All posts by X Teri

The Most Beautiful Stranger In The World

02/12/2021 X Teri 1 Comment

Paul walked the aisles of the crowded flea market, looking at the trash and treasures piled everywhere. He agreed to do a flea market crawl out of reluctant obligation. His girlfriend Jessica loved browsing and prowling the dusty aisles of old buildings. “You never know!” she repeatedly admonished him. He never said it, but he thought in his head, “Yeah, I never know how much time I might waste.” Paul loved some of the things he found but tired quickly of the prowl.

They’d returned to his hometown for a long weekend. Though he had no plans to attend his Aunt Jill’s funeral, he did agree to return to go to visitation at Crowley’s Funeral Home. Jessica took the opportunity of their visit to ask to see downtown, all two streets of it. There were four flea markets in that small area. Paul imagined that the number of flea markets would soon reach a pinnacle, as most of the older population were dying rapidly. No one wanted their stuff filling their attics and cupboards.

Paul meandered through the maze of trinkets and what-nots until he spotted Jessica an aisle over from where he stood. He pantomimed tapping at his wristwatch, the one he never wore. She shook her head “no.” She held up five fingers. Though it meant five minutes to a normal person, Paul resigned himself to at least thirty more minutes of browsing. He nodded and walked all the way to the back of the crowded flea market.

He saw her face immediately, propped up against a plate. Her picture was printed as an 8 X 10 black and white picture, taken decades ago. Though the picture was a bit water-stained at some point, it didn’t conceal the set of her piercing eyes or the subtle smile on her face. Her lips filled toward the center, and her curly hair framed her face perfectly. Paul had rarely seen such a picture capture beauty like hers.

He picked up the photo and looked at the back. He first noticed that a small photo was glued to the back. Next to it, the name “Loretta” was scrawled with immaculate handwriting. The picture on the back showed Loretta slightly in profile. Her face was angular, defined, and revealed a slender neck. Paul found himself enraptured by the image. A slight smile framed her lips, a smile that seemed to be reflected in her eyes. Somehow, he also knew that Loretta was smart and had a wickedly sharp sense of humor.

Paul flipped the picture over again, taking a long second look at the front. He sighed. He walked back to the front, where the cashier stood inattentively. She looked up as he approached.

“This item isn’t marked,” he said, showing it to her without handing it over.

The cashier pointed to the sign by the register: “Unmarked items or items missing a price cannot be sold without the permission of the owner of the booth.”

“I’m in town for a couple of days. I really need this picture,” Paul said, surprised by his own words.

“No can do!” the clerk replied.

Paul thought a minute. “Look. I will give you twenty dollars for this picture.”

The bored cashier showed a bit of interest by arching her left eyebrow.

“I can’t. No exceptions,” the cashier said, her voice rising.

Paul didn’t miss the implication. “My apologies. I meant that I will give you forty dollars for this picture.”

“Sold,” the clerk said and laughed. She would have been irritated to know that he probably would have given her a hundred dollars.

Paul took out his wallet and handed the clerk forty dollars.

A few minutes later, Jessica appeared from the bowels of the byzantine flea market. She found Paul standing next to one of the long glass curio countertops, leaning over it and peering at an old photograph there. She leaned in and craned her neck around his elbow.

“Isn’t she gorgeous?” he asked her without looking. Jessica nodded. She found herself admiring the stranger’s face. She was a classic beauty, one that defied time. Paul flipped the picture over and showed Jessica the smaller image on the back. “Loretta,” he said, his voice taking on the tone of someone lovingly reading a poem.

“Okay, weirdo. Let me pay for this old watch, and we can skedaddle.” She smiled at Paul, who ignored her. His eyes were still locked in on the picture. “Don’t forget to bring the picture of your new girlfriend with you, Paul.” He didn’t hear her.

Jessica teased Paul a dozen times about taking another look at the pictures throughout the afternoon.
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Saturday afternoon, Paul and Jessica arrived at Crowley’s a bit early. Paul wanted to be able to arrive comfortably and watch people as they walked up. He needed cues and reminders for some of the family. As for the rest, he wanted to prepare himself for the inevitable comments about his long absence from home, questions about his family status, along with the other obligatory comments people make at funerals.

