Escaping the Bonds---a tour of random shit piles in my home

This is me sitting in a childsized wagon with my two children in an attempt to keep them away from the sandbox which happens to be under the deck where a nice but not bright robin couple decided to begin a family. The robin couple are frantically running around my yard in a panic and are refusing to get back in the god damn nest even though they continued to make the fucking thing a few weeks ago while my children ran amok among them and shouted things at the sky. I can only do so much robin family. This is why natural selection happens.

As I was sitting in this wagon I began to contemplate my own home and the various nest like collections strewn about roughly 80% of the time. I should begin by stating that I was raised in a family that was undiagnosed obsessive compulsive in terms of many things, with cleanliness being at the top of that list. It honestly took me 25 years to accept that the way I grew up was abnormal and that everyone elses's homes were not in fact the pig sty hovels I was taught to think they were. I could talk to you forever about the extent of the madness, but one of the best examples I can recall was not being allowed to hug a brand new stuffed animal I was given as a gift for fear that it may get lint on my outfit before church. I instead smushed that stuffed turtle with the red baseball cap as hard up against my face as I could and spun around to get out the love aggression since I was being denied the pleasure of hugging him properly. Lint. Lint was somehow a sin. Do you understand how this can warp a child's mind? Sweet baby jesus, the insanity.

You'll be happy to know that in the act of creating and then caring for children, I have overcome my learned terror of messes and dirtiness. By overcome I mean that I allow life to happen without stopping my kids and dog and husband from just being living breathing beings that naturally make messes. The anxiety it gives me is still very real, but I override my urge to control it 75% of the time and for that I give myself a giant high five. Well done, you. You will only fuck your children up marginally in this regard!

With that being said, if my mother were still alive, and if my gram wasnt fighting dementia, the state of my home on a daily basis would put them both in comas that they may never awake from. Part of me is horrified at this fact of my life and the other gets incredibly gleeful that Im an adult and that this is my home and that I can do whatever I want with it so fuck all yall. I share this with you now in the hopes that if this is familiar to you, you dont feel so alone, and that if this disgusts you, you are able to feel better about yourself because of me. Ride that high horse, baby.

 First I bring you to the dining room table, which is covered in toys, playdoh, playdoh toys, and the remains of lunch which we ate around the toys, playdoh and playdoh toys. Im actually impressed as the table isnt completely covered in half chewed, smushed food, so this must mean this was taken on a day I actually used cleaner to clean it that morning instead of just pushing a damp paper towel around it and creating Impressionist-like murals from old avocado and over easy egg yolks.

Ahhh we now travel downwards to the floor. The glorious floor which remains glorious for exactly 37 seconds after it is cleaned before milk is spilled on it 4 times in a row, and the dog throws up on it for some reason. Here you'll see it is sporting a lovely mixture of dog hair, playdoh crumbs, playdoh toys, old milk stains, and an orange plastic plate which I can guarantee will remain underneath there for several days until I get annoyed enough to crawl on my knees and pick up.

Here we have the playroom which by all means should always look like this. If your kids bedroom or playroom doesnt looked played in, as a survivor of childhood cleaning trauma whose room always had to look magazine perfect, I implore you to knock that shit off. Give them this. Let them at least have this.

We now make our way up the stairs, past the random dirty pee diaper on the landing, to this stop at the humidifier table in the hallway where a fun collection of items seems to be having some kind of random things convention. You'll notice many toys and pieces of toys and games, as well as a large 5 ft long cardboard tube that came with the outdoor rug that we bought for the porch and that has somehow traveled from the garage into our 2nd floor living space. Yes, what you are seeing there IS a big ass plastic stripper shoe that fell from the top shelf in my closet and didnt mange to brain anyone to death when it took its mighty leap, and that I am now letting my kids play with because I think its funny as hell to see them try to walk in it or use it as a vehicle for their figurines to travel in.

Here we find an upside down laundry basket with a collection of pajama tops and bottoms I got too overwhelmed to actually find matches for, fold and put away. Thats like 7 steps for one chore, I said GOOD DAY SIR. So here they will sit for the next 3-5 days until I feel up to finishing that specific task. Note the random book poking out from under the closet and my toes which I was too lazy to crop out.

