Dear Darling Ones,

One of the benefits of being poor is the insurance, or at least it is right now. Who knows what the future holds for poor people insurance? Probably nothing. The only thing America hates more than black people, anyone not generally white passing, LGBTQIA+, and women, is poor people.

This country hates poor people because, like the good capitalist robots we are trained to be, we equate wealth with intelligence, hard work, and moral superiority. Only stupid and lazy people are poor and they deserve to suffer for their stupid laziness. Naturally.

When I was younger people were often surprised to learn I grew up in poverty, a thing I mostly kept a shameful secret, because I was so smart. As if I couldn’t be poor and smart.

Well, here I am again – poor and smart.

Believe it or not, bellyaching about poverty is my point today. My point right now, in this moment, is about how I am content and happy and it’s due to my poor people’s insurance.

My insurance has a bunch of incentive programs to make their clients “healthier.” Through this Healthy Benefits program they’ll “pay” you for doing things like getting a mammogram, getting your A1C checked, and other things I can’t remember because I don’t think they pertain to me.

The more cynical corners of my mind think they offer this program because they think poor people are too dumb to do this. Really, it’s probably a good investment. The healthier their clients are the less they have to pay. It always comes down to the dollars.

As a poor & frugal person I got my mind on the dolla dolla bills too, y’all.

My idea when I first discovered the Healthy Benefits program was to use the money for co-pays and prescriptions. Seemed like a good idea to me. Only thing is that was not allowed. The Benefits had to be used to by “healthy” food at specific stores. Because, of course.

Since I can’t drive anymore this made using my Benefits tricky. In fact, a bunch of my money expired before I could use them. I didn’t have the mental or emotional capacity to deal with it, Not so this year. This year I made it a mission to use that $80 (I got $50 for a mammogram and $30 for my A1C).

After much digging through the shitty Healthy Benefits website and even shittier app I learned I could use Uber Eats and their ridiculously inflated pricing to get groceries delivered. I have been in battle with Uber Eats for weeks because every time I tried to place an order the app said it could not use my S3 Healthy Benefits card right now.

Why? I don’t know. I even called the Healthy Benefits support line to see what I was doing wrong and they were literally like, “we’re here to help people add the card to their Uber Eats wallet.” Not so helpful to those of us who know how to work phone apps.

For someone with zero patience, I am also incredibly stubborn. I have been trying to place that order and get it to charge that stupid card every day for like two weeks. Today it worked. My frugal persistence paid off!

I was able to get all the Thanksgiving food for our tiny Thanksgiving. It’s just me, Sister #4, and our mom. The West Coast fam stays over there for Thanksgiving.

The amount of pride I have right now is incalculable. I’m so happy I get to pay for and prepare dinner for my fam. My mom and Sister #4 do so much for me and never complain about it in front of me. So many appointments (four in December) and checking the mail and taking out the garbage. They’ve never once asked me for gas money or anything like that. And while I cook and bake for them all the time (last week was chicken soup with homemade biscuits and scotcheroos), this is special because it feels like I got all the food for free.

The only thing I love better than paying less for stuff is not having to pay for it at all.

Yay!

Poor but happy,
Jodi

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Hi Darling Ones,

How goes it? I’m eating Dots for the first time in nearly three years and they are delicious. I’ve missed Dots. I also miss Starburst. I do not miss jellybeans because I keep an empty Talenti-pint of them in my nightstand drawer for low blood sugar purposes. And, let me tell you, nothing cures your craving for FaveReds jellybeans (RIP greenbag starburst jellybeans) like chewing them at 3 a.m., grinding sugar into your recently brushed teeth while your glucose monitor will not shut the fuck up about your impending death by low blood sugar.

ANYWAY, I miss Dots, but not more than I enjoy having a 5.4 A1C.

Orange you glad you asked? Nobody asked, but I am feeling icky about having fallen off the writing wagon. Today’s probably not the best day to write because my head is especially “strokey,” which makes focussing extra difficult. Like most of my strokiness I do things just to spite it as if this collection of annoyances has a personality.

Along with eating Dots I’m also listening to the new Amanda Shires’ album. It came out yesterday and so I’m still pondering it. The jury is still out in the Court of Spinster Opinion. One of these days I’m gonna get around to writing about The Beths’ new record because I love it so much I had to text my friend Hotrod heart eyes emojis about it.

I’ve also been listening to Stoned: Jewelry, Obsession, and How Desire Shapes the World by Aja Raden and it is fabulous. It’s my favorite kind of nonfiction — well-written, funny, and filled with news-to-me stuff. For instance did you know that emeralds are green because of Chromium? Me neither and now I love them even more.

Most of my time, though, is spent pondering what I’m going to do with the rest of my life if/when I get on the dole. What will I do if I don’t use my brain capacity worrying about money and my time trying to earn money? I’m not sure. In the before I’d just write and write and write some more. It’s what I’ve always longed for the time and freedom to write. Now that I might get that, writing is physically taxing. My Floppy Scoop and eyes are not fans of the typing and reading. I’ve certainly been cursed with be careful what you wish for. Or so it seems.

Floudneringly yours,
Jodi

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Hola Darling Ones,

Have you tried the Selena Gomez Oreos? They are the best thing to happen to me so far this summer. Even better than the duck that stopped by to visit while I was at the Blue Ox Oasis (Sister #4’s backyard pool).

