MiTHology (4.0)

In Case Of Fire

May 20th, 2025

Daily writing prompt
What personal belongings do you hold most dear?
View all responses

Core memory time!: growing up, I was often told the tale of how, when my mother was pregnant with me, the family house caught fire in the night (an outdoor tiki lantern not properly extinguished, I think it was) and was completely destroyed. No one was hurt, but the house, and a lot of belongings inside of it, were lost forever.

I thought about that story a lot, as a kid; my anxiety really latched onto it. The way I saw it, already, by the time I was born, I’d nearly died in a fire. Mortal danger was imminent. A ruinous house fire, I presumed, could truly strike at any time, any one of these nights, and I needed to be prepared. And thus, I have always, my whole life, kept a mental list of which objects I would grab on my way out in the event of a house fire.

The items on the list have changed over the years (at one point, my copy of JTHM: The Director’s Cut was #1 on the list, lol), but two things on it have been the same for most of my life; and currently, these two items are really the only things I think I’d grab, realistically. If there were more time, I might try and save some of the sacred art and icons on the walls, the crucifixes, my children’s certificates of baptism, the handmade quilts my mother and MIL have gifted us, or some of my framed counted cross stitch projects, or maybe my laptop. But, probably, there wouldn’t be enough time, after ensuring that all of my kids were safe. Luckily, my top two must-save items are small and close at hand, kept in my bedroom at all times. And they are:

1) My teddy bear. Yep, as a mom in my mid-thirties, I still sleep with my childhood teddy bear. My mother gave him to me when I was two or three years old – just a basic cream-colored teddy bear with black eyes and a brown nose and a serious little mouth; nothing fancy – and the moment that I received him and gave him his name is one of my earliest memories. Since then, he has slept in my bed every night, almost without fail (there was one particular trip for which I forgot to pack him, which made sleeping in that motel bed even more uncomfortable, and to this day I superstitiously believe that my forgetting the bear probably should have been a red flag that I should not have taken that ill-fated trip in the first place). I cannot sleep comfortably without him under my arm – nothing else will do – and if, in the night, he escapes and rolls out of the bed, I inevitably wake up and need to find him. This bear has been just about everywhere with me, and has, as they say, seen some shit. At times, my husband will look at him, sitting there on our bed with all his wear and tear and floppy limbs and patchy fur, and be like: “we should probably consider retiring that bear soon, putting him somewhere safe, to preserve him,” to which I always respond absolutely not, over my dead body. In the event of a house fire, this bear is escaping with me, no question.

And:

2) The USB drive that contains all of my writing. I’ve been storing all of my major writing projects on a flash drive since I was old enough to know what a flash drive was and how to use one. Even the projects that I wish I could get rid of. Some of the earlier ones are… ugh, you don’t want to know. I shudder to even think. I never look at them, never, and never ever plan to; it’s too embarrassing, even though no one but myself has ever laid eyes on any of this junk.

Why can’t I get rid of them? The thought that, one day, after I die, my children or grandchildren will discover these files and look at them, makes me positively sick with dread. I cannot let that happen. I’ve seriously considered having the USB somehow implanted in my body so that it’s destroyed with me when I die, almost like Himself in Infinite Jest (although, that didn’t work out according to plan for him, did it).

Why can’t I get rid of these stupid old files from like 2003-2006, which I wrote when I had no idea what anything was, and didn’t even realize that I didn’t know? (One of them is a “novel” of literally about 300k words, the longest thing I’ve ever written – all of it, just pure vomit!) They’re so mortifying to even think about! But, I can’t bring myself to delete it!

Is anyone else like this, with their old creations??

What’s weird is, I was pretty okay with destroying my old drawings. I used to keep sketch pads, during my teens and early twenties, in which I drew billions of little pictures that were just as cringe as some of my writing (if not more so); at some point, though, I threw all of these out, and it was not even that painful or difficult. But the writing! I can’t delete it! – Is it because I poured so much of my little heart and soul into the writing, whereas the doodles were just little snapshots, representing tiny fragments of what was contained in the writing in its horrible fullness? There was a time when I really loved to draw, but writing has always absorbed me and fulfilled me in a way that drawing does not. Writing was, for me, like the consummation of what drawing suggested.

Looking back on my life, I can organize it into sections according to what I was writing at the time, because my writing life has always been just as vivid and real and important as my real life. I guess, to sound super cliché and drippy, throwing away these old artifacts would feel like throwing out pieces of myself. Which, perhaps I ought to be okay with. Those horrible stories are pieces of my self, of what makes me Mith. But, I shouldn’t love that! Why should I be so attached to my little individual self? “He that loveth his life shall lose it; and he that hateth his life in this world, keepeth it unto life eternal.”

Maybe one day, when I am closer to holiness, I will be free, and finally be able to purge this USB drive of all its cursed contents. But, until then, it stays with me, and will definitely be escaping with me in the event of a house fire.
Spring Baking Championship s. 11 Finale Part One: Mith Reacts

May 14th, 2025

SPOILERS AHEAD for season 11 of Spring Baking Championship!

Was anyone else thrown for a loop? I was expecting the whole finale – but we only got the first half! I was not prepared for that cliffhanger after the sudden death bake-off.

Obviously, I knew there’d be some kind of sudden death elimination after the first challenge, since they were going into the finale with four contestants instead of three. But still, I thought it’d be one big episode. Guess we have to wait another week!

One thing I always love about these later episodes leading up to the finale: there are so few contestants that we really get to spend time with each one of them. As exciting as the early episodes are, they feel so rushed! Trying to cram twenty-four bakes into forty-three minutes is just way too fast! Now that there are only four, we really get to experience the baking along with each contestant. Really savor the flavors, if you will.

There were only six bakes this whole episode! And Fraisier cakes was such a good decision, for this last Preheat. Such a classic, nothing too wild and wonky, but at the same time, so intricate and fussy and technical. I wish Paul had been here for it, though. He would have nailed this!

And the contestants were asked to “make a statement” with their Fraisier cake. I thought Mary-Frances met that brief the best. She decided to make a strawberry-forward Fraisier cake, replacing the vanilla crème mousseline with a strawberry one, and then decorated it with green marzipan and buttercream in that very ornate, almost vintage style that she’s so good at. It was very her, and very much a “statement.”

Priya’s idea for a Persian love cake inspired Fraisier was on point, and those sugar-coated strawberries on top were gorgeous! But, apparently Duff couldn’t taste the cardamom or rose, although Kardea tasted them loud and clear. Was it just me, or was Duff being super harsh this episode?! I guess he feels like he needs to be, in the finale!

And the other two Fraisiers: Raveena’s unfortunately fell a bit flat and was overcooked (she had some struggles and had to re-bake her cakes, I felt so bad for her), and Lisa’s, while perfect and gorgeous as usual (well, Duff complained that the pastry cream was slightly overcooked), was not too much of a “statement” because it was basically a normal, classic Fraisier but with a cute dog on top. Loved that story, though! Lisa told us that she owned that dog from the time she was twenty up until she was thirty-six. Which made my jaw drop! Because I was like, wait, you’re telling me this girl is older than thirty-six?! She literally looks about twenty-two! (My husband, seeing the photo of the adorably gnarly-looking sixteen-year-old Yorkie, remarked that “the dog must be her Dorian Gray portrait,” lol.) Seriously, this whole time I’ve thought she was a lot younger than me. I kinda hope she gets famous so she can blow up on social media and drop her skincare routine. But, I digress.

In the end, we saw Mary-Frances and Raveena going into the sudden death bake-off (I guess Mary-Frances’s crème was slightly too thick; bummer). “The One Dessert That Will Magically Fix Everything” was a great challenge. This was so intense, because, first of all, they only had sixty minutes (!), and second, it was such an emotional and personal theme, and three, they each chose to bake such a different dessert! It’s apples and oranges! How are you supposed to compare a warm Indian spice cake with a cool yuzu pavlova?! And they both got excellent feedback with only a couple of minor complaints.

I had no idea whom the judges were going to choose. Mary-Frances’s meringue was slightly too soft, but Raveena’s pistachios should have been more finely chopped. Mary-France’s yuzu curd had a better texture, but Raveena’s orange-ginger curd had a better flavor. But they were both so good! From the feedback, it was impossible to tell whose was better. Going to bed last night after watching the show, I decided that they were probably going to send Raveena home, but this morning, having slept on it, I think it’s actually going to be the opposite. Raveena’s cake was, I think, more of a “baking championship” type dessert, and maybe a little more ambitious. Not that a pavlova isn’t ambitious — I’ve seen enough of these shows to know how hard it is to bake a meringue! But, the fresh fruit wasn’t glazed or anything… and Raveena’s was so extra, so heartfelt, with all the spices and those cardamom cheesecake dollops on top. I don’t know. This is just my guess. What do you guys think?!

My high point: The camaraderie! Even though I wish Corey and Paul were still here, it was actually kind of really cool to have an all-women finale. They all seem genuinely friendly with and supportive of each other. Like, during the bake-off, everyone was talking with each other and just being so positive and kind. My favorite moment was when Lisa and Priya were watching Mary-Frances prepping her fresh fruit: “She’s peeling a kiwi – with a spoon! She didn’t even break the skin. She’s a monster!”

My low point: Duff’s harsh judging! Not one single dessert made it past him without some little complaint! I was like, come on, lol. But, at the same time, I get it, and I’d definitely rather watch strict judging than judging that’s too lax and gentle. He’s still such a likeable judge.

The dessert that I would most have liked to eat: Mary-Frances’s strawberry and marzipan Fraisier. I wouldn’t even mind that that crème was “too thick,” it sounded delicious.

My official prediction for the finale: 4) Mary-Frances; 3) Priya; 2) Raveena; 1) Lisa.

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Is it ok to enjoy love stories?

May 13th, 2025

This post is related to my post on music, and also inspired in part by an article I read a couple months ago in Benedictus – actually, it was an excerpt from an old book called “The Ecclesiastical Year,” and it was about the Feast of the Annunciation, a.k.a. Lady Day. If you read Benedictus you might remember the piece I’m talking about.

