Point for Team Tree Hugging Weird Brown Food Eating Hippie Team

I've found that I prefer peanut butter with nutrient-rich flax seed meal mushed into it. Delicious and (somewhat) nutritious.

Point Three (and four) for the Can-Hoarding Yuppie Scum

Last night we had dinner with friends. One is a local cop. Not in our fair city, but right up on it.

And, yes, I asked his opinion on "cop" and he says it's fine. "It stands for Citizen on Patrol," his wife chimes in. For some reason, I still feel like I am being disrespectful and use "police officer" much more than I do on an average day.

Among other things, like thoughts on my citizens arrests, yelling at children, checking out another friend's latest dating choices on the Sex Offender Registry (jesus, another point for team yuppie scum), we ask him about our recyclables debate.

Cop fully supports ratting out the thieves.

Also points out that they're casing the joint. My words. Not his. Closest I'll ever come to using them in a non-fictional sentence featuring my life. I hope.

And that they stole the shopping carts they're using.

Sigh. Does this count as the criminalization of poverty? Where is team Hippie Lovebug?

as if white rural America actually still was the nation’s baseline.

How I love Frank Rich.

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/07/12/opinion/12rich.html?_r=1&ref=opinion

I cannot believe there are people who don't think this woman is a nutjob.

the Justice from the Block

Sonia Sotomayor succeeds J.Lo as the ambassador from the Bronx.

Rescue Garden

Rescue Puppy? Not yet! Rescue Plants!

Walking home from the grocery store the other day, well, Adam was walking. And pulling me. The latest step in teaching me to skateboard. I stand and try to steer and he pulls the skateboard along the street. Crossing MLK was a little intimidating. In part thanks to the 14 year old girl showing me up on the other side of the street. But mostly the four lanes of evening traffic. Anyway, at the tennis courts, I spot some irises some bratty child has ripped out of the little strip aurrounding the fields and courts and dropped in the gutter. I scoop up the abused bulb and as we scootch the rest of the way home (kick-push is hard enough but try it in flipflops and a pencil skirt!) describe to Adam my new plan for the terribly neglected front yard. Rescue garden! We can't afford real landscaping so I will take in rescue plants and just shove them all in there and see what makes it!!!

Just a few nights later, I'm scanning craigslist while flu-wracked Adam slumbers unpeacefully in the other room. It's well after midnight. I discover someone has ripped rose bushes out on the north side of town. They are on the street. PERFECT! I WANT them.

I tiptoe into the bedroom and tell him I will be back soon. After some negotiating, my Rescue Gardener and Adam's Gallant Husband beat out my Sympathetic and Nurturing Wife/Nurse and Adam's Flu and we all get in the car and drive across town. They aren't even going to be there, he whines before falling into an illness induced stupor. And there they are. Right at the intersection described, white picket fence and all! We grab them and shove them into the car - which now looks like an excavation site in the 'Stans - and drive them home. But my Rescue Gardener kills my Nurturing Nurse and we swing by another plant dump and rescue some jade.

Since then, we've added four more plants found abused and abandoned as well as a native wildflower mix.

The other day I s

How does my garden grow?

So, I can't email something this big so, here it is family! Here is the first...then I will try the big tour of allll the veggies! I know; I know! I can *feel* your excitement!

Burgled

Sigh.

Grow up in murder capital of america. bars on windows. attack dogs. chain link fences. dangerous to even LOOK at the neighborhood crime report. once the neighbor steals brother's big wheel. mother marches, indignant across street, and asks neighbor if there is something he'd like to talk about, when he plays dumb she takes the big wheel out from under him. someone stole dad's bike off the porch one day when he came home for lunch.

move to huppie vortex, so nice, property values holding strong if free falling real estate market. world famous university. perfect climate. park, library, grass-fed, organiz, local beef, organic coffee shop with cute pastries, and macbooks suckling on the free wi-fi and mass transit all within a few short blocks.

burgled.

fuckers.

p.s. shut up. yes, i *know* it is burglarized. *I* went to law school. Even took more criminal law than was required. And somehow still have professor whitebread's crim lectures on my iPod. o wait. No iPod.

thank god for husband who

thinks to turn on the heat even though it is nearly May and we live in California.

Yes, I just called the police to report vagrants sifting through my trash

Definite point for Team Yuppie Scum.

Adam calls them to report it. Dispatch, surprise!, not impressed. Esp with his inability to give her a description ten minutes later from crowded BART train.

So, I call. I give description. Race, height, clothes, sex, age. One middle aged Latino male in black baseball cap headed westbound. One crazy middle aged white lady singing and screaming and kicking shit headed east bound. Can't miss *her*.

Dispatch remains unimpressed. I decline to give my name and address.

Adam pulls my "lawyer shit" on me

OK. The initial point for Team Yuppie Scum may, after careful consideration on the part of the referee, be removed.

Adam called the Ecology Center, the non-profit that picks up our recyclables and does onehundredandeighteen other useful things that make living here great, and asked them if they care if bums "steal" our bottle deposit recyclables.

They do.

Adam then finds an sfgate article suggesting that this is the latest mafioso pursuit- organized can collecting from under the adorable, charming ecology center.

Sigh.

He wins.

I am now opposed to the crazy people stealing my recyclables.

Property Rights and Recyclables

So, Adam has a fit about people pilfering our recyclables.
He starts hoarding them.
OK, not really. But instead of putting the trash out the night before, he adds it to the list of frenzied things to get done on his way out the door on his earliest morning of the week. And they're STILL getting them. This is so weird. What do you care?
Come on yuppie! Why hate on poor people. That poor bum with the noisy grocery cart loaded down with vaaaaaluable recyclables isn't hurting you- you can sleep through earthquakes, parties, glaring sun and certainly this racket.
It's entrepreneurial! It's so American! The same genius that invented the assembly line here lets the yuppies do the collecting FOR him! Genius!

Game On

Dispatch from Huppie Vortex: Husband angry with bum stealing our cans before the city can collect them. Point for Team Yuppie Scum.