They are cinnamony and Oreo-y and totally delicious. I’m generally a poo-pooer when it comes to all the stupid flavors of all the things. Remember when Oreos were just Oreo-flavored? We had two choices – regular-stuffed and double-stuffed — and we were happy with that.

Cranky old goat? Maybe. Anti-capitalist who can see through a marketing ploy? Definitely.

But, these little bastards are good and I blame Sister #2 for bringing them into my life. Now that I love them they are sure to disappear from shelves in a minute. See: Diet Coke with Lime, Peanut Butter Cheerios, and a bunch of other things I can’t remember.

The worst thing to happen so far this summer is breaking my wheelchair.

After using the stupid thing about three times, Sister #2 decided we were gonna take a curb and the wheelchair had other ideas. A few of the plastic spokes cracked and a big chunk of one flew off. So, we learned the chair was not built for off-roading.

She tried to fix it by putting on a new wheel, but it’s too big and so my chair leans to the left. It still does the job, I guess. I kind of hate it.

While it does make getting places a little easier, I can tell it was built for a regular person and not a giant. The seat feels too short for my thighs and so I always feel I’m sliding right out of it. I’m gonna be the Goldilocks for wheelchairs.

Just rightly yours,
Jodi

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Hola Darling Ones,

Since I learned I was diabetic I have become one of those people who care about carbs and protein. I hate that for me. People who talk about their diet are insufferable. I do not care. Eat what you want.

I’m also not a fan of people who talk about “earning” food or being “naughty” when eating certain foods.

Diet Culture makes my skin crawl and at 52 I’m still trying to get myself out of that toxic quagmire. And now I’m both fat and diabetic. The horror.

There is a large portion of society that believes I deserve diabetes or that I brought it on myself. I do not like those people and wish that when they try to open something where it says “open here” that it never opens there again, ever.

Because I want to continue living and I enjoy when my doctor praises me for having a good A1C I’m conscious of my carb intake and try to cram protein in my body whenever I can.

However, I do love food — making it, watching other people make it, reading about it, eating it, talking about it. All of it. Food is good. And fun.

Now that I’m diabetic I try to be more thoughtful about the food I consume. I didn’t too bad a job pre-diabetes. That’s why I don’t an air fryer because I know I would live on mini corndogs until my heat exploded or my pancreas fell out.

Since I have more time on my hands and little money Supergenius HQ has become more of an ingredient household than it was before.

This is why I’m in the process of making homemade hoagie rolls.

You gotta really want a meatball sub to go through the hassle of making hoagie rolls. Darling Ones, I really want a meatball sub.

Last week I really wanted chocolate cake so I made a chocolate pound cake. My mom & Sister #4 really love this new era of my life because I give at least half of everything sweet I make to them.

They aren’t getting any of these hoagie rolls though. These things are making me nervous. I’m scared any time I use yeast. It makes me feel like a sorceress calling on the dark arts. RISE my dough, RISE!

Baking with yeast requires both magic and faith and I’m not good at either of those things. Not a fan of “trusting the process.” What if the process is bullshit and you trusted it and now you have a lump or crap?

Thank you for reading 447 words of yeast-anxiety. This is what I did while waiting through the first proof.

Your spicy meatball,
Jodi

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Hi Darling Ones,

As you now, I’ve struggled through November. It’s rough. When people ask me how stroke recovery us going I say, “It’s difficult (or annoying or frustrating or a pain in my ass), but I’m lucky I got to be annoyed/frustrated, etc. I could have died!”

In my deep-dark, icy-robot heat I’m shouting “THIS IS TOTAL CRAP. NO FAIR!” and also, my old standby “WHY CAN’T ANYTHING EVER BE EASY.”

Empotionallly, things are getting a little bit better (see below) and I did find a few things to enjoy this crappy month.

Pink Pony Club (Chappell Roan cover) led by Waxahatchee

My pal Solace shared this on Bluesky and it made my week. In a month where I’ve struggled to find joy, this singalong with one of my favorites was a nice hit of it.

The 25 Most Important Recipes of the Past 100 Years

This is worth a scroll if you like to eat, and worth a read if you like to learn about food. There were some surprising omissions Schrödinger’s Meatloaf and any kind of hotish (though that’s probably older than 100 years). Though they do have something called “Green Bean Bake” that is a casserole and includes cream of soup (which is a necessity in my definition of hotdish). There’s also “Tunnel of Fudge Cake” which sounds like poop and I’ll probably name for bookclub because it uses my beloved bundt pan.

Holiday Prep

The winter holidays are pretty fraught for some people. I’ve done battle with them myself for a good portion of my life. Some of my most horrific childhood memories concern Christmas. Yes, memories, plural. Thanks, dysfunctional family!

As a grown-up I’ve taken back Christmas. With my friends and family we’ve slowly built much loved traditions.

Like lots of women, I put a lot of work into Christmas. Shopping, wrapping, cooking, hosting, crafting, etc. I used to get really stressed out about it, and in my weaker moments I still do. What I’ve realized, and what I yap about a lot now, is if you don’t find joy in doing it, don’t do it.

I legit love getting ready for the Holidays. I ordered 200+ chocolate truffles yesterday. There’s five different kinds of coffee creamer in my freezer. My sister mentioned how that’s one of her favorite parts of Christmas. The different creamers.

Tonight I’m gonna crochet my fingers off while watching a professional wrestling documentary my nephew told me about, and then I’m going to look for a vintage butter dish for my niece. It’s tons of my favorite things at once. I’m so lucky.

Ho-ho-hoping the holidays make it bright,
Jodi

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