Second Son’s birthday is today.
The tradition is that your favorite meal and favorite dessert are prepared for you as per your request.
For dessert he wanted, and I quote: “Sugary, really bad for you blueberry pie with at least a stick of butter and none of that whole wheat, organic, free-range blueberry crap.”
Can’t you just picture the little blueberries, running free, frolicking in the sunshine?
I had no idea.
More of this week’s ridiculousness:
I will show this to my daughter. And then we will not shop there anymore. Ever. I will buy the A&F stuff she already has from her and burn it in the fire pit in the back yard. WE DON’T NEED MORE OF THIS!
Update: As if this isn’t offensive enough, here’s what the top of the abc website page hosting a video clip denouncing this offensive statement* looks like:
Yeah, that helps.
So while the commentators show their support for all of the non-cool by being (appropriately) righteously indignant, the ad next to, and almost as big as, the video screen tells about the show that will teach us how to “live well” be “being and feeling beautiful.”
WHY DOES EVERYONE CARE SO MUCH WHAT WE LOOK LIKE??????
And then there’s this foolishness:
Wow. Contraception leads to all that. I must have been using the wrong kind FOR 20 YEARS.
This from a website called “One More Soul,” (not linking to it. won’t do it. find it yourself if you must, but I will not be privy to such heinous acts) dedicated to “Fostering God’s Plan for Love, Chastity, Marriage, and Children.
Trying to take a quick glance without looking at it directly, so as to avoid retching, raging, and/or breaking out in hives, I did notice one particularly insightful headline:
Fantastic.
Because what EVERY SINGLE FERTILE WOMAN ON THE PLANET, actually, no, what every single person on this planet needs is necessarily AS MANY CHILDREN AS POSSIBLE.
Does anybody else notice that one of the symptoms of “Sexual Chaos” is the implementation of artificial reproductive technologies? So ya’ll listen and listen good — no sex unless you want to make babies, but if God doesn’t think you’re suitable parenting material heinhisinfiniteandunknowablewisdom will deny this blessing, and you are absolutely forbidden from doing anything about it, because, despite the fact that you believe it will bring you great joy, support a strong family life, and contribute to a long, stable marriage, it actually leads to individualism, hedonism, selfishness, and lust.
Oh, and there’s an article discouraging immunizations for children, supported by their step-by-step bastardization of an article published in JAMA.
Ugh. now I’ve looked at it directly, and must go wash my eyes out with oil of newt and kill a couple of kittens or some unsuspecting old person.
*In the abc news clip, they interview a “plus size” model — she’s probably 5’11″ and maybe weighs 125 pounds. Puh-lease.
[Walking to our car from a hockey game.]
Me: Brrrrrrshivershivershiverbrrrrrrrrshivershivershiverbrrrrrrrr. . .
Husband: What are you doing?
Me: I’m cold. It’s got to be in the single digits. It feels like my head’s going to explode.
Husband: What are you talking about? It’s 14˚ at the coldest; a nice, balmy, Canadian winter day
Me: Yeah, all true, except for that it’s definitely colder than 14˚, it’s anything but balmy, and we’re not in Canada.
Husband: We’ll see what the car shows for the temperature.
Me: Yeah, except it’s in a heated garage, so no pointing at it in the first 5 seconds and gloating.
[Arrive at car. Get into car. Start car. Handy little temperature indicator says it's 43˚ out. Husband points and gloats. I ignore him.]
[Drive a few miles. Temperature drops. 38˚ 32˚ 27˚ 18˚ 14˚. Husband points. I give him the universal sign for "Just wait a minute."
This one.
Not this one.
Temperature stops at 10˚. I point. Husband mutters: Your car’s wrong.]
Me: Okay, maybe not 8˚, but I was still closer than you were.
Husband: Yeah, one degree closer.
Me: I said it was 8˚, you said it was 14˚, how is 10 one degree closer? Is this how you do math in Canadia? (He loves it when I call it Canadia.)
Husband: It’s about how you figure out, not whether the answer is right or not.
Only Daughter [in back seat][did I mention Only Daughter was with us?] It’s dropped to 9!
Husband: Okay, now you’re one and a half degrees closer.
Me: What?
[Temperature drops to 7˚]
Me: Okay, NOW who’s closer?
