Why is it no one under the age of 30 can put an empty container into the rubbish bin instead of back into the refrigerator?
Why is it, the more windows in a door, the harder everyone has to slam it entering and exiting the room?
Why is it, when folks shut the trunk or hatch on a vehicle, they always have to slam it, instead of closing it until it latches.
Why is it that rubbish tends to multiply overnight, and it multiplies even faster if it has something smelly in it?
Why is it, when I clean the kitchen, turn off the lights, and go to relax, I always find at least one more glass or plate to wash?
Why is it that shopping for clothes is always such a stressful event, made more once I step into a dressing room?
Why is it that laundry is never done, ever?
Why is it that every time I want to put gas in my truck, I always pick a lane that has some old geezer in it that can’t pump gas in under twenty minutes?
Why is it that everyone who wants to chat with a friend in the grocery has to do so right smack in the middle of the aisle, and then gets all snarky if I ask them to move?
Why is it that the more I need to use the bathroom, the farther away it is from where I happen to be standing?
Why is it that people talk on their cell phones in the restroom loud enough for everyone to hear their conversation and for the person they are speaking with to know they are in the restroom?
Why is it that the day I have a rotten headache, the car that pulls up next to me at the stop light has his stereo booming so loud it makes my truck bounce and it is always the longest red light in history?
Why is it girls always have to run everywhere in a pack of snobby screaming giggles?
Why is it that the most annoying kids are allowed to run loose without supervision in the most dangerous places?
Why is it that parents let their kids out of their chairs to run around in a restaurant just because they don’t want to eat any longer and the parents aren’t done yet?
Why is it I always get the waiter/waitress in a snarky mood who obviously finds it beneath him/herself to serve me?
Why is it so hard to keep from saying sarcastic things to people who behave moronically in my presence?
Category: Parenting
“Stop blaming guns and start teaching the value of human life.”
The sign said, “Stop blaming guns and start teaching the value of human life.” Made me think about all the death of young people perpetrated by young people in Chicago and other gang infested cities. As we all know, the majority of people being killed are in black on black crimes. We also know that there are more abortions among black females that there are in any other race in America. This causes their religious leaders and communities to lament the loss of the next generation.
Here’s the thing, if kids in the gang culture are taught that being a man means shooting and killing anyone who might have insulted them, come into their territory, or impugned their manhood, they are taught to take a gun to even the score, Then what is the value of human life? If girls in the gang culture are taught that if they get pregnant sleeping around, prostituting themselves, or because they are careless, they are taught to kill their babies by aborting them, then what is the value of human life? And that is why there is a huge decline in black Americans throughout a large portion of American cities.
Along with that particular culture and race, are the rest of the kids who fall into the violence and uninhibited behavior of the gang cultures. The value of life of a human is treated as unimportant as a sneeze. Not even the gangs themselves mourn the loss of a member for long. In too many gang cultures, it is simply the way it is. So, if people are going to die from violence or drug use, why bother to care about them? Again, girls are taught that abortion is a form of birth control and that tissue is not a human being – even though it does have human DNA – so getting rid of it is no more important than blowing one’s nose.
Even among those who are affluent, or not part of gang culture, the idea that human life is valuable is laughed at. The exception being those who are religious who do not practice their religion as a reason to make war and kill others who do not believe as they do. However, those who are raised in a secular society without a moral platform based in caring about their fellow mankind, simply do not see a reason to care beyond their particular circle. Kids sit in front of a screen “playing” violent games where killing is the main focus of a game, numbing them even more to the value of human beings.
Guns, Thank God, are part of American culture, and a means to protect one’s property, self, or family. They are also there to protect ourselves from a tyrannical government. Weapons, however, that are used to murder and injure others can be anything from a gun to something as simple as a belt used to strangle someone. It is not the weapon that kills all on it own, it is a person deciding to take a life for some implied slight, because a child would ruin their plans, or because someone has gone mentally ill.
It is the failure to teach our children that human beings are valuable that worries me the most. Are we a raising generation of people who are so selfish and self absorbed that they cannot see the value in others? Are our children remaining childishly concerned about only themselves? Do they find the suffering of others unimportant, and will they simply ignore the loss of life because it isn’t happening to someone they know? Do they know how to love others? Or are we raising a bunch of pack animals who only bond together to mate, commit violence against other packs, and keep their numbers under control by killing off the weakest of the children?
It worries me that so many kids today, and in many cases, their parents, have no manners, no sense of a moral boundary, and no understanding of the value of human life. Our information sources, books, entertainment, and education makes it clear that human beings are the scourge of the earth. Except, naturally, their generation. They are so self absorbed that many of them simply do not recognize they are no different than the kid standing next to them. They are both humans. They are both valuable. They are our future, God help us.
