she can have coffee when she’s 18. This morning she asked again to taste my coffee and I reminded her that she didn’t like it. She persisted, so I said, “Well, all right. You can have one sip.” She broke into a sunny smile and said, “Oh, thank you! It will be awful!

Sometimes I just don’t know about that kid.

Wild Sunday Night

Posted in Airing of Grievances on October 5, 2014 by Bekka

Our little spawn is in a great mood today — she’s playful and exuberant and ‘helping’ around the house a lot. During dinner, she requested some of Daddy’s milk. He gives her a drink, during which she looses a remarkable belch and then remarks, “I burped in Daddy’s milk!” She follows this up with her most charming grin.

Daddy says sarcastically, “Oh, good. Just what I always wanted.”

The Daughter then goes into peals of manic laughter, through which she gasps, “I CWAZY!!”

Any attempt at teaching table manners tonight is now completely abandoned. But we’re kind of proud that our two year old grasps sarcasm already and has good comic timing. Sometimes you just roll with the antics and enjoy it.

First World Problems For Today

Posted in Airing of Grievances, In Real Life with tags , , , , , , on August 19, 2014 by Bekka


Shake it up – check.

Squeeze it ever so gently. No ketchup.

Squeeze it slightly harder. No ketchup.

Squeeze it slightly harder. No ketchup.

Adjust grip to two hands and squeeze it ever so slightly harder. No ketchup.

Squeeze it slightly harder. ALL THE KETCHUP.

Updating Adobe Flash Player

Computer: Your Adobe updates are ready to install.

Me: Ok, ok, I’m in the middle of this… Just do it.

Computer: Yes, ma’am! (smirks evilly)

Computer: Your update install is complete! See what I did for you?

Me: (swears and uninstalls McAffee Security Scan.) Every. Damn. Time.

What are your First World Problems today?

Whine about them in the comments and I’ll be sympathetic with a minimum of mockery…

The Hungry Ghost

Posted in Airing of Grievances on August 13, 2014 by Bekka

This is why a lot of people create things I think… There are more of us out there than you may suspect. Putting a face on your demons helps you visualize yourself defeating them. We all play out these stories in our heads — if you can get yours out in some constructive way that can resonate with others, I think that’s progress.

Hints and Allegations

Its not a demon.  Demons imply free will and choice and there isn’t a choice.  Demon also implies that it can be exercised and removed like a tumor.  That isn’t even close to it.  We refer to it as the Hungry Ghost.  In the Hindu religion when a soul dies with anger or through some sort of tragic incident like suicide it becomes a ghost that follows people who are going through similar situations and starts to consume its krama. There is a hole in the ghost that it tries to fill with that person.  There is an incomplete creature that attempts to eat away taking someone down with them. It often destroys the soul of the person that the ghosts attack.  When I started writing again after a year’s hiatus I envisioned it as such.  A wraith that would sit on the edge of my bed with its black…

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Weird Conversations With Your Baby

Posted in In Real Life with tags , , , on July 12, 2014 by Bekka

Filed under “Things I Never Imagined I’d Say to My 1-yr-Old”…

The following dialogue occurred after the Spawn managed to get hold of Lords of War and mix up 4 decks. We always pick up our own messes, so while we were sorting things back out, it sounded like this:

Me: No, that’s an Elf, so it goes here. Yes, the Zombie does go with the Undead — good job!”

Squeaker: Mm-HM!

Me: Yep, the Banshee goes there and it’s a good bet that anyone in green holding a bow will be an Elf… More Templars… How did you even get these?

Squeaker: Mama drink coffee!

Murphy’s Law

Posted in Airing of Grievances with tags , , , , , , , on March 6, 2014 by Bekka

It’s been kind of a rough week, so since I didn’t have a ton of time-sensitive things to do today, I blocked out some Me Time. Dropped The Daughter off at her grandparents’, took a nice long shower, and decided to try some new henna hair treatment. Now, I’ve done henna before and it’s messy, so my best hack for not ruining clothes or towels draped over clothes is to apply hair coloring in the buff. Therefore, post-shower, I’m humming along, glopping this baby-poop colored and textured substance happily onto my head, and just when I get it spiked into some really interesting formations… the doorbell rings. The doorbell. I mean, who does that anymore? It’s too early for mail or UPS, I’m not expecting anyone, so it must be the dreaded Pop-Over Visit or someone selling something. If I could have been sure that it was a salesman, I’d have gone and answered it in my birthday suit, my hair all caked in goo, and explained that now was not a good time. If they still went ahead with their pitch, then props to them for poise. But… it could have been a neighbor. We have some new ones next door whom we’ve not frightened off yet and we do like them. It could also have been Girl Scouts — it’s cookie time, you know.

So, hilarious as that choice would have been for somebody, I remained in the bathroom ’til whoever it was went away. They didn’t leave a package or note, so the mystery remains. I hope it wasn’t Publisher’s Clearing House. Oh, well.

What’s the most ridiculous get-up you’ve ever gone to the door in?