“Love reciprocally for and from a mother is one of the safest kinds: it contrasts with the dangers of love for a lady sought in marriage passionately, the perils of which are well illustrated by those romantic stories which so pleased readers in the days of chivalry, and in which St. Francis of Assisi, St. Ignatius of Loyola, and St. Theresa found some delight which they afterward repudiated.” Basically, the point of this little excerpt seems to be that the love for and of Our Lady is purer and more perfect than any fleshly love; superior, obviously, to the sort of love told about in love stories. Thus her “knights” on earth are better examples of real chivalry than any of those fictional characters which we enjoy so much.

The author doesn’t completely disparage the whole genre of chivalry/romance, though. “[T]he well-instructed Catholic does not need to be told that he must not starve out all love for family in kindred in his zeal for loving Jesus and Mary.” It’s only the misinformed and ignorant, Fr. Rickaby asserts, who react dramatically and violently to the Church’s advice to be cautious regarding fleshly affections: basically, getting all up in arms, claiming that the Church ‘hates love’ or some such, and veering hard to the opposite extreme: idealizing passionate love, claiming that it’s the greatest thing on earth, “an inspiration to high deeds and noble living, as well as a source of ennobling power.”

Which, this seems to be still extremely true of society today, don’t you think? Those who hate Catholicism love to accuse us of hating love – as if we’re all stuffy and prudish and afraid of pleasure. Which is very false. And it’s definitely true that our culture idealizes romance. I’ve talked in other posts about how weird and unfortunate it is that, as a society, we’re so obsessed with romantic love – it seems like every song on the radio, every popular TV show and movie, glorifies romance as if it’s the one thing to be desired above all else. Which attitude is, I think, pretty unhealthy for young folks to absorb.

I don’t want to be one of the ignorant and misinformed people that Fr. Rickaby is talking about in this excerpt. Obviously, I’m aware that there’s nothing wrong with enjoying a romantic story, as long as that romantic story is healthy, orderly, clean, and appropriately contextualized: always secondary to, and always leading towards, love of God.

But, I guess my question is: is it ever okay to enjoy a secular love story per se? It’s similar to my question about enjoying pop music. Basically, the question underlying both of these seems to be: is it ever okay to deliberately arouse the passions/excite the emotions over something secular?

Of course it’s true that we can safely enjoy some secular things, as long as we don’t get carried away. But what does it mean to get “carried away?” How do we know if we’re getting carried away? And, does reading/watching romance stories, or listening to love songs, fall under the category of safe secular things that we can enjoy in moderation? Or is it always an occasion of sin?

Getting carried away: I imagine “getting carried away” would mean that you’re enjoying a thing so much that you neglect your religious duties, or find yourself tempted to sin. So is it only bad to arouse the passions if it leads you to sin or temptation?

Or, is arousing the passions always bad all the time, simply because you’re getting yourself into a state in which your emotions have taken over and the will/intellect is no longer in charge?

– But then: just because you are arousing the passions for a while, does that always mean that the intellect has been subordinated? Isn’t it possible to enjoy a bit of (clean) titillation for a little while, as long as you are able to put it down and walk away and go about your business when the time for it is done? If you’re addicted to pleasure, that’s a problem, obviously. But if you’re able to decide when and how much to indulge, and stop when you’re done… is that still a problem, I wonder?

And obviously, I’m not talking about pleasure/stimulation that’s sinful. I think (emphasis think, don’t know for sure) that it’s possible to enjoy a love story without lust getting involved.

Let’s take an example. One of my favorite guilty pleasure shows: Outer Banks. (CAUTION: SEASON 3 SPOILERS AHEAD, stop reading here if you haven’t yet watched season three.) Take the scene where JJ rescues Kiara from that detention camp place her parents stuck her in. It’s so romantic. Completely non-sexual, but, still tugs on the heartstrings and makes you feel all mushy inside (at least, if you’re a dork like me, I guess). Similarly, let’s consider another embarrassing guilty pleasure of mine: the song “As Long As You Love Me” by Justin Bieber ft. Big Sean. It’s a totally clean song, nothing sexual in it, not even any innuendos or allusions. And (for me, at least) it gives you the feels in your heart, but is not what I’d call erotic or sexual or anything like that. (I know some would say that the rhythms alone make this song base and sexual, even though the lyrics are pretty innocent.) Works like these ones light up pleasure centers in the heart/chest region, but not so much the loins. So: are this scene and this song safe territory? Or is such romance always lustful because of what it leads to/evokes/suggests? Is it okay to enjoy things like these, in moderation?

I really don’t know, which is why I am writing this post. I’m not trying to make excuses for myself. In the past, back when I had MiTHology 2.0, I used to write all of these awful posts attempting to dissect the teachings of the Catholic Church that bothered me, and to “disprove” them — to prove, for example, why things like non-traditional marriage and female priests should actually be okay. Lol. I am no longer doing that, here. I hope I’m not that arrogant anymore. My priest told me that listening to impure pop/hip-hop music is a sin, so, that’s that; I accept that as the truth. I’m just thinking out loud here, and wrestling with a teaching that I find difficult, and looking for outside opinions if anyone is actually reading this and has an opinion that they care to share. Probably I should work up the nerve to ask an actual priest about all of this, but I have AvPD, and asking people for things is really hard.

No longer making excuses; trying not to, anyway. But it’s awfully tempting. Because sometimes, sinful things look awfully pretty and well-done, like fine art. There are some rap music videos that a part of me thinks are absolute works of art, and certain performers in that genre are undeniably talented at what they do, like, their skills are impressive to listen to! It’s really amazing to me what Nicki Minaj can do with her voice. I’m like, surely it must be okay to just appreciate the talent at work, here? – But, on that note, you could, in theory, have “really well done” porn featuring talented actors and beautiful scenery, I guess, and it would still be porn and therefore despicable. There do exist, I guess, really skilled and agile pole dancers, but pole dancing is still a sinful thing to perform in public. A beautifully-designed dress can be a fine work of art and still really immodest. So, just because something is well done, doesn’t give me an excuse to enjoy it.

Something like porn is obviously always bad. But that’s not what I’m talking about here. I’m just wondering how okay it is to enjoy a nice clean love story – specifically, one that’s not necessarily Catholic. I’m aware that there are good Catholic works of literature out there that deal with the sacrament of marriage and with healthy Catholic relationships. Those are surely fine and good to enjoy in moderation. But, something like Outer Banks, while not smutty or graphic like some other shows, is decidedly not Catholic. Pop songs like the Justin Bieber one have nothing to do with God – but are they necessarily evil?

Like I was saying about these two examples: they are certainly sensual, in a way, in that they are pleasing to the senses; but the pleasure centers that they light up are more emotional than sexual. Does that make them better, safer?

Obviously, not all fleshly love is bad. The love that an atheist mom has for her children is still a wonderful and powerful thing. The love between two friends, regardless of whether they are Christian or not, is a good and beautiful thing. The sentiment of love is good and beautiful. As Fr. Rickaby said in this excerpt, it’s not like all Catholics are required to give up their love for their earthly family! That would be ridiculous! Even romance is good and healthy and all, if it’s engaged in without sin.

But enjoying romantic stories? Or even just emotional stories/songs at all, in which the whole gist of the story is a relationship between mortal characters? As someone who loves these, I guess I’m just wondering whether it is ethically permissible to love these.

What do we think, fellow Catholics? Is it safe to cherish ~feelings~ about non-religious things? Is it okay to enjoy a clean romance novel here and there? Are non-sexual romantic pop songs okay? Is it ever okay to intentionally arouse the passions about something secular?
Am I a bad mom if my two-year-old is still in diapers?

May 10th, 2025

(Please note that, in this post, I am not talking about special needs or neurodivergent children. I’m aware that they are in a different situation entirely.)

A few years ago, on Writer Twitter, I met a fellow aspiring author, a really cool lady, and we agreed to try being critique partners, and traded the first few chapters of our novels for each other to mark up (which was an absolutely sickeningly terrifying experience, for me, but I was really trying, at that point, to become a Serious Writer, lol). She was a generation or two my senior, but we wrote in the same genre, and I liked and trusted her. She left me a lot of thoughtful feedback — but the comment that jumped out to me the most was on a part where I mentioned a two-year-old child that was wearing a diaper to bed. My critique partner wrote in red: “A two-year-old in diapers?? Really??!”

At the time, I had a two-year-old and an almost-one-year-old, both still decidedly in diapers. So, I just laughed in confusion, reading that. I figured my critique partner must not have much experience with kids. I seriously had no idea, at that point, that anyone on earth could consider it at all weird for a two-year-old to be wearing diapers!

But then, some time later, I read somewhere that it’s only in recent decades, since the advent of disposable diapers, that parents have delayed potty training until age two/three. According to this source I read, back in the ‘50s and earlier, kids would be potty training around their first birthday – pretty much as soon as they could walk. So, some parents look down on us modern moms, for whom disposable diapers make it easier to be “lazy.”

A confession: I’m a mom of three, soon to be four, and I do not do cloth diapers. Womp womp. I know that that would be the morally superior, crunchy thing to do. And I did do some research about it and seriously considered it – but honestly, I’m overwhelmed with laundry as it is, and just don’t want to.

I’ve potty trained two girls so far, and am working on it with my son, who’s currently two. I’ve found, thus far, that each kid is extremely different. My eldest was unconventional: she was pooping in the potty every single time by the time she was two years old, but despite all my efforts, refused to pee in the potty until after she was three (and we had a real battle about it). But once it clicked, she never looked back, and has had almost zero accidents since. My second was a bit more normal about it. She was agreeable and a good learner, and fully trained by around two-and-a-half, well before three years old — but is more prone to accidents, even now, at almost four. My third (my only boy) currently hates the potty, doesn’t want anything to do with it, and at this point I’m resorting to rewarding him just for sitting on the thing at all. And my methods and process have been pretty much the same with each of them. I’m not super rigid about it; I start introducing the potty before they’re two, but the training process is more gradual than rigorous. It’s just what works for us.

Is this a moral failing? Do I deserve the harsh judgment of these old-school, early-potty-training moms online? I don’t know.

