Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: Coping mechanisms, Oversharing, perspective, What.
I’ve posted before about this, how MAGIC things seem to me. If I don’t know how it works, then it’s MAGIC. Computers, microwave ovens, radios and TV, electricity…all MAGIC.
There are many things I understand. I ‘get’ my gas stove. Propane burns, makes heat, and I can cook things. I can comprehend crayons. Wax sticks, with color in them, you rub them on paper and it leaves a mark. I understand my sewing machine, but not the electricity that runs it. And now that I have a fancy pants computerized one, I just take a deep breath and trust it.
This morning Terry was setting up this new thing connected to the TV that lets us stream all sorts of stuff like Pandora and Netflix and Amazon Instant and a whole bunch of other things. He was sitting in his chair, pointing the remote at the little box and setting it up. HOW DOES IT KNOW? WHAT KIND OF MAGIC IS THIS?
I feel so simpleminded, that all this is amazing. I remember as a child with a transistor radio being so impressed at being able to turn this knob and changing the station, all with this ittle thing I could hold in my hand! I could listen to Radio Mystery Theater or Queen or Merle Haggard! All by turning a knob!
In order to prevent looking like a complete rube, I don’t exclaim in wonder every time a bag of popcorn is popped in the microwave, or a light comes on at the flip of the switch, but honestly, electricity evades me. Strike a match and light a candle, sure, that’s easy enough, it’s friction and a chemical reaction causing light and heat. But mash a few buttons and make a couple of beeps and suddenly a bag of popped popcorn appears? WHAT?!
And the whole COMPUTER thing, OH MAH GOODNESS! I rub my finger around on a little square and this arrow on the screen moves around and when the arrow is where I want it, on something that’s nothing more than a picture on a screen, I can tap the little square and SOMETHING HAPPENS! I might see another picture! Or read something! Or…or…even…HAVE A REAL-TIME CONVERSATION WITH SOMEONE IN AUSTRALIA! OR RUSSIA! OR MY HUSBAND IN THE CHAIR 3 FEET OVER THERE! WHAT SORT OF MAGIC IS THIS?!
Now, my kids..I can hear them now as they are reading this…”Mom…really?” Yes,son. Really. I understand so many things in this world. I understand the chemical reaction that results in fluffy biscuits. I understand bacteria and how they make the body feel sick, and how the body fights that bacteria. I understand roses and other plants and how to make them do what they’re intended to do- make flowers or tomatoes or pinecones. I even understand soap, and why lawyers are…the way they are.
But I do not understand electricity, or silicone chips, or radio waves or microwaves and
where’s my tinfoil hat?
Filed under: Anger management, Good grief, oh HELL no!, ridiculous!, what? um...what? | Tags: Oh for pete's sake, perspective, politics, republicans, What.
Will someone please get these men a biology class?
First, Representative Todd Akin says that women who are victims of legitimate rape won’t conceive because the body shuts down and prevents conception. I am, because I am nice this way, refrain from the gut response of “ARE YOU FU**ING KIDDING ME?!” and the desire to throw something by saying that perhaps by ‘legitimate rape’ he meant RAPE rape (y’know, like Whooooopi Goldberg’s defense of Roman Polanski) and not someone suffering a case of ‘buyer’s remorse’ the day after a one night stand, so we’ll set that argument aside and look at th issue of the body shutting down and preventing conception. ARE YOU FU**ING KIDDING ME?! Way back in medieval times, it was believed that a woman couldn’t get pregnant unless she climaxed. (which is my ladylike way of saying ‘orgasm’ because that word makes me want to look behind me and see if Mom’s reading over my shoulder. I’m old fashioned that way.) The truth is, if a woman is inseminated and she’s ovulating, she can get pregnant, whether it’s forced on her or not. Look it up.
Then along comes Rep. King with his ” I’ve Never Heard Of A Girl Getting Pregnant From Statutory Rape Or Incest” when of course what he MEANT was he’d never actually personally met a woman (or girl) who got pregnant from statutory rape or incest. So why didn’t he say that, if that’s what he meant?
