Privacy is in the Pickle Jar

In the mail today, I received the following courtesy notification from the Matanuska Telephone Association; provider of my internet and phone line.


Information About Your MTA Privacy Options.
How can sharing my information help me? 

When the MTA customer service representatives see all of the services you currently use, we can make recommendations for new services, new technologies and the most favorable pricing plans that will best meet your communications needs. This could save you money in the long run and, we hope, simplify your life.

Will MTA protect my information?

Absolutely. We will never share you information with an outside company. We are only asking permission to share information within MTA. Besides being legally obligated to protect the confidentiality of your information, protecting your privacy is the right thing to do.
You can always change your mind about sharing your information with MTA. Just give us a call and explain your needs. Whatever your choice, MTA will continue to provide you with the same high quality of service you currently receive.

If you want us to share information within MTA, you don't have to do anything.
If we don't hear from you after 30 days, we may occasionally use your information to send you new and updates on special MTA savings and programs.  


Over a tall glass of wine, I drafted my response.

Ladies and Gentlemen of MTA:

Thank you for your letter. It is a relief to know that my privacy is your utmost concern. As you have access to my phone number/numbers, physical address, payment card #, full name and recent history, it is obvious that I place a great deal of trust in our relationship. It is my viewpoint that relationships be equal and mutually fulfilling; you may use my personal information as requested on these conditions: firstly, I must receive an organized list of the personal information identical to that of my own which you hold, pertaining to every person representing the company of MTA, along with their likes and dislikes, activities they are involved in and beliefs that they hold. As you have agreed not to share my privacy outside of your company, I shall only use this information within my personal realm of contacts, strictly limited to: Facebook friends, chess club, running team, neighbors, co-workers and mailman.

In return for this information, I shall send you occasional updates pertaining to services my 800+ Facebook friends offer, including: Girl Scout cookie sales, Avon orders, soccer team sponsorships, words with friends, Mafia wars, My Calendar, Farm/City/Castle/Hoboville, Bingo, pink ribbon fund raisers and requests to talk about becoming a Jehovah’s Witness. I will never (as long as you notify me within 30 days) use your payment card information to fulfill any of these notifications.

I will advise each of my acquaintances not to share any of MTA’s representative’s personal information with anyone else, (unless we have two or more mutual friends in common), as protecting your privacy is, I believe, the right thing to do.

Secondly, each person whose information I receive must send me a letter answering this question: “Does a citizen of the United States have to spell out his desire for the right to privacy to be upheld in order for it to be honored?” And, if they answer affirmatively, also give a good reason why.

If you wish to decline, consider your offer also declined.
Respectfully,
Brenna A. Cliver


If I receive any response, I shall appropriately post them here.

If you give a moose a muffin, this may not happen to you.

With a fully-assembled ten seconds of consciousness on my repertoire for the day, I stumbled out of bed and downstairs to let the dogs out. This always makes me feel like a good pet owner- the basic feeding, watering, allowance or reversal of freedom etc, even if they are not my pets. Similar to children, I am currently in the market only for returnable dependents. 

Noticing that the temperature was at a point of semi-decency this morning, I forewent the usual ritual of up-down-turn-around-zip-tie-lace-up-layer preparation associated with venturing into the outdoors, in Alaska, in February. Besides, my survival apparatus coffee mug was in my truck, a mere 20 steps away from the front door.  “I’ll-coffee-just be-need coffee-quick”, said my ever alert and innovative mind.

The dogs were barking, typical; most likely asking their own urine stream what right it had to be on the property. I reached into the cab of my truck and retrieved the mug, just as one of the dogs (Jo) raced between my legs, under the open door of the truck, and stopped. “That’s-coffee-slightly-coffeecoffee-odd”, is what I was thinking as the second dog (Bear) raced in on the heels of Jo, and proceeded to hide behind her haunches.

Minor details were beginning to register: 1) Freaking out dogs, three of them. 2) No coffee. 3) Two dogs showing great faith that I will be able to save them from...well, from whatever. 4) Aren’t I missing a dog?
Glancing up, my brain function suddenly jumped from .5 mph to somewhere around the speed of pimple growth on an 8^th grader. Three thoughts flashed through my mind, nearly simultaneously: You know how rabbits have a high rate of return? Send three rabbits into the woods, they will return with three thousand, etc. So, apparently, do dogs, only in a little more ambitious way; which leads me to my next thought.

