Bringing A Little Bit Of My “Then” Into My “Now”

Recently I discovered the Boomerang Channel, and found myself transported back in time to the simpler days of my youth. I watched with my daughters as the Hanna-Barbera star spiraled onto the screen and I felt positively giddy.

There they were! The Smurfs. The Snorks. The Pink Panther! Remembering it all so fondly, I was excited to introduce my own children to those classics.

I know it’s not the cartoons I love as much as what they represent to me. They call to mind a short version of me hopping off the school bus, running home and being greeted by the smell of dinner already filling the house, and most likely the after school snack of cookies - made with love, by Mom. There were no responsibilities except that of keeping my own room clean…ish. The days seemed so long but so full of…just…everything. I miss them.

Yes, I am a child of the 80’s, raised by the cathode ray tube. I had Pac Man Fever and “Atari thumb”. I remember too well that it was video that killed the radio star. I know how important it is to “keep them away from bright light, don’t get them wet and never feed them after midnight”.

I watched Courtney Cox long before she was Friends with anyone. I sported a jean jacket with a multitude of different inappropriate pins and wore fluorescent shoelaces. I owned a Swatch. I knew Tootie’s real name was Dorothy.

Yes, I could kick your butt at tetherball.

I was a Toys R Us kid who was stuck on Band-Aids. I was an Electric Company fan, who later watched Rita Moreno doing sitcom guest spots and half-expected her to shout “Hey, You GUYS!”

I wanted to be a DoubleMint Twin. I tried the New Coke, hated it, and subsequently danced for joy when they came out with Coke Classic. I owned clacker-balls and Weebles. I danced my cares away down at Fraggle Rock.

I’m glad to have a sort of window into Mommy’s past through these shows. I did have a pretty happy childhood and seeing them again reminds me of more simple pleasures that my kids will appreciate because although those days are gone, they are not forgotten.

One more thing -
Gee, your hair smells terrific, but I sunk your Battleship!

Deal with it.

Just A Mom

 Being a mom is a tough job. Always knowing what to do, how to do it, when to do it, and why to do it (or at least giving the appearance of such) can be rather taxing on the ole bean. Sometimes I want to say to my children, "I don't know! I never know! I just make this shit up as I go along!" but of course I don't, because then they'll lose all faith in me and dude... that will happen soon enough (enter teen years) without me speeding it up!

I have found that as a parent, I am pretty clueless. I go by gut and instinct most of the time; very rarely do I really know they why's and how's and what-for's. I make stuff up all the time. I go with what feels right and stick to it, and hope that it actually turns out the way I need it to. I've been pretty lucky; most of the time, things turn out alright.

And I come out looking like pure genius. My kids look at me with utter adoration and admiration... love in their faces and words of praise for my brilliance... aaaand then I wake up. My kids really don't do that when things go swimmingly; they just take it as due course that once again, Mom knew what she was doing/talking about.

Good thing they don't read this blog, or I'd be in deep shit.

The Start of Baseball Season in New England

It's a bit early for baseball, you say? No Way! The Sox are at Fort Myers for training camp - signalling that it is time to prepare for the official start of the Regular Season. There are jerseys and tee shirts to buy, new players to investigate, stats to read... plenty to do until April 6th!
For the first time since 2002, the season opener is not an away game. The 6th of April is Opening Day, right here at Fenway! The Sox are playing the Tampa Bay Rays. Revenge?

The Evil Empire comes to town on April 24th. I'm sure the Fenway Faithful will give them the same welcome as always - mocking the Yanks' off season issues (and there were big ones... again!) and welcoming A-Roid and his buddies back to town. However, the Yankees are still respected - you have to respect a team with a record like theirs. I'm curious to see how the New Yankee Stadium fares as a playing field - the Yanks won't have much of a home field advantage this year.

I've had the pleasure of witnessing a Sox vs. Yankees game at Fenway in person. It is one heck of an experience! It of course didn't hurt that the Sox won in extra innings, either. The collective sigh when Papi strikes out, Sweet Caroline, the cheering, the beers and the raucous screaming and hugging when the last run is scored - it is a close to religious experience. I hope to again get the chance to see the Sox play.