Mr. Crowley stood by the main entrance. Paul assumed he was at least ninety years old. He knew everyone in town, though, and a lot of secrets that would shock people. There were times when his failing hearing led him to answer questions that people hadn’t asked him.

Paul shook his hand enthusiastically and introduced Jessica. To his surprise, Jessica hugged Mr. Crowley, who turned red and smiled. Mr. Crowley directed them both to enter the building. Inside the vestibule, Paul picked up an announcement and handed it to Jessica. The music that always fills such places echoed strangely inside the main door. Paul hurried through.

In front of the long room, he noted Aunt Jill’s casket, adorned with a variety of flowers and a picture of her, one he had seen in someone’s living room when he was younger. Aunt Jill had been a beautiful young woman. Seeing her as a young woman in the memorial photo gave him a sense of deja vu.

Within minutes, a couple of dozen people had entered, each saying hello to Paul if they recognized him. Most attendees were well over retirement age. Paul did his best to pretend that he recognized them all. Jessica, who seemed to have magically acquired the ability to make personal connections, helped him by hugging each person who approached. Paul didn’t know she was such a hugger. In a quiet moment, he asked her about it. She smiled and shrugged. “I love people, Paul.”

At the moment Paul assumed that everyone had arrived, the door opened, and he felt his heart leap to see Aunt Jill’s partner, Betsy. Betsy had watched Paul countless times when he was young. She and Aunt Jill were together before such things were acceptable. Though she was with his Aunt Jill, Betsy always kissed him on the lips when she saw him, something that used to cause his mother a bit of grief. After pecking him, she always cackled with glee and winked at him. When he turned eighteen, she casually told him that she didn’t know she liked women until she met his Aunt Jill, who stole her heart. But that she hadn’t forgotten to appreciate a good-looking man.

Betsy slowly walked toward him, already smiling. He instantly felt glad that he’d answered her phone call a couple of days, asking when he would arrive in town. Paul bent toward her, and she put her hands on both sides of his face and kissed him thoroughly on the lips. Had he not pulled away, Betsy might have kissed him for five seconds. She laughed, looking at Jessica. Jessica also burst out laughing. “You must be Betsy!” Jessica said and moved to hug her. Betsy caught Jessica off guard, too, and gave her a kiss on the mouth. At that point, all three of them burst out laughing, which drew everyone’s attention around them. Jessica took Betsy’s right arm and wrapped it around her left arm, standing with her.

Once their laughter subsided, Betsy said, “I wish your mother were here, Paul. I can’t believe she’s been gone for all these years. She died too young, just like their momma.” She nodded toward the casket. “We had a good life together, even when people didn’t appreciate our kind. Your momma told us to keep our heads up and to love who we wanted to. And we did.”

Jessica looked at Betsy inquisitively. “Paul doesn’t have any pictures of his grandmother, Betsy. Did Aunt Jill look like her?”

“Oh lord, girl. You won’t believe it! I have some pictures in the car. Our friend Bill drove me. I’ll have Bill fetch them for you.” Betsy got distracted by another visitor as she looked around the room for Bill. He saw her craning her head and started to walk toward her.

“I’ll be back in a minute, Jessica. I forgot the pictures in the car.” Paul turned to exit the building from the service entrance on the side. Jessica followed Betsy toward the front pew and kept an eye out for anyone needing a hug. She discovered that a few did.

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A few minutes later, Paul returned, carrying a leather folder with the pictures he brought. He was chewing furiously as he walked up to Jessica, who laughed at the absurd mouthful he displayed.

Between chews, Paul managed to tell her that Mr. Crowley’s brother Earl insisted on giving him a handful of his homemade beef jerky before coming inside. Paul also told her he ate a ton of the stuff when he was a teenager and worked for Earl at the hardware store. “Better his beef jerky than his wife’s dipping snuff,” Paul said.

Paul and Jessica went to sit on the front pew with Betsy.

“Earl is here, I see,” Betsy said and winked. Paul nodded, trying to swallow the last of the jerky.

Betsy pulled a handkerchief from her black purse. He noted she had a cigarette case inside. She saw him looking and said, “That’s where I keep my gun. People see it and assume it must be cigarettes.” She handed Jessica the case. Jessica opened it. She laughed. The cigarette case contained a tiny .22 single-shot pistol. “Betsy!” Paul exclaimed, unsure what to say.