Maybe if I did cloth diapers, it would compel me to potty train my kids earlier. I know a mom from church who cloth diapers, and is currently potty training her fourteen-month-old because she simply can’t stand the laundry anymore – which, I imagine I’d feel the same way! But I also can’t help feeling like maybe she is the superior mom and human for this.

My family’s pediatrician (who is a “normal” pediatrician, not a crunchy/holistic one) doesn’t start talking about potty training until two years old. When I told her my son was still pretty averse to the potty, at his two-year well check, she was totally unconcerned, and said that was still normal, that it was still early. So I guess this is the norm, in 2025. But just because something is the norm in modern times, certainly doesn’t mean it’s the best! If anything, maybe we should be wary of what’s considered normal in these modern times!

So why don’t I just train my kids earlier, if I’m that concerned about it?: well, basically, because it’s easier.

For one, less cleanup. I hate cleaning up pee. The earlier you train, the more accidents you have. Training my eldest when she was three years old was a pain in its own way, but there were relatively few pee spills to mop up.

For two, it’s easier to instruct a slightly older child. With my two-to-three year old, I was able to have a slightly more rational conversation with her about the potty; and, although we butted heads, I found this approach far more intuitive than trying to teach a one-year-old about it. Maybe this is just because of my personality type. Being ILI in socionics/INTJ in MBTI/LVEF in psychosophy, I have a “logical” way of thinking, and so it makes the most sense for me to solve problems and approach obstacles that way.

So yeah. It’s easier, for me, to potty train at a slightly older age, around two and a half. Parenting is hard, as we all know. I do try to make it easier where I can. Don’t we all?

I do worry that I’m a bad or lazy mom or human for trying to make my life easier this way. Am I doing my kids a disservice somehow? Would they be more confident, and get off to a more self-assured start in life, if I had them out of diapers by age two? I don’t know. Some might say yes. But on the other hand, I worry that the struggle of going through potty training at a very early age might disrupt the peace in our house and end up affecting them negatively. Keeping stress low and moods positive as much as possible is not a luxury, but a necessity, I’ve found, when parenting.

There’s also the argument that all those disposable diapers are wasteful and terrible for the environment. Although, the older I get, the less certain I am that the environment is as big of a concern as we’re made to believe it is (I don’t know, though; I’m on the fence, still) – and if it is, I know for absolute certain that there’s nothing a little person like me can do about it, that no matter how many reusable grocery bags and cloth diapers I use, no matter how much I inconvenience myself, it won’t matter a whit as long as all these big corporations, the air travel industry and meat production industry – the ones who actually have it in their power to change things – continue to not change. So, I’m honestly not super swayed by the whole “waste” argument.

And I haven’t read up a lot on the psychology of potty training earlier vs. later, but, I’m not aware of any compelling evidence that a child is happier or healthier if they potty train earlier. Am I wrong?

I guess in the ’50s and earlier, they were just more used to doing more cleanup. Nowadays, we don’t have to worry that much about that. Certain things are just easier now, because of advancements like disposable diapers. We also have things like washers, dryers, refrigerators, microwaves, all of which make life easier now than it used to be. Is it a moral failing to utilize such things? I can’t imagine that it is.

Like I said, I’m just trying to make our lives easier, because when life is going smoothly, I’m a more patient, happier, and successful mom. Maybe if I were a tougher and stronger type of individual, I’d do cloth diapers instead of disposables. Maybe if I were more resilient and patient in general, I’d potty train at one instead of two.

Maybe these are moral failings. I like to think it’s more like they are imperfections, or even maybe just morally neutral characteristics, of mine that I’m aware of and doing my best to work with, to make sure my family is as happy and mentally healthy as possible. Being flexible and low-stress about the potty is what’s been working for us.

But if you have a really strong argument against potty training at two-three, or in favor of doing it earlier, my inbox is open.
Are homesteaders morally superior to the rest of us?

May 8th, 2025

ETA: this is part one of two. For the follow-up, in which I more or less find the answer to this question, please see part two.

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There’s a big movement these days, especially among Catholics, to get away from the city/suburbs, buy some land in the countryside, buy some animals, plant some seeds, and become self-sufficient. I get it. Self-sufficiency is cool. In the event of a societal collapse, you’ll be prepared. You’re safe from all the weird toxic ingredients and contamination incidents that affect grocery store products. Additionally, living off the land is a very spiritual thing. You’re living in accord with the rhythms of nature; the seasons, the weather, sunrise and sunset. You’re connected to your food source in a way that grocery shoppers are not. City life is comparatively removed from God’s creation; God designed us to live off the land, didn’t He? For homesteaders, life is probably, in a lot of ways, more “real.”

But does that make them better than the rest of us, who live in the city and buy all our food at the grocery store?

I think in some cases, maybe?

Let’s consider two individuals, we’ll call them Fran and Marge:

Fran is a devout Catholic and a faithful wife. She tithes on her whole income, never misses Mass on Sundays or holy days, says her rosary daily, goes to confession weekly, and reads the lives of the saints. Fran and her family live in a nice suburban housing development with HOA fees. They don’t have room for animals or a garden (except a few potted flowers and ornamental shrubs), plus Fran doesn’t like getting her hands dirty. She’s an elegant lady. So they do all their shopping at their local grocery store, or sometimes the farmer’s market if it’s convenient, which it’s not, because Fran has ten kids, whom she homeschools, and also volunteers for Meals on Wheels and the local free pregnancy center, and in her free time enjoys committee work and Well Read Mom book club meetings with her church friends. She also works out daily at the local YMCA, where she takes aerobics classes.

Next let’s look at Marge. Marge is a devout Catholic and a faithful wife. She tithes on her whole income, never misses Mass on Sundays or holy days, says her rosary daily, goes to confession weekly, and reads the lives of the saints. Marge and her family live on fifty acres, off a dirt road an hour outside of town. They have chickens, a dairy cow, a couple of goats, and a pig that they’re planning on slaughtering a few months from now to stock up their freezer. Marge makes her own yogurt and cheese from their own cow’s milk. They also have a huge garden, and Marge makes everything from scratch, canning and preserving all her own produce. It’s a full time job, between that and homeschooling her ten kids, but for Marge it’s very spiritually fulfilling. She doesn’t have time for volunteering outside the home, but for Marge, her home is her ministry.

Who is the “better” Catholic? If all other factors are the same, and they’re both very prayerful and striving to remain always in the state of grace, then is Marge better because she homesteads? But what about all of Fran’s hard work? I don’t know if we can say that Marge is doing better – can we? As a wife and mother, shouldn’t her home be her foremost ministry, before any committees or volunteer work?

Let’s consider a third individual though. We’ll call her Lois. Lois is a devout Catholic and a faithful wife. She tithes on her whole income, never misses Mass on Sundays or holy days, says her rosary daily, goes to confession weekly, and reads the lives of the saints. But in her free time, Lois is kind of a nerd. She enjoys watching TV and movies (but avoids anything racy or sinful), playing computer games (only clean ones), reading novels, writing stories, drawing, and knitting or crocheting. Committee work is not for her. She is an introvert and enjoys sitting quietly and looking out the window. She errs on the lazy side, but is doing her best; she’s a little chubby, but not obese or anything. Her suburban home has a decent-sized yard, but Lois has no interest in gardening or livestock. It’s just not how she cares to spend her time. For her, serving God means doing her very best at keeping her little house and homeschooling her ten kids, creating beautiful things, and just trying to be a good Christian witness to everyone whom she meets along her way as she goes about her little life. Including at the grocery store where she shops.

Is Marge a better Catholic than Lois? What about Fran, where does she fall in there? Is Marge the most Catholicest of all of them? How would we “rank” these three?

I guess we can’t really rank them. Only God can do that. But we can at least make an educated guess as to what kind of lifestyle we think is the holiest, can’t we?

But then, who are we to know how God speaks to Lois, or to Fran, or to Marge? God built each of these women and knows their interior life and workings and struggles in ways that no human ever can. Only He can really judge them.

But we still have moral compasses to steer us towards the best ways to live. What do we think? Should Lois and Fran abandon all their other works and hobbies, sell their homes, and buy some land and some livestock? Should Fran make herself miserable by getting her pretty fingernails dirty even though she hates it? Should Lois give up her crochet and computer games and instead raise chickens?

If I had to guess, I’d say there’s no moral obligation for them to do that. I think homesteading is one of those things, like exercise, or reading old books, that’s very good for you indeed, but not a crime not to do.

Or is it? I’m genuinely not sure.

I know one thing for sure: not all of us have the luxury of being able to move out to the country. Land and livestock are expensive. There’s a stereotype that farming is such a humble and simple way to live; but it takes a lot of money to be able to live that humbly and simply! Maybe back in the day, farmers were poor folks, but these days, it’s kind of the opposite: poor folks live in cities and surrounding areas, now, and rich folks are the ones privileged enough to live off their own land. And yeah, sure, I bet it does save money, living that way, long-term (canning your own goods, slaughtering your own meat, harvesting your own produce…), but, in order to save that money, you have to have a lot of money upfront to buy the animals, the supplies, and the property! Someone living paycheck to paycheck simply cannot do that.

But, a morally perfect person would make good financial decisions, wouldn’t they? A morally perfect person probably wouldn’t become poor enough to need to live paycheck-to-paycheck, because they would work hard, be careful to avoid unpayable debt, and their upstanding moral qualities would pay off in their lives, and surely anyone who’s not a complete screw-up, morally (because financial management is a moral matter) can afford a half acre or so, somewhere, can’t they? (I’m not talking about situations where people become poor through no fault of their own, such as medical debt from an illness or injury. Clearly such a person is not at fault for not being able to afford their own farm.)

But those of us who could have done better in the past, and are now dealing with the after-effects of our previous less-than-perfect financial decisions (as a millennial, I’m thinking specifically about student debt); is our inability to homestead a moral failing? Is our grocery shopping a symptom of our sinfulness? Should we be ashamed of it?

What about those of us who could, in theory, start a little garden or farm, but just don’t want to? What if, like Fran, we just hate getting sweaty and getting our hands dirty, and don’t particularly like farm animals? Or, like Lois, we’d rather do other hobbies? Should we just forget about our personal preferences/desires for comfort and pleasure, and get out there and do it anyway? – Is this what a very holy person, someone completely detached from all desires for comfort and pleasure, would do? I’m not such a person, so I honestly do not know.