Early last season was interesting for the Sox - with the Flu epidemic that ran through the clubhouse. There was a lot of improvisation on the field, with player shuffled to different positions. Thankfully the Sox have a wonderful Farm program to pick from. They called up several players, including Justin Masterson - who made his Major League Pitching debut at Fenway on April 24th 2008. He did a great job, allowing only two hits and one run in six innings - not bad for a 23 year old kid who plays for the double A Portland SeaDogs in Maine, especially since he only had 24 hours notice! Now Masterson is a core player on the team.

The new players are looking pretty sound, and I'm interested in seeing how Ramon Ramirez and Takashi Saito fit in with the Sox Bullpen. Lets hope this Ramirez brings less drama than the last. Thankfully Mike Lowell and Jason Varitek stayed with the Sox. I love Tek.

My little man, Connor is learning words left and right - so I've got a list of words he should learn for baseball season! Tek, Go Sox, Baseball, Red Sox, Yankees Yuck, Home Run, Go Papi... We'll expand from there.

The Ultimate Torture Device

I've been fighting my weight for about 3 years, now. It goes up. It goes down. It goes up again. Then, it goes down, but not so much as last time. Then it goes up again, a whole lot faster than before. It's really rather disturbing to see my body mutiny against me like this.

I used to be proud to be able to honestly say, "Nah! I don't own a scale. I judge my weight by how well my clothes fit." God damn, that sounds pretentious as all hell! Maybe I deserve this weight war for ever having uttered those words.

Today, I finally gave up on being that person ever again. It's gotten to the point that I CAN'T judge my weight based on my clothes. I've got clothes for all weights! On the rare occasion that I want to gauge how much weight I have or have not lost, I put on my size 8 black slacks. Or rather, I TRY to put them on. Depending on how far up my thighs they get tells me how I'm doing. Except that it really doesn't tell me how I'm doing. It makes me reach for the closest chocolate edible thing and whoof it down jealously like a starved dog guards a bone.

Somehow, I can usually look at myself in the mirror and rationalize the extra weight.

"Geez! These jeans must have been washed in warm water. Hmm..."

"Gah! I just hate it when I retain water like this!"

Or, my favorite,
"At least my boobs are plump when I'm overweight."

I've completely given up on the old Mom's stand-by excuse of, "It's baby weight." My youngest child is a 4-year old.

I've had it with the excuses, the rationalizations, and even the legitimate reasons as to why I have not taken this weight off! It's about time that I keep track of the numbers and really monitor how much I weight every day.

So, I bought the dreaded scale. The most evil torture device ever created. Of course, I stood on it as soon as I got it home. I was expecting somewhere between 180 and 200. It was 184. My ideal weight is 150. I'd like to get down to 145, but 150 is still perfectly healthy and slim for my body. If I were 150 pounds, I could wear size 8-10 pants again. I'm in a 14 right now, with not much room for the girl scout cookies that I love so much at this time of year.

I think I really need to commit to this weight loss thing. I mean, really commit. I'm thinking I may even price the local gym and see if it's in the budget. It would give me some time away from the kids and husband, something that is just for ME, and I would feel good about it. Not that I wouldn't feel good about curling up with a book, a Hershey's bar, and mug of creamy vanilla chai tea, but then I'd still have to face the scale sitting obtrusively near the toilet every time I go in there.

So, we'll see how this all works. Who knew that such a relatively inexpensive hunk of metal could make me feel so inspired and so resentful all at the same time?

Oh, come on! Really?

What’s with the jug of powdered pancake mix at the grocery store? The commercial of a mom who fills the jug with water, shakes and pours out the perfect pancake onto the griddle. Is it that difficult to buy a box of Bisquick? Or, wait!! How about taking some flour, eggs, milk, a little sugar and salt, some butter and making them yourself? Have the kids help. It could actually be *gasp* fun, and maybe even a little educational.
I admit I have indulged myself in the 3-second dinner when my husband is out to sea and the children are crawling on the floor begging for food. The Banquet Homestyle Bakes Creamy Chicken and Biscuits rocks! My point here is how companies have taken convenience to a completely new level. Some things simplified to the point where the container in which the product is, well, contained, is ten times more expensive than the product itself. The unit to cost ratio is out of control!!