Sniffle . . .
Did you know that the highest recorded speed of a sneeze was 102 miles per hour. The Guinness Book of Records has it listed at 115 miles per hour. It is a wonder then, that I haven’t scattered half of my brain matter all over my house. I have a bad cold and sinus infection. Hence, the constant sneezing. This isn’t a new thing. I get sick like this every year about now. But it sure is getting to the point where it wears on me, like a gigantic, annoying, never ending hum.
Why is it, I wonder, that something as simple as a bad cold feels so awful. People survive the most horrendous injuries and illnesses, and they suffer a great deal more than someone with a bad head cold, but they don’t whine nearly as much. I ought to know, I’ve been on both sides of that argument, and I whine much more about my piddly little illness.
I whine because I feel poorly, not desperately ill, but miserable enough not to feel like doing anything productive. I whine because I ache, sniffle, sneeze, cough, sputter, and run a fever. I feel chilled, then hot, then freezing, then boiling, and back to the general malaise of blah. I’m not dying, not even close, but I think I may, just because I feel so rotten.
Some things make me feel better for a bit. A warm blanket, cup of herbal tea, medication, soup . . . but in no time at all, I am right back to the normal moan and whine mode. I don’t want to be like this. Honestly, I want to act like a grown up, standing up to the whole thing, and being brave. I’m not.
I was at the doctor’s office the other day, it was filled with sick kids and parents. One little boy, about a year old or so, was being rocked in his mother’s arms. Every breath he took came out with a monotone whine of deep misery. It was obvious that the moaning helped him communicate how rotten he felt. Another kid, around four was being bratty and crying because he felt so awful. Parents all around me were trying their best to comfort their kids. It was OK for them to whine . . . totally not fair as I had to sit there and act like an adult when I wanted to throw a tantrum too.
So, here I sit on day four or five, I’ve lost count, of fighting this infection and head cold. I feel a bit better, but still worn out from all the coughing and the rotten headache. I have moved on from whining to feeling irritable and grumpy. Phase two has commenced, and people, it can get ugly from here on out . . . sniffle .. . hack . . . grumble.
A Child’s Laughter
Last night was shopping at Walmart (Yes, I shop there, get over it if you object.), and while meandering through the grocery area, I heard a child laughing full out in a belly laugh. I walked to the end of the aisle, and a little girl about three years old was with her Daddy. I don’t know what he was telling her, but she was howling with laughter. Those happy, bright notes of pleasure had an astounding effect on everyone within ear shot.
Grumpy shoppers, worn out and tired, bogged down at the end of the day, were busy taking care of their business and avoiding eye contact with anyone else. We were all shuffling along, automatons filling our shopping baskets, not a smile amongst us. But, when that little girl started laughing out loud, heads came up. People paused and listened. Some went to see what was going on, others just stood where they were. Slowly, smiles appeared. People started looking each other in the eye, small comments were shared, and everyone felt the world lighten around them.
While I watched the little girl and her dad walk away, totally unaware of the joy they were bringing to all of us around them, I thought that there was nothing sweeter than the laughter of a child. It quite brought back a bit of Christmas Spirit to my sad soul. Bless you little girl, whoever you are, and wherever you are. And Bless you, her Daddy, who loves your child so much and knows how to make her joyful. 
Going to visit my son.
I am going to visit my son next week. We will have a quiet chat about how things are going for us, and the dreams we have for next year. I will tease him about the fact that he is going to be a first time grandfather, and that he is probably excited that it is a baby girl.
I will sit next to him, and tell him about the horror I feel at the loss of those 26 people at the hands of a madman, especially those little children. He will understand, he is a parent too.
I will make sure I bring along his favorite beer for him, and I will bring flowers to cheer up the place. It gets a bit dreary in Oklahoma this time of year.
And then, when I have shared all the news, thoughts, and events of the year, I will tell him how much I miss him every day. I will tell him how I wish we could be together and that I sure could use his help sometimes.
Because I can’t hug or kiss him, I will softly pass my hand over the letters on his headstone that spell out his name instead.
Then I will leave him there, resting in that small cemetery on top of the hill. Until next time I stop by to say hello. He will wait for me. He always does.
Rambling thoughts on self protection.
I am tired, depressed, and worried. Tired, because I didn’t sleep much last night. Spent most of my time praying and thinking. Depressed, because my heart is filled with sorrow and a feeling of failure. Worried, because those who are cowards and expect someone else to protect them are pushing to take away our right to keep and bear arms to protect ourselves.
