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Showing posts from November, 2014

Keep It To Yourself

Almost all of us were brought up with this influence in our lives. For some of us, it came directly from our parents, and for others it came from the generation of our grandparents.
Most Americans were taught by someone influential to them that there are certain subjects not to be discussed in mixed company. Maybe you were told that it was unacceptable to bring up politics or religion in public. Or perhaps you were even brought up being told that opinions are like assholes…
In other words, most of us were indoctrinated, at an early age, to believe that our opinions were not relevant but offensive, and that it was better to keep them to ourselves for the purpose of keeping the peace, or so that we could continue to enjoy the benefits of playing nice with others, in our little boat that never rocked.
What we have continued to keep ourselves in the dark about for generations in this country it that this is the precise way that societies are held in an oppressive state.
When there is co…

Forty Steps To Leaving Town For Thanksgiving

Pretty (Adult Language)

When I googled the definition of pretty, this is what I got:
1.attractive in a delicate way without being truly beautiful or handsome.
2.an attractive thing, typically a pleasing but unnecessary accessory.
So basically, when we tell women, or little girls, that they are pretty, we are telling them that they make the scenery nice, but that they are absolutely not vital. Females merely contribute to the atmosphere in a superfluous sort of manner. We are an accessory. We are icing. We are pleasant, but not particularly stimulating, and we had better keep our mouths damn well shut, lest we destroy our simplistic value.
The scary part is that I believe that even though the majority of us females may not be aware of the technical definition of pretty, we still actually strive to achieve it. Even though we have been educated about feminism, and female oppression, objectification and misogyny we still strive, somewhat unconsciously I believe, to exist as delicate unobtrusive adornment to our env…

Sick Mommy

I was down for the day yesterday. I knew that I had a sinus issue coming on, but I pushed myself too hard, as moms will tend to do, and I ended up in bed for a day.
This piece will not apply to mothers only, but whichever member of the family that the primary home maintenance falls upon. My husband works from home now, but his mind is still not aware of things like messes piling up, or whether or not the kids are completing all of their assignments for school.
I have been through some rough spells in the past. I have had three toddlers and myself stuck in the middle of the living room floor, sick with the flu and puking into a bowl because I could barely move, while my husband had to be at work.
As the kids get older, it gets simpler. Everyone usually is not puking all at once, and I am typically not down at the same time as the children. Unfortunately however, my kids have discovered that when I am sick, it is an awesome time to go ape-shit, and break all of the rules.
Consequently,…

Tug Ugh Push Pull (Adult Language)

I recently went through my closet and took out almost every single piece of clothing that is in the very least binding uncomfortable or torturous. It was immensely liberating, and I was grinning from ear to ear the entire time that I was boxing that shit up to haul it out of my house.
When in the hell is enough even enough with this stuff? At what point does every intelligent woman not stop and say why in the fuck do I keep doing this to myself?
How much time do each and every single one of us spend on a day to day basis adjusting the ridiculously contrived clothing that is designed to look this way or that way? Pull down the skirt. Straighten the hair. Plump up the cleavage. Suck in the stomach. Stretch out the neck. Cover the waistline. Pull up the run in the hose. Straighten the pants. Tighten the belt.
Good fucking god, how much time in a day do we spend adjusting ourselves to look the way that we are supposed to when the only adjustment that a man ever makes is to shake his ball…

You Are Not Special (Adult Language)

This is something that I do not think children hear much from their parents today the way that a lot of kids from my generation did. Then again, it is pretty surprising that they don’t considering that every kid gets a fraking trophy just for showing up these days. Isn’t that special?
Unfortunately, the phenomenon spans from little children, all the way up to our retired citizens in this day and age. I witness the behaviors inspired by the belief in being special over and over again, in all kinds of people.
When I worked as an officer on a cruise ship, my post was in front of one of two sets of elevators located on our ship during boat drills, which occur on the first day of each new cruise.
My job, once the drill was dismissed, was to inform all of the passengers that the elevators were only available for the handicapped, due to the rush of the crowd at that time. It was the most difficult job that I had on the ship.
Everyone was so damn special that they all needed a ride right aw…

Handle With Care

My husband and I were the foster parents of six different boys before we had our own children. Four of those boys were teenagers and were living in our home while they underwent court mandated drug rehabilitation treatment. While my husband spent much of the time that they lived with us working as a restaurant manager, it was my responsibility to supervise the boys twenty-four-seven when they were not at their treatment center.
It is a job that my husband and I were both very good at. Due to our younger age at the time, we had a better ability to relate to the boys, and because of our personal experiences we could understand a lot about whet they were going through.
Because of the bizarre ability that I had to catch them every single time that they attempted to get in trouble, the boys were convinced that I had super-hero hearing abilities. I learned a lot about teenaged boys during the time that those boys were a part of our life, and I can guarantee that there is a lot more to most…

Prevention Should Come First

This morning I woke up to the news that yet another one of my friends is battling breast cancer. At first, of course, I felt a lot of concern for her, but after I had processed that pain I was left feeling primarily very angry.
My husband asked me whether this anger serves me well, and my response is that I don’t really know. Maybe we should all be angry, angry for ourselves, and our friends, and for our daughters.
I have had three friends struggling just this year, and only that I know of. They are all younger than fifty, and I believe that two of them are not even forty. One of them went in and found out that she carried the gene and bravely chose to go in for massive surgery before she got sick.
My most recent friend to battle with this disease is a seriously healthy woman. I grew up around her family. These people are deeply health conscious and live seriously long lives.
They, those of the medical industry, keep telling us that this has to do with genetics, but we get a hell of …

A Complete And Total Mystery (Adult Language)

My husband and I were in our early twenties when we decided to become foster parents, and it was not until we started attending the training meetings that we learned that there is a horrible stigma placed upon the position. I didn’t understand it at all.
Every aspiring foster parent that I met as well as every person that had been doing the job for years upon years was absolutely wonderful. The majority of them were completely giving and generous people who knew a hell of a lot about raising children. I am grateful to this day for what I learned about parenting from foster volunteers, and from my own foster kids.
When I learned that there was a belief held by the general public that people merely foster for the money, I was absolutely floored. We barely received enough money from the state to feed the children in our care, let alone all of the other expenses that come along with kids.
So, why the myth? After all of these years, I have determined that the general public has decided …

The Modern American Glutton (Adult Language)

The year that I spent in France when I was a teenager, I am certain, that I was blessed with the most perfect host family that any exchange student could ask for. My host family was very traditional. My host father was in his sixties, he adored all things French, and it was his mission to teach me about as many of them as he could.
I have theorized for a long time that the sight of a prep line in a Taco Bell could cause the man’s death. When you adore food at a certain level, watching sour cream be propelled through some sort of food gun is just about the most frightening thing imaginable, but recently I have begun to notice something far worse.
Traditional French cooking has a lot to do with simplicity. Take a simple recipe, quality fresh ingredients, care, time, and technique, and you can create beautiful food. Well, Americans have always done things a little differently, but we are elevating things to new heights at a rapid pace now.
Have you seen Pinterest yet? If not, you need t…