This is the guest bedroom that theoretically should be in mint condition as we havent had guests in it in over two months. Youll see that it, in fact, is not! Empty diaper box and bunny tail from an old Halloween costume withstanding, Id enjoy sleeping in here were it not for the fact that a tiny localized tornado clearly took out that train yard and no one has given any thought to helping the community rebuild. Thanks again for nothing FEMA.

This is the sink in the laundry room and my favorite shit pile nest in the house because I have zero clue how any of this stuff got here, and because of that I am allowing it to stay. Paw Patrol Zuma hovercraft toy, tampon, cap to laundry detergent, tiny book called Chicken Soup with Rice, large piece of fool's gold sitting on the book--which I found out the hard way that my baby with a death wish can fit entirely into his mouth, kill me, empty bottle of infant tylenol, $6 in cash, roll of duct tape, small garden stone, and wooden nut to child toolbox that I havent seen in 6 months. If these items had a high school yearbook, Id sign it "Love you guys!! Youre hilarious, Never change!!"

We return to the mainfloor for a glimpse at the mudroom, where because we live in a Northern state that has bipolar weather conditions, I am unable to fully put away our winter boots, hat, and coats, even though I have already taken out our summer sandals, rain jackets and sunscreen. That lovely carpet remnant we use to wipe our feet on is from the day we moved in two years ago, and that striped mitten is one of approximately 5 pairs who no longer have matches and just get thrown together based on whatever is available and hasnt been placed into the dogs water bowl by the baby. I can see you wondering, and Yes we have been invited to show in the Parade of Homes based on this photo alone.

A little jaunt from the mudroom we have the ever present Random Shit Pile of Eternity that has always been and always will be until the sun explodes and the oceans turn to dust. There are so many fun things here but some of my favorites include--giant garden rock, tube of pink party hats, hammer, jewelry cleaner, plastic popcorn container that is filled with all my jewelry I take off immediately upon entering my home, happy face stickers, a book that my husband keeps forgetting to return to his coworker, a broken camera from 2008 that made it through 2 moves, and the Grand Poobah of them all--a purple felt box containing my mothers ashes so she can see the shitshow of my life and laugh with me and be a part of it on the daily. Also that Galileo thermometer I got 3 Xmases ago has somehow managed to survive being hit with a mini basketball over 35 times. We only have the highest quality imports around here. folks.

And finally, mainly because I'm getting bored and not because there aren't any more shit pile nests to show you, nothing compliments a scenic view like many spray bottles of household cleaners, a pair of reading glasses that no one has ever come back for, potted plants that will probably never grow, and an antique statue used as a place to dry the nose frida.


Thank You for coming on this tour with me. Have a wonderful weekend fart knockers.

Love,

Maria

Sometimes it Snows in April

Last Thursday April 21st, Earth was rocked by the news of Prince Rogers Nelson's passing. Being a native Minnesotan who has lived here my entire life, the revelation was doubly heartbreaking, as we have always felt an intense amount of pride that someone larger than life in the way Prince was has never become too big for his Northern roots. He didn't up and leave to LA or NYC like everyone else does once they make it. He embraced the city and state that bore him into this world, and we equally embraced him back. He was one of us, wasn't embarrassed about it, and like everything else he did, didn't feel the need to explain it to anyone, because he was the living, breathing embodiment of

Its none of yo business

As details emerge about his passing, I realized that I do not give a fuck about the specific reasons behind his death. Words like suicide, overdose, addiction, opiate get thrown around and truly, whether or not those words make it into the final autopsy report doesn't mean shit. None of those words define him or can take away his shine and light and all the good energy and deeds he put into the world while he was a part of it.

 I woke up this morning with something close to embarrassment that I still feel so sad that hes gone. I mean, Ive never met him, I wasn't distantly related to him, I've never seen him live in concert, I cant be considered a Super Fan. By all estimations this should be a 1-2 day sadness at best. But it's not. I think for a lot of Minnesotans it's not. We are collectively heart broken over the loss of a person that impacted the world on such a grandiose level but who was still down to earth enough to buy music at Electric Fetus on the weekends like any other musically inclined Minnesotan would do.