Betsy shrugged, took back the case, and stuffed it back inside her purse.

She unfolded the handkerchief and uncovered several pictures stacked together. “Let me see,” she said as she moved her fingers across them.

“Here it is. This is your Grandmother Mary, Paul. Quite the looker! You can definitely see my Jill and your mom Rosie in her face.” Betsy handed the picture to Jessica, whose mouth dropped open. The confusion on her face was unmistakable.

“What’s the matter, honey?” Betsy asked.

Without a word, Jessica handed the picture to Paul, who stared at the picture in surprise.

“What is it y’all? You’re making me nervous!” Betsy seemed to be a bit alarmed.

Instead of answering, Paul handed the picture back to Jessica. He unclasped his leather folder and picked out the 8 X 10 he bought yesterday at the flea market.

He leaned across Jessica and handed the picture to Betsy. She went pale and took a sharp breath. “Oh my!” She turned the picture over and saw the other one on the back, along with the inscription “Loretta.”

Tears formed in her eyes. “Loretta’s middle name was Mary, Paul. This picture was in her living room when she died. We wondered what happened to it. Where did you get it?”

Paul, still in a bit of shock, said, “At the bigger flea market downtown, the one off Main Street. Yesterday. I bought it because I thought it was the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

Jessica didn’t take offense. Tears were forming in both of her eyes.

Betsy nodded. “Yes, she was. Jill and your mom had her looks and definitely her kind heart. She was the smartest person I ever knew, Paul. That’s saying a lot.”

The three of them sat in silence for a full moment. Betsy sighed.

“Let’s go say our goodbyes to my precious Jill, shall we? Help me walk up there if you will.” Betsy didn’t attempt to wipe away the tears on her face.

As they stood, Paul found himself hugging both Jessica and Betsy. They held the hug for at least thirty seconds.

They walked to the casket, looking at Aunt Jill’s memorial picture on the display stand near the casket. Paul held up Loretta Mary’s picture from yesterday. Somewhere in between, he could picture his mom’s face.

Betsy, her sense of timing as perfect as it always was, said, “When are you two going to be proper and get married? You can’t shack up forever, you know.”

As the three of them looked at each other, they burst out laughing, even as tears rolled from all their faces. Though the onlookers didn’t understand what they bore witness to, everyone smiled.

In the distance, thunder boomed across the sky.

Paul decided he might stay a few more days to keep Betsy company. And to prowl flea markets with his girlfriend.

“Goodbye, Loretta Mary,” Paul whispered, even as he stole a sideways glance at Betsy. She was crying, though a smile was on her face. And he looked over at Jessica, who also cried as she held Betsy against her. He couldn’t remember why he had avoided his small hometown. His whole world was with him at that moment.
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Health, Opinion, Personal, Social Rules, Weight Loss

NO Such Recipe

02/11/2021 X Teri 2 Comments

Being able to sound crazy is a home field advantage. Telling the truth while sounding crazy is sublime.

He looked at me and hesitated.

I knew what he was thinking. “Go ahead. Ask.”

“What’s your secret, X? It’s like you’re training for something. You’re still you. But something else, too.” He was uncomfortable. I’m known for saying outlandish things without context. Doubly so if the other person initiates the conversation. (And triply so if the conversation is personal.)

“Do you have moments where you almost see the world differently? Where things fall away?” I asked him. “Like ‘The Matrix,’ but real? I’m being serious! As if the things you thought were important were illusions and vice versa? Like a hidden truth just becomes obvious.”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“I had one of those moments. I saw myself as this other person, the one I forgot. And I just knew I wasn’t fat anymore.” I laughed. I love seeing the looks on people’s faces when I tell them this. Telling someone that all your previous issues evaporated simply because you suddenly ‘know’ the truth of something sounds ridiculous.

“Hmmm. I don’t know how to get there from here. That’s not specific advice!” It was his turn to laugh. “And yours wasn’t just eating. How did you do the other things?”

“Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not about thinking. Move toward the things you want. Weight loss, being happier with what you have, another job. As for the other things, those are things I should have always been doing, anyway, just like being more careful about what I put in my mouth.”

He made a face. “Yes, but what specifically can I do? Not guru stuff, the actual things I can do.”