You can kill anyone with just about anything that has a blade, or that is heavy enough to land a killing blow. Anything from an ashtray to a sledge-hammer can land such a blow. So, how long will it be until only the criminals and the government have weapons. If we defend ourselves with knives, will they be removed from our hands? What about baseball bats? What if we learn self-defense and fight off our attackers (if they don’t shoot us with their gun first), will we be going to jail like the make people do in England?
How long, I wonder, before we are not allowed to defend ourselves or our property at all. How long until it becomes a crime to speak up or stand up for yourself? Do people actually believe that if we remove guns and weapons from the hands of the law-abiding that the world will suddenly turn into a nice, happy, place with fairies and flowers everywhere? Take away those things we use to protect ourselves from the criminals and the criminals will do what they want.
This is the United States of America, or it used to be. Changing the constitution takes a three quarters vote from the entire Congress. So the second 
amendment will stand. Local governments will do what they think best for their town or city, county, or state. So the stupid “celebrities” who are “twittering” garbage like changing the constitution haven’t a hope of doing anything but making themselves look even more moronic than usual.
Besides, If I get rid of my gun, will they get rid of theirs or make their body guards get rid of the guns they carry? Didn’t think so. They NEED a gun because they are targeted for being famous. Shrug . . . that’s what they asked for, that’s what they get.
I don’t advocate violence when it can be avoided or stopped by working things out. However, when dealing with someone hurting innocents, I cannot sit and watch it happen without trying to stop it. I don’t have to use a gun to do that, it is always the last option. But, if someone starts shooting, you don’t bring a knife to a gun fight.
What amazes me, and really bothers me, are the number of people who say that something else should be done because fighting back is wrong. So, if you see someone being raped or beaten, do you just stand there and take photos with your phone, or do you step in and try to stop what is happening? Calling the cops is the thing to do, but they could be minutes or hours away. So what do you do?
You might get hurt. It isn’t any of your business, you don’t know that person, so why should you bother? If you were the victim, would you want people to just walk on by and ignore your need for help? When did Americans turn into a bunch of selfish, uncaring, unsympathetic, cowards?
It used to be that when someone saw a bad accident, they stopped to help. Now people stop to take videos with their cell phones to put up on YouTube. They see everything from the point of view of a video. I guess that makes it unreal, less urgent, and the further away they are from the reality, the less they give a damn.
Compassion is no longer considered an important quality in a person. Children are taught to be nice to everyone, to accept everyone, even if they are bad or mean. To ignore things they don’t like or are uncomfortable with rather than make a scene. But Compassion is no longer taught. True compassion, not the “let’s make nice” fake compassion taught to kids today.
Don’t think for yourself either. Not supposed to do that. The young teacher killed in Sandy Hook, CT. hid her kids in a closet. Bet you that it is against the rules to put the kids in a closet. But she had the courage to think outside of the box and saved all those kids. One put all her kids in the bathroom and refused to come out until the cops opened the door with a key. Bet you arent’ supposed to do that either, but she did. What great examples of courage and compassion.
So, I am tired, depressed, and deeply worried about the people who have given up and given in to the cowards way out of things. I guess I will just need to suck it up, stand up, speak up, and do the right things, for the right reasons, at the right time.
On Gun Control, Sorry for the Rough Language.
My friend said this: Having said that, NOW, let me be blunt… any fuckwitted, violence-addicted, gun-idolizing moron, who thinks the reason 20 five year olds were gunned down is that there weren’t enough guns in the school, or that the solution to gun violence is more guns, please feel free to un-friend me now. I am appalled by your ignorance, and disgusted by your brutality. You are not the kind of friend anyone needs.
I SAID THIS: My apologies for the rough language.
Fine D***** if that is what you think of people who want to propect themselves from killers. MY SON WAS MURDERED, D****. And by all that is Holy I WILL CARRY a gun to protect myself and those I love. I am NOT fuckwitted, I am NOT addicted to violence, and I do NOT idolize guns. They are a tool, nothing more. I am not ignorant, and I am not brutal. I am a MOTHER who lost her eldest son because someone ELSE decided to take his life and the life of his best friend. WHY? Just because, according to him, he wanted to see what it felt like to kill someone.
Until all you people out there who hate the gun and not the killer, walk a day in MY SORROW first, DO NOT JUDGE ME! GO look at your child lying on a slab in a morgue and identify him while he has a hole in his head and is covered in blood. Go pick out a casket for a TWENTY ONE YEAR OLD son who has a one year old baby at home. ATTEND his funeral and watch them place YOUR FIRST BORN into a grave and cover it with cold red clay from the ground of Oklahoma. THEN tell me I am a voilent loving, gun monger because I BLAME the KILLER and NOT the gun! God Damn it all, grow the hell up and see the TRUTH for once.