I feel like Marge and Fran are “better” Catholics than Lois. But that’s just a feeling, and I’m not sure if it’s in any way correct. Personally, I have the most in common with Lois, except I’m not as content or confident as she is; I’m always wondering, fretfully, if I should be more of a Marge, or at least a Fran. Although I’ve tried being more Fran-like in the past, and I suck at it. My attempts to be more Marge-like never stick, either. I just can’t wait to get inside and take a damn shower. Should I just accept that I’m a Lois, or should I push back against my natural inclinations and try to be more like Marge, or even Fran?

So, I don’t really have a way to conclude this little post, because I honestly do not know. All I know for sure is, when I’m talking to folks from my parish who tell me they homestead and make their own everything, I feel like a shitty Catholic compared to them.

Is it okay to be different? Is it okay to live in the city, or to want to? At this point, I can’t help feeling like Marge is the “best” and most Catholicest Catholic, followed by Fran, and then Lois; but that might just be my emotional perception, influenced by my poor self-image. I feel like perhaps if Lois and Fran become more spiritually advanced, they will develop a true desire to homestead, because it will seem more in keeping with the way God designed humans to live, and they will begin to love God’s will above all other things – right?

Or, maybe that’s now how it happens. Maybe you can be a saint and live happily in the city and shop for groceries. I truly don’t know, at this point. I’d love to hear some other people’s opinions on this.
People Should Drive The Speed Limit

May 8th, 2025

Here is an unpopular opinion that a lot of people are going to hate me for: people should drive the speed limit.

First of all for the pretty obvious reason that it’s the law, and we shouldn’t break the law.

But also: when I was learning to drive, one of my best instructors was my older sister; and one of the best pieces of advice that she gave me was: “So many accidents could be avoided if people would just slow the f*** down.”

And it’s absolutely true. So I really try to live by that. Sure, like most people, I’ve gotten a couple of speeding tickets in my day. I tend to drive faster if I’m comfortably familiar with the location, have a lot on my mind, and/or am listening to music, all of which sometimes make me forget that I’m driving a car. But the vast majority of the time, I’m that driver that you hate to get stuck behind because I drive the freaking speed limit; five over or under, depending.

I mean come on. Why are you in such a hurry? Didn’t you leave on time? Maybe you should try waking up on time and leaving your house in a timely manner. Or what else is it? Is it just that you’re so important and cool that you just gotta drive fast because that’s what cool important people do?

One of my biggest pet peeves is tailgaters. If I’m driving the speed limit, or even five or ten over, for goodness’ sake, and you are tailgating me – or even if I’m driving under the speed limit, for that matter: I have two questions for you.

One: what are you trying to accomplish? Do you think that, by sitting there half an inch from my rear bumper, you are going to make me go faster? When has that ever worked for you? Tell me, has there ever been a time when you thought “gee, I wish this person in front of me would drive faster, maybe if I ride their butt they’ll get the message and speed up,” and they proceeded to actually speed up enough to appease you? Does that really work?

And two: did you pause to consider that, when you are half an inch from my rear bumper, you have no reaction time whatsoever if I should brake? At such a short distance, even me lightly and gradually pressing the brakes is going to put us both in a dangerous situation, because frankly you can’t even see my tail lights you’re so close.

Reaction time is something that I stress about a lot, in a car. In driver’s ed it was taught that there should always be at least one car length between you and the car in front of you, and that’s another thing that I live by. When passing, I always wait until the entirety of the vehicle that I’m passing is visible in my rearview – that I can see its tires touching the road – before I move back into the right lane. People sliding back and forth between cars with inches to spare, always give me a heart attack. What are you doing? Do you think this is freaking Tokyo Drift? Calm down.

“Calm down” – I suppose you’re probably thinking that I should take that advice myself. And yes, it’s true that I have some driving anxiety. In my driving test in high school, I got dinged for waiting too long to turn left out of a parking lot, because I got nervous every time I saw a car coming. That was literally half my life ago, and I still do this. Sometimes I will turn right and add twenty minutes to my drive to avoid turning left! (I’m like Zoolander, allergic to left turns.) And yes, I hate merging, and yes, I drive the speed limit. I am nervous.

But why the heck would anyone in their right mind not be nervous about driving? The average car weighs, according to Google, about 4100 pounds. And on average there are 114 fatal car crashes in the US daily. It’s a terrifying means of travel. I hate cars. Can more people start to take seriously how dangerous driving is, and how just a mere blink of a moment of inattention or the slightest lapse in judgment can kill people?

Especially if you’re going too fast!!!

This has annoyed me more, and made me angrier, ever since becoming a parent. I now drive with three little kids in the car. And when you are speeding around me, or tailgating, or pretending it’s Tokyo Drift like you’re some important hotshot, you are putting my kids in danger. The Christian charity to which I am obligated admittedly runs out, at this point. I have no patience with you.

So many accidents could be avoided if people would just slow the f*** down. Don’t even get me started on screen use in cars. I can’t tell you how many dinkuses I see driving around with their smartphones in front of their faces. It’s enough to make me seriously consider moving to a city like NYC or some European metropolis where there are trains and subways and I’ll never have to drive again, or worry about teaching my children to drive. Cars are an abomination; even more so when you put self-important, arrogant idiots behind their wheels.

In conclusion: slow the f*** down. Stop riding my bumper. You think I’m annoying by driving the speed limit? Cry about it. At least I’m not putting lives at stake.
Spring Baking Championship s. 11 Semifinal: Mith Reacts

May 7th, 2025

Caution: SPOILERS ahead for this episode of SBC!

Damn. This was a thrilling episode to watch, overall, but my feelings about it are so clouded by my disappointment at who went home, that I’m having a hard time finding something nice to say. So let’s just get right to it:

What happened! In the Preheat, my husband and I were excitedly talking about how talented Corey is and how, if not Lisa, he was sure to be the winner. His artistry and the way he thought about flavor combinations were quite unlike anyone else remaining in the competition. I love hearing, too, about how he made his own way in this field, making his childhood dream a reality through hard work and perseverance, and how he hopes to inspire other little boys like himself – he’s just such a cool guy! He really deserved the win.

I really got the impression that Corey was pissed AF when he walked off! Normally, the eliminated contestant will give a tearful little smile and “thank you” speech and/or hug all his fellow contestants, but Corey just kind of abruptly walked off! And the clip that they played of him afterwards, talking about how proud he was of what he’d accomplished thus far? That definitely seemed like it was filmed before his elimination, based on the way he said “I don’t want to go home.” Which makes me think he perhaps stormed off the set without giving an actual exit interview? So the creators had to splice in something from earlier? Could it be, or am I imagining it? I wouldn’t blame him, for being so disappointed, if this is the case.

But, I mean, to be fair: that cake did look rock-hard, unfortunately. And Duff said it wasn’t even cold, it was room temperature. It had become not a cake, but a “biscuit.” Yeah, Raveena’s had issues, too, like disappearing filling, but Corey’s had those same issues plus the rock hard biscuit cake. Devastating! As I keep saying, even the best of them have slip-ups, and I guess this one happened at a really inopportune moment. He was really a star of this season.

Corey won the Preheat. His floating meringue island (mandarin orange, coconut crème anglaise, vanilla pavlova, strawberry and kiwi!) was a masterpiece, it blew all the others out of the water! But, there was no advantage in the Preheat this episode. My husband raised the question: what does the Preheat even really matter, in this situation? It makes the show more fun to watch, sure, but someone could literally fail the Preheat miserably and then go on to win the Main Heat and become the winner. What do you all think? Is the Preheat just for show? I feel like maybe it ought to have more “stakes” attached to it…

And speaking of the Preheat: I knew Lisa was going to overcook that meringue. Whenever they show an interview clip of a contestant explaining their choices (“I really didn’t want to undercook the meringue and serve the judges raw eggs,” Lisa said), you just know that choice is going to come back and bite them in the butt. What a bummer!

But so let’s try to talk about some nice things that happened this episode.

Mary-Frances! She killed it in the Main Heat. Seriously, it’s like something happened to her about halfway through the show and she just came out of the woodwork and started winning. Talk about a dark horse. And now she’s in the final! Her cake bombe was gorgeous, truly one of the most beautiful desserts I’ve seen, with those white roses (tinged with glow-in-the-dark neon along the edges) sitting atop the white chocolate mirror glaze. I wouldn’t be too surprised if she ended up winning next week, at this point.

Lisa and Raveena also brought it back, in the Main Heat. It looked like they were both in bad shape, for a minute there, with the melting ice creams! But Lisa found a creative solution, installing that border for her filling, and I’m not sure what Raveena did but her finished cake bombe looked stunning, with that elegant bright orange décor.

And one other nice thing: thank God there was no stupid flavor “twist” in this Main Heat. There was enough going on with that challenge already, holy cow! A flambéed cocktail cake bombe with ice cream filling, that also glows in the dark, in two hours?! These challenges really are getting wild. I’m almost nervous to see what they’re going to have to do next week.

My high point: Lisa’s creative solution in the Main Heat! Crisis averted! I was worried, for a minute there, that she was going home, but her bananas foster cake bombe ended up being basically flawless.

My low point: Obviously, Corey leaving. What a classy guy. The way he hugged Raveena when she was so overwhelmed after the Main Heat bake… he deserves the world.

The dessert that I would most have liked to eat: It would have been Priya’s cherries jubilee cake bombe, but, I don’t do anything with liquor in it, so all the Main Heat desserts were a hard no from me. So, definitely Raveena’s white chocolate guava île flottante with coconut-macadamia streusel! Sounded dreamy! Duff complained that there was “not enough guava,” that the white chocolate overpowered, and that it was basically a “bowl of ganache.” Hell yeah, sounds perfect! I’ll take it!

My official prediction for the final: 4: Priya, 3: Mary-Frances, 2: Raveena, 1: Lisa.