“HOLYPISSEDOFFMOTHEROFBULLWINKLEFROMHELL”.

Yes, that was my thought, in its most correct form, as the last dog (Earl) also came sprinting around the corner with an irritated moose hot on his heels. I suppose moose are not morning people either. My last thought was seeing myself from an outside perspective, something to this effect: 

If only road runners wore crocs.

Operation Munchkin

I became a little more of a woman today.

I *simultaneously* steered a baby stroller with one hand, using the other hand to give pushes to a training wheeled-munchkin who kept hanging herself up on potholes. All the while I singing loudly and in my most Dory'ish voice, "Just keep peddlin', just keep peddlin', just keep peddlin', peddlin', peddlin' to the other munchkin who was quickly mastering only having two wheels on her bike.
While running 8:45/min miles. That counts for 6:00/min miles in real life, right?
Albeit, 8:45 is an average between a steady shuffle and many, many sprints backwards and ahead to rescue children and bikes from ditches, give pushes, reattach small foot ware etc.

Did I mention I had a spare diaper in my running bra?

Today I realized that my lap is much bigger than I thought. Two medium sized children and one baby, with an assortment of stuffed animals, snuggies and a book balanced precariously in front of my face can all fit. What I want to know is how does my lap reflect on the size of my butt?

Today I had a six year old offer to do my homework for me if I would do her chores for a week. Of course I took her up on it, but promptly had the deal backed out of when said munchkin realized my homework was in a 'chapter book'.

I've now de-gutted and explained the anatomy of three pumpkins, and none of them were mine.

I can explain a math problem, dictate spelling words and play peekaboo simultaneously.

I know the theme song to The Cat in the Hat, Curious George, Caillou, Martha Speaks and any other show on PBS.

I'm writing this so that when I actually become a mother, with munchkins that I don't return at the end of the day, I can laugh at all of my previous "accomplishments".

I should probably add that I also lit the toast on fire, and car seats confuse the dickens out of me.

Always Remember and Never Forget

We all have dates that we remember, for one reason or another. All of us remember our birthdays; some of us even remember our mother’s. We remember holidays, car crashes, the passing of loved ones, weddings, births, and probably the year Christopher Columbus found North America.
Throughout history, the ratio of happy endings to tragedies has always been a harsh reality. Wives kissed sailors goodbye, not knowing how many seasons would pass before their return..Families watched soldiers gather their weapons and march away..Mothers buried sons, children grew up fatherless. Death has always surrounded us, and is as much a part of our life as our existence is.
September 11th is a day I remember as a vague memory; there is merely acquired feeling attached to it, as I was only 11 years old when the Trade Centers fell. Death to me held little meaning beyond the realm of temporary goldfish. As I have grown up, I have come to respect the significance of that day. For many people, that day defines their lives more than their birthday or anniversary does. Some wounds will never heal until time has made that date into only a notation in a history book. It was that day, however, that created the vow to “never forget”, in the hearts of Americans. It was that day that defined the fate of thousands of lives to come.
This week, 31 more of those marked lives were lost. They will never be forgotten; especially by those who loved them most dearly. Wives, children, parents, and fellow soldiers; these people will define the rest of their lives as “before” and “after”, starting now . Let’s honor those who bear most horribly the scars of this loss. Without them, it might be your door being knocked upon tonight; it might be you holding a folded flag. It could be you who has to plan no more birthdays, no more holidays; merely a funeral. It could be you with a raw nose and swollen eyes; running out of Kleenex as the night deepens. It could be you gathering all the photos you can, because no more will be taken. I hope and pray that it is not.
As a nation, some of us will forget the fallen. We will watch the news and shake our heads, turn off the TV and go to bed. Those who gave their lives will not know the difference. Those who cannot sleep, those who are searching for a grip, those who see no end to this sudden pain; they will.
Today, remember those who can never forget.