Drive-thru liquor stores. What in the world are these people thinking? Isn’t that like an oxymoron or something?
*Deep Narrative Voice*
“Handy Dandy Andy’s Drive Thru Stop and Go. Stop and go without even getting out of your car. We have everything in a convenience store you are looking for. While your here, you can even get your Bud Light! Beer not your thing? Maybe some Disaronno Amaretto and have yourself a nice cold sour when you get home.”
*disclaimer: in a fast quiet voice*
“We do not condone drinking and driving. Please drink responsibly.”

12 items or less. Do I really need to say anything about this? 12 means 12. This does not mean 13 or 20. In addition, no, your 10 for $10 does not count as 1 item. It is ten items, meaning you are only allowed 2 more and that’s your limit!

Carpool lane, left lane and right lane. Ya, I am not even going to go there.
However, when 2 lanes converge down to 1, are you the person who stays in the correct lane? Are you the person who whizzes past everyone? Truthfully, it does not really matter except for the rudeness factor. Everyone zippers eventually.

Friends do not always agree...

I am a lucky woman.

Most people choose to surround themselves with people that share similar values and ideas concerning life. I, however, seem to have a majority of friends and loved ones whose ideas vary vastly from my own. While, at times, this can drive me crazy- it also keeps me in check.

In order to maintain my relationships, I have to think about what I say. I have to wonder if it will upset a person or if it is unfair to say in their presence. I must also be true to myself and my own feelings. Therefore, I must know what I am talking about and I must be tactful in explaining my view points. This has, over time, created some great conversations.

I do not feel myself stifled by these encounters, but rather more open and aware. Both in regards to understanding my friend's views as well as more confident in my own. Their influence has given me much to think about- whether or not they sway thoughts and feelings. Their friendship has made me a better person and a better mother. I hope that I can impress upon my children the importance and power of understanding. Friends are a wonderful asset.

Thank you all- your attributes, lifestyles and knowledge make me a better person.

Hair Wars

For several years now, my son Nigel has been lobbying for long hair, preferably a razor-trimmed, shaggy skater-type look. Unfortunately for him, a herd of cows invaded my uterus and licked his head for nine months and genetics handed him thick hair that has a certain "Bendaroo" quality, so when his hair gets longer than a few inches, it begins to have a life of its own; the sort of life that Don Quixote would enjoy taking a poke at. Back in October of last year, both children were going on a fantabulous trip to Pittsburgh with their grandmother, so I insisted that Nigel get a short, military-style haircut. He was less than enthusiastic about it but acquiesced under his father's promise that he would be permitted to grow his hair until summer swimming season. Four months later, the kid's head looked like a dandelion gone to seed.

Having suffered under my own mother's rigidly-held hairstyling philosophies that included a lot of ultra-short, super-tight bad home perms, I have sympathy for my son's hair wishes, but the flat fact of the matter was, he looked like Oliver Twist when he was hanging with the street urchins. My mother offered to bribe him into getting a haircut, but even the prospect of cold hard cash wasn't budging him. I wanted him to look nice, but I also wanted him to do it on his own terms. Every time I saw a nice-looking kid on a television show or in a movie, I'd point out his haircut and ask Nigel if that looked like something he could live with. Nothing was ever quite right, except of course for Chef Gordon Ramsay, whose hair closely resembles Nigel's "dandelion do" due to Ramsay's near-constant frustrated fondling of it while searching for fresh, local produce.

Nigel's hair continued to grow while we argued gently about haircuts week after week. I began Googling "short boy's haircuts" and showing him pictures of both The Naked and The Jonas Brothers, Freddie Highmore, Haley Joel Osment and young Macauley Culkin. No dice. And even though he idolizes Michael Phelps, there was no way he was adopting his look.