I get so sick of the whiners and moaners out there who don’t know one damned thing about how it feels to know that you COULD NOT PROTECT your child from some mad man who kills for not reason other than the selfish need to kill. So FUCK YOU D****! for once put aside your crap politics and see the TRUTH. I am SO pissed that someone who calls themselves a paster would be so damned willing to jump on the BLAME the gun and gun owners wagon and be totatally without compassion and understanding. The goddamned gun didn’t kill those kids, it was a fucking tool used by a crazy person to kill them.
Taking away our guns will NOT MAKE THE world safer. A crazy man in China wounded over 20 kids over there in a school today. Killiers will find a way to kill, no matter the weapon they choose to use. For God’s sake D****, and all her idiotic knee jerk friends, KILLERS KILL, not the damned tool they choose to use. Talk toa a parent or loved one of a woman who was raped and stabbed to death before you get so damned holier than thou over something so damned horrific and painful. THEIR daughter is still dead, no matter the weapon.
THIS IS NOT POLITICAL, it is PERSONAL to very single one of those parents of those little kids. So screw you D**** and YOUR DAMNED IGNORANCE AND POLITICS because you don’t know one damned thing about sorrow and loss of a child. Unfriend me if you want, I don’t give a damn right now. My heart is to filled with sorrow and tears for those poor people and those tiny kids that now rest in God’s arms.
Sometimes, women really tick me off.
Today, my husband told me about an exchange he had on his social media site. It was with an obviously very uninformed woman. She posted a photo of a person holding a sign insisting that incoming Freshmen boys have a mandatory course on not raping women. It should be what all Feminists would want. What?
First of all, sexual assault is a horrific act of violence, and I think men or women who do that sort of thing should be de-sexed and put on death row, especially if it involves children. So put that in the back of your brain for a moment.
Having said that, nothing annoys me more than a helpless woman. Suck it up sister, and get some training on how to protect YOURSELF. If a woman is a true feminist, then her whole mantra for the past 30 odd years is, EQUALITY. But, you say, men are stronger than women. True, so you equal things up by learning self defense, or better yet, carry a gun and shoot the jerk. You don’t have to kill him to stop him, just take out his knees or put a bullet center mass.
In a pinch, almost anything can be used as a weapon, including your own body, the nearest rock, sand, dirt, alarm clock, dish, shoe, or even liquid. Get off your princess cushion and be a real woman who CAN take care of herself instead of waiting to be rescued like some wimp.
By the time a woman is off to university, she should be smart enough and trained enough to know better than to do certain things. Don’t go out alone. Don’t get so drunk you don’t know what you are doing or who you are with. Don’t dress like a street walker and rub up against men (or women if you are that way inclined) and tease them with sex. Don’t dance with someone and hint that you want more than a dance if you aren’t going to follow through. There are names for girls like that, and they aren’t kind at all. Don’t walk places in the dark that are dangerous. If you are afraid, or untrained, get campus security to walk you home or to your car, it is their job to do so. Don’t expect some randy boy who thinks more with his nether regions than his brain to keep you safe, or to keep his hands off you if you so much as touch him. Flirt and you get what you ask for.
OK, you say, well boys need to be taught to be in control. Excuse me, woman, but if that young man hasn’t been taught by his parents how to treat a girl with respect by the time he is off to university, it is FAR too late. Some wimpy two hour class on how not to be a date rapist or stalker isn’t going to make a difference. Besides, most girls know by the age of 12 that they control the guys around them by the way they act toward them. If you don’t, then you are far too immature to even be out of the house on your own, let alone at college.
I can hear all you anti male feminists gasping in outrage from here. Get over yourselves. You want equality, you got equality. Deal with it and stop trying to play at being both an independent feminist woman and a helpless little princess. Either you learn to take care of yourself, or you learn to be weak and dependent on others. There is no way in hades I am going to allow myself to be weak and at the mercy of others.
True story. When I was seven months pregnant with my first child, we were living in rural Oklahoma. I came home one day to find my house being burgled. I slipped in the back door, grabbed our hand gun, and walked into the living room. They took one look at my gun, another at my belly, and thought I would be an easy mark. I wasn’t. They ran like hell when I pointed the gun at them. They also had four very large bullet holes in the back of their van. Made it easy for the cops to find them. Fortunately, they hadn’t had time to actually put anything in their van. But they had made a huge mess of my house. I protected myself, my child, and my home. I would do it again today. There is a reason why I have a carry permit and keep a gun near or on me at all times.
It is NOT the university’s responsibility to train boys about sexual assault. It is the responsibility of the individual female to know how to take care of herself if she finds herself in a bad situation. But, you say, what about being kidnapped or given date rape drugs? Back to the rules, don’t go anywhere alone. Guard your drinks, and if you get off