Husband: I’m on a horse.
(It seems weird that we were at a hockey game last night, but Only Daughter’s youth choir was singing the national anthem, and we were still in town until this morning, and I think Dad would want us to keep on living, and laughing. Not sure how he would have felt about the gaps in Husband’s logic — even Only Daughter wanted to know what Husband being on a horse had to do with anything, especially since, clearly, he was not.)
As opposed to from where every other winery procures its “winegrapes.”
(Autocorrect just tried to change “winegrapes” to “winger apes.” Yet another clue to the word’s ridiculousness.)
Happy New Year!!!
Only Daughter had her first “orchestra concert” tonight. She actually asked me not to go. She took some violin lessons as younger youngster, and feels that the exertions of the 6th grade ensemble are, in a way, beneath her.
I went anyway.
(As a pointed aside, they’re not. Beneath her, that is. She had 5 teachers in 4 years because they kept moving away or graduating from college or taking so many out-of-town gigs she would have one lesson a month so she learned 1/4 what she should have, and absolutely nothing about how to read music much less how to understand what she was hearing.)
The orchestra did a fine job, all things considered. It was noted that there were approximately 75 musicians “on stage” and approximately 65 versions of any given note at any given time, but what’s a person to do?
One of the directors stood up at the end to thank all of the parents for going that extra mile (really? it’s “extra” now? shouldn’t it just be part of what everyone should be expected to do if they want to be a living, breathing, feeling member of the universe?) to support their children’s efforts to learn to play a musical instrument.
Okay, fine. Thanks are good. I’m fine. Really, I am.
Then he talks about the benefits — to the brain, to the person, to society, to the importance of students learning to communicate that which cannot be said in words; I start to think, okay, so he’s not a total doofus. But no, I “forgave” him too soon.
Wait for it. . .
“Maybe if more children learn to be thinking, feeling members of society, fewer of them would be flying airplanes into buildings.”
Oh. I had no idea. If only the terrorists had had music lessons.
=
Idiot.
Samuel Snoek-Brown has graciously nominated me for a Blogger Reader Appreciation Award. While this, like the Versatile Blogger award, and many others, is one of those awards that we bloggers use to pat each other on the back, I just don’t think there’s enough of that going around generally speaking, so I’m going to take this pat on the back thankyouverymuch, and pass it on.
(Like Kendall at thisisnotthatblog said on Twitter one day — this day needs more high fives.)
He acknowledged my blog by saying it was “Snark done right,” and I had a moment of pause where I thought, Really? Snarky? But yeah, I’ll admit it; I can be a little snarky. At least, despite the fact that this might be a blatant display of self-indulgence and/or bad manners, well, at least I’m executing correctly. He also finished off the compliment with this:
“The posts here almost always crack me up. This is snark done right, people. But when they don’t crack me up, it’s because blogger “sheriji” has said something numbingly profound. Seriously, I love this blog.”
Wow. Numbingly profound. That has to be one of the nicest things anyone has ever said.
To accept the award, I have to follow these rules:
1. When I pass it on, I provide a link to his post, and thank the blogger who nominated me.
Thanks Samuel!!!
2. Answer 10 questions within my own blog.
My Favorite Color
All of them. Seriously. This is not a cop-out. Which color I “prefer” depends on the day or my mood or whether it’s something I want to paint on my walls (really deep, interesting colors, or a sunny Tuscan yellow), wear (autumn colors, browns, forest greens, gray, burgundy), or drink coffee out of it (red, or blue, or lime green, or purple, or. . . you get the idea). Plus did you hear that 75% of people prefer blue? So that pretty much rules that one out. . .
My favorite animal to include in a story?
I’ve never written a story with an animal in it, but my favorite animal in a story is the Porcupine named Fluffy. Just because Porcupines. Aren’t. Fluffy.
If I had to write an animal in a story, it would have to be a giraffe or a rhinocerous. Puppy dogs and bears get way too much press already, and I’m always rooting for the underdog (see My Favorite Color).
My favorite non-alcoholic drink while writing?
(Buzzkill.)(Literally) Fine. Coffee. I do love coffee.
Printed books or e-books?