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The Most ~Inspiring~ Fruits

May 6th, 2025

Daily writing prompt
List your top 5 favorite fruits.
View all responses

Seriously, what a silly prompt! Right? Does anyone actually care what anyone’s five favorite fruits are? Like, how is that supposed to make you want to read my blog (which is, after all, the purpose of this whole “daily prompts” thing, isn’t it?)? I would bet a substantial amount of money that no one, not one single soul out there in the world, will see a link to “Mith’s Top 5 Favorite Fruits” and go “oh wow, hot damn! I gotta know immediately! What are Mith’s top five favorite fruits?! I don’t even know who Mith is, but what fruit does she like?!” Literally, unless it’s someone you’re madly in love with, or your own child, or maybe your BFF or your mom or something, I cannot imagine anyone really caring about what some someone’s top five favorite fruits are.

“So what.” That is one of the big ideas that got drilled into my head, back when I was a Writing major in college. “So what? Why are you telling me this?” is always in the back of my mind when I’m writing anything, or saying anything, to anyone. Which, combined with my AvPD, makes communicating with a person pretty stressful. When speaking, I often find myself trying to abbreviate my thoughts and phrases to get to the point already. Make it relevant. No one cares about my personal thoughts and feelings! “If you want to just write about your little thoughts and feelings, get a diary and tuck it under your pillow,” my favorite writing professor said, condescendingly.

So, I keep most things to myself; sometimes to a fault.

But, hell! Right? This is my personal blog! I can post what I want! No one reads it anyway! I may as well! – but still; I cannot stand to just post “here’s my favorite xyz” without trying to make it meaningful or significant in some way, or like something that I think/hope might potentially be mildly interesting to someone who doesn’t know me. So, instead of just “the top five yummy fruits that I like to eat” (because that’s so third grade), I’m going to list the “top five most meaningful and inspiring fruits for me as a wannabe writer.” Which is still pretty silly and personal and probably no one gives a single iota of shit, but hey!, at least it makes for a slightly more in-depth and engaging discussion than just “mm I liek banana cuz it taste good.”

And I know a lot of us on here on wordpress are writers or wannabe writers, so maybe this little concept will resonate with some of you. Does anyone else find inspiration in little things, like fruit, sometimes, or is it just me? If anyone cares to join me in this game, let me know!

ETA: One fruit has been removed from this list for personal reasons.

So without further ado:

5. Peach. Obvious generic choice, for someone from the American South: but, it gets more personal. In my childhood hometown, which btw is a very scenic and beautiful place (and which has, unfortunately, in the last couple of decades, become very self-aware about what a scenic and beautiful little small town it is, and is becoming increasingly bougie, overpopulated, and overdeveloped, thereby sacrificing its authenticity, but that’s a whole ‘nother story), there is this peach orchard. This peach orchard is probably one of the most beautiful places in the whole world, IMO, if not the single most beautiful. Especially in early spring when the peach trees bloom: a delicious shade of bright pinkish violet. You drive around a curve in this wooded, windy, rural road, and the forest clears and then the orchard opens up before you, sprawled out over the rolling hills: just fields and fields of these pinkish-violet trees, surrounded by farmland, and off in the distance, the Blue Ridge Mountains. It’s the kind of place that makes you homesick for the place while you’re already there. The kind of landscape that you just want to kind of lay down on and melt into, to really be a part of it. It’s my favorite. This is a location that I’ve fictionalized and worked into numerous stories and books. It’s kind of central to my little fictional world. And over the years, I’ve always gone there, often solo but sometimes with family, to celebrate personally-significant days. It’s something of a tradition. And but so peaches, in general, always remind me of this place and give me a little mood boost.

4 and a half. Cranberry. The quintessential Christmas and Thanksgiving fruit, i.e. the official fruit of my the most wonderful time of the year. I couldn’t not throw it in here, because, as you know if you read this blog (which no one does, lol), I’m an absolute simp for Christmas. It always makes me want to write new stuff, and is one of my most productive times of the year, writing-wise. And especially holiday baking. I’m not much of a baker myself, I prefer watching it on TV and reading about it to actually doing it; but one thing I make just about every year is a cranberry-pumpkin-nut quick bread with orange zest. So the mere mention of cranberries gives me a little shot of inspiration any time of the year.

4. Apple. Again, this one’s a bit of a personal nostalgia thing. When I was a little child (like four onwards), my family made an annual fall pilgrimage to this apple orchard in the city near our home. I say “city” because it was technically in that city’s postal code, but this was a rural area, up on a mountain. Typical fall family stuff: we’d go for a hay ride, pick apples, eat donuts and drink hot cider (this was back in the day when fall days were cold), and buy a pumpkin. And so apple orchards also have a special place in my little heart. My dream house has always been an old white farmhouse adjoining an apple orchard. Also because apples are basically the perfect fruit. I know I said I wasn’t going to ramble about my little personal flavor preferences, here, because that’s stupid and uninteresting, but, if I could only eat one fruit for the rest of my life, it would 100% be apples. Like eggs, hummus, and peanut butter, they’re just one of those naturally perfect foods.

3. Blackberry. Are you tired of me rambling about my childhood yet? (“So what! What’s the point,” my professor is screaming at me in my head right now! Aah!) Anyway, real quick: I grew up in a literal log cabin on a little dirt road in the woods, and said cabin was surrounded by wild blackberry bushes. I’d pick and eat them all the time, sometimes so many that I’d make myself sick! And in late summer my Mom would pick all of these blackberries and make jars and jars of homemade jelly. The really cool thing was, instead of using the store-bought pectin, she’d use underripe green apples from the little baby apple tree in our backyard (which tree is, in itself, a whole ‘nother story, but anyway); did you know that tiny unripe apples are rich in pectin? So the smell of blackberries and sour green apples and sugar is like the smell of my childhood summers. Also, another anecdote: blackberries were like the signature fruit at one of the little casual-dining restaurants off the Parkway where my family would stop sometimes on our little family outings. They did a really cool blackberry ice cream. Thus, blackberries are one of the fruits that sing to my heart the most.

2. Blackcurrant. What an underrated fruit! What a thing of beauty! I didn’t discover blackcurrant until traveling to Europe for the first time, a trip to Ireland in ‘07. They like to flavor things with blackcurrant over there. It’s such a different flavor from any of our typical American fruity flavors. So dark and alluring and mystical. I got rather hooked on it, especially in drinks and beverages, but also in spreads (my favorite Irish food?: brown soda bread with blackcurrant jam in the morning, what a happy memory). In Germany, you see a lot of “forest fruits”-flavored desserts and spreads, which usually feature blackcurrant, and being obsessed with the Black Forest region and all its fairytale associations, this is another flavor that brings me inspiration. Cassis (what a fun word, too) is also one of the fragrance elements is my all-time favorite perfume, which has sadly been discontinued; and it’s the signature scent of one of my favorite fictional characters I’ve created.

And finally:

1. Fig. Another underrated gem of the produce world. Did you know they’re not actually a fruit, but a syconium, i.e. an inside-out bouquet of flowers? And that, in the wild, figs actually ingest wasps? They’re one of the most interesting “fruits” out there, for sure. I first got into figs when, in 2010-11, dried figs mysteriously became one of my daily “safe” foods during a restrictive phase of my ED. For a long time, figs were my go-to thing. Then later, around the time of my conversion, I learned about the legend associated with Saint Rita, to whom I developed my first devotion. My obsession with them might also be related to the word “figment,” as in “a figment of your imagination,” which word/phrase has always been pretty personally meaningful to me. Anyway, I’ve featured figs in at least one or two of my major fiction projects, because they’re just so freaking cool. Maybe I’m a dork for thinking figs are “freaking cool,” but, so be it.

I hope this has been at least mildly interesting for you, lol.
TOP 10: Unpopular Opinions on Writing

May 5th, 2025

I used to dream of being a published novelist. And, if I’m being honest, I still sometimes do.

As some of you may know, I have, in the past, tried to get my fiction published. I think I’ve tried with three, four, maybe five different novels at different points in my life (only really seriously tried with one of them, though). I’ve also submitted a little bit of short fiction to a couple of places, but the only place that ever accepted me was my university’s literary journal, because they had to, and they were short on submissions. Lol.

Maybe this is just because my fiction is not that great. I think that’s honestly pretty likely. My junk is tons of fun for me, but maybe it’s not for anyone else. Or, maybe I just never tried hard enough. I have pretty thin skin, and am all but allergic to self-promotion (see: AvPD), so, every step of the whole querying and submission process is, for me, basically like going before a firing squad, or like having the flu and being in labor at the same time, or going before a firing squad while you have the flu and are in labor. Which is to say: I hate it! I know everyone hates it, but I’m not being egotistical when I say I think I probably hate it even more than the average person.

But there’s no getting around that process. (Unless you’re already a celebrity.) So, I’ve pretty much given up on that childhood dream. Which is fine. Totally. I once saw a viral Tweet on Writer Twitter that went something like: “watching the book of my heart die in the trenches will be my villain origin story” – and damn, if that ain’t the truth. But it’s fine. I’m fine! Lol.

It’s hard out there! If you’re currently in the thick of it (“in the [querying] trenches,” as they say), God help you. During my brief forays into submitting fiction to agents, I learned that the publishing industry in 21^st century America is freaking brutal. It’s merciless. Trying to get published sucks. I definitely got a bit bitter about it, after so many ghostings and form rejections.

But, to be fair: the stuff that I love to write is not highly publishable. Maybe one day I’ll write something normal and marketable enough to be published. But, I dunno. I have some pretty unpopular opinions about fiction and prose in general, which probably make my junk nobody’s cup of tea but my own. I took a lot of writing classes in college, back in the day, and between those classroom experiences, mingling with other aspiring writers, and my attempts at getting published, I’ve encountered a lot of ideas out there that are, imo, just straight up stupid, and thereby affirmed my own sometimes-unconventional beliefs about writing:

11. Genre, and comp titles, are overrated. “What’s your genre,” everyone wants to know. And if you don’t fit tidily into one single genre, or can’t say for sure what genre you are, it’s just because you don’t read enough and don’t know the field well enough. You have to be able to compare your junk to someone else’s (someone who’s selling well right now, of course – but not too well, I mean, come on, clearly you can’t compare yourself to a bestseller, you arrogant prick, who do you think you are?). Your book should be basically be able to be described as “what if this popular book and this other popular book had a baby.” Personally, I hate genre fiction, hate the labels associated with it, and hate the constraints of genre and comp titles. But I get that they’re necessary in the industry.