I was lucky enough to have been a part of the all night dance party First Ave threw on the day he died. My friend Rachel and I waited in the giant crowd for almost 2 hours with only a sliver of hope that we'd actually make it inside the building. But we had to try. And by the grace of the Purple One we made it in and onto the dance floor where we proceeded to shake our shit for the next 2 hours in honor of a man that made that club famous. Rachel said how crazy it was to watch the projected image of Prince singing Purple Rain on a screen that was literally where he was standing when he the video was recorded. At times during the night watching him dance up there on that screen truly felt like we were watching him live, and everyone would cheer at his splits or crazy footwork like he could hear us. And really, what more fitting of a way to explain what he means to Minnesota and humanity in general in that a recorded video presence causes people to scream and cheer? He truly was a special energy and humanity is better for having been the recipient of all he had to offer musically, socially, and on a humanitarian level.

Thank you Prince for being you, 100%, all the time, without a second thought. Your confidence in being true to yourself is something all of us should be inspired to try whether we are 3 or 93. As time passes and more of your inner circle reveals the true scope of your generosity towards the poor, people of color, and other forgotten communities, it underscores the feeling we all had, all just inherently knew about you--that at your core, you were just a wonderful human being that happened to communicate best through the language of music. Thank you for it all, we are all better having had the chance to share this space and time with you. And as Corvette so fittingly said,

RIP Prince Rogers Nelson June 7th, 1985--April 21st, 2016

Behind the Pup Tag---Paw Patrol Expose

My 3 year old recently started watching Paw Patrol, and can I just say that the pups and all of Adventure Bay can seriously just fuck right off. After watching literal hours of this mind excrement, I have come up with my own theories on what I think the reality is behind every one of these imaginary animals and their human companion.

**WARNING** This may offend you. I dont care, this is just your trigger warning so I cant get sued.

CHASE

From his over-eagerness to use his SWAT vehicle, to his beloved Spy Drone, it's not too difficult to surmise that Chase, one of the most called upon and rule abiding members of the Paw Patrol, is actually at his core, an undercover NSA operative and Nazi sympathizer. It is rumored that his great great grandfather was a patrol dog along the Polish/Germany border back during WW II, so its safe to say he grew up hearing a lot of fucked up pro Aryan brotherhood propaganda. He is unable to sleep without the lights on, although no one has ever been able to get him to open up about this. Why he is allowed to remain in the Paw Patrol is still a mystery but its telling that he is frequently left out of group facebook event invites and was the only pup not present at Zuma's daughter's Quinceanera. 

SKY

While undergoing basic training at the air force academy, Sky was injured in a freak accident when a propeller broke off a grounded plane and landed on her back as she was passing underneath. She underwent months of physical therapy and in the interim period became seriously addicted to prescription pain medication. Knowing she was unable to kick her habit and being unable to keep her on the roster as an addicted cadet, her commanding officer wrote her a letter of recommendation for the Paw Patrol as he recognized her immense talent and knew that flying was the only thing holding her together mentally. Ryder is aware of Sky's addiction problems but as long as she doesn't do anything illegal in public while wearing her Pup Tag, and makes sure to keep her nose clean during flight, he allows her her vices. She is often seen smoking lonely cigarettes behind Everest's cabin. She says the cold is one of the only things that makes her feel alive anymore.

EVEREST

Pictured here in her hometown village of Voskresenskoye, Russia, Everest is a former KGB operative who went AWOL after her 179th kill. She grew up a simple girl, who dreamed of one day owning her own bakery in Moscow. No one really knows what led her down the path of trained assassin, but one thing is clear--she was god damn brilliant at her job. She wanted to get as far away from that lifestyle as possible, so she ended up in Adventure Bay USA, a hardened woman looking for whatever kind of redemption there can be for murderers. Being unable to relate to any of the other pups and their trivial problems, she lives in an isolated log cabin, with her lover, Luke. Luke is probably the only other person in Adventure Bay that's experienced even close to what Everest has in terms of general life tragedy and violence, as he was raised as a part of a missionary family in Sierra Leon. He was forced to watch his entire family's brutal murder at the tender age of 9 and then was recruited into a child solider army for the next 5 years until he was rescued by a Red Cross volunteer group who stumbled upon his camp. Everest is his shining light in an otherwise bleak existence. They spend most of their time smoking fat joints and eating brick fire pizza to numb the pain. We dare not judge those who hath witnessed so much. 

