So a while ago there was this great band called “Blame It on John”, and they had a lovely ditty that probably was requested too many times by bawdy BIOJ junkies, but it was just so darn catchy.  It was called “The Stalker Song” and had a chorus that went something along these lines:

“Called to say hi.

No answer.

Time passes by.

No answer.

Called you again.

No answer.

Called all your friends.

No answer.”

I often find it running through my head when the options I’m weighing, or rather the options that are having an epic Star Wars “light saver” (thank you, JJ) rip-roaring battle-to-the-death extravaganza in my head, don’t seem to have a clear winner (ala current Democratic presidential ticket):  No Answer.

My current “no answer” situation is in regards to food.  Ah, food:  that thing that we kinda sorta need to live, but according to current reports is making us sick or moody or fat or something other than svelte and healthy and functional.

For instance, when I look at a bunch of bananas, do I see a bunch of yellow, potentially ripe yummy sweet food?  Nope:  I see a scale weighing the cost of regular versus organic – can we afford the organic?  But if we don’t eat the organic, am I willingly poisoning my children?  And now not only is there organic, but there’s also Fair Trade.  So, I can either be cheap and support both poisoning my children as well as corporations that are supporting oppressive totalitarian regimes, or I can buy Fair Trade Organic Bananas.  Which I have to get into my SUV and drive a considerable distance to find, thereby increasing the cost *and* my carbon footprint.

No Answer.  Unless the answer is we don’t eat bananas.

Which would be fine, if I didn’t live with a picky preschoolers.  The poor monkey comes from a genetic pool of picky eaters – it’s not his fault that he’s a SuperTaster (Hubby tried to prove history wrong – that man *can* live on bread alone, and my brother used to order pepperoni pizza and pick the pepperonis off).  But I have a hard enough time feeding him as it is.

Breakfast:  peanut butter and jam sandwich.  Although the bread is whole white wheat, it has preservatives.  Peanut butter:  all natural, but not organic, Adams.  Jam:  sugar-free, but not organic.

Lunch:  Bread (see above) and cheddar cheese which apparently not only needs to be organic, but also needs to come from grass-fed cows because grain-fed cows have all sorts of bad things in their system from eating grain.  Which apparently humans aren’t supposed to be eating either.  Followed up with fruit (see above above).

Dinner:  Chicken Nugget Dinosaurs from Foster Farms which say that their whole grain, but we all know it’s just to ease the consciences of mamas like me.  And then there’s the stigma from all the moms who are marching to the “Don’t Feed Your Children Chicken Nuggets You’re A Horrible Parent For Not Getting Them To Like Eating Vegan Pad Thai” drum.  I hate hearing that drum:  I want to kick it.  Fruit (again, look up).  Crackers – oh, the transfats!  Oh, the wheat!

Snack:  Yogurt – a mixture of plain and fruit-sweetened-with-Splenda.  Again, grain-fed cows; artificial sweeteners.

And then there’s the packaging that’s leaching contaminants into our food and cluttering our landfills.  NO ANSWER.  Sigh.

I would like to turn in my badge of being the Manager of Consumption in this household until the world is perfect and safe and we can all live in Bubbleland – because there’s never ever any trouble here in Bubbleland.

And it really makes having some Ritz crackers topped with summer sausage and squeeze cheese with a side of fully-sugared grape koolaid sound REALLY good (a staple on the backpacking trips of my childhood when all I had to think about was what doll I could take with me in my backpack and which tree I got to pee behind).  Yum.

Daily Drivel, Mama Musings