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A Small Request

  • Posted on April 16, 2009 at 11:51 am

Dear Utz,

I love your products with a white-hot fiery passion. I am salt sensitive – so much so that regular potato chips can leave salt burns on my tongue. When I discovered your “lower salt than anyone else” regular chips, and your no-salt line I was in potato chip heaven.

To be honest, I can eat an entire bag of no-salt chips in a day (usually with cottage cheese).

(oink)

Only one thing mars this absolute adoration – the chips are too thin to dip adequately. They do get dipped, never fear, but at the end of my snack/meal/entire bag, the bottom of my dipping bowl is an interesting combination of cheese curds and chip bits. I’m in desperate need of a change of clothing as well – sometimes I successfully execute a dip only to have the chip fall apart on the way to my mouth.

So please, I beg you – save me from certain deep-frying DIY disaster and deliver a thicker no-salt chip that I can dip.

My soul will thank you forever. (My hips? Probably not so much. But you knew that already.)

–

1 comment

The Invitation

  • Posted on June 18, 2008 at 12:18 am

It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living.
I want to know what you ache for
and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me how old you are.
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool
for love
for your dream
for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon…
I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow
if you have been opened by life’s betrayals
or have become shrivelled and closed
from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us
to be careful
to be realistic
to remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me
is true.
I want to know if you can
disappoint another
to be true to yourself.
If you can bear the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.
And if you can source your own life
from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand at the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,
“Yes.”

It doesn’t interest me
to know where you live or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
after the night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.

It doesn’t interest me who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
in the centre of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone
with yourself
and if you truly like the company you keep
in the empty moments.

Oriah

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I Want More Money as well.

  • Posted on June 13, 2008 at 9:43 am

The Millionaire Mommy Next Door Wants More Money, which is a concept I can definitely get behind. She says

For the next 30 days, I’ll open my mind to receive increasingly more money. On day one, I’ll decide how I’d like to spend $100. On day two, I’ll double that amount to $200. Day three, double again and I’ll have $400. And so on, doubling every day for the next 30 days. I’ll list how I’d like to spend every penny, with no repeating of items during my month-long spending spree.

I will, however, be repeating items occasionally – MMND has one child, I have three. Shopping for them is incredibly different, since the boys could quite cheerfully run around all day in boxerbriefs and a beater and my daughter could quite cheerfully run around bedecked in Hollister and PacSun.

So how would I spend $100 right now? Hair and feet, baby. I haven’t had a pedicure since I was pregnant with Daniel, and I’d dearly love to let my darling new stylist have free reign on my haircolor. Since I work with my hands so much, manicures are pretty much a waste of time. By the time my nails get long enough for me to say “Hmm, I should probably slap a coat of paint on these babies”, they break.

Wow, this IS going to be fun!

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