I returned his grimace. “Stop doing the things you know aren’t healthy or the ‘you’ you’d like to be five years from now. Start doing the things you know you should be doing. Whatever you do, commit to it and be okay with things being awkward and failing a few times until they aren’t. It took a lifetime to get where you are, so start now. Eat less. Eat more healthily. Do things that you actually like to do. And think about how they impact your other choices.”

I could see the simplicity of such ridiculous advice as it reached him.

“Keep it simple. Whatever you do, don’t do it unless you can picture doing it for the rest of your life. Don’t pay for pills, drinks, or expensive programs. You already more or less know how you would like to spend your time. Now go find a way to do more of that and less of the other.”

“Ha,” he said. “I think I can do that.”

“I know you can. I don’t possess any magic that you don’t. You saw me do it. Now let me watch you figure out how to do it.”

I wondered if he might be the next to succeed. I think so. I hope so.

In the last few months, I’ve had versions of this conversation with several people. Most expect a specific recipe for success. There isn’t one.

Biographical, Personal

The Dimday

02/10/2021 X Teri Leave a comment

My decision to visit downtown for food was a stolen moment, one both spontaneous and light. I wonder if coincidences happen or if serendipity exerts unseen control.

Downtown was an eerie place that afternoon around five. Dimday is a word that describes the point when light surrenders. Winter came like a blanket to a place unaccustomed to it. For those who relish the greyed out quiet, it was beautiful. You can count me among them. Sunlight brings joy, distracted and widened eyes to witness the carnival of our exposure; winter commands reflection and thought.

I parked a street away, around the block, and walked along the broken sidewalk, heading toward one of the rejuvenated eateries along the old street. A mother with her young son crossed near me. She was pleased to hear me greet her in Spanish. Crossing the street, I noted that all the colors, though subdued, seemed to be more vibrant in the odd and fading light. Everything was punctuated by the neon lights at some of the businesses. It was a place I would have preferred to linger in, observing. As I walked behind the mother and her son, entering the crosswalk, I looked up and made eye contact with the driver in his truck, waiting for us to cross. I waved and smiled. To my surprise, the man smiled back, waving like an old friend.

Entering the restaurant, I recognized him immediately at the bar, with a large beer, and a plate of food in front of him. He seemed diminished in comparison to my memory of him. Our memories add armor and soften the complexities that come alive when we revisit those who sometimes stroll in the hallways of our minds. The hardened memories I had of him didn’t align with the older man sitting there.

I ordered and picked up my food. On a whim, I stopped and asked him if he remembered me. He said my name immediately when I pulled down my mask. Not that “X” should be unusually hard to recall. He would remember me for reasons other than my peculiar name, though. I told him that the past was behind us, somehow communicating through intonation that it was indeed true and not a pressing issue between us. Because I’m emerging from my cocoon, I moved closer and made eye contact with him. We spoke as if the past happened to other people. I felt the stolen moment transform into a lemon moment.

My feet, already light and uncaring from the other-worldly light and atmosphere, lightened further as I exited the eatery. I left a piece of me back there, with him. I know my presence lingered with him. Whatever animosity previously prevailed, it dissipated there. I already knew that his behavior so long ago would now be mostly categorized as an interesting story – and stripped of its power.

And that the last year has given me a piece of myself back to experience it.

Food, Health, Opinion, Weight Loss

Things I Forgot I Love

02/08/2021 X Teri 2 Comments

I know better habits have formed in the last 4 months: I microwaved a 10oz bag of Great Value chopped spinach. The Great Value was better than a few of the premium brands I’ve tried in the last month. Added a liberal amount of Hidden Valley Ranch seasoning, and a generous run of Sriracha on top. After eating, I felt full. I also got a variety of flavor. Had I never tasted french fries, pizza, or potato chips, this simple meal or side dish would be more than satisfying. I acquired a love for greens of all kinds because of my Grandma. It never occurred to me to think that greens weren’t delicious.

Then, it hit me: 500 or so calories for the day was unwise. So, I had an Olè healthy tortilla with smoked turkey and lettuce. 700. Bag of PopChips. 800. Really full. I put a can of no-sugar peaches in the fridge to chill.

Not that the songs weren’t already forming grooves from overplay in my head, but I listened to “Stupid Love” by Lady Gaga and “Save Your Tears” by The Weeknd on repeat while I ate.

