I love this catalog

Emergency Essentials has a catalog they send me. The link will take you to their ‘Ultimate Year Supply of Freeze Dried & Dehydrated Foods (25 cases)’.

Yes, that’s right! Twenty-five cases of freeze dried and/or dehydrated food! A year’s supply, for only $2,400. Only problem is: I see no coffee on this list. None. No coffee.

In what reality can you have a ‘year’s supply of food’ without the primary food group, coffee?! (Demands the woman on her third double mocha of the day…)

They do not carry coffee. In any form, freeze dried or otherwise. WHICH IS JUST WRONG. How, I ask you, HOW can a company pretend to be all about emergency preparedness, without having this most basic of human needs – THAT’S RIGHT, I SAID BASIC HUMAN NEEDS! – in their catalog?

But I digress.

What I really love about this catalog is that, every time it arrives, I engage in a brief but lovely fantasy in which I live all by myself in a little cabin in the middle of nowhere. Just me, a few thousand pattern books and floor-to-ceiling yarn (plus, of course, the assorted notions required for a life of knitting) and a single annual purchase of the Ultimate Year Supply of Freeze Dried & Dehydrated Foods (25 cases) and, well, every single ball of yarn KnitPicks has at the time. Possibly Webs as well, though that would require that I had first won a bazillion dollars in the lottery. Which, unless I start remembering to buy a ticket, is just not going to happen.

Yeah, pretty much, the whole never-buying-a-ticket thing is going to preclude any lottery winnings. Dang.

There would be a vegetable garden, too. Which the Den does not, for reasons that piss me off way too much to discuss. Let’s just say that when I ask, “Do I have to do everything around here?”, it is a rhetorical question. And also, that asking my husband to help me with something simple like putting together a small vegetable garden in the backyard always-always-always turns into a $15,000 project with multiple new power tools ‘needed’ and then somehow we have a new patio right where the vegetable garden (the what? the which? ooooooh, yeahhhhhhhh…) was supposed to go.

Oh wait. I think I just discussed it. Never mind. I’m not discussing it. I’m also not discussing how much trying to work in the backyard with the Denizens underfoot is like trying to keep four cats in a bathtub at once ({wail!} “Mooooommmmmeeeeeeee, Captain Adventure fell off the ladder, or actually, Danger Mouse pushed him!” “Did not!” “Did too!” “Uh-UH!” “Uh-HUH!” {screech!} {scream!} {wailllllllllllll…run up and rub bloody nose on mommy’s jeans…}), or the way that if anything should chance to grow in the garden and the Denizens are outside while Somebody, LET’S SAY THEIR FATHER – LET’S JUST SAY is ‘in charge’ of them, the little monsters will pull up every shred of greenery in the backyard while Somebody is watching UFC Unleashed inside.

You know why my roses survive and even (dare I say it?) thrive? Because they have thorns, people, and they are not shy about using them. Each and every one of the girls has come running up to me sobbing with a bunch of bright red gashes on their little hands and arms. “I was only trying to PICK ONE!” they cry.

Did I ask them not to go after my rose bushes? Yes, yes I did.
Did I warn them about the thorns? You betcha.
Has even one of my girls escaped temptation? No, no, and no.

If carrots had thorns, we might have had carrots. Unfortunately, they do not. Nor does spinach. Or onions. Or zucchini. Ask me how I know.

Better yet, don’t.

I don’t want to discuss it.

Also, this alternate reality in which I dwell for a few minutes every few months when this catalog arrives would be quiet. Which the Den is most assuredly not. It is so noisy in this house right now that I am expecting the police to stop by any minute now. “Hello, yes, we had complaints about a herd of princess cat elephants being put through a wood chipper with glassware and perhaps a drum set at this address?”

It would not surprise me. I would just take another sip of my coffee and say calmly and with my best attempt at sounding completely insane, “Well, no, but there are four children under the age of ten running wildly through the house wired up on afternoon snack and post-homework euphoria and I’m not doing a thing about it – could you arrest me for noise control violations, please, and take me away from here?”

At which point the police officer would undoubtedly say, “Sorry, ma’am, but you’re obviously completely sane and competent. What adorable children! Heh heh, sorry for bothering you, have a nice day!”

Because they are remarkably unhelpful at such times.

The catalog shows a healthy, ruby-cheeked young lady dwarfed by the 25 cases of freeze dried / dehydrated food, looking peaceful and competent. She does not look as though she has ever had a garden yanked up by the roots, or preempted by a new $15,000 patio. Or plans for one. Or the UFC, which has more ‘unleashed’, ‘ultimate battles’, ‘can’t miss events’ and $50 PPV episodes than can be believed. I thought the CSI:Anywhere thing had a lot of airplay? Ha! UFC (literally) kicks butt on that (and a few other) front(s).

Yes. That woman? Just peace, quiet, vegetables, yarn, and 25 cases worth of freeze dried insta-food.

Probably in a cute little cabin in the woods surrounded by wool…