I can’t decide. I love the convenience of e-books and that I can “buy” a sample of every book I ever read a good review of so that I don’t forget about them when it’s time to actually buy a book, but I won’t take my tablet to the beach or in the tub, and it’s not as much fun to mark up and I certainly can’t share it with my Husband because then we’re both wanting the tablet at the same time, so not all that convenient I guess.
Harrumph. Do I have to choose?
My favorite writer(s) now?
I can’t get enough of Merwin, Jane Kenyon, or Dorianne Laux for poetry. I just loved Light in August (Faulkner), but find a lot of his fiction quite challenging. Was really sad when Penelope Lively’s Moon Tiger was all read to the end. Am always watching for Safran-Foer to publish another book, and read every story by Alice Munro the moment I see it.
Your favorite writer(s) ten years ago?
Can’t remember back that far. I do know that there are never enough good books in a stack next to my bed for me to read, so please recommend recommend recommend!
Your favorite poet Classic & Current?
Ooh, I answered that one already. Merwin, Kenyon, Laux; and, of course, Shakespeare.
Your favorite time of day to write?
When I don’t feel like I’m ignoring/neglecting anybody else to do so. Depends completely on the circumstances of the day.
What is your passion when it comes to your writing?
It’s funny, I had decided not to read S S-B’s answers so as not to be influenced (besides being kind of bummed that he stole my favorite color answer), but what he wrote really struck home with me. Especially: “I’ve discovered I’m obsessed with home and community. Not really with domestic life or human society, but with the ways in which home becomes the greatest source of conflict and why people so often fail to connect with each other and yet keep trying, desperately reaching out for one another with the same hands they use to push people away.”
I started the blog because I wanted to talk to people, no, I wanted to talk with people. (I love the comments, and the conversations I get into with other bloggers [sorry oldblack, I think I hijacked "Anne" just a wee bit].) I find that if I make a conscious effort to read other blogs, and the newspaper, and keep up with my New Yorker’s, etc., etc., I have a lot more to think about and a lot more to say. I, too, am always looking for connection. Facebook and Twitter just wasn’t doing it for me because there wasn’t enough room to really write something, to really say something. I’m also always looking for the right thing to say so I can figure out what I actually think or feel. It’s probably a very inefficient way to communicate with myself forcryingoutloud, but there it is. The fact that there are almost 200 of you out there who have signed up to read this stuff regularly is just fun. It does help me feel like maybe, just maybe, I’m okay too.
3. Nominate other blogs that I find a joy to read. (Ten is recommended, but I’m going to go with the presumption that the joy part is more important than the number, so I may have fewer, I may have more.)
4. Provide links to these nominated blogs and kindly let the recipients know that they have been nominated.
Redamancy Lit — quotes beautiful writing in all forms. Am sad when she’s gone for stretches now and then.
This is Not That Blog — Short and sweet, often more about the pictures than the words, but Kendall puts things in such a particular way that it not only must be me, but makes me laugh out loud almost every single time. I only wish she posted more often.
Rage Against the Minivan — I don’t always agree with her, although I usually do; but she writes about stuff, and posts writings by other writers, that always gives me something to think about. We need more bloggers like this — issues regarding women, families, raising children, society and its influences both good and bad, etc. etc. Great stuff.
(Sidebar: I was just going through the list of blogs I read regularly and I got completely sidetracked by Louis CK. Here:
watch?v=ey4WSb-BVDQ&feature=fvst
Misfits Miscellany — poems. A couple of them mine, but most not, because that would be weird, and well, impossible, and then it would just be my blog.
Quieter Elephant — a little bit of this, and a little bit of that, but all about life and our reactions to it. Plus I always want to know, quieter than what?
Oldblack — he doesn’t post real often, and the posts are usually pretty short, and he claims to be both dark AND boring, but he is very interested in the conversation, so I find myself checking in with him regularly, and he with me. Listens with his head, and his heart.
5. Include the award logo within your own blog post.
Can I follow instructions or what?
Idiot.
Just as I thought.
Cluelessness, Powerlessness, Idea-less-ness as the latest campaign “strategy.” Who knew?
He has earned his inclusion in “Palinschmerz” — a category that includes all politicians who embody blatant idiocy on and off the political stage. Nice of him to do some of Obama’s campaigning for him.
Never thought I’d think there was something which would not taste better with bacon…but maybe…
Guess you just never know.
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