One morning we were looking at YouTube videos of various sporting events such as that quadruple-amputee kid from Ohio who is a wrestling champion and the sweet autistic kid who nailed all those three-pointers recently, when we happened across a video of David Beckham. Nigel gasped audibly. "That's it" he said "that's the haircut I want!" David Beckham's "faux hawk" had made the cut, so to speak. So we printed out a picture of Beckham with his trademark "do" and off to the salon we went.

So now, every morning I see Nigel in the bathroom dampening his hair and putting in a little dab of "product" and carefully spiking and shaping it up and giving it that little twist that Beckham has, which the lady at the salon showed him how to do. Nigel likes his new haircut, which makes all the talking and waiting and searching worth it. He had to get a haircut, but at least he got to choose it and to a seven-year-old, that means everything.

Positively Happy for You!

I have noticed a common theme among people lately, negativity and narcissism. At what point did our society decide that this is acceptable?

This new attitude of negativity is not cool. Why does one choose jealousy and negativity? How does this benefit you? It makes you hard and cold.

Our life is a list of choices. We do not choose depression but we do choose how we handle the depression.

There is always someone that has more or less than you. Lets just learn to be content.

There is a rapper named TI and Rihanna that has a song out called, "Live Your Life". The words say so much.

You're gonna be a shining star, with fancy clothes, and fancy car-ars.
And then you'll see, you're gonna go far.
Cause everyone knows, just who you are-are.
So live your life, ay ay ay.
You Steady Chasin that paper.
Just live your life (Oh! ), ay ay ay.
Ain't got no time for no haters
Just live your life (Ay! ), ay ay ay.
No telling where it'll take ya.
Just live your life (Oh! ), ay ay ay.
Cause I'm a paper chaser.
Just living my life (ay), my life (oh), my life (ay), my life (oh)
Just living my life (ay), my life (oh), my life (ay), my life (oh)
Just living my life

(T.I.):
Never mind what haters say, ignore them 'til they fade away.
Amazing they ungrateful after all the game I gave away.
Safe to say I paved the way, for you cats to get paid today.
You still be wasting days away now had I never saved the day.
Consider them my protégé, homage I think they should pay.
Instead of being gracious, they violate in a major way.
I never been a hater still I love them, in a crazy way.
Some say they so yay and no they couldn't get work on Labor day.
It aint that they black or white, their hands a area the shade of grey.
I'm West side anyway, even if I left the day it stayed away.
Some move away to make a way not move away cause they afraid.
I'll go back to the hood and all you ever did was take away.
I pray for patience but they make me want to melt they face away.
Like I once made them scream, now I could make them plead their case away.
Been thuggin' all my life, can't say I don't deserve to take a break.
You'd rather see me catch a case, and watch my future fade away.

(Rihanna):
You're gonna be a shining star, with fancy clothes, and fancy car-ars.
And then you'll see, you're gonna go far.
Cause everyone knows, just who you are-are.
So live your life, ay ay ay.
Instead of chasing that paper.
Just live your life (Oh! ), ay ay ay.
You got no time for no haters
Just live your life (Oh! ), ay ay ay.
No telling where it'll take ya.
Just live your life (Oh! ), ay ay ay.
Cause I'm a paper chaser.
Just living my life (ay), my life (oh), my life (ay), my life (oh)
Just living my life (ay), my life (oh), my life (ay), my life (oh)
Just Livin My Life.

(T.I.):
I'm the opposite of moderate, immaculately polished with the spirit of a hustler and the swagger of a college kid.
Allergic to the counterfeit, impartial to the politics.
Articulate but still would grab a nigga by the collar quick.
Whoever havin problems, with they record sale just holla TIP.
If that don't work and all else fails, then turn around and follow TIP.
I got love for the game but ay I'm not in love with all of it.
I do without the fame and the rappers nowadays are comedy.
The hootin' and the hollerin', back and forth with the arguing.
Where you from, who you know, what you make and what kind of car you in.
Seems as though you lost sight of what's important with the positive.
And checks until your bank account, and you're about poverted.
Your values is a disarrayed, prioritizing horribly.
Unhappy with the riches cause you miss-poor morally.
Ignoring all prior advice and fore warning.
And we mighty full of ourselves all of a sudden aren't we?