Are the Representatives from the Midwest so poorly read, so ignorant of the English Language that they are going out there and saying these inflammatory statements accidentally? Or are they trolls planted in the house by Democrats in a remarkable (and apparently pretty successful!) attempt to derail the Republican party?
I am an Independant. I choose candidates that best represent my views and opinions. I generally lean conservative in most things. I am also, however (and unfortunately, apparently to these men, it would seem) a woman who does not walk 2-1/2 steps behind my husband and has even been known to get into an argument once in a while with him, about philosophical and social issues. We don’t agree on everything. Or rather, I don’t agree with him on everything. Men like Reps. Aikin and King kind of make me want to hurl something. Their self righteous ignorance of simple biology (I am a Man, so what I say is TRUE, because I am a Christian Man) is bumfuzzling. It makes me very sad for the conservative movement in this country, because it has utterly opened it up for ridicule.
“Oh, you’re a Christian Conservative? phphphhttt…that whole rape thing? Very Old Testament. I bet you think a virgin who’s raped has to marry her rapist, too, right?” Which is actually a misinterpretation of the text there in Deuteronomy, but non-Christians are fond of taking Biblical things out of context, and most Christians aren’t really aware of the whole thing…
Anyway, this whole thing about rape and pregnancy and abortions (due to pregnancy from rapes) and all that mess…is a fabulous way of diverting attention from the real problems we have going on with the economy.
And that’s why I am wondering if those guys aren’t trolls.
Filed under: *whinge*, family, food, Good grief, Grandparents | Tags: Dealing with a grandparent, responsible adult, What.
I do not like Amarillo, Texas.
And that’s all I’m going to say about that.
I do like my grandmother, and the only reason she’s in Amarillo is because she’s from Canyon and Amarillo was the closest place with the kind of assisted living she needs.
I do like chicken fried steak and cream gravy and mashed potatoes, and there’s a place in Amarillo that serves a most excellent version of those things.
But other than that, I could go several years without smelling a stockyard when I first walk out of a hotel room, and not miss it.
It wouldn’t bother me a bit if I never walked into a Walmart and saw 3 young men strung out on some kind of drug, harrassing 2 other young men who were apparently not on drugs.
I would not be upset if I never saw another size 20 woman apparently wearing her skinny 12 year old daughter’s spandex camisole.
Ok maybe I am going to say something about it…
It was good to see my grandmother. I am glad I did it.
It is also good to be home, and I am going to be very happy to sleep in my own bed tonight.
Without the whiff of stockyard or the roar of every single diesel tractor-trailer in the country blowing past my little bitty car.
The chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes, and cream gravy were delicious. Terry had the not-mythical chicken fried corn on the cob. Yes.
Filed under: childhood, Good grief, In The Southland, people, things that make you go hmmmmm | Tags: Being Southern, Oh for pete's sake, responsible adult, What.
I mailed #4′s final payment for camp last week. Satisfied that he was all set, I felt like a grown-up and Proper Mother. My kid’s going to camp, as kids like to do, he has his medical thingy, all the proper boxes are checked and the supply list is on the refrigerator. Aren’t I special! Aren’t I the responsible adult who got it right! Yes I am!
Then I went away for the weekend. Because I could.
When I got back, there was a letter, very formally addressed to me, written in slightly shaky yet book-perfect script. Terry handed it to me and said “This is important. You need to read it.”
Here is the letter (names changed)
Dear Mrs Rootietoot
I am sorry I opened this mail. I did not notice the name before opening it. My name is (Jane. Q. Doe) I have been living here for over 30 years as the name (Jane Q. Doe), even taught school for 35 years by the same name and address for over 30 years.
Hopefully you can get the correct address for the check.
If you have any questions my phone # is (insert number here). I surely hope you can get it where it belongs.
Jane Q. Doe
After reading this, in it’s near-perfect script, I felt like I was 10 years old, and had kicked my ball into her rose bed.