I’ll have a bit of vodka and homemade sweet and sour later. I might make it to 1300 calories. Some people jab at me for claiming not to count calories while sometimes knowing how many I eat on some days. Because I don’t eat a complex series of foods, it is easier for me to do a quick count if I need to. Also, when people ask me what the calorie load would be, I figure it out. All that counting to be healthy would be on my last nerve very quickly if I felt like I had to do it to be healthy. I still think that most of us know most of the time if we’ve overindulged, whether it is food, alcohol, or redacted.

I’ll finish the day with at least 12 servings of fruits and vegetables.

I wasn’t “hungry” once today. I drank coffee, three kinds of broth, flavored water, tea, and one soda.

My secret? None.

Choose healthy. Less. Variety.

And don’t focus on food. If you need a list of amazing things you can do to distract yourself from your food obsession, I can do that.

I know this will get more complicated with more family members. That’s part of the challenge for all of us.

I wrote the above post yesterday. When I went to donate plasma today, my iron was just a bit low. First, when I started donating plasma, my regular blood work told me that my iron level was very healthy. My numbers were all normal when I did my physical this year. The same was true during my first visits to donate plasma. Given that I’ve been taking an iron supplement and eating more iron-rich foods just to be cautious, this was a bit of a surprise. In short, I’m not 30 anymore. In case someone is about to send me a list (of do or don’t) about iron… I know. This is the sort of thing that I knew might come up with plasma donation, which in part, is why I never entertained the idea of attempting to donate as often as many people do.

When I decided that I was no longer fat, I knew I’d have to learn life-long habits and tactics to stay healthy. This is part of the process. I’m lucky that I don’t have to donate plasma to earn enough money to eat. I’ve talked to several people in that situation since I started donating plasma. My heart hurts a little bit for them.

There are success stories among them. One middle-aged man I talked to used the monitoring process to stop smoking. He then began to eat a regimented diet and lost 75 lbs. In his mind, donating plasma saves him 2-3 times what he earns through donation.

An additional note: because of a horrifying morning at work, I didn’t eat. It almost got the best of me. Because I’m accustomed to it, I forget that my job is very physical. Being ‘thin’ in this environment requires more vigilance from me. I’m still adjusting. I know I can’t get back a few years, but it is stupid of me to have failed for so long.

I’m not sharing this picture to be vain. A co-worker told me to take a picture and look at my arm without flexing. I did. And it surprised me that it was my arm. I did the same with my arm on the way home that day, too, because I momentarily didn’t recognize it as ‘my’ arm. It is a bit ridiculous so don’t think too poorly of me for sharing it. A co-worker also pointed out that the pants I transitioned to are suddenly and surprisingly baggy on me.

Looking at my arm led me to keep touching the sternum bone that was hidden for me for a LONG time.

I laugh if I think about it too long, because a part of the authentic me was hidden and buried during that time too.

Love, X

Food, New Word, Opinion, Personal, Sexuality, Social Rules

If You Can’t Shake The Can, You Can Always Shake The Skillet

02/08/2021 X Teri Leave a comment

“If you can’t shake the can, you can always shake the skillet.” – X

I resurrected this phrase of mine today for someone’s social media post. They referred to J-Lo and Adam Levine’s Super Bowl performance last year, implying that if they looked like J-Lo, they’d be out there shaking their tailfeathers too. It’s a bit ridiculous, given that the people involved are attractive and know how to smile. (Hint: it is the smile and enthusiasm that galvanizes other people’s attention. Turn the smile and enthusiasm toward another person and you have the only successful recipe for convincing someone you are interesting and interested.)

I’d also like to mention that it is a bit weird to think that they’d shake their tailfeathers like J-LO if they were as attractive. It would be the same act, except with the perception of desirability or a feast for the eyes. The act itself? The same. Their claim in some way that’s hard to pinpoint dismisses the observer’s ability to find a wide range of people to be attractive. If you think there is a single standard for beauty, you’re wrong. And if you think that people can’t look at your defects and find something worthwhile, you are doubly wrong. People forget that a defect is not a defect to everyone. Many men find J-Lo’s most notorious physical asset to be unattractive. As for Adam Levine, he is a beautiful man. But there’s a lot about him many women dislike. In both J-Lo’s and Adam’s cases, their wallets are beautiful too – which helps alleviate many of the issues with their appearance. That is exactly what a smile, attentive ear, and other subjective things bring to the table. There is no single standard.