Well Butter my Butt and Call me a Biscuit

Today was the sort of day where, if you set you apple on the counter, it would fall to the floor.
And you wouldn't bother to pick it up.
Today was the sort of day where, if you tripped over your apple and dropped your toast, it would land face down.
And you would walk away.
Today was the sort of day where, if you happened to have dropped your toast on the floor at work, the supervisor who never comes around would, for unknown reasons, pass through your office, and step on dropped toast.
And you would hide under your desk and plan a vacation.
Today was the sort of day where, if you were on an African safari, you would get trampled by elephants.
And you would survive.
Today was the sort of day where, if you were recovering from an elephant trampling, you would be suddenly struck with the chicken pox, and not be able to scratch under your bandages.
And you would be threatened with a straight jacket.
Today was the sort of day where, if you were Robin Hood, Maid Marion would leave you for Friar Tuck.
And you would flee to France.
Today was the sort of day where, if you were French, all of your souffles would crash, and the wine would be gone.
And you would drink cold coffee.
Today was the sort of day where, if you were drinking cold coffee, you would spill it on your clean shirt.
And you would change into the hoodie you keep in your car.
Today was the sort of day where, if you were wearing a hoodie, without a shirt underneath, and without a shirt to change into, the temperature would soar.
And you would think about putting your stained shirt back on.
Today was the sort of day where, if you were sweaty and sticky and nasty, in a hoodie on a hot day, your deodorant would be nowhere to be found.
And you would walk around like a penguin with your arms at your sides.
Today was the sort of day where the cute guy down the hall who never speaks to you, would stop to ask why you were walking like a flightless bird.
And you would go home.
Today was the sort of day where your socks don't match, the whipped cream can explodes in your fridge, your toothbrush is missing in action, the last page of your mystery is torn out, your tooth starts to hurt, you stub your toes on every conceivable protruding point that your feet come across, and your goldfish dies.
And you call your mother.
Today was the sort of day where, for first time in a million years, your mom doesn't pick up the phone, and you get to hear about your little brother's lego collection for the next 20 minutes.
And it makes you smile.
Today was the sort of day that ended with a smile.

Foodie Post: 06/06/11 Summer Sweet Pea Pesto Quinoa

Yes yes...I'm a little stuck on the quinoa. It's just..so much less boring than brown rice. Or oatmeal. Or all those other "good for you" grains one was raised on. Oh, and it cooks much faster, thus making it a favorite of this anti-microwave person. (I don't believe in tempting cancer to strike for the convenience of quick cooking.)

Summer Sweet Pea Pesto Quinoa
1/2 cup dry quinoa + 1 cup water
1 package Simply Organic Pesto Mix
1 can sweet peas
1 can mushrooms or 1/2 cup chopped fresh
1/2 cup diced yellow onion
1/2 cup diced avocado
2 Tbl nutritional yeast
Sea salt, cayenne pepper

1. Rinse quinoa and prepare. Fluff.
2. Saute onions and mushrooms until golden.
3. Drain peas, reserving juice.
4. Whisk pesto mix (or put in container and shake vigorously) and liquid from the peas until homogeneous.
5. Toss together all ingredients except for avocado, and let rest at least an hour for flavors to absorb. (I like to chill mine in the fridge and serve as a cold salad.)
6. Add avocado and season with salt and cayenne pepper to serve.

Foodie Post: 6/6/11 Ginger Molasses Quinoa Cookies

Ginger Molasses Quinoa Cookies
1 cup flour (I used a mix of whole wheat pastry flour and oat flour)
1/2 cup uncooked quinoa
1 cup milk (I used soy milk)
1/2 cup pumpkin or carrot puree
1 egg (I used EnerG egg replacer)
1 tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp nutmeg
1/8 tsp cloves
2 tsp ground ginger
1/2 tsp baking powder
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
1/4 cup molasses (I used organic black strap molasses for these cookies, you get a richer flavor while using less)
1/3-1/2 cup raw sugar, depending how sweet you like your cookies

1. Rinse your quinoa, at least twice. Toast in pan until fragrant, add milk and spices. Bring to scald if using real milk, bring to boil if using non-dairy. Cover and cook on low at least 10 minutes, until liquid is absorbed. Turn off heat, keep covered and let rest at least 5 minutes. Fluff.
2. Whisk together the rest of your dry ingredients. Puree your wet ingredients in blender or food processor, except for the egg.
3. Combine wet and dry, fold in egg and quinoa.
4. Bake at 350 until just set. (Approximately 10-12 minutes.)