I am considering this reply, with my thoughts and explanations in parenthesis :
Dear Ms. Doe (I do not know how to address her. She is not a Mrs, or that would be on her return address. Some women prefer to be called Ms, some prefer Miss, and each one is offended by the other. This is VERY shaky ground),
Thank you very much for returning my check, and for your kind explanation as to the open envelope. I do not hold hard feelings toward you for that, as I have made the same mistake in the past. (and I have. I have also read mis-delivered catalogs before taking them to the proper mailbox. I have not, however, actually OPENED someone else’s mail. However, I have never lived somewhere 30 years, so I cannot speak for the complacency that might occur under such circumstances)
I am a 47 year old woman who has raised 3 young men to productive adulthood and have a 4th son who is 13. All 4 of them are polite and respectful men and I receive many compliments on the way they treat others. I have grey hair, am married to the father of all 4 children (and have been so for 26 years), and attend a church prayer group every Wednesday. The mistake in the address was in no way intended to inconvenience you, but simply a reversal of 2 numbers. As a teacher for 35 years, I am certain you’ve had a few students who have made mistakes like this, and realize that it is unintentional. I have switched numbers in the past, and this is one of the reasons I do not manage the household finances. You can imagine the mess that could make.
Thank you for your honesty, and taking the time to explain and return the check.
Filed under: aaawwwww, dogs!, family, food, Good grief, I feel so smart!, In The Southland, oh you self indulgent hussy! | Tags: Being Southern, Coping mechanisms, Dachshunds, Oh for pete's sake, What.
So. Yesterday was full of consequences. (before you worry, no one died, no relationships were ended, and actually this post has nothing to do with anything related to the last 2 posts)
I wear aprons around the house. I am a messy person and wearing a full coverage apron allows me to only wear one change of clothes a day. My aprons always have deep pockets. The one on the left gets bits and pieces of trash that I pick up, and gets emptied several times a day. The one on the right carries my phone and reading glasses. This Is How It Is Done. I also did laundry yesterday, and that included washing the week’s worth of aprons. Monday’s apron somehow didn’t get emptied before washing. As I was removing everything from the dryer, I discovered a very clean and bent to heck pair of reading glasses. “Well,” I thought. “I wonder if I bought the warranty for them. Probably not because I don’t usually have the best judgement when it comes to stuff like that”. A trip to the optician and resulting assurances that I, in an uncharacteristic fit on common sense, DID buy the warranty and they still had those frames in stock so 10 minutes later, I had a a new pair of reading glasses. I needed to go to the store anyway…because…
I had plans to make this ridiculously easy chicken salad for dinner. Seriously…no cooking not even any chopping. However, it requires chow mein noodles- those delicious little fried things that look like dessicated earthworms. Since I was there anyway, I got a bag of noodles. Then I though “hey, self…since you were so smart to get that warranty, you deserve a Treat.” I love Ruffles chips and that onion dip you make from a carton of sour cream and a bag of onion soup mix. O How I Love That Stuff. So, I bought some. A big bag of chips so it could be shared with the Summer Household. And I ate it. So delicious! Not a petite portion either. You know how the thing on the back calls a portion size 2 tablespoons? Is that realistic? No it is not. Not when you love that stuff. Now, as a No Longer 20 Year Old With A Cast Iron Digestive System, I suffered consequences. I knew I’d have them and did not care. And have them I did. I warned Terry, but did not feel guilt, because he has his own issues with hot wings. Sometimes the consequences are worth it.
