I’m really annoyed about the argument that people don’t want gay marriage or families addressed publicly because “it might confuse the kids”. Oh, come on. You’ll have to do better than that. Shoelaces confuse kids. In fact, growing up could be described as the process by which one goes from confused by, well, pretty much everything to a state of being unconfused. Well, not completely unconfused. But you know. Pretty much having a handle on the basics.
I think my entire childhood was pretty much one long confusion. One more thing to be befuddled about would have been no big deal. Which pretty much describes the way the only child I’ve ever seen actually go through the explanation of “Annie has two daddies”. He went through about 30 seconds of “What? Really? You’re kidding me? That’s funny. Okay. Whatever.” At 5, he had way more trouble figuring out the ketchup bottle (he’d never encountered one that wasn’t squeezable - hilarious). And a whole lot more interest in the outcome.
So, unless you’re going to eliminate all of the “confusing” things in the world like shoelaces and glass ketchup bottles, parents are just going to have to add two adults who love each other very much to the list of things they’ll need to explain. For the most part, kids brains are still mushy enough that they can take in all sorts of new things, no problem. It’s only adults who seem to have a hard time with it. And, if you really run into a kid who just doesn’t get it, you can always fall back on my Mom’s all-purpose phrase for making awkward parent/child conversations go way: “It’s none of your business.”
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Monday, August 22, 2011
Heavy cloud, no rain
A friend of mine has a theory about the 10-day forecast on the weather. If the weather is really awful, the 10th or 9th day will be whatever gives you a glimmer of hope. If it’s bleak, cold, windy, Dostoevsky kind of weather, there’s the hope that a week and a half from now there will be a warmer day with a little sun. If it’s hotter than hell and twice as dry, then somewhere off on the horizon is a day under a hundred with a 30% chance of rain. Not that either of those will happen. We know it’s not really going to happen, but they’re just giving you the thought that there is some other possibility of something not completely awful . . . off in the distance . . . over there. And it’s the thought that counts.
And between the weather and the economy and politics and just some cycle of the moon that makes people seem to want to act like douchebag von assholes, I’m just kind of done. If life was a bully, I’d be handing over my lunch money. Enough already. Uncle. Every day you get up, and every day it’s like this. Son of a bucket. Even Anderson Cooper’s pretty mug won’t get me to turn on the news. Not that you can avoid it. Somehow, somewhere, the crap-a-thon will find you.
Now I like to think of myself as a plucky gal, piss and vinegar, spunky, the little engine that could. A Mary Tyler Moore in a room full of Rhodas. But even I’m getting tired. And I’m not falling for the 10th day promise. I’m just willing to concede misery for the foreseeable future. Peace. The summer will never end. You win.
Or maybe it’s just August. That’s possible too.
And between the weather and the economy and politics and just some cycle of the moon that makes people seem to want to act like douchebag von assholes, I’m just kind of done. If life was a bully, I’d be handing over my lunch money. Enough already. Uncle. Every day you get up, and every day it’s like this. Son of a bucket. Even Anderson Cooper’s pretty mug won’t get me to turn on the news. Not that you can avoid it. Somehow, somewhere, the crap-a-thon will find you.
Now I like to think of myself as a plucky gal, piss and vinegar, spunky, the little engine that could. A Mary Tyler Moore in a room full of Rhodas. But even I’m getting tired. And I’m not falling for the 10th day promise. I’m just willing to concede misery for the foreseeable future. Peace. The summer will never end. You win.
Or maybe it’s just August. That’s possible too.
Friday, August 19, 2011
Somebody bring me some water
Here’s where I’m at with global warming. And it’s probably just because it’s crazy-hot here that I’m thinking about it more lately. Kind of like when you find there’s only a teaspoon of milk in the carton and think “I should by milk.” And the overwhelming sense of impending doom that I feel any time I’ve read or watched too much news is a contributing factor. Anyway. Here’s where I’m at: I don’t actually know if humans are contributing to global warming. I don’t know if this is a mini-trend or a sign of the coming apocalypse. Maybe the creep up in the temperatures is going to creep right on back down again. I don’t know. I do know that it could be the beginning of something really bad, regardless of the cause. And by now, we should probably have a frigging plan.
I don’t even go on vacation with out a plan. I don’t go to the grocery store without a plan. But evidently, there’s no plan about what we’re going to do if the entire northern hemisphere turns into an EZ Bake Oven.
