I made banana bread yesterday. It turned out quite good, if I must say so myself. Last night we were laying in bed watching the TV. And Toby was on his third chunk of the stuff. He turned to me for about 3 seconds, turned back and his banana bread was gone. He thought to himself, “Did he eat the banana bread and not remember doing so? Where has it gone?” He looks around a bit more, realizing he hadn’t.

Schmitty, you punk.

He says it as if he’s talking to an older brother. As it turns out, Schmitty grabbed that hunk of bread from the bedside table and threw it to the floor at his feet. He nibbled. He was pleased. My cat loves muffins. It’s weird. He’ll eat the lids off of them like they’re made from tuna. I remember a time when I lived with a few folks during college, my roommate, Gina, slaved over making mini-muffins for a potluck we were having. They were lemon, poppy-seed. They were so good. So good, Schmitty decided that night, while we slept, to begin the most horrific mini-muffin massacre in the history of baking. There we muffins everywhere. Not one lid was unchewed. Not a one. How do you apologize for something like that?

I found this statement particularly alarming while reading “Fast Food Nation” today: (Said by Den Fujita, a billionaire who brought McDonald’s to Japan)

If we eat McDonald’s hamburgers and potatoes for a thousand years, we will become taller, our skin will become white, and our hair will be blonde.

It’s a cryin shame Hitler was vegan.

This /0915811812/qid=1043243850/sr=8-1/ref=sr_8_1/104-0315487-2678372?v=glance&s=books&n=507846” target=”_blank”>Diet for a New America

It will change your life. You’ll think twice before buying a hamburger or anything else having to do with the meat industry. Just read it.

And he was right, I haven’t touched a hamburger since. There are so many things I’d like to say and I have so much new-found energy to devote to educating people, so much as a matter of fact, I don’t even know where to begin. It all comes boiling forth towards the tip of my mind, and I think to myself (loudly)

I HAVE TO SAY SOMETHING. SOMEONE MUST SAY SOMETHING! MAKE THIS SHIT STOP!

But it’s just too much and I push myself into a silent corner, engulfed in my own frustration about how shitty and blind people are. People who argue and think they’re always right are frustrating. I know this. And I try not to be one of these people. But this time, I can safely say and I believe it to the core, that eating meat, given the WAY in which we produce it in America, is just flat out wrong and insane. And if there is a hell, some of the folks who capitalize on it will end up there. I must also add, that I have never said that killing an animal is wrong. I don’t even think eating meat is wrong. But the industry which feeds our faces and supplies us with our happy meals and our highway snacks, our “all beef” patties and our soon-to-be-super-sized-ass fries, and our nuggets is just the most devastatingly wasteful industry in America. And it should be fixed. Not completely stopped, but fixed. How do we do this? We lessen the demand. How do we get that to happen? I have no idea. But for starters, I think the book should be a mandatory read for everyone in America. There is something very wrong here and no one seems to give a damn about where it’s headed. Most folks operate under the

What I don’t know won’t kill me

belief system. What if I said that it will, that it does hurt you? Would that help? Doesn’t anyone think this is wrong? And if you do and you just don’t care, how is it you sleep at night? I am honestly baffled by my species.

Georgia. Ok, so here’s the update:

1). Toby’s sister is like my mother; Completely and totally kind and selfless to a point of near fault. I am amazed at people like this and totally envious of their position and determination in making people around them happy (or at the very least content and comofortable). Kudos to the two of them for not being crushed by now.

2). It does get cold down south.

3). Bowling is the new roller rink.

4). Damn my sense of smell. Can I have it removed?

5). Here, the distance from here to there is never as far is it may appear. And no one in DC needs a car. You’re all crazy for thinking so.

6). Small, gray cats are cool. And babies are pretty neat too. (Though, I am not sure I could do it. Ever).

7). TobyJoe becomes more amazing to me every day. And somehow I returned liking him even more than I had when I left. That’s not to say I didn’t already love him then, just that it’s actually possible for gratitude and respect to keep growing. I wish there was a chip people could install in order to make them realize how important it is to not lose sight on the most important part of this life, which is merely just living.

8). Due to the book Fast Food Nation, I have given up Subway and eating all together.

It was great seeing Shelly again. And Noah’s getting big. I’ll download the pictures as soon as I meet a lull here at work.