We have a dog. He name is Rusty (actually we have 4 dogs but this story is mainly about him). He is one year old, and a male wirehaired dachshund. Like most male dogs, he’s loyal to a fault, and Protects Me From Danger. Even though he only weighs 10 pounds. Last night Terry and I were sitting outside, enjoy a late evening adult beverage and commenting on the weather. It is what people do in the Deep South. “It sure is humid tonight.” That sort of thing. Now, we live on a golf course. Our yard is fenced. Every evening at 7:30, a dog and his person, that live on the 12th hole (we are midway down the par-4 10th hole), walk past our fence. All 4 dogs find it necessary to vociferously remind that dog and his person (the dog is a stately old golden retriever) that they (our dogs) are Very Dangerous Indeed and He’d Better Watch Out and If It Weren’t For The Fence There Would Be Carnage. Satisfied that the old dog was sufficiently reminded of his rank in the scheme of things, 3 of the 4 dogs came back to us. We didn’t see Rusty, but didn’t think much of it, assuming he was molesting a golf ball or something. Then we heard mournful wailing. A sad, sad song that alarmed us. It was not the yelping and squealing of pain, but the angst of a broken spirit. We saw Rusty standing in the back of the yard, and called to him. He didn’t move, but was obviously alive because his tail wagged. What we discovered was that, in the excitement of the golden retriever’s evening constitutional, Rusty got his head stuck in the fence. He wasn’t hurt, but was unable to get loose. We laughed, Terry took pictures with his phone, and then we got him loose, no worse for the event.
Now for the ridiculously easy chicken salad, because you know you want to know:
The meat from the other 1/2 of the rotisserie chicken you bought on Sunday, chopped OR 2 cans of chicken, drained
1 can each bamboo shoots, sliced water chestnuts, bean sprouts and baby corn, drained
1 bag of shredded cole slaw mix from the produce section
1/2 cup Asian Sesame Dressing (the bottled stuff)
1/2 cup mayonnaise
A bag of chow mein noodles, or a can of those rice noodles (like chow mein noodles but smaller) either one is fine
Maybe some toasted almond slivers
Mix the chicken and vegs together in a big bowl
Mix together the mayo and salad dressing, pour over the salad and mix together.
Sprinkle the noodles and almonds on top.
See, no cooking.
Filed under: Anger management, Good grief, Oh for Pete's Sake, oh HELL no!, ridiculous!, things that make you go hmmmmm, Uncategorized, Uncharacteristic Aggression, what? um...what? | Tags: Oh for pete's sake, What.
Warning: This is a bona fide rant. If you have trouble with strong opinions, go here.
Ok menfolk. This is the 21st century and it is commonly acknowledged that women are every bit as smart as men. Or it should be, anyway. In fact, there are several people in my aquaintance who regularly announce that I am the only person they’ve ever met who’s smarter than Terry. And I’m a woman. Surprise surprise. I know of one other person who’s smarter than I am, and guess what…*she’s* a woman too! This is no slight against Terry, mind you, he’s the smartest person *I* know and live with!
So anyway, I am, honestly, sick and tired of menfolk making health care decisions and judgements about women, of twisting the facts in an inflammatory way that puts the ideas into people’s heads that women are unable to control themselves. I am tired of it being said that we are the cause of men sinning, which totally denigrates men as well, by implying they’re vulnerable and unable to control themselves.
Ok, there’s this whole thing with Rush Limbaugh calling a young woman named Sandra Fluke a “slut and a prostitute” because she appealed to Congress about the need for access to birth control. After reading her testimony, nowhere did I see anything about her wanting birth control so she could have sex 5 times a day with lots of men, the way Mr Limbaugh implied. However, there are many people out there (some of them I know quite well) who listen to him and use him as a source of information. Great, this just hammers home the point that we women aren’t really able to make sound decisions, because if we had easy access to birth control we’d all just be sexing it up with every man that comes along.
Then oh horrors we’d go having abortions right and left, because we’d be too busy sexing it up to be bothered with having babies.
Ok, here’s the deal. I am pro-life, fairly strenuously so. I think life begins at conception and it behooves the mother to take care of that baby until it’s born, and afterward. I think it makes sense for life to begin at conception. However, I am smart enough to recognize that not everyone shares my belief. I wish they did, but don’t we all, because not sharing a belief can be taken as other people thinking you’re wrong. However, everyone’s experience in life is different, and those experiences shape our beliefs. Therefore, I recognize that other people have different beliefs based on their lives, which are different from mine. I have never become pregnant from rape. I have never had a prenatal test that showed I was carrying a child who would be born dead, or would only live a short time after being born. Thus, I cannot with assurance say that a child conceived in rape, or who was anencephalic (had no brain) should be carried to term because I do not know what kind of effect carrying that pregnancy to term would have on the mother. I have never been a 15 year old girl pregnant by her uncle, or the older man down the road. Those are shoes I will never walk in.
