Tweedledum and Tweedledee
Agreed to have a battle;
For Tweedledum said Tweedledee
Had spoiled his nice new rattle.
Alice in Wonderland
Ever find yourself embroiled in a political discussion that has morphed into a battle? Now your morals, intelligence, and even your right to exist on the face of the earth are called into question.
The last few days I’ve been attempting this fruitless activity on Facebook. First with my ex-husband and then with my son. Once again I remember why I hate Facebook and question my sanity for attempting to have a public discussion about anything more emotionally charged than which way the wind blows.
No I take that back. I say the wind is coming out of the east someone will attempt to rip my head off and say “the wind used to blow from the west and this means you don’t care about global warming. Therefore you probably put your cat in the microwave on a regular basis, and when you’re not doing that you spit on homeless people.” Say what? I give up. I usually end up thinking “I know you are trying to make a point, but I can’t for the life of me figure out what it is.”
First my Ex fires a shot across the bow when I commented about how I don’t like how our government spends our tax dollars. “I think we should tax the rich until they bleed.” Oh come on. That’s a rather violent response, don’tcha think? This is coming from a man who used to work for the Internal Revenue Service and knows first-hand how convoluted and crooked the whole tax system is. At this point I murmur to myself, “Now I remember why I divorced your ass.”
Next comes my son. He was raised by his dad. His comments left me wondering “what the hell did your father read for a bedtime story? The Communist Manifesto?” He actually said something to the effect of “I don’t like how the government is spending our money, but I think there should be more taxes.”
I just don’t get it. I feel a migraine coming on. I must refrain from such useless and frustrating attempts to talk about politics. But dammit, sometimes I just can’t help myself. I have a brain and sometimes I like to use it.
I have the classic love/hate relationship with Facebook. But, now it’s leaning more towards to the hate side. Perhaps I’m more introverted than I thought. Or maybe I just don’t want to know every little teeny tiny detail of every minute of someone’s day. Does this make me a cranky old lady? Maybe it does. But being a cranky old lady, I don’t have to care. Boo yah!
I’m one of those lucky people who has to occasionally unfriend members of my own family when they take a dive of the deep end of the insanity pool.
A year or so ago, my daughter decided to go on a public Facebook rant about all my alleged short comings and abuses to her. Going all the way back to when I stuck her with a diaper pin by accident when she was a baby. (glue on diapers were not invented back then) She wouldn’t even know that if I hadn’t told her. It was an excellent verbal impression of Linda Blair in The Exorcist, including spewing green pea soup. She has my gift of descriptive language and so it was quite an impressive array of colorful cursing and accusations of things that I’m not quite sure are physically possible. Alcohol may have been involved.
She’s still unfriended because I refuse to refriend her until we talk about what happened and why she decided it would be a good idea to attack me publicly of Facebook. We’ve been at a stand off about it for over a year. *Sigh* I think something about that evil app causes people to lose their ever lovin minds.
A balanced diet is a cookie in each hand. Now that’s what I’m talking about!
Life is too short to obsess about it, in my not so humble opinion. I’ve read some pretty ridiculous things over the years about an alleged healthy diet. Food allergies was a big bugaboo for about a decade. A licensed nutritionist in all seriousness told me that if I was craving a certain food I was allergic to it. That’s taking the theory of “if you want it, it’s not good for you – if you hate it, it’s good for you” to the ultimate extreme.
Sure our bodies get out of whack on occasion, but that doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t listen to them. Last week, my neck was killing me. Instead of pumping myself full of pain meds, I decided to climb out on a limb and talk to Mr. Hubman. I told him that I was really struggling and that I needed him to step up to the plate and be more proactive. I also made a mental of list of things that are figuratively a pain in my neck. A struck a line through them!
Hubster has a tendency to throw out vague suggestions and they land on my lap like a lump of wet blanket. I tried to be specific. “Would you like to go to the Japanese restaurant tonight?” instead of a listless “you wanna do sumthin?” When that happens I feel like I have to come up with an idea, sell him on it, and make all the plans. To much for this befuzzled brain to handle. I don’t want to haul anyone around piggy back. I told him “you asked, how can I help? This is how.”
So back to the balanced diet and cravings. I like chocolate, red meat, coffee, butter, beer and martinis. It seems like a good idea to not eat them? Fiddlesticks, hogwash , etc., etc. That’s not good enough anymore. I feel a lot better when I let my body decide what it needs and wants. This constant monitoring and fussing is well…a pain in the neck!
I’m sharing this picture below. It’s been floating around on Facebook. It’s food for thought 🙂
The big event, the Comic-Con convention, is right around the corner. Mr. Husband and I leave Thursday morning. I am so looking forward to this. Wanted to go for 20 years at least.
The scary part is not the plane flight or even that I might be the oldest person there by decades. What is really terrifying is we are going to leave the Grandson home alone in our house for FOUR DAYS. I’ll probably be wanting to call him every hour. “Do this…don’t do that.” He doesn’t know anyone here in Texas yet, so the odds of a 4 day house party are low, but it’s a scary proposition anyway.
The latest adventure in the “almost killed us” category is still fresh in my mind. One day I kept thinking I smelled something like wires burning. It was especially strong in the garage. I went out there, looked, sniffed, and couldn’t find anything. Later, sitting on the patio contemplating, I had a eureka moment and knew exactly what it was. Sure enough, he had propped the lid to our huge plastic garbage can right up against the dryer vent. It was probably seconds away from bursting into flames.
I dragged Mr. Grandson out to the garage and explained to him the dangers of dryer vents and how they are the number one cause of house fires. Following at a close second is leaving food on the stove, going off to other side of the house to fool around on Facebook, and forgetting about the food on the stove. Which he did a few weeks ago while frying pork chops.
So we’re going to try to trust him. He’s 23 years old and should be able to do this. But, it’s still scary. My mother in law volunteered to check on him. Knowing her she’ll probably come over here every hour on the hour. It’s comforting to know.