We’re going to Georgia tomorrow to visit Toby’s sister. We were going to drive until Amtrak announced their amazing deals. So as it stands we’re taking a train down. The total for both of us (roundtrip) was/is 129.00. Pack a lot of books, a lot of music, charge up the iPod and fill the cooler, we’re on our way coach style, upright and feeling groovy. I’m sure to need a chiropractor after this trip. It’s worth it though, flying is horrid. And unless it’s overseas and there are not boats, I’m staying grounded. I’m writing to catch up a bit and I have to empty my camera and prepare for the taking of more pictures. So I’ll have some images in a few. The images span the last three weeks (since New Years Eve) so they’re kind of all over the place. Ah well. We saw About Schmidt which I loved. I’m still stuck on the beef, speech and cow undertone of the film, I can’t seem to place why. I loved one scene in particular; Hummels a white, trailor top, two candles, and some motion. So friggin good. Truly. And I cried, as usual. I nearly always do during movies. :] I’ll write more about that soon. This week it’s The Hours and The 25th Hour I hear great things about both. More shorlty…

I hadn’t seen her in several years but I had heard she was without legs, arms or a torso. I had forgotten by the time I ran into her in a coffee shop of some side street in some unknown town. One would think one would remember such a painful experience but I hadn’t. So she caught me by surprise. And I nearly missed her, she was so short. Not that short’s even a word when describing a living, breathing, human bust. My friend and I, my new friend, were sitting in a coffee shop. And the town looked like Georgetown but it wasn’t familiar. At least not to me. There were canals and small side streets, there were alleys representing a possibly safer city, my mind went north west. Who knows where we were by that time. She was triangular really. And she hopped or wiggled or waddled or just shimmied over the floor. And I knew this apparently but could not stop staring. She didn’t scare me. It wasn’t even repulsive, though the memory of it is. I kept staring, and that was what became repulsive. And all she wanted was a cup of coffee. She was being ignored because she was too short, having no legs, arms or torso tends to do that to someone’s height—shorten it. And I just stared. I was happy to see her, but was acting fake in that I pretended to not care that she was in this state and I had forgotten about the news. So I acted plainly pleased. It’s as simple as that. I had my coffee and there were other people cutting in line. In front of her. I’m not sure they even saw her. Should I pick her up in my arms and have her order the coffee? Or will she feel gross. Is she heavier than she looks? What would that triangular mass of skin feel like sans legs and arms and bottom bones of any sort? And is it rough from hopping around so much? Should I do it for her? Should I order the coffee for her? No, that’d be rude. She probably is used to living like this now. Why doesn’t she have any arms or a torso? Why doesn’t she have legs? They make legs, don’t they? And why would any doctor suggest a patient continue living after this. Why does every decision for life start and end in the mind? What? More small talk.

You’re birthday is soon! Happy early birthday! You’re 29 right? How’s the band?

[SHE CAN’T PLAY ANYMORE, IDIOT! SHE HAS NO ARMS OR LEGS!] My head screamed at the inside of my skull. I looked away. I thought of panty hose. Perhaps she could use those to ease the pain from the cold floor. Surely it must chafe and they don’t make shirts for her. Not in this shape. She had nothing to cover anyway. Her boobs were gone. She had no bottom half. What’s their to hide. But wasn’t she cold? [PANTY HOSE WILL BRING BACK BAD MEMORIES! DON’T EVER SUGGEST THAT!] This would be the end to this friendship. Surely. I am not strong enough or kind enough to overlook this. She’s too small. How does she breath? What the hell is going on? And outside it was pleasant. And I wanted to leave. Was she depressed? Why is it so hard being honest with people? We talked a bit more even after I had put my foot in my mouth, something she would never be able to do again. [YOU’RE TERRIBLE! DON’T THINK THAT WAY!] I looked back at my friend, who was waiting for me patiently. She had legs. Perhaps I should return to her now.

It was great seeing you. Are you leaving after you get some coffee?

I’m going to drive back home after this.

She answered. [DRIVE?! SHE CAN’T FUCKING DRIVE!]

Oh. Ok. Well stop back there before you go, I’d like to say goodbye.

She didn’t come back by. But as she was leaving, I noticed she has assembled a body in parts manufactured to meet a human norm and suddenly I felt better. She was 5 feet, 6 inches tall. She took her coffee, her keys and left the shop. Inside turned south and I stood up to follow her out. [Tomorrow, when you wake up, make sure this is only a dream.]