I think it is safe to say that the menfolk who are making the decisions in Congress, the ones who are so stridently advocating for strict laws on birth control and women’s health will never walk in the shoes of a woman pregnant by rape, or one carrying a child who is so terribly deformed it won’t live, or a woman who has polycystic ovarian disease and is racked with pain every month during her period, or the myriad other reasons a woman might have to make a difficult personal decision. So why aren’t women the ones making these decisions?
Why is it perfectly OK FINE for insurance to cover Viagra or Cialis, but not birth control pills? Believe me, I do understand how important to a man’s psyche his sexual perfomance is. I am not knocking that. But shouldn’t a woman have just as much control over her own sexual agency as a man? And why are men the ones making these decisions?
I understand why a woman who is unmarried and sexually active is frowned on, because our country had a Puritan background. BUT…this is not a Christian nation, as much as many Christians would like to believe. It is a nation founded on the principle of the ability to freely choose the religion you wish to belong to, or the choice to belong to no religion at all. (there is a point here…) If you are not a Christian (and I know many people who are not, even though I am), why is it necessary to hold you, the nonChristian, to a Christian standard, including virginity until marriage, or heterosexuality, or monogamy? These are all ideals I accept, but recognize that it is kind or odd to think that I should expect a nonChristian friend to share the same sexual values that I do. Yes, I wish they would, but to expect them to and to reject them as a person and a friend is…not what I am going to do. Therefore (maybe I’m getting to the point now), to make this country one where birth control is withheld from women while Viagra is given to men is a double standard that I despise. Who are those men going to have sex with? Each other? Will we divide this country into Sluts and Virgins?
Oh I don’t know…I am just really pissed off and disgusted by Rick Santorum and Rush Limbaugh and their ilk, that make women out to be dumb vaginas who can’t control ourselves and aren’t smart enough to make a decision. It’s enough to make me want to throw something.
I tell you what I’d like, for those men and the ones who agree with them to spend just a couple of months with periods. Let them bleed out of their ass for a week, have debilitating cramps, food cravings,bloat up and feel murderous, just a couple of times. Let’s give them some morning sickness, let them carry a baby to term just once, experience labor and the joy of passing an 8 pound watermelon through their anus, with all the ripping and FUN recovery…and then listen to us whine because they don’t really feel like sex a week later. If they could do that, just once, I am willing to bet the whole tune would change in a fat hurry.
*let me make it perfectly clear. Terry has never even ONCE treated me like I’m less important than he is. He is not the man I want to throw things at.
comment made somewhere else:
Most people are also not aware that Medicare has spent 240 million dollars on penis pumps for old men.
So a 70 year old man get get a boner, but women are whores for wanting birth control. -Pheeno
Comment to the comment:
I have no problem with helping old men get boners, I just want women to get the same consideration, like not having to suffer agonizing periods that last for 2 weeks, or even (gasp) maybe not want to get pregnant. Ok, fine, let’s make it hard to get abortions, but if you’re going to do that then BY GOD YOU’D BETTER MAKE IT EASIER TO GET BIRTH CONTROL. HELLO! Otherwise, who are all those men on Viagra and medicare penis pumps going to have sex with? Each other? oh no…that would be homosexuality which is also Bad. grrr. -Rootietoot
My brain does things. Does yours? Irritating thing, that brain. Mostly it’s a pretty good part of the body. It allows me to do stuff like remember how to take an infant dress and turn it into a bubble suit (with some work…it’s a 30 minute job typically, that took me 3 hours because it’s been a solid 20 years since last time I did that…BUT…I managed).
However, it has gas. It farts, regularly. I could be sitting there (like right now), just watching CNN and talking to #4 about when he needs to be at school for his basketball game and up pops this weird little memory.