(Rihanna):
You're gonna be a shining star, with fancy clothes, and fancy car-ars.
And then you'll see, you're gonna go far.
Cause everyone knows, just who you are-are.
So live your life, ay ay ay.
Instead of chasing that paper.
Just live your life (Oh! ), ay ay ay.
You got no time for no haters
Just live your life (Oh! ), ay ay ay.
No telling where it'll take ya.
Just live your life (Oh! ), ay ay ay.
Cause I'm a paper chaser.
Just living my life (ay), my life (oh), my life (ay), my life (oh)
Just living my life (ay), my life (oh), my life (ay), my life (oh)

[Rihanna]
Now everybody watchin what I do
Come walk in my shoes
And see the way that I'm livin if you really want to
I got my mind on my money and I'm not goin nowhere
So keep on gettin yo paper(ah ah)
And keep on climbin
Look in the mirror
And keep on shinin
Til the game end
Til the clock stop
We gon' post up on the top spot
Livin' the life, the life

In the brand new city
Got my whole team with me
Livin my life, my life
I do it how I wanna do
I'm livin' my life, my life
I will never loose 'em
Livin my life, my life
And I'm not stoppin

So live your life.

Adjusting to life with three kids.

My oldest was an only child for almost 6 years. We did have the step siblings every other weekend more or less, but they weren't my kids so they weren't a threat to Mommy time. December of 2005 there was an intruder to the monopolized Mommy's time. The first born was jealous, he was insecure and he was feeling very left out. He knew the baby was coming. He was old enough to understand, but despite being reassured many times a day it was a very rough transition. He wanted nothing to do with this new intruder. No pictures with the baby, no touching the baby, wouldn't help mommy at all with the baby. Nothing!

Eventually the second child got older and started interacting. The first born started to warm up to this intruder. They started playing together and really getting along for the most part. They are friends and brothers and get along better than any parent could ask for. Then came the next intruder.

The third one is different. First off this intruder is a girl. The oldest now used to being a big brother is interested in the new baby. He will come and cuddle mommy while she is holding her. He will stroke her head. He still doesn't really want a whole lot to do with the baby, he won't hold her or anything, but not feeling completely left out this time around.

The now middle brother on the other hand can't get enough of the new baby and at the same time wants Mommy all to himself. Just being three he wants to help, but really isn't big enough or gentle enough to really be a help. He wants to hold the baby and get things for the baby, but HE is still the baby and HE still wants Mommy's undivided attention. He is still too young and doesn't have the patience yet to understand that Mommy is feeding the baby he has to wait a minute. Mommy is changing the baby he has to wait a minute. He just doesn't quite get it. He will eventually.

Getting used to having three kids isn't all that much harder. It is just juggling time for each one. The baby of course monopolizing all the time. Only being 3 days old things are still very crazy, but the routine is being set. Thankfully the oldest child has 5 days off school. Plenty of time to get adjusted to a new schedule. We will figure it out together. The three kids, Mommy and Daddy will get the routine going and everyone will have plenty of time with the desired parent. The family is complete. We have a full house.

The cats on the other hand......

The Joys of Networking

WARNING: This is a rant.

So I decided to offer up going to "Networking" classes through DHHS as a part of my ASPIRE program requirements.

Basically, I'm required to seek work for 20 hours per week and do 20 hours per week of schoolwork to account for the Cash Benefits and Daycare I receive while trying to get back on my feet. Not a bad thing, considering I need to find a job anyway and I've been putting in MORE than 20 hours per week looking and I've been doing my schoolwork on top of it all. To me, the requirements for getting into ASPIRE and your "payback into the system" for the help you get is a GREAT idea. It teaches responsibility and it teaches "career welfare recipients" that it is NOT a free ride after all.

