Tag: life

  • EOS: A new hashtag

    EOS: A new hashtag

    I want to establish a new hashtag, a new way of marking my posts that means something that I’ve always tried to imply, but never said explicitly.

    Everyone knows the phrase “Full of Shit”, it’s usually accompanied by you are, or you’re, I am, we are, they are, or even it’s or that’s. We know what it means; you’re making thing up, you are exaggerating for effect or just outright lying. It’s not always to cause any harm, but it’s rarely a good thing.

    There is the whole Santa thing, of course. Parents are completely FoS when they tell their kids that some dude that has a 24-hour surveillance system that covers every person, in real time, on the planet (what is that now, 8 billion?) with a staff of elves, and a wife, of course. And this same fellow covers the entire globe in 24-hours. Not just one circuit, but every house, hut, and lean-to in every city, town or village in every country, territory and province in the world. All in just 23 hours, 59 minutes and 59 seconds. (Maybe a few extra billionths of a second, even) Plus, this same dude lives off cookies and milk as his source of sustenance during this trip (this does check out vis-a-vis his purported jolly gut, but verisimilitude does not equal truth) In addition, this same fellow, dressed in red and white, belted with a broad belt and gold buckle, can get into any house, castle or fort with the skill of a bad smell, all without creasing his outfit. And that he uses the greatest cat-burglar skill in history to not profit, but to give away presents! He’s not a creeper in the stranger-danger sense, despite have all the hallmarks of such, but he drops by to eat cookies and fill stockings.

    That is the greatest FoS story in history, and it’s never meant to hurt anyone, but invariably hurts every kid when they learn the truth. First, the loss of innocence in the myth, but just as significantly, they learn that their parents are Big Fat Liars. And that big loss of trust coming from a 7-year-old can be felt through generations. A grandmother that feels that sense of betrayal is hurt when their favorite grandkid won’t let her call them their little elves, hobgoblins or fairy princesses.

    But, this is not a screed on Christmas lies or that size never matters, it’s the opposite. I want to use EoS as a tag. So that when you see it, you’ll know I’m telling the truth, as I know it. That I’m being honest, sincere and straight with you. I might be wrong, that happens sometimes, but it’ll be an honest mistake, no attempt is made to trick you, in any way.

    So, look for the tag, and you’ll know what it means.

  • The time in my life where I preached the Word of Chicken

                         So, someone on twitter got me to thinking about a time in my life where things were a bit out of balance, so I thought I’d write it up.  It may or may not be relevant to anyone else’s life, but heck, it felt good writing it, so that’s enough for me.                 Okay, so over 10 years ago, I was living with a lady I loved very much.  Before meeting her, I was totally average in my food consumption.  Loved Mexican and Italian, ate my salads, wasn’t fond of Cantaloupe, and squash, no allergies at all.

    Then, I met Debi, and she was awesome, and we got along well.  She smoked, and I didn’t, but we made concessions.  She’d go outside to smoke, and I go out with her, upwind, and talk to her while she smoked. That kind of partnership.  Turns out she didn’t like chicken meat.  Honestly can’t tell you why, I’m sure she said it, but I don’t think it ever made any sense to me.  Simply didn’t like it.  Except in Gumbo, there, she liked it. So maybe twice a year I’d have some chicken I couldn’t really taste anyway.

    We stopped living together, and dating, but both of us stayed in the same complex, and ate dinner with each other most of the time anyway.  It kind of turned into a silly relationship where we weren’t dating each other, but didn’t want to date anyone else, or have anyone date the other.  (Yeah, I still loved her, and I suspect she loved me, so there you go.)

    Then, I got called up for a long-tour.  I was in the Army Reserves, and they had need of my skills out East at Ft. Meade, so off I went for 6 months.  I was back to cooking for myself, and choosing my own food.  Deb and I spoke often and emailed, and IMed, so that wasn’t much of a big deal, but the lack of meals together sparked a pretty big change in me.  I’d drive by a Popeye’s Chicken, and go in. A KFC, a Church’s, any place that sold chicken, I’d go in.  At first it was just to see if they’d changed much in the last few years, or what’s new, etc…  Then, it was like that was the only food that made sense to me. I’d go into Carl Jr’s and get a chicken sandwich.  Go to a Steak House and get chicken.  It’s not like it was unhealthy, or anything, it was quite good, but that was all I craved for quite a while.

    After a bit, I’d bring it up to folks at work, or at a house-warming party I threw.  Not that I was having chicken again, after a long lack of it, but that “chicken is the bomb!” (it was the 90’s)  “Boston Market has the best roasted chicken!” “Oh, this little place has the best twice cooked potatoes, and the chicken is awesome!”  I KNOW I was annoying about it.  I don’t think I helped a single person find chicken they didn’t already know about.  It’s not like Boston Market is a secret.  The Mexican place with the twice cooked potatoes was a minor revelation, but for the potatoes, not the chicken.  (Can’t even remember the name, actually)

    Fortunately, I realized what I was doing after a month or two.  Folks hadn’t gotten to the point of avoiding me, but it was a close thing, I think.  I just realized that I was going overboard because I’d gone so very long denying myself something I took for granted.  I didn’t set out to compensate for the lost years, but in effect, that’s what I was doing.  If that was all I did, fine, I’m not hurting anyone.  But the proselytizing was way out of character.  I’m NOT a chicken evangelist!  But that’s how I ended up acting.

     Well, after realizing my issues, I got over it.  Got back to eating beef, even, and chicken became just a normal part of the diet.  If I see a good burger or a chicken breast, chances are I’ll go for the burger. But if all I have in the freezer is some chicken, I’ll be quite happy to eat that.  Life gets odd sometimes.  Just a good idea to notice it and fix it.  Or play it up, perhaps.  Odd isn’t always bad.  But I’m glad I don’t preach about chicken, anymore.