This has been an exceptionally rough week. My body is working very hard to do lady things and it makes the rest of my physical being very retarded. I can’t remember things, I ache, I am in a weakened state. I can’t push Janie off me when she refuses to git! We’ve been watching too much Xena, and I have come to understand that when I threaten to use pressure points on her neck to stop the flow of blood to her brain, she squirms and usually scurries away. There are some things mightier than muscles.
In my sleeplessness last night, I turned on NPR to listen to the Canadian news and the were doing a story about the hops. They interviewed a woman who is in some sort of position of power in the Washington State hops growers coalition or guild or army and she had all sorts of interesting things to talk about that I would not have known if my cats weren’t assholes who kept me awake at all hours jumping on and off on my aching back. For example, did you know there is a hops shortage? Did you know that hops can be canned and stored and that we did, in fact, have a large reserve of these hops and they have now run out because of all those beer-swigging drunks at the Seahawks games and the prices are skyrocketing, but farmers can’t afford the equipment needed to grow the hops? Those that can afford it are bound to large brewing companies by lengthy contracts that provide them nothing near the current prices for their products. Also, small brewers aren’t able to get the hops they want or need and have to settle for cheaper, lesser hops. Chia Hops that grow out of a terracotta rabbit or Homer Simpson head. It’s sad.
I had to wake Janie up to discuss the hops shortage that had been weighing on my mind and after I’d finished I asked her to tell me a story to help me sleep. She told me about how my rotting ovary was going to roll down the hallway and out the door and down the street and around the corner where it would roll down a hill and into the ocean. It was going to float in the water and find its way to a beach in New Zealand.
“…and then a rat found it and ate it! And it had my baby!”
“No, you didn’t let me finish. That’s not how it happened.”
“Okay. Tell me.”
“and then Lucy Lawless finds it on the beach and says ‘oh hello, what’s this?'”
“…and then she eats it! And has my baby!”
“No, she just finds it and says, ‘oh hello, what’s this?'”
“And then what?”
“And then nothing. That’s it.”
“So Lucy Lawless is standing on a beach in New Zealand with my ovary in her hand?”
“I don’t like this story.”