I had some dreams ... they were klowns in my koffee.

(With apologies to Carly Simon)

This is my journey through job transition from a toxic environment to a better life. Join me for a few thoughts and a few laughs along the way.
What are "klowns in my koffee"? They are the factors large and small that make you less than you are. A "klown" can be a grossly incompetent boss,
a short-sighted policy or a moronic coworker. They won't kill you, at least not immediately, but they abrade the soul
as you scrape past them to get through the day. Sometimes it's best to dump them out of the cup.


Day 97 - Birds, Bees, Donuts and Zombies

Daily Kup (What I Did On My Reality Vacation)
This was the first day of non-school for Attila the Son. He informed me that he hadn't planned to spend a lot of his summer working. We disagree on that point. He had somehow been misled into thinking that the origins of school summer vacation were so that he could "chill." This gave us a nice opportunity to discuss the origins of the school calendar in an agrarian society — and put him in contact with 440 square feet of vegetables and the weeds that love them. This will be an ongoing challenge since he is slow to embrace "getting your work done early so we can do something fun."

He's trying "let's whine a lot, stomp feet, hope the work will evaporate and, if not, do a poor job." In the end, we successfully completed cleaning up a hosta garden and adding impatiens
— actually, first impatience and then finally a brightly-colored annual flower.

Attila the Son, age eight, has become a fan of the TLC show, A Baby Story. This is a half-hour show that films a woman going into labor and delivering a baby. They blur the film once in a while but one can still get the general idea. He's seen about four episodes and seems to be at least as interested as he is in the other show where metal things turn into other metal things and then fight each other. I've attempted to engage him in conversation and even handed him a copy of the picture book A Child is Born but he seemed to just want to stare at the screen with a look like he'd been struck in the head. Today while we are weeding the garden, he turned to me and said with no connection to what we had been discussing, "So, how do they get in there anyway?"

We made it through the talk as far as he was interested. He was anxious because he had seen a picture of that pregnant man and was very concerned that he himself might become pregnant. From the television show, he had decided that giving birth didn't look like fun at all and he did not want to find himself suddenly in labor. I assured him that pregnant men were very rare and only happen through extreme medical intervention and he was very happy to change the subject back to sports.

Half-n-Half, No Sugar
One way that we have been able to reduce our food costs so radically was to stop throwing food away. The refrigerator was filled with plastic containers of hairy, colorful items that had once been leftovers or bulk packs that were forgotten when newer food was shoved in front. By the time the refrigerator was cleaned, some of the containers had evolved to a rudimentary consciousness and had to be clubbed into submission to get them in the trash.

After cleaning the refrigerator, the salvageable food was put back in specific locations and the shelves were labeled. Yes, I know that I lost some of you free-thinkers there but desperate times demand desperate measures: I had three bottles of ketchup, a dozen bottles of salad dressing, and three containers of pancake syrup because we never knew what we had. Now, one bin is for fruit and one is for vegetables. This is actually practical because my refrigerator has a different humidity control for each bin. The refrigerator came with locations for meat, cheese, butter and gallons of milk and - ta da! - that's what is now in those spots. Shelves are labeled for condiments, beverages, eggs, bread-like items, other dairy, and leftovers. Leftovers have a new name: LUNCH.

I'm against mindless conformity as much as the next misplaced flower child but this productive regimentation makes grocery shopping and meal planning much easier. I have some easy forms for these tasks that I'll share in the next few days. The same approach should work for cupboards, though I'm trying to eat down the many bags of rice and other duplicative purchases before getting that zone in order.

Meanwhile, want to get a week or more worth of dinners for $30 plus $2 handling? Check out Angel Food Ministries https://www.angelfoodministries.com/. The food is generally restaurant quality and there is no stigma of any kind. The founders fulfill the mission of their ministry, local churches get an opportunity for contact with their communities and receive a small handling fee, suppliers have a market for overproduction, and consumers benefit. Win-win-win-win. T was concerned that proselytizers would trap him in a corner when he went to pick up the box but instead some nice people gave him a donut.

If you give him a donut, he'll pretty much offer to have your child ... and so we have circled back to the earlier conversation.

T's playing some game where he's shooting zombies. Kollege Kid (aka She that Sleeps Until Shaken in the Afternoon) questioned whether he was being unfair in his outright condemnation of zombies. Perhaps if we understood their culture? She offered this as proof. Why can't we all just get along?


Corsair, The Mostly Harmless said...


Very Weird Al-esque!

If that's a.. Thing.

Burning Khrome said...

Ah, Weird Al. I've collected several of his albums and seen his act twice -- once at O'Shaughnessy Auditorium at the College of St. Catherine and once at the Minnesota State Fair. He's coming to the Fair again this year on my birthday so I'm thinking of making it a trifecta.

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