Telephones make strangers out of lovers.

Whiskey makes strangers all look good.

Blogging makes coward out of mihow.

Sometimes I think people read this, think they have insight into what’s going on in my life and figure, “Well, hell, I know what michele’s up to, she said so on her blogger.”

I have done this. I read Missy’s site and I think I get a nugget of information about how they feel and I don’t think about calling them, or writing them to say “Hey girl, let’s sip wine and chat about elephants.” And I’m starting to wonder how easily this may effect people I know, friends of mine, some, who could very well be reading and be totally silent during all of this (lazy biznitches). And if I shut up for a few days, or for a few weeks, or for good, will I receive more phonecalls? Will I see people a bit more? Will the lurkers of my now online life become a part of my real life as they once were? Do they think they know what it is I’ve really been thinking?

Yeah. Ok. Contact.

I fear the phone. Totally afraid of it. Sometimes I don’t answer it for days on end. Now ask my mother about the phone when I was a teenager or even a few years ago (sans internet); A totally different story. I’ve become a scared coward. Now was that going to happen anyway? Or has it happened following the lazy aid of such things like email and blogging, AIM and message boards. And then I ask, what is it these things all have in common? They lack human interaction and actual voice. And I’m sort of getting tired of that. Yes, it’s easy, it’s instant gratification, (something we all LOVE during this day and age) however, there are friends I have lost touch with over the past few years who DON’T feel completely addicted to spreading their lives via the internet. And I’m asking myself, these days, why that is.

I’ll be the first to admit, that an email after a few years of no contact, can be much easy on the nerves and the tummy than say calling someone and putting them on the spot, but I find I write email to people I once had great, late night conversations with. And that just plain sucks. Hell, I have had miss Nico’s birthday present sitting on my desk for over a month now. How friggin lazy can one get? Well, here’s to trying to even it out a bit. And here’s to exlaining why I may discontinue my postage here.

I am thinking out loud at this. Wondering what type of comments or thoughts I may spawn from this flighty post. Granted, I haven’t put too much thought into the writing of this, so if doesn’t make sense, I do apologize, But I am frustrated with how little actual human contact I have outside of work anymore. Maybe it’s the weather, maybe it’s the age thing, maybe I’m just tired, or maybe I need to make an assertive effort in being more human, grabbing hold of everyone and making them commit to good, ole fashioned eye-contact. Who knows. But really, isn’t a hug better than these empty words? Especially a hug coupled with a beer or a coffee? :]

(Along these lines, and talking out of the other side of my face, after the reformatting of my computer, I lost ALL of my email. So I can’t write people. If folks would be so kind as to write me with their emails, that’d be great).

Today was long. And I sounded frazzled, confused, completely hopeless. :] It’s been 11 hours, I have gone through a complete reinstall, an entirely new software installation, I have burned about 15 cds in a desperate attempt to save all my work, and a whole lot of frustration and I now have a “new” computer. It was a funny day. Tomorrow things will be better, eh?

I have nothing to say. But I’m sure some folks do. You may fill my comments section with stories about bodily functions, noises, problems etc, appendices falling from where they belong, stories about how you hate your job, stories about anything you want. Really. Anything. Fill ‘er up please. :] I have a question that has plagued me since I was a child. Why do folks pull out a flashlight to a child’s “rump” in search of worms in the middle of the night? Or did I make that up—pulling from the darkest depths of my juvenile brain? (This did NOT happen to me, someone told me a story once with this information in it, or I overheard an adult tell another adult [the latter is the most likely] and it stuck with me). Carry on. mihow is shuttin face.

Not sure if it’s just me or what, but lately I’m boring the hell out of myself on here. I may take a bit of time away from ye olde internet/postage as I find I’m writing just to say I wrote something and well, that ain’t no fun. At one time, things were going not so well for me, I had a lot to say. So perhaps it’s a good thing I don’t feel compelled to write? I dunno. And I could easily find something to say from here until tomorrow. Who knows. But for now, I’m bored with myself. Not unhappy, not sad, not even not thinking, yo, just sort of bored with rereading whatever comes out and posting it anyway. I’ll be back soon. When I have something to actually say. (Like, tomorrow maybe). hehe