10. Plot is overrated. I mean, my favorite book ever is “Infinite Jest,” which is famous for having the most unintelligible plot of all time, so clearly plot is not that big a deal for me. I love it when an author can get you sucked into a moment or a character regardless of the conventional “plot arc” or the “stakes” of the problem. I tend to also love introspective books that sit still and contemplate, like Katharine Weber’s “Still Life with Monkey.”

9. “High-concept,” plot-driven stuff is overrated. I get that that’s what sells, but it’s disappointing. To me, this obsession with things that grab you fast and just don’t let go!!! is just a symptom of a culture that’s obsessed with Netflix and TikTok. If you want to watch TV, go watch TV, but if you’re going to read a novel, be willing to have some patience, use your brain, and commit to something, am I right?

8. That being said: mystery/suspense is the hardest thing to write, and authors who do it successfully deserve the utmost respect. I know I said I resent genre and genre fiction, and that plot is overrated, and those are all true; but I do like a good mystery novel, and this is one genre that I know for a fact I could never even attempt to write. I mean, how do they do it? How do they create a whole multi-layered mystery that you can’t figure out? Just, out of their brain??! It’s fascinating to me! One of my absolute favorite writers of the last few years is Shari Lapena, who writes domestic crime thrillers. Also, Stephen King is a genius at this. The ability to create such a plot and make it suspenseful is seriously like a magic power. Not every book has to have it! But when a writer does it well, it’s sorcery.

7.Sex scenes are gross. Even if it’s not smut. I can’t stand sex scenes, even in literature. I put down “Hamnet” by Maggie O’Farrell because of a sex scene. I put down “The Fraud” by Zadie Smith because of sexual stuff. Seriously. Just. Leave. It. Out! I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: be an adult; fade to black. It’s easy to do. Unless there’s some crucial detail that you cannot reveal otherwise, in which case, you can be subtle.

6. Telling, not showing, is fine. Speaking as an amateur here: the whole “show don’t tell” thing is for amateurs. If you have backstory to tell, then tell it, don’t waste the reader’s time going back in time to show it all happening! And sometimes it works to just tell your actual story! There’s a time and place for telling, don’t let anyone tell you there’s not.

5. The passive voice is great. Again, as an amateur: the advice to “never use passive” is for amateurs. There is absolutely a time and place for passive voice (just ask the Germans, they love their passive voice!). “This was given to me” has a whole different emphasis and tone than “Someone gave me this.” “The pie has been eaten” is more compelling, and has more gravitas, than “they ate the pie.” “Saint Lawrence was martyred by grilling” keeps the focus on Saint Lawrence, and is more interesting and pleasant and logical to read than just “They grilled Saint Lawrence.”

4. Adverbs are great. I once knew an aspiring writer who eschewed all adverbs as a rule. How silly! Adverbs exist for a reason. Yes, you could say “sprinted” instead of “ran quickly,” or “dragged” instead of “passed slowly,” or “devoured” instead of “ate voraciously” or “lethargic” instead of “cripplingly tired”… but sometimes an adverb makes a sentence more beautiful, or rhythmic, or adds a whole new element of metaphor to a phrase. Again with the whole TikTok mindset of “shorter = better.”

3. Descriptions are great. I love in Victorian literature when they would take paragraphs, or even pages, to describe a character’s physical appearance when introducing that character. Give me all the details about what they are wearing and what shape their nose is! I’m here for it! I also love descriptions of rooms and places. But then I got to college and took 300 level writing courses, and learned that descriptions of characters’ appearances are considered juvenile and cheesy, in serious circles nowadays. What a bummer. Bring back Victorian prose!

2. Long sentences are great. You probably know I feel this way if you read my blog. I love to try and pack as much stuff into one sentence as I can, using parentheses, dashes, semicolons, colons, and, of course, commas on commas on commas. Again, I’m a huge fan of DFW, whose sentences sometimes go on for pages. A long and well-composed sentence is a work of art!

And finally:

1. Word count constraints are dumb. If you want to get published, and you’re writing literary or mainstream fiction for adults, you’d better make sure your manuscript is precisely 80-90k words, no more, no less. (The number is bigger, but equally constraining, for certain genres like high fantasy.) And short fiction has a specific word count expectation, too. As someone who vibes with novellas, novelettes, really long short stories, and all the in-betweens, this has always frustrated me. I’d like to see the novella become popular again!
Some thoughts on the passing of Pope Francis

April 30th, 2025

I write this not as any kind of expert on the papacy, the history thereof, or of Vatican politics or personalities. In fact, I admit, I am not really interested in politics at all. AP Government was my least favorite class in high school (besides gym); it all just seemed so arbitrary. I wish I were the kind of person who was interested in politics; it seems like such a mature, socially-responsible, unselfish thing to be interested in. But, unfortunately, the topic bores me to tears. And Catholic politics are only marginally more interesting to me than regular politics. I don’t really follow the news from Vatican City, beyond reading headlines. So, this little post will be mostly about my personal thoughts and reactions, and my experiences of being Catholic during this papacy.

It’s been over a week now since Pope Francis died. I’ve been digesting the news and sort of collecting my thoughts. I feel like I wouldn’t be a proper Catholic blogger if I didn’t at least post something responding to his death. So, here we go.

I loved Pope Francis. I respected him very much; he said and did a lot of great things, and touched a lot of hearts. He was our Holy Father, the Pope that God chose for us. I was shocked and deeply saddened to learn of his death, and have been praying for him daily.

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My initial discovery of Catholicism in 2012-2013 coincided with the end of Pope Benedict XVI’s reign and the beginning of Pope Francis’s. I was in college. I began my inquiry — attending Mass and meeting up with the campus ministry group and researching the faith — several months before the news that Benedict was retiring.

Here is a weird and silly little thing that I’ve never told anyone or even verbalized before, but may as well share with the internet, why not: I had a strange conviction, which I could not explain (it feels similar to the intuition that I get regarding the gender of my children in utero, which thus far has been correct 3/3 times), that my conversion was the direct result of Pope Benedict XVI’s prayers on behalf of sinners and unbelievers; that he was, somehow, at least partially responsible for my conversion. I still feel this way. I was a fan of his from the beginning, and, unlike some converts, never had any trouble getting on board with the concept of a hierarchy or a Supreme Pontiff, a Vicar of Christ on earth.

But, as you know if you know me or if you’ve read my little conversion story, I was very conflicted, in those early days, about some other aspects of Catholicism. I was still politically and socially quite liberal, and I didn’t feel right about joining a Church that opposed gay marriage, women priests, birth control, and abortion. I spent a lot of time and energy trying to figure this out. It was a weird time for me (for many reasons).

At some point in the midst of this turmoil, I heard the news that Pope Benedict XVI was retiring, which even I knew was unheard-of; the whole Catholic world was shook. Enter Pope Francis. It was a dramatic moment. He was so new and different. The first Jesuit Pope (I was not familiar, at the time, with all the controversy about the contemporary Jesuits), the first Latin American Pope, the first Pope to take the name Francis. Already, people seemed to be talking about him as the “liberal Pope.” Early in his papacy, he made the famous “who am I to judge?” comment, which, basically set the tone for the next twelve years.

You’d think that I, as a liberal-leaning wannabe-Catholic, ought to have been thrilled. This was the direction that I wanted the Church to go – wasn’t it? But something about it rubbed me the wrong way, and I couldn’t even explain why. It felt like something was crumbling beneath me. What was there to rebel against now?

I think it was evident, even then, that I didn’t actually want a modern Church. What I wanted was a secure foundation, a tradition to belong to: belong to surely enough that I could rebel against it, for a little while, like a teenager against its parents, but eventually come home. (I never really had a rebellious phase, as a teenager; I think perhaps this confused time was the substitute that my psyche came up with, for me.) Everyone knows that what stubborn, oppositional kids need is a firm hand: they need discipline, not permissiveness; that’s what they instinctively crave. It’s the same with unruly horses. A feisty horse only trusts a handler who’s strong and firm and fearless. It’s kind of counterintuitive; you’d think such creatures would thrive on gentleness and softness, but, it’s the exact opposite. That was me: I was the green horse, the oppositional child. On some deep level, I already knew that what I needed and wanted was something solid and unyielding.

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For the last week, it’s been seriously annoying me how everyone, especially non-religious atheists, are all over social media posting about how Pope Francis was “the best pope ever” and “just what the Church needed.” As if they’re experts on what makes a good Pope! Shouldn’t the fact that the liberal atheists love him so much, be a red flag in itself?

Yes, I loved Pope Francis. I loved seeing his photo on the wall in the vestibule in Church. He was our Holy Father, and I loved him like a member of my family. My own family of origin is not Catholic, and I don’t always agree with all of their life choices, and I love them none the less.

I don’t think Pope Francis was “the best Pope ever” or “exactly what the Church needed.” I’m no expert, but based on all the evidence I’ve seen, there are a lot of things that did not go well in the Church during his papacy. For example, Germany. It disturbed me quite a bit that Pope Francis would say mean things about Traditionalists and push further restrictions on the TLM, while turning a blind eye to the bishops in Germany, who are doing blatantly heretical things.

I know the stupid secular media likes to distort a lot of things Pope Francis said, to push their own liberal agenda. Like, he never actually, literally said that “all religions are a path to God,” nor did he approve “blessing of same-sex couples” (what he approved was blessing of each individual, which is kind of a no-brainer; literally anyone can get a blessing from any clergyman, no matter what the state of their soul). But, I did take issue with the way Pope Francis phrased some of these things. It just created more confusion. I think what we need at this time is a Pope who’s uncompromising, who leaves no room for misinterpretations.

