Don't Eat It, Use It To Build A Hut

Tonight I made AMARANTH.
I have no idea how it came to be in my home but it was there, and I cooked it, and I had to explain it to the Y Chromosome Who Lives In My House ("some cereal, s'posed t'be good for yah").

(I dare you to click on the photo.)

In general, the two of us try to do the healthy thing. We don't eat "white" anything too much anymore. We try to stick mostly to sweet potatoes, we love black rice and wild rice; whole wheat pasta. We like quinoa; we consider couscous a treat.

But AMARANTH?

It has this weird corn-like flavor that immediately sours in your mouth and then leaves a sour taste in your mouth. It has the consistency of paste. Sticky, thick paste. Sticky, thick, sour, paste. I do not believe that seasoning could make a difference. I am pretty sure it would ruin anything it touched, so I would be skeptical of any suggestion to mix it with something else.

When I went to look it up (which admittedly, I probably should have done before I decided to cook it instead of toss it) I found out it's sometimes also called pigweed because it was used in the past for pig fodder. Why anyone changed their mind about that and decided to put it in a cereal box is a complete mystery to me.

Amaranth is featured on health food holistic medicine sites (along with the ever respectable earcandling) and some study reported it's good for lowering lipid profiles in diabetic animals.

Well, maybe I won't throw out the rest. Maybe I'll keep it just in case the next time I get my cat's cholesterol checked, the results turn up elevated. (FYI: He's eleven. In his entire life, I've taken him to the vet twice. Except for being a little cross-eyed and having a pretty consistent, overall general look of drunkeness, I think he's fine and I don't see any ancillary healthcare services in his future.)

Apparently, amaranth was illegal for a while in Mexico. Considering how I feel about amaranth after tasting it tonight, this new information inspired the good idea to call my state senator and ask him to propose some legislation that bans it in NH, NOW. (After you review his profile you'll agree that he's sure to help me out with this.)

On the other hand, amaranth is also described as "Food of the Gods" and supposedly has almost 90% of total human nutritional requirements. Of course, aren't there some religions which worship pigs as gods? If I cared, I might research it a little better but I don't, and I'll get my nutritional requirements filled elsewhere thank you, please don't bother to pass the amaranth.

Here's another thing: one site I found described amaranth as "cultivated for [human consumption] too." That's just weird. I'm not suggesting that food shouldn't be cultivated for multiple species, but I'm just not going to get too excited about food that's cultivated for humans as a secondary interest.

I just know that bossy blogger SMC who's gluten-free is going to have plenty to say on this, but seriously, don't let anyone convince you that you'll like this stuff. It's just YUCK.  If you really just want to eat some weed, stick with a good brownie recipe.

I'm certainly not suggesting you shouldn't try it.  You definitely should. Like my mother always said in that perky voice, "You should always try new things!"  I am suggesting however, that you won't like it and you won't eat it, but after you've tried it, you should keep it.

It will probably come in very handy as a bonding agent the next time you're building a hut with cement blocks.

She's Got What It Takes

Not much can better bond two women than a good eye roll over another woman, arriving late to a business meeting, pushing her cleavage in front of her.

It seems like we should be beyond that but we're not. (Okay, I'm not.)

I know there are a few different philosophies on this. One is that women should wear whatever they damn please and there shouldn't be any eye rolling. Another philosophy is that women should wear whatever they damn please, but it's not going to get them any special benefits.

I don't subscribe to either. It's quite simple for me: cleavage is about sexy and sexy doesn't belong in the office. We also live in NH and for a good 8 months of the year, it's just too cold to expose that much skin; for that reason alone someone who does it should be identified as an idiot. World Class.

I know it still works for some women though. I worked with one over the last few years who became known as "[So-And-So] And-Her-Big-Boobs." Even the guys called her that. "Call "[So-And-So] And-Her-Big-Boobs and ask her if she (and her big boobs) can make it to the meeting." Despite such a damning nickname (or I guess, in light of), and even though I never, ever once heard one thing escape her mouth that could be considered even remotely smart or thoughtful, her career has been absolutely meteoric.

When do you think men will wake up and realize there's a class action suit here? Don't you think if one of them showed up to a business meeting sporting plumber's butt, they'd be out on their butt in a nanosecond?