The quote goes directly to the heart of using what you have.

For those with sublime inclinations, it also could be used as a way to say, “Show love through food.” Though food is a necessity that sustains us, anyone who doubts the intimacy of preparing food for someone you love is a fool. It is an expenditure of time and energy, resulting in the simple pleasure of enjoying the food you need to live. It is magic to take a mundane task and add a dose of love and appreciation to it. As you get older, you find yourself wondering if ALL the true moments are hidden in plain sight like this.

The reason I wrote the phrase originally was to remind people that all of us have our peculiar likes, dislikes, fetishes, and inexplicable things that ignite us. Bald? Big nose? Scars? Thin? Heavy? Big hands? Small hands? High voice? Low voice?

No matter what it is, someone appreciates it.

It bothers me when people forget that their familiarity with their own perceived defects blinds them to the fact that someone else might appreciate them – and especially their alleged defects or faults.

You shake the can, or you shake the skillet.

Use what you have. Pivot. Be enthusiastic about the ‘you’ that you bring to the world. That’s worth all the money in the world.

It is in the act of realizing that you bring something to the table that makes love, life, and happiness possible.

No matter who you are, you can shake your can or skillet.

And…

If you show attention and enthusiasm, most defects are rendered invisible.

Stop being in a rush to tell people you’re not attractive to someone – or a lot of people. You have no idea.

Eats, Food, Health, Opinion, Product Review, Weight Loss

PopChips (A Love Affair With Food)

02/07/2021 X Teri 2 Comments

“Seize the moment. Remember all those women on the ‘Titanic’ who waved off the dessert cart.”
― Erma Bombeck

I thought I had already posted about Popchips. This food item is one of the go-to secrets in my arsenal of food choices. I know I’ve raved about them on social media. In the last year, I estimate that I’ve eaten 30 cases, more or less. It’s an addiction at this point, much like lemons and tajin seasoning. I’m almost a bit evangelical about how good these things have been for me, minus the sweaty on-television confession.

Locally, I can get a box of 30 bags for about $12-13 at Sam’s Club. The 30-pack includes barbeque, sour cream and onion, and sea salt in individual serving bags. Each bag is 100 calories. Not that I count calories – but I am generally aware of calorie consumption and use the information to initially decide if it a long-term food for me. For those who must count calories, I am sorry; that sort of thing would derail me quickly. Generally speaking, process derails me.

I’ve tried several other chip options. All of them fall short for either flavor, availability, or price. Given how volatile the food market can be, I await the day when Popchips disappear from Sam’s. It’s happened to several other healthy options for me. Lord forbid if I had to forego trickery and learn to cook small healthy portions!

If you visit the Popchips store on Amazon, you’ll see that other flavors and varieties are available. The cost is much higher than the Sam’s Club offering. While they are delicious, especially the bold & crunchy kind especially, part of my routine demands that cost and convenience be part of the equation.

For me, it is the texture that makes these so appealing. Don’t get me wrong, they are delicious. For those critics who describe them as bland, I simply point out that they are a hell of a lot more healthy than saltines and other crackers. IF you use them as crackers, you will absolutely get more bang for your buck with these compared to any cracker. Having said that, I get tickled when people say, “They don’t have a lot of flavor.” Mostly, they are referring to the sea salt flavor. When someone tells me that, I ask them how much flavor a boring saltine cracker has. Invariably, they don’t know what to say in response.

I used to eat a lot of saltines, especially ones I jazzed up with seasonings. I do sometimes miss making little individual cracker pizzas, usually with a modified version of olive tapenade on them. 70 calories for 5 little square crackers is a bit crazy, though. And especially so when I remember that I could easily eat 20 times that amount.

It’s true that Popchips aren’t stuffed with vitamins. Neither are saltines or most crackers. But they contain staggeringly fewer calories, without the fat. I already eat 100% of my daily fiber everyday through both food and supplements. Popchips are the filler workhorse for me, which satisfy my cravings for texture and flavor. I don’t eat them for their nutritional value. I eat them because they are considerably healthier than what I would otherwise eat. They mitigate my urge to eat a lot of potato chips. As for criticism that Popchips are made from potatoes… well, that’s the point. Potatoes aren’t the enemy, unless you prepare them to be unhealthy. I get tickled with the complex rules and “no” associated with some foods. People are ridiculous. (Which also applies to me, critics.)