MARSHALL

Continually the butt of the pup's jokes and known for his eternal clumsiness, Marshall actually suffers from a genetic disorder called Dyspraxia. His bumbling and tumbling isn't just for comic relief--he literally can not control his body movements as there is a disruption in the way his brain sends signals to his body . He has yet to let the other pups know about this, and instead prefers to allow them to think he enjoys being the class clown. He joined the Paw Patrol to help inspire others with this disease into pursuing jobs and hobbies that involve movement and athleticism. His catch phrase "My highly trained paws are at your service" is his own version of dark humor. He and Sky have had an on again off again relationship that he has been working hard to make more serious if Sky is able to buck her addiction. "I cant fully love her until she fully loves herself" he was overheard saying to Rocky after having one too many Bud Lights at the local tavern. 

ROCKY

Rocky is the only pup that is court mandated to be a member of the team as a requirement of a plea bargain deal. He suffers from an extreme case of hoarding that has landed him in several treatment centers and jail. He has lost 3 homes and most of his family to this debilitating condition. He is making progress living with the team, but we are privy to glimpses of his internal struggles like when he gave Farmer Al shit that one time for trying to throw away a rusted bucket full of holes--it's in these moments that we truly feel his pain. The pups are aware of his issues and are not allowed to keep trash of any kind on the premises for more than 48 hours. Almost everyone is supportive in helping Rocky come back to some semblance of normalcy, only Chase finds this disorder to be a "total crock of shit". 

ZUMA

Zuma is of Central American descent and made his way north to Adventure Bay after having successfully jumped the fence somewhere on the Texan/Mexican border. He had a cousin working for cash in a town outside Adventure Bay and decided to try his luck there in the hopes that he would one day raise enough money to get his wife and 2 children into the US through legal channels. Ryder's parents found him outside a home depot and hired him to be their gardener. After several days it became apparent that Zuma's talents far outweighed simple horticulture, and Ryder's parents suggested he apply for the open position with Paw Patrol. Ryder liked him immediately and after hearing Zuma's story, assigned him to the water position as being near the water reminds Zuma of the small fishing village he left in search of a better life for himself and his family. Ryder has been helping him with paperwork in becoming a legit citizen of the United States.  Sky was able to pull some strings with her air force connections, and Zuma was reunited with his wife and two daughters late last March. They live in a modest apartment on the shore of Adventure Bay and Zuma commutes to work daily on his hovercraft. 

RUBBLE

As the only openly gay member of the Paw Patrol, Rubble works hard to promote GLBTQ acceptance in the areas in and around Adventure Bay. It was slow going at first, but as people have gotten to know Rubble and seen the result of his tireless efforts to save people, there has been some real positive momentum, with Mayor Goodway instating a yearly GLBTQ appreciation parade that was like a toned down version of PRIDE. During a recent bodybuilder competition, Rubble was charged with doping allegations which he vehemently denies. The scandal was a big one but word on the street is that people are favoring Rubble's side of the story that Mayor Humdinger and the Catastrophe Crew may have been behind the syringes found in Rubble's gym bag. It is known that Chase and Rubble are lovers, but Rubble is understanding in Chase's reluctance to come out given his insanely conservative upbringing. Rubble's dream is to one day leave the Paw Patrol. marry Chase, and open a small gym somewhere in Arizona. 

RYDER

Ryder has been institutionalized for the past 17 months in a maximum security mental hospital at the request of his grieving parents for an inability to connect with objects and people in the real world and an obsession with an imaginary town called 'Adventure Bay' with the accompanying delusion that he is the leader of a rescue team of talking, vehicle driving puppies that never age. His parents were forced to make this heart wrenching decision after several of the neighborhood dogs went missing and  Ryder was found by police with the dogs holed up in an abandon water tower. It was documented that during his arrest Ryder kept shouting "If you're in trouble, just yelp for help!!" to anyone that would listen. Charges in the dog abductions are currently pending. 

I may be going to hell. Probably, I'm probably going to hell.

Have a lovely day you sexy mini muffins

Love,

Maria