Now, most people are required to take the "Networking" classes. I, however, was not. Why? Because I have a child under 1 year old. But, nevertheless, I opted into the class for a few days per week. It's only an hour per day (for the most part, sometimes they double whammy you with a 2 to 3 hour workshop right after the class).

In any case, I went to the first class yesterday. It was nothing that I thought it would be. Someone needs to seriously tell the instructor (who's contracted by the way, they do not work for DHHS) to pull that enormous stick out of her ass. I understand she has a job to do, but the majority of people in this particular class are over the age of 35, they are parents who've never had to go on the "system" in the past, and they are parents who are desperately trying to find a job. What they are NOT is pre-pubescent teenagers in a 9th grade science class who'd rather talk about how many texts they sent the night before.

I don't envy the woman her job (hey, at least SHE has one), I do believe she's got her plate full, especially with the unemployment rate in Maine topping 7.6% but, c'mon! Being an ever loving raging bitch is not the way to get cooperation.

I argued with her for a full 20 minutes after the class yesterday. See, she sat there and tried to tell me I was required to put in 40 hours of job search and that I was required to attend all workshops (some of which didn't start until 3pm and didn't end until 6pm). She also informed me that I was required to attend "Networking" 5 days per week and that if I was absent without good cause, that I would be sanctioned. Three sanctions = loss of benefits.

I bit my tongue until after class because I didn't want to dress her down in front of everyone.

Honestly, it got so bad that I had to have my ASPIRE supervisor come in and reiterate to her that I was there of my own accord.

Why am I writing this? Well, I'll tell you. I think the program concept is pretty decent. What I would expect to be going on is actual networking. Talking to other students, sharing information on job openings you've seen that another student may be qualified for, use of the computers and the job bank that DHHS is given on a daily basis, resume writing courses, interviewing skills. Now these are all things that are listed on the brochure so, silly me assumed that's what the classes would entail. However, there's so much that this woman does that is an utter, total waste of time. For instance:

1. EVERY SINGLE MORNING she goes over the "expectations" list. Honestly, once is enough. If you feel the need to have to reiterate things you've either a.) not done your job appropriately to begin with or b.) haven't a clue how to fill that hour with networking skills. It's understandable when there's a new student, but when it's the same people that have been there for a couple weeks, where's the benefit?

2. EVERY SINGLE MORNING she has each student recite a portion of the "expectations." There's 30 bullets on the list. There's 20 students and she will have each student read a bullet until they're all read. Lazy much? If it's something you feel needs to be done daily, please do not waste my time that could be spent NETWORKING while you re-read the same dry list of rules to abide by.

3. EVERY SINGLE MORNING she feels the need to explain how to fill out the paperwork, where to go to use the computers, phone, or how to go through the job leads. Seriously, WTF? We have ONE HOUR to get what we need to get done, done. When she fills the first 40 minutes of the class with a review of the same old-same old, she's taking away from the class.

And, if this isn't bad enough, she had the students vote on what the next workshop would be about. The class voted for "financial preparation." She wrote on the schedule: "Financial stuff." Stuff? How unprofessional can you be?!

Now, for the reason why I wrote this...our workshop today, regarding "Financial 'stuff'" consisted of a 2 hour presentation on....are you ready? How to use a check register.

Not how to cut corners to save money, not how to find programs that work with you to reach a financial goal, not even how to SET a financial goal. It was, literally, how to use a check register. A room full of over-30 yo students, all of whom KNOW how to fill out a check register, being instructed on how to fill out a check register. Complete with the passing out of "blank registers" and calculators, and her detailing a fictitional "week's worth of expenses" and how and when to "add or subtract"...which culminated in her actually CHECKING everyone's check register to make sure they wrote down everything she said.

I can think of so much more I could have accomplished in that 2 hour period. Like the emailing of a couple dozen resumes.

But, hey, at least I can be assured I've been filling my check registers out correctly for the last 25 years.

The penny has lost its shine. Big time!

