LetMeBeClear

You just can't trust what is in your food. I swear that in a couple of years I am going to have to grow my own food in order to be able to eat anything.

I carefully planned Thanksgiving so that I wouldn't get a migraine. I never eat poultry because most of it is full of some horrible unlabeled, inedible swill that sends me writhing in pain to a small dark space. I risk it with organic turkey on Thanksgiving. This year I even baked my own bread to make stuffing with so that I wouldn't get anything on the menu that I didn't know the origin of. Well, well guess what? About thirty minutes after I happily pushed my empty plate aside, my dining room became too bright. My family became too loud. My head was smashed in by the familiar pain of a migraine. My darling rushed for the Imitrex. We were done giving thanks.

My turkey wasn't a Tyson, but it was crappy-ass practices like this antibiotic scam where agri-businesses lie and do anything to protect their bottom line instead of the integrity of our food that leave me not able to even safely read labels.

I'm going to have to grow my own food to know what is in it.

We all get terrible customer support these days. Especially phone support. I think we have been slowly conditioned to accept it.

Since I was surprised today by excellent support, I had to say something.

I made plane reservations for my brother, his lovely wife and my cutie nephew. I was on the phone with my brother while making the reservations and holding the phone in my left hand. It is my only excuse.

When I received the confirmation, I realized that I had left the R out of Christi - so she became CHISTI. That could have been a terrible problem with the travel restrictions these days.

I reluctantly called the airline and just pressed "0" to get a person. Almost immediately a cheerful person came on the line. I explained the problem, she looked up the reservation, stifled a quick chuckle and said it was not problem but she would have to get someone else to change it. She put me on hold. Less than a minute later, she was back and confirmed that the change had been made and asked if there was anything else she could help with.

Cheers! to Excellent Customer support. It matters.
And if you are wondering, it was SOUTHWEST.

According to the Urban dictionary :


Hippie

A Hippie is a person who was raised under the ideological system that came out of the tumultuous 1960's in North America and western Europe. They are either of the flower-child/baby boomer generation or that generations' subsequent offspring. They possess a core belief set revolving around the values of peace and love as being essential in an increasingly globalized society, and they are oftentimes associated with non-violent anti-governmental groups.

I have wanted to be a Pirate when I grow up ever since I first went to Disney world when I was little. Or was it when I read Treasure Island? I am somewhere between Pirate and Hippie, but maybe I will join the Peace Corp and work toward ending hunger. Clean water is a fixable problem. I either want to help fix the world or hide from it on a boat in a secluded sea and listen to the ocean breeze and smell the salt spray. Right after I finish raising my last couple of young 'ums or maybe I can't wait that long.

My son has always said he can picture me as an old hippie lady on a beach in a long flowy dress with long wild hair walking barefoot when I am old. Sounds just about perfect to me.

Alright - your turn. What does the dreamer in you want to be when you grow up? Why? What picture of yourself in old-age do you have?

There is wind where the rose was,
Cold rain where sweet grass was,
And clouds like sheep
Stream o'er the steep
Grey skies where the lark was.

Nought warm where your hand was,
Nought gold where your hair was,
But phantom, forlorn,
Beneath the thorn,
Your ghost where your face was.

Cold wind where your voice was,
Tears, tears where my heart was,
And ever with me,
Child, ever with me,
Silence where hope was.

Walter de la Mar - November