A lot of the quotes from Pope Francis that I see these non-religious liberal fans of his posting, have nothing whatsoever to do with Christ. A lot of feel-good, warm-and-fuzzy, vaguely spiritual, “one big human family” type sound bites. I don’t know how much of that is accurate, like, how much of this the Pope actually said; and it’s certainly not true that he never spoke about Christ, of course he did!, but, I just don’t love that that’s the image that people have gotten of the Pope. Doesn’t it seem like he ought to be inseparable, in the eyes of the public, from Christianity? Surely this is largely the media’s fault. I’m not trying to make accusations. I just don’t feel right about where things are at, with this papacy.

I also am not entirely comfortable with the whole liberation theology philosophy that he pushed, which basically turns the Church into one big charity organization, and gives the impression that the way to save your soul is by being nice to others and giving money to charity. That is not what the Church teaches. We are not saved by doing good stuff. If our soul is in order and our priorities are straight, then good works will, without fail, arise naturally from that; which is why “faith without works is dead.” But it doesn’t go the other way. The Church is not a social justice organization. Its mission is Christ’s mission, i.e.: to save souls. You don’t save your soul just by doing charity work. If you read even a little bit of the Gospel or the great saints’ writings, this is painfully evident.

This liberation theology thing trickles down from Rome to individual parishes around the world. Which explains why I always so lost and misplaced in the NO churches that I belonged to.

I’m not built for missionary work, marches, or volunteering on the streets. I’m an INTJ/ILI with AvPD. I’m still figuring out how to best serve God and the world in my life, but I know for sure, after many, many awkward failed attempts to “push myself out of my comfort zone,” that ministry work, committees, and “being active in the community” are not my calling. For someone like me, there’s no place in the modern Church. Someone like me will always feel like they simply cannot belong or fit in, in a Church that teaches liberation theology. It wasn’t until I found the SSPX, where real Catholicism is taught, that I understood all of this about myself and the Church.

Why would a Pope eschew the beautiful, perfect Catholic Tradition, which is the actual essence of Catholicism itself? It’s confusing, to me. Confusion, that’s the thing. I feel like this papacy was marked by confusion. I’m grateful that I found a safe haven of sanity in the SSPX.

The Society has the most commonsense approach to all this. Of course Pope Francis is our Pope. Sedevacantism is silly. Vatican II was a valid council. But it’s also true that, since Vatican II, Rome has veered away from Tradition, which is a problem. Thus, the SSPX recognizes the authority and legitimacy of the Pope while also continuing to teach the faith in its entirety, because someone’s gotta do it.

So yes, I loved Pope Francis. One of my favorite things about him was that he addressed climate change head-on. I know the whole question of climate change is up for debate, in the Traditional community; lots of people aren’t even sure that it’s real, or firmly believe it’s a hoax. But I feel like there’s enough evidence for it (including the simple fact I’ve observed myself, over my 35 years of life, that fall and winter are getting warmer and less snowy, and summer is getting longer and hotter) that we ought to do something about it. And by “we,” I mean humanity in general: specifically big corporations, the food industry, the air travel industry. Little people like you and me, there’s really not much we can do, and tbh I’m sick of being shat on from all angles for not doing enough when even my very best efforts are not even a drop in the bucket compared to the steps that need to be taken by these huge organizations; but, what else is new. But that’s a rant for another day, lol.

And I loved that he was so compassionate. He was nothing if not compassionate and loving; in so many ways, he was really Christlike. I was sad when he got sick. I helped my young daughter mail him a get well soon card, and we pray for him all the time.

But no, I don’t think he was the best Pope ever. And I sincerely hope and pray that our next Pope is someone friendlier to Catholic Tradition.

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It’s scary to think about dying. About going before the judgment seat of Christ. Even more so for a priest, let alone a Bishop or the Pope himself! With that much responsibility for souls, the judgment will be so much stricter. I read somewhere once that “the road into hell is paved with the skulls of bishops.” It’s a sobering thought. I’m not pretending to be any expert, like I said, but I do think it’s super important that we all pray for our deceased Pope. Pope Francis himself once said that he likes to think of hell as empty. It’s a nice thought, and I sure hope he’s right, but unfortunately there’s a lot of evidence to the contrary.

The Church is really divided and confused right now, and it’s sad. I hope that, in praying for Pope Francis and his successor, we Catholics can find unity. Hopefully the next Pope will help us work towards that.
Spring Baking Championship season 11 episode 8: Mith Reacts

April 30th, 2025

Spoilers ahead for this episode of SBC!

This episode made me sad.

First of all, the Preheat was a team challenge, which, as you know, I always kind of hate. Not because teams aren’t fun to watch, but because, no matter how long it’s been since I finished school, I will never fail to get a painful full-body cringe and wave of nausea each time I hear someone utter the phrase “you’ll be paired up into teams.” Ugh! I always feel especially bad for those who don’t seem to click with their teammates.

Like Paul and Priya. I like them both independently, but they were hardly a match made in heaven. – Although, I didn’t think Corey and Mary-Frances would click, either, but they absolutely wiped the floor with the competition! These two were the stars of this episode, for sure. Corey broke out his grandma’s peach cobbler recipe and his Bob Ross painting skills, and nailed it in both flavor and décor. (Invoking the power of the Dead Grandparent!) And, Mary-Frances seems to be here to stay! She really brought out her big guns midseason!

Lisa and Raveena seemed like great teammates, anyone could see that they get along swimmingly; but, I guess their napoleon wasn’t as successful as we would have hoped for, from such strong competitors. Their pastry was “bendy inside,” according to Duff. (Also, Lisa claimed that the west coast is the superior US coast, which, I’m sorry, is just false. :D)

But Paul and Priya! Yikes! Their Preheat dessert – that might have been the single worst judging I’ve seen this season, perhaps this whole show. Too harsh! Not a single kind word from any one of the judges. It was basically “you suck, you also suck, this sucks, this really sucks, hate it. Okay, thanks so much!” Ouch. This whole first challenge was a major cringe. It made me so sad.

The Main Heat wasn’t much better. Freaking lemongrass?! Again with the stupid twists! I support the idea of a twist, but can we stop making it flavors that completely screw up everyone’s dessert on purpose? There is simply no way to make coffee and lemon taste good together!! In fact, the only contestant whose dessert flavors actually could have worked with lemongrass was Priya (triple citrus, pineapple, macadamia) – but her cake was dry and didn’t have enough citrus flavor!

I was excited to hear that they were going to be judged blind for the Main Heat. That seemed like a good move! But, as it turned out, it seemed to just make the judges harsher! Did anyone else notice that? It was like, because they weren’t critiquing to a baker’s face, they just straight up talked all the shit that they would otherwise try to temper with a bit of kindness. And we, the viewers, had to watch the poor contestants suffer while they watched the judging from another room. It hurt! Especially Paul!

Poor Paul. As I’ve said before, I really feel like the language thing is causing problems, for Paul. I feel so bad for him. Although he’s impressively fluent in it, English is not his first language, so I imagine it’s harder for him to process verbal instructions in English, especially under pressure. “Blitz puff?” He’s a French pastry chef, he probably never makes that! “Tabletop cake vs. sheet cake” is another subtle distinction that I wouldn’t expect a non-native speaker to know.

For the first time this season, I disagree with both the winner and the loser here. Lisa was great, too, obviously, she always is, and her “wood grain” piping on the sides of that cake was genius; but, I really thought Mary-Frances had a better judging, am I right? Maybe this was just the way they edited the judge’s comments for TV, though. The editing really made it seem like the judges were happier with Mary-Frances. And I was kind of looking forward to seeing her win again. Because Mary-Frances worked an absolute miracle and, God knows how, made the lemongrass twist work! In a freaking chocolate hazelnut praline cake! How on earth?! I don’t know, but the judges liked it! That alone deserved the win, IMO. And they’d said that Lisa overdid it on the lemongrass, right? Lisa’s extremely good, but I kind of thought Mary-Frances was more impressive here!

And I’m so disappointed that this whole episode seemed to screw Paul over. He deserved better. Priya’s cake wasn’t even finished! Shouldn’t that have sent her home instead?!

One last thing that annoys me that I saw some of in this episode: when contestants say that they want to win “for my kid” or “to show their kids that x y z” (that you can do anything you set your mind to, that you can overcome challenges; etc.). That makes it sound like, if they go home before the final, they’re teaching their kids that you can’t do anything you put your mind to, and you can’t overcome obstacles! That their kids will be disappointed in them and they will have failed as a parent! As a parent myself, this always tweaks me a little. I’m not hating on any contestant who says this on camera. I’m sure they’re under a lot of pressure to say something TV-friendly – I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re even being asked, “What do you want you kids to learn from you in this competition?” If I were asked that, I’d probably give the same answer! I wish the show would stop making it sound like a baker’s success as a parent depends on them winning the championship.

High point: When Jesse announced, after the Main Heat baking time was up, that he had another surprise for the contestants, and Corey just goes: “WHAT.” in that absolutely exasperated, ‘don’t f*ck with me anymore, I’m at my limit here’ voice. I felt that in my soul! That was my reaction to this whole episode, too.

Low point: Priya fighting with Paul in the preheat over that stupid blitz puff pastry. I couldn’t even look, that was so painful. I understand she was stressed, and I could tell she was trying to be polite even while she was yelling at him, but this was just a really terrible interaction to watch.

The dessert that I would most have liked to eat: Corey’s tabletop cake! Normally I’d go for chocolatey cakes, of which there were two this challenge, but, this one sounded really special: almond cake with cream cheese mousse, almond crunch, and mixed macerated berries (a nod to the “woodland path” theme, brilliant) – plus, those decorations were beautiful. And I think this is one case where lemongrass could actually kind of work.

My official prediction for who will go home next: This is tough. It kills me to say it, but I think either Priya or Mary-Frances. In the final we’ll have Corey, Raveena, and Lisa, with Lisa being the winner. I’ve been saying it since day one; I’ll be really surprised if Lisa doesn’t win!

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Why Would You Say That?

April 23rd, 2025

Why would you comment on a complete stranger’s food choices?

This is a pet peeve of mine. I guess it’s a layover from my eating disorder days. I’m really self-conscious about food and eating. As you may know if you read this blog, I don’t like to be seen or touched while eating, or asked about my food, even by my close family members; I even feel self-conscious about the cashier handling and checking out my groceries at the grocery store. Everything feels like a criticism, and every word and glance seems to me to be a very-thinly-veiled “you’re fat.”