I was 20 years old, and working at Golden Corral as a waitress. This was before it became Buffet Central, and had actual waitresses that actually brought you food and stuff. Anyway, I suddenly remembered this one busy night and there was this young man who’d obviously brought a young woman with him on a date. And I completely forgot about them. They were sitting at one of my tables and the entire time, after I’d brought them their food, I neglected them. I never refilled their tea, asked them if their food was right, nothing. Every time I remember that I wonder if their date was ruined. Was I the inadvertent and neglectful cause of her getting pissed off and refusing to ever go out with him again? What if he was planning to ask her to marry him, but the mood was ruined by lack of iced tea?
Dear Fellow Who’s Date I Possibly Ruined, I am sorry. I could make excuses and say things like “we were really busy” but I could have found 30 seconds to ask if your steak was ok and did you need more iced tea.
That is the kind of random memory my brain throws out there now and then.
I remember working at Piece Goods, a local fabric store. I was measuring some elastic for a customer, and didn’t pay attention too well, and stretched her elastic as I was measuring it, so she didn’t get as much as she was paying for. I cheated a customer. What is she was making a special garment for someone? What if it didn’t work out right because she didn’t have enough elastic? What if she couldn’t afford to buy another piece of elastic? Dear Person I Cheated, I am sorry. I hope I wasn’t the cause of a ruined garment that resulted in you not having a pretty dress to give your niece or you having an appropriate outfit for a job interview.
Where does this stuff come from?
Now, I don’t beat myself up over giving inadequate service 27 years ago. But my brain, she is a random and silly twit sometimes.
Does your brain ever do that, and throw out something random and completely unconnected to anything going on around you?
Filed under: *eep!, Anger management, Good grief, oh HELL no! | Tags: What.
Ok, every year for the past several years my Grandmother has given me some money, with instructions to purchase something I really want that I would not ordinarily buy. This year, I bought a new sewing machine. It’s a fancy pants machine with lots of bells and whistles and a big thing that lets me do embroidery, monogramming and such. What fun, right? So I’ve spent the past few weeks figuring out all the sewing stuff. It has lots of options.
Having done that, it was time to sit down and figure out how to embroider. It came with what appeared to be software that would allow me to take any True-Type font and embroider with it. I could also apparently take an image, (perhaps a drawing) and convert it to an embroidery program. Nice, right? There was a USB stick in the box that would let me do all this stuff on the computer, then put it on the USB stick (they call it a dongle, which makes me giggle in a 12 year old boy kind of way) and plug it into the sewing machine and get to work.
Only, I can’t get the dongle to do it’s thing. It just dangles. (didja see what I just did there? *snort). So, I called the handy dandy 1-800 number on the package.
Ronald the Indian Software Tech: “Oh no, that’s not the dongle. That’s the built in programs you can use immediately. To get the dongle you have to buy the software.”
Me: “But I have software.”
RIST: “No, you have the software that lets you view the images, not actually USE the images. you have to buy the software for that.”
He: “You need to contact your dealer about purchasing the software.”
Me: (polite Southern euphemism for What The Hell)
So, having just written checks to the local university for tuition and fees and books within the past week, I realized that buying a fancypants sewing machine is much like that.
You have tuition fees (the sewing machine) which get you in the door. Then, you can attend classes (sew straight lines and make buttonholes). However, if you want to actually use the education (sewing machine) to it’s full benefit, you have to buy textbooks (software) that isn’t actually included in the cost of tuition (sewing machine).
I interpret this as kind of a scam/ racket sort of thing. So. I have to spend $400 on software, which will get me the basic package and a dongle. If I want to fancy stuff up a bit, perhaps do shaped monograms or cross stitch or digitize an image, that will cost more- to the tune of $1200. I can buy the basic package and add units (cross stitch, monogramming, digitizing) on later, which I will as I sell stuff. I made a deal with Terry, for him to buy the software for me and in exchange I will do some embroidery on work uniforms for him, as well as some other stuff.
But still…Kinda misleading there, Husqvarna Viking, putting that viewing software in there and making it seem like I could do something more with it. You’d be better off, in my opinion, upping the price by $400 and already having it ready to go.