When I eat at Mr. Taco Loco, a local Tex-Mex place, I order chicken tacos, prepared with onions, cilantro, and pico de gallo. I discard the tortillas with them and use the Popchips as little scoops for the taco contents. (After a liberal dose of Tajin seasoning on top of it all, of course.) Doing so, even while eating two bags of Popchips with the mix, results in a moderately healthy lunch or supper – while giving me texture, flavor, and a lot of food to satisfy me.

Confession: sometimes, I just eat a bag of chips if I’m on the go or need something to hold me over. The texture works in my brain exactly like Aim toothpaste does, which is difficult to explain to normal people. If I eat a bag of Popchips and drink water, I feel full.

I also eat Popchips like a cracker with tuna and dill relish, or as a filler with Olé healthy tortillas, the kind with a LOT of fiber and about 50 calories each.

Did mention that the texture and crunch are incredible with this chip?

If you’re lucky enough to have a supply of Popchips, give them a try. If you can get the more exotic flavors, I will be jealous.

I will be surprised if you don’t find them to be delicious. If you try them and hate them, feel free to curse me. (No black magic curses, though, please. I’m still growing hair in weird places thanks to the last curse.)

IF you’re looking for a snack that will help you stop eating unhealthy alternatives, Popchips can be the thing that helps you.

Coronavirs Covid-19, Health, Humor, Personal, Uncategorized

A Masked Anecdote

02/06/2021 X Teri Leave a comment

I don’t always succeed at looking the other way or being the person I should be. Being thinner and having more confidence brings unexpected problems. I also tend to sometimes follow a thread or story just because I’m curious. Not because I have an agenda.

Today, I was at a business drinking a double shot of espresso. Obviously, I had to pull my mask down for a second. Espresso via a straw is lunacy.

No other person was within 20 feet of me. It’s important to note that several people in the facility had no masks, wore their masks improperly, and some were employees of the facility. I’ve had both covid shots. I also tend to tune out paying attention to those who don’t wear their masks or wear them properly. A couple of weeks ago, at Walmart, a man got furious at me, because he was obviously spoiling for a fight about not wearing a mask. I had not even noticed he didn’t have one on when I acknowledged him and said hello. He was looking for a fight.

Part of the social contract during the pandemic is to avoid being a maskhole in either direction. Truthfully, the safest course of action is to avoid going out. Engaging with those who don’t wear masks is a fool’s errand that will fill your day with argument and stress.

I don’t do it. And though it’s been that way for me for a while, I usually fail to notice whether someone has a mask on or not.

As I pulled my mask down to finish my espresso, an employee approached me. I made eye contact with her. And said hello. To my surprise, she shouted, “Sir pull your mask up!” Which I was already doing as she shouted. Keep in mind that she walked past several people making no attempt whatsoever to wear their masks or wear them properly.

Suspecting she was having a bad day, and also suspecting that me making eye contact is what pissed her off, I locked eyes with her as she passed and shook my head laughing at her. Which really pissed her off more. She wisely kept walking. Also, I was seated. Had she followed her own trajectory, she would not have violated social distancing.

Walking around, I observed people and realized more people than I thought weren’t wearing masks properly. Especially employees. Then I noticed the pissy employee who shouted at me was standing there with her mask down talking a foot away from another employee. I walked up within 10 feet and said excuse me. And then reminded both employees that social distancing and proper mask etiquette were required at all times without exception for employees at the facility. And that hypocrisy was not a good color for an employee to be displaying openly. I smiled, wished them both a good day and walked away. Laughing, of course.

One of the employees cursed at me and called me a son of a b****. I won’t argue the veracity of that. My mom was guilty of the charge. I turned and gave them the thumbs up and walked away.

I know walking up and being smarmy and snarky like that wasn’t the right thing to do. But I also know it wasn’t the wrong thing. And if it results in both employees not being assholes to the people they’re supposed to be helping, my transgression is certainly lesser than theirs.

After observing several other employees engage in similar behaviour, I went and asked to speak to the customer service manager. The employee did not want to help me. I told her I would wait as long as necessary and to not stress. She tried to do everything she could to encourage me to bug off or to explain to her what the issue was.