And again, it may be because I live in Texas and it’s hotter than a $2 pistol out there that I’m thinking about this. And, evidently, we don’t have a plan. Cattle dropping dead in the fields. Cantaloupes the size of apricots. Towns turning off city water. Small children drying up and blowing away. Okay, not children. But definitely Chihuahuas. They dry up and their little ears catch a breeze – and whoosh! They’re gone like a paper airplane. And can I point out that Texas is not, in fact, land locked? There’s a gulf, like, right there. But do we have a plan on how to make that water usable and get it to the cows and the cantaloupes and the Chihuahuas? Nope. And can I point out that we can move oil around this place like a motherfucker, but water has to kind of stay where it’s at? The Hohokam Indians built canals in Phoenix 1,500 years ago (look it up) using stone shovels and sticks to irrigate a DESERT. No backhoes. No desalination plants. No government permits. But I guess maybe they had a PLAN.
I don’t even go on vacation with out a plan. I don’t go to the grocery store without a plan. But evidently, there’s no plan about what we’re going to do if the entire northern hemisphere turns into an EZ Bake Oven.
And again, it may be because I live in Texas and it’s hotter than a $2 pistol out there that I’m thinking about this. And, evidently, we don’t have a plan. Cattle dropping dead in the fields. Cantaloupes the size of apricots. Towns turning off city water. Small children drying up and blowing away. Okay, not children. But definitely Chihuahuas. They dry up and their little ears catch a breeze – and whoosh! They’re gone like a paper airplane. And can I point out that Texas is not, in fact, land locked? There’s a gulf, like, right there. But do we have a plan on how to make that water usable and get it to the cows and the cantaloupes and the Chihuahuas? Nope. And can I point out that we can move oil around this place like a motherfucker, but water has to kind of stay where it’s at? The Hohokam Indians built canals in Phoenix 1,500 years ago (look it up) using stone shovels and sticks to irrigate a DESERT. No backhoes. No desalination plants. No government permits. But I guess maybe they had a PLAN.
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
A Death of Possiblity
I was recently watching something where a mother and father were talking about their daughter who had been murdered. She had been only 15, and from her parents description a sweet, caring, young woman with lots of plans for the future. Which is sad enough. But what I really thought about was what they had all lost when she had died just on the brink of adulthood.
I guess I was in my early 20s when my relationship with my parents changed from adult/child to adult/adult. I’ll always be their child, of course. My mom is always going to worry that I do the right thing. And I’ll always worry that she thinks I’m doing the right thing. My dad is always probably always going to blink a little when he suddenly looks at me and remembers that I’m not 3 feet tall. And to me he’s always going to be my big, strong Dad.
But there’s also the way that our relationship deepened when I could understand them as human beings. When I had faced some of the same challenges of adulthood on my own, and could understand more about how they had made decisions. And when they could relax more. Not worry about what they said, or having to take all the burden of situations themselves. There’s a way that you can laugh together, or discuss a problem, or even just talk about what was on the news, that’s just different; more comfortable. Not peers. But equals in a way. When I was a kid, my parents were always my parents. But now, as weird as it feels to say, they actually can be my friends too. It’s something they earned with years of parenting. Raising me to be an actual adult, and not an overgrown child. We can be easy around each other.
And that’s something that family that I saw on TV will never have. Another reason why murder is a crime that never ends.
I guess I was in my early 20s when my relationship with my parents changed from adult/child to adult/adult. I’ll always be their child, of course. My mom is always going to worry that I do the right thing. And I’ll always worry that she thinks I’m doing the right thing. My dad is always probably always going to blink a little when he suddenly looks at me and remembers that I’m not 3 feet tall. And to me he’s always going to be my big, strong Dad.
But there’s also the way that our relationship deepened when I could understand them as human beings. When I had faced some of the same challenges of adulthood on my own, and could understand more about how they had made decisions. And when they could relax more. Not worry about what they said, or having to take all the burden of situations themselves. There’s a way that you can laugh together, or discuss a problem, or even just talk about what was on the news, that’s just different; more comfortable. Not peers. But equals in a way. When I was a kid, my parents were always my parents. But now, as weird as it feels to say, they actually can be my friends too. It’s something they earned with years of parenting. Raising me to be an actual adult, and not an overgrown child. We can be easy around each other.