In fact, I have a long history of overreacting, sometimes disastrously, to remarks about food. One time, when I was a senior in high school and in the early days of recovery from a severe restriction phase, working on gaining weight, this got me in some of the most mortifying trouble of my life. Story time!

The nutritionist that I was working with had prescribed me a snack every 2-3 hours, and I was following this plan diligently, even when I was at my part-time job as a cashier at a grocery store. Eating so often tended to upset my stomach, which was not used to normal quantities of food, so, I’d also munch on strips of crystallized ginger to settle my stomach, often while standing at the cash register, in between customers. Well, one time, a lady who was a regular customer came up to my register, and, seeing me wrapping up a snack and setting it discreetly away on the shelf under my register, responded to my friendly hi, how are you with an annoyed, even accusatory: “You’re always eating!!!”

Which, as you can imagine, absolutely got under my skin, as someone recovering physically but mentally still very sick with an ED. What my brain heard, when she said that, was: “who the hell do you think you are, you fat fucking loser? You’re sickening to even look at! Look at your fat face chewing! Your jowls all ajiggle! You seriously think your stupid loser ass deserves to just eat snacks all the time? You giant fucking fatass? You think you deserve to take up space on earth?? Go die in a hole, you disgusting waste of oxygen!”

Thems was fighting words, for sure. But did I lash out at her? Nope. Did I do anything at all? Nope. Instead, my whiny pathetic ass just politely chuckled, rang up her groceries, then went out to my car and phoned the Rant Line: a now-defunct (I wonder why, lol) phone line in the local weekly free newspaper, which people could call and scream into a voicemail box about things around town that pissed them off, such as idiots in traffic or off-leash dogs at the park or whatever, and the juiciest Rants would then be printed in the back page of this paper each week.

Well, I pretty obviously named the grocery store I worked at (which was an established and well-respected boutique store, not a chain); so, even though the newspaper blanked out all but the first letter of each word in the name, it was extremely obvious to any local person which store I was talking about. And, without naming her, but still managing to be pretty specific, I ranted pretty furiously at this customer (who, btw, spent a ton of money at this store on the regular), calling her some pretty hateful names, if I remember correctly. (If this lady ever happens to see this blog post: I’m sorry, I take it all back.)

Well, the day after the newspaper printed, I went into work, oblivious, unsuspecting, smiling and waving at my coworkers, and was met with a complete kerfluffle. The week’s Rant was the talk of the store. Everyone was in shock! “Have you seen it?!” “OMG, do you know who did it?!” “Whoever it was is gonna get so fired!” Worst of all, “[Store manager’s name] is so mad!”

Words cannot describe the sheer terror and humiliation and misery that I experienced that day, lol. Obviously I was at fault, there. I should have known better. I don’t know what I was expecting, or why I thought it would be okay to leave such an obvious and specific Rant about this lady. I guess I was just blind with rage, lol.

I somehow survived that four-hour shift, but have no memory of how. I was physically ill, shaking, sick to my stomach. Not even for fear of losing the job. I just hate getting in trouble, hate other people knowing that I have this ugly side. That night, I confessed to my supervisor and manager in the office, and they kindly seemed to understand, and did not fire me, but said that I was a good employee otherwise so I was allowed to stay as long as I didn’t do that again.

Yes, I was at fault, completely; but still: “you’re always eating”? Why would you say something like that to someone?

Anyway, that was one of the first times this oversensitivity led to disaster in my life. The next time that I can remember, it was less mortifying – actually pretty funny, in retrospect.

I was a freshman in college, and well into what I now refer to as my “revenge fat” phase, by that point. I had gained a lot of weight in recovery with that nutritionist I mentioned (whose methods, I think, were questionable, but that’s another story). Now, I was away at college and had lost touch with her, but was still fat, and doing my best to cope with this fatness by trying to convince myself that I was okay with it, which I very much was not. I was pretty much the chubbiest girl on campus (this was a campus full of skinny rich kids), which did not help with the feelings of alienation that I was already experiencing as one of the only weird/alt kids, and one of the only poor kids, and one of the only non-“Greek” kids, at that school. So, I’d often bury my feelings in food. I’d go to the dining hall alone with a book or a crossword and get these massive, heaping bowls of breakfast cereal. One time, I was carrying my tray, laden with my bowl that was absolutely overflowing with granola and Cracklin’ Oat Bran and all manner of delicious breakfasty carbs, when one of the dining hall employees walked by me going the opposite direction, and commented casually: “That’s a lot of cereal.”

Which, it absolutely was! But, being me, I dissolved into an absolute crisis over this, lol. In fact, it was one of the events that triggered my subsequent descent into another long, intense restricting/purging phase and the loss of about half my body weight.

Yes, it was a lot of cereal! And by this point you may be thinking that I’m simply crazy (which is not untrue). But still: honestly: why would you say that to someone you don’t know? Seriously, why would you think that’s an okay thing to do? And what’s even the point?

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Those two events were, respectively, seventeen and fifteen years ago. I like to think that I’ve matured somewhat since then, and developed a little bit of a thicker skin. I still don’t like to be seen eating, or asked about what I’m eating – but, if it’s someone I know and love, I’ll just bristle a bit and quickly get over it.

But just the other day, at a local grocery store, I had an encounter that kind of dredged some of these old thoughts and feelings up again.

I was with my three-year-old daughter, buying bananas. We had just quickly run into the store for bananas, while my other daughter was at ballet class and my son was home with his dad; we were out of bananas, which is a food that we go through a lot of, because they are cheap and healthy and everyone in the family likes them. Because there are five of us (plus the one currently in my belly), and we go through so many, I was like: hmm, better grab a few extra bananas. I chose one bunch that had five bananas, then a second, smaller bunch that had three. Because I was only shopping for bananas, and nothing else, I didn’t have a basket, but just carried the bananas in my folded arm while holding my daughter’s hand with my other hand. And as I was standing there in the produce section with my daughter, holding exactly eight bananas, some random lady walks by us in a hurry and goes: “You must really like bananas!”

Um… excuse me? Yeah? So what? Why do you feel the need to point that out? I don’t even know you, and we’re both busy, like, you’re not even a cashier here or anything, like, you have nothing to do with me or my eight bananas; why would you think that’s necessary to say, or even worth the energy that it would take to open your mouth and expel the oxygen and flap your little tongue to utter those words? To a complete stranger? How is it going to serve you, or me, or anyone?! Are you high?! I mean, if I’d had a cart full of like 30+ bananas, then I’d kind of understand. But this? “You must really like bananas”?! I just don’t understand it!

Why would you say that?! Yes, I am a weird person, but my own reactions aside: why would any of these people say any of these things?! Truly, truly, I cannot begin to understand what it must be like to possess the sort of brain that thinks you should just comment on a stranger’s food.

Can anyone out there enlighten me? Perhaps someone reading this is the sort of person who says such things to people. Please! I beseech thee: I’d love to understand your rationale. What goes through your head, when you comment on a complete stranger’s food choices? Do you think you are helping them in some way? Are you trying to be friendly? Do you just have literally zero control over what words come out of your mouth as you’re moving around in the world? I’m genuinely, sincerely curious.

I didn’t say anything, to the banana lady. I just kind of chuckled in shock, as I typically do when a stranger says anything to me. I wasn’t even that triggered or offended –even if the Rant Line still existed, I wouldn’t have called it – I mean, bananas are a pretty benign thing to like, aren’t they? It would have been a totally different thing, if she’d said “you must really like chocolate pudding,” or something. But bananas? It was honestly just so weird and strange, is all.

Maybe it’s that I live in the South, where people seem to like to make small talk with strangers, and assume we’re all, like, “neighborly” or whatever. Maybe, with my AvPD, I should move to NYC or Boston or some other big city, where people will just ignore me and leave me the heck alone. Although, I probably wouldn’t thrive in such a cutthroat, fast-paced environment like that, either, haha. I’m just not cut out for human society, it’s true.

But, as I keep saying: even if I didn’t have a weird, baggage-laden reaction to comments about food – even then, why is it something worth commenting on? I just don’t understand. I can kind of understand commenting on a stranger’s clothes or hair, especially if it really merits comment – like, “oh, wow, your hair is so pretty” or “wow, your hair’s really purple” or “I love that dress” or “where did you get that shirt?”, those are all fine.

I can even kind of understand a snide remark about someone’s appearance, if they seem to be asking for it. Like, that stuffy older gentleman who, walking by, sarcastically told me and my high school BFF “wow, you two just look great” when we were parading around in public in broad daylight in fishnets and miniskirts and crop tops, just for kicks. We were definitely asking for it. Or, the random kid at college who asked me, at my work study job, while I was ringing up his bagel sandwich: “what, did you lose a fight with a stapler?” because I had a pierced eyebrow (and was one of the only people, maybe the only person, on that campus with visible non-ear piercings). Or when strangers comment on my tattoos, to this day, even though I hate that. In all of these cases, I was/am asking for it, by dressing in a way that deserves to be made fun of. Social norms exist for a reason. If you can’t handle getting made fun of, then don’t dress weird.

So I can understand these types of comments from strangers. But I cannot, for the life of me, understand commenting on a total stranger’s food. What purpose does it serve? It’s not social. It’s not going to help anyone. It’s just completely random. Do some people really not filter their thoughts at all? Is it just me, or is this completely unhinged psychopath behavior? Can someone enlighten me? Please! Broaden my perspective here. I would love to understand.

Don’t people stop to think, in this woke day and age when we have “awareness” of every condition under the sun, that food can be a sensitive subject for some people? And even if not, even if they’re completely ignorant about food intolerances or neurodiversity or eating disorders: why? Why, what is the point? Or, are you fully aware and you’re just trying to start beef? What are you trying to accomplish?

In conclusion: I’ll ask one last time: why?? Why, why, why would you comment on a complete stranger’s food? Seriously – why would you? This is truly more mystifying to me than the meaning of life, than the width and breadth of outer space. Someone, please! Please, if you can, explain. Why, just why, would you comment on a complete stranger’s food?