The Bare Necessities

Howard is getting old.

He has been with us for a very long time. The years have not been easy but he wears the tattoos life has marked him with proudly. He has a scar on his right leg where he was bitten by a dog, long ago, and he leans because of a stitch in his side acquired some years later. It looks odd, but he never complains. It just isn’t in him.

Howard is unique.

He doesn’t eat (the Peanut Butter Incident swore him off food for good) and he no longer drinks (even water goes right through him). In fact, he doesn’t do much of anything, but he never says boo about it.

Howard is a friend.

He makes no demands, but gives constant comfort. He stays close by when someone is ill, just in case he is needed. He is a keeper of secrets and a winsome companion. In fact, he would travel to the ends of the earth, by any means necessary, if someone required his company.

A gentle hug is all it takes to bring sweet dreams. You might not ever even notice when he’s there, but someone invariably notices when he is NOT.

Howard’s endurance amazes me. He is still going strong after all this time. I think it is safe to say:

Teddy bears live longer in captivity.

Stupidity Hurts.

I am sick of stupid people. Truly. There are many types of stupid people.

• Lazy - Too lazy to care about whether or not what they're doing is smart or safe
• In Denial - Refuse to believe that they are wrong, even when presented with facts
• Ostrich - If they don't look at the evidence that they're wrong, said evidence doesn't exist.
• Misinformed - They "heard" that what they're doing is right from "Someone".
  
• Misguided - They're lead to believe they're doing the right thing, despite the evidence.
• Too Smart To Research - They're right because they are smarter than the scientists.
• Rule Breakers - They know the facts, but do their own thing, because they don't care.
• Not A Student! - They refuse correction, because "This isn't school! I'm not getting graded!"
  

Of course, there are other categories, but these particular stupids have gotten on my nerves today. I don't know why the Stupid is bothering me today more than usual, but some Stupid is down right dangerous! Of course, because I'm anti-stupid, I'm apparently judgemental. Of course, that makes sense - the easiest way to deflect a question about something you're doing wrong is to cry "She's judging me! You're just being judgemental!" When in reality I'm usually questioning a poor choice, or inquiring if they fully understand the ramifications of making that choice. I'm not doing it to be spiteful, or hurtful. I'm not calling that person a bad parent (even though I've come across many!) or telling them how to raise their child.

There are three categories of Stupid that anger me more than the others - The Ostrich, The Denial, and The Too Smart To Research Stupids. These, I believe have the most potential to do harm.

If I say "There's a Tornado coming!" The Ostrich will refuse to look at the window, and go do something else, The Denial will say "No way! That's just a freight train." and the TSTR will say "You're from New England, you've never seen a tornado before, there is no way you'd know what a tornado was if it hit you!" Well, we can imagine how well those scenarios will end. I'll be waiting in the basement, thanks. I had so much fun with that, let's see what the Other Stupids will say!

Lazy Larry will say "Yeah, so?", and kick up his feet in the recliner. Missy Misinformed will announce "Someone said that this area never gets hit by tornadoes, so we're safe!" Mindy Misguided will say "It's okay if we stay up here, I've never had to go to the basement for a storm before." Robby Rule Breaker will go outside with his video camera, never to be seen again... and Nancy Not A Student will say "Yeah, since when are you a scientist?!" Like I said before... I'll be in the basement.

See how dangerous stupidity can be?

Do you shave your toes?

Silly question? As mammals we are covered in body hair. Some you see and some no one wants to see.

There are many reasons for mammals to be covered in hair. Homosapiens originally had hair to trap pheromones. (Pheromones are natures hormones that attract us to one another.)

The amount of hair that covers your body can depend on what part of the world your ancestors are from. People with more hair are likely to come from an area of the world where malaria is prevalent. Hair would provide a barrier between mosquitoes and skin. It would also prove to warn the victim of the bugs impending bite.

In this current time of Brazilian waxes and bare legs how are we not all single and bitten? Are there ladies in this day and age that walk around with big puffs of toe hair? Should we?

Food for thought.