And that’s something that family that I saw on TV will never have. Another reason why murder is a crime that never ends.
Monday, August 15, 2011
POTUS and Doofus Don't Mix
Well, they’ve declared the frontrunners for the Republican pack: Romney, Bachmann and Perry. All of them good-looking. Two of them complete doofuses (or possibly doofi – I’m not sure of the plural there). I’m not sure what Mitt Romney is, but he’s definitely not a doofus. Bachmann and Perry though, I feel like I can call them like I see them.
I come from a similar conservative Christian background as Michelle Bachmann, and though I’m now a happily agnostic secular humanist, I still have enough contact with that world to know that there’s no way in hell we should be electing anyone from that realm to the highest job in the nation. Not that they can’t be perfectly lovely, honorable, upstanding citizens. But conservative Christianity comes with its own blind spots. Blind spots the size of a Buick. And you’re on a baseball team, you don’t make the blind guy your pitcher. Do we really want someone who is capable of rationalizing away evolution, the separation of church and state, slavery and civil rights running the country? What else is she capable of throwing under the evangelical bus?
Rick Perry has some similar traits with Bachmann (his big idea in the last year has been to pray for rain – we still have a record breaking drought by the way), but he’s also flogging his “success” record in Texas. And as a Texan, I believe I can say with some authority – horse shit. Yes, aside from the weather that is tearing us apart (which I’d love to be able to blame him for, but even I can’t manage that one), Texas has weathered the financial crisis better than some states. But it has no relation to any pretense of leadership from Governor Goodhair. Texas was actually harder hit in 2000 to 2002 than most other states. Two of our 4 biggest cities (Dallas and Austin) were devastated by the tech bubble bursting. And one city (Houston) was leveled by the Enron scandal (remember Enron? Ouch.). As a result, all three had to restructure their economies, and were able to do it before the worst of the mortgage and financial crisis hit. And Rick Perry had ZERO to do with it. No matter how much he’d like to take the credit.
For just a moment, I’d like all Americans to think what happened the last time we elected a good looking doofus to the Presidency . . . Yeah. That. Yes, it matters that we have someone capable of rational thought in that office. Someone who’d make a great piece of arm candy just won’t cut it. Though, if Mitt Romney wants to pick either one as a running mate, I’m all for it. Make them Vice President – where they’ll never be heard from again. And it might even work the miracle of turning me religious. I’d be on my knees praying for President Mitt’s health every day of his presidency.
I come from a similar conservative Christian background as Michelle Bachmann, and though I’m now a happily agnostic secular humanist, I still have enough contact with that world to know that there’s no way in hell we should be electing anyone from that realm to the highest job in the nation. Not that they can’t be perfectly lovely, honorable, upstanding citizens. But conservative Christianity comes with its own blind spots. Blind spots the size of a Buick. And you’re on a baseball team, you don’t make the blind guy your pitcher. Do we really want someone who is capable of rationalizing away evolution, the separation of church and state, slavery and civil rights running the country? What else is she capable of throwing under the evangelical bus?
Rick Perry has some similar traits with Bachmann (his big idea in the last year has been to pray for rain – we still have a record breaking drought by the way), but he’s also flogging his “success” record in Texas. And as a Texan, I believe I can say with some authority – horse shit. Yes, aside from the weather that is tearing us apart (which I’d love to be able to blame him for, but even I can’t manage that one), Texas has weathered the financial crisis better than some states. But it has no relation to any pretense of leadership from Governor Goodhair. Texas was actually harder hit in 2000 to 2002 than most other states. Two of our 4 biggest cities (Dallas and Austin) were devastated by the tech bubble bursting. And one city (Houston) was leveled by the Enron scandal (remember Enron? Ouch.). As a result, all three had to restructure their economies, and were able to do it before the worst of the mortgage and financial crisis hit. And Rick Perry had ZERO to do with it. No matter how much he’d like to take the credit.
For just a moment, I’d like all Americans to think what happened the last time we elected a good looking doofus to the Presidency . . . Yeah. That. Yes, it matters that we have someone capable of rational thought in that office. Someone who’d make a great piece of arm candy just won’t cut it. Though, if Mitt Romney wants to pick either one as a running mate, I’m all for it. Make them Vice President – where they’ll never be heard from again. And it might even work the miracle of turning me religious. I’d be on my knees praying for President Mitt’s health every day of his presidency.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