She looked even more confused when I explained to her that in the interest of time and efficiency for both the business and myself, it would be easier to proceed without needless repetition. I thanked her.

The purported manager approached. I showed her my covid vaccine card and ID and explained what happened.

I tried to avoid identifying the employee. And I certainly did not tell her that they had cursed at me. I wanted her to know that employees were sending mixed messages and causing anger issues needlessly.

She was perplexed when I told her honestly that I was talking to her only to see what her genuine reaction was. While standing there, I got more and more amused my how she was staring at my awesome women’s floral jacket. Her body language and demeanor told me she didn’t care about what I was saying.

And that’s okay. Customer service is a thankless job.

I told her that the objective of me talking to her, other than to observe a reaction, was to remind her that the rules are there to be enforced or not. But to watch out for hypocrisy.

I don’t know what my demeanor was saying to her, but she finally asked me, “Who are you?”

I told her I could be anybody from anywhere. But most importantly that I’m a human being with human reactions. And that employees are no different than customers in a world where we’re all equals. And to be kind, attentive, and happy.

I left her scratching her head. She thought I was somebody, so to speak.

I’m writing this post on my phone. I know I’m probably not capturing the nuance or communicating my points clearly.

All this started simply because I made eye contact with an employee. That’s weird. Weirder than my awesome floral jacket.

Personal, Social Rules

Not All Accidents Are Bad

02/06/2021 X Teri 3 Comments

I still surprise myself forgetting that danger is relative. And that taking measures to be safer often results in greater danger. Most of the things that harm us drop out of the clear blue sky. Often literally, as my life will attest.

A few days ago, I arrived home to see that my sister-in-law was parked in the driveway. She drives a truck and isn’t the best at navigating the available space. Because I don’t obsess about such things, I parked in the street in front of my house. If you’ve forgotten, our neighborhood is incrementally becoming a parking lot. I knew it would be a worsening problem as the neighborhood aged. I let neighbors park in front of my house as a courtesy. I try to be aware of traffic, given that visibility is often blocked in both directions. People speeding make it a certainty that one day I will be smashed as I leave the house.

A little later that afternoon, I planned to leave. As I walked across the yard, I watched a young Latina woman exit the house directly across the street. She saw me walking to my car. I got in and noticed that she was going to back out.

I decided to wait, to give her a chance to more safely back out without being concerned about my movement. I could have gunned it and swung backward and into my own driveway; again, I was being safe. People get distracted when leaving. A couple of the neighbors use someone leaving as an excuse to pop halfway out the front door and shout long instructions or admonitions at those leaving.

As she backed out, for a second I thought she might hit me. Realizing that was absurd, I decided not to honk my horn. She kept coming. Before I realized it, she had backed into my car, toward the back end. My car rocked with the impact.

It was at that moment I hit the horn. I’m a genius like that.

How she thought she had enough room to make such a lazy turn out of the driveway is anyone’s guess. How she ‘forgot’ I was there in the .5 seconds since we both walked out is another guess. Since we are all human though, there are a million possible reasons she had such a monumental brain fart. I’ve had them, too. It’s wise for me to never forget it.

To my credit, I got out of the car laughing, especially when I saw the fright on her face. When I spoke Spanish to her, she was quite relieved. “My husband is going to kill me!” she said. Her left back bumper was caved in considerably. Mine wasn’t. It was popped in a bit with a lot of scratches and cosmetic damage. I looked hard at it and said, “No police, no insurance. The man who lives at the house you’re visiting should be able to pop yours out without breaking the bumper. If something else comes up, you know where I live.” I thought she was going to run and hug me. The relief on her face was obvious. “Cars are just transportation for me. No one was hurt and the car will drive exactly the same. We’re good.”

I could see the reluctance on her face to accept the fact that I was just going to laugh it off and let it go. She finally did, though. She left happy.

In one respect, I’m glad for the accident. It reminded me that my initial reaction wasn’t one of anger and that I’m still the same person. I WANT to always be that person. It is the ideal ‘me’ that I hold in my head.

I don’t want my car to be banged up, but safety, people, and keeping a calm outlook trump it all. I made that woman’s day. It could have been much, much worse for her.

Love, X