A Random (hopeful) Return

Greetings, dear reader.

Having a blog is a lot of fun.  It also hurts.  It’s there, stuck in your mind like a piece of popcorn stuck in your teeth, “I need to do a blog post.  How long has it been?  Boy, I really need to do a blog post.” And so on.

But what I’ve found is that you can’t force it.  Well, you can, but then it sucks, so what’s the point?  I suppose some people would argue that forced writing is better than no writing at all.  They would be wrong.

Anyway, I decided that since I don’t a have a great idea for one good post, I will share with you some random musings from the past few days.

  • If we are ever faced with an invasion on American soil, I believe my cat, Mason, could stop it single-handedly (single pawedly?) He has perfected the art of the “running leg bump.” As you are walking along, he flies by you, silently, and bumps into your leg.  He does this in such a way that he collides with the leg that is in the process of stepping, so he doesn’t technically knock you down, he just throws you completely off-balance and causes you to do that ridiculous stumble thing, you know the one, where you would have been better off if you had just fallen.  Anyway, any land forces wouldn’t stand a chance.  They’d retreat to their home country (or possibly Canada) swearing and re-adjusting all of their equipment.
  • I find it difficult to believe that we, as a nation, have not found a viable purpose for drier lint.  I mean, think about it.  Drier lint is basically the chewed up remains of our clothing, right?  I have a trash can beside my washer and drier, and it is full to the top of drier lint. That’s enough stuff to get at least a couple of articles of clothing, right?  At least some socks? Anybody?
  • I sat in a restaurant today and listened to the lady sitting behind us lament at the state of her daughter’s marriage.  The gist of her whole diatribe was that her son-in-law is an ass and her daughter is a saint.  At one point she said, and I swear this is true, “He wants her to be the little Suzy Housewife and stay home all day and take care of the kids and cook and clean.  My daughter wants more out of her life than that.” Since it isn’t my forte to yell at people in restaurants (unless they really, really deserve it) I let it pass.  But it really chapped my ass.  First of all, I am a housewife, I guess.  I assume I am, based on the cultural definition.  My name isn’t Suzy.  Also, I think my life is pretty full, and furthermore, I like my life.  I don’t fit any mold or definition that I’m aware of, and to hear another woman say that was very disappointing, though not all that surprising, which brings me to my next topic:
  • What in the hell has happened to feminism?  In my college days I considered myself a feminist, but dear Lord, not now.  Apparently being a feminist means I have to show my boobs to people and go naked into a church.  I’m not sure how this shows that women are intelligent and worthy of the same opportunities as men, but whatever.  Maybe I’ve missed too many meetings to speak intelligently on the subject.  To my way of thinking, walking down the street naked would do the opposite of making people take me seriously.  Also, I don’t think I qualify anymore because I think it’s okay if a woman wants to stay home and take care of her family, and I think it’s okay if she doesn’t.  Back when I was a feminist (approximately 200 years ago) it was about equality and safety and opportunities, not about boobs.  I am more than a walking, talking vagina, and if Ashley Judd is the best spokesperson we can come up with, boy are we in trouble.

That was fun, right?

I’ve missed you all, and I hope maybe you’ve missed me, too.  It’s time to go do my Suzy Housewife-ly duties, and maybe take a walk.  I’ll be on the lookout for the cat.


 

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