I doubt it will happen because too many of them want to protect their view, but don't you agree?

www.rocksaltandwildflowers.com

I've been looking at dirty snow lately and instead of being excited about spring and looking forward to summer, I'm just resentful. This time of year is usually fun for people who live in NH because during the winter, human presence is virtually undetectable.

Once March tumbles in, people start turning out. Although during the heart of January they might have been outside shoveling, snowblowing, scraping their windshields, they don't look at you. There is an unwritten rule of NO-EYE-CONTACT. You don't want to get into a conversation with anyone when you just know your tongue is going to be stuck to your lip if you open your mouth just to say "hi."

(If the Aliens come to Earth during the winter, they will identify NH as a wasteland where they will set up headquarters and this will be good for them because by the time spring arrives, they will have conducted enough research and will be prepared to meet people in the slow, small, consistent doses that March and April appear to provide.)

Literally, people start appearing. They wave and smile. It's usually worth a good smirk to realize that your community is just sort of suddenly, "populating."

I don't care. I'm still resentful. Besides being chronically resentful about just about almost everything else you could possibly imagine, I'm resentful that I can so vividly picture the memory of a snowplow on the road in front of me, spewing rock salt and dirty snow onto the hood of my car and completely obscuring any visibility through my windshield. I can remember it as though it happened on the way home this evening, despite the fact that we're enjoying 55 degree weather here.

It's just that I hate rock salt so much. It poisons animals, pollutes the environment, kills the paint on my car, ruins my shoes, and strikes me as such a sterling characteristic of living in New Hampshire.

My new blog address (which I'm waffling about and which I think I might change again) was an impulsive decision. I concluded that I needed to try just a little harder to be happy living on the banks of melted, salted, sandy, poisonous grey slush for five months out of the year.

Most people might just plan a trip to Florida. Or change their real address. But I'm here, it doesn't look like moving is in the cards, and I have a blog. And I do like the wild flowers during the summer. I once heard someone say the seed was so expensive they didn't know whether to plant it or smoke it.

So, the new address is www.rocksaltandwildflowers.com. I am attempting to embrace the fact that living in NH means living with rock salt, while reminding myself that wildflowers provide beautiful roadside distraction. Or something like that.

I'm not sure what will happen to all my fans but I can't let you hold me back. (Seriously, I noticed my links to Cool Blogs and Random Interests didn't come with me, so I guess I'll spend an evening this week recreating that list.)

Also, I know Forsythia isn't technically classified as wild, but it sure looks wild and it's one of my favorite plants. I love the fact that it flowers before it grows leaves. It's so hopeful.

People who prune their Forsythia like hedges should be sent to PRISON.

By the way, today when I went into work, the creepy guy who's in charge of maintenance was using a real, electric vacuum cleaner in the parking lot. You know why? Because a regular broom isn't enough when it comes to rock salt and sand.

BIG NEWS

Changed my blog address.

The new address is www.rocksaltandwildflowers.com.

The old address was stupid.

I'm taking my alien with me.

Is This The Greatest? Yes. It Is The Greatest.

This is the greatest. It is the best and the most awesome.

I LOVE THIS. Don't you love this? You couldn't possibly NOT love this.

Today is March 9th, I lost an hour of sleep, it snowed 6 (f'ing) inches but I am just psyched because I now have my own little alien. I have a whole bunch of photos of these on my office walls. My biggest problem now is deciding whether I should take it to the office or keep it here at the house.

Seriously though, is this the most awesome little alien. I think everyone should have one. Everyone should have their own little alien, and I GOT ONE!

Michael Hawes made this and I love it even more because he said he got into the wine while he was making it.

That's exceptionally funny to me because I myself knocked back a few and then proceeded to practically knock myself out laughing hysterically while I photographed it learning to play Chuzzle, waiting for dinner and watching Special Vics.

(No, it wasn't really doing those things, okay? And I didn't really think it was, okay? It was just a joke, okay?)

Then I realized, "wait, that's not so funny, it's just funny to me. Maybe I should give it a day."

Check it out though, it's playing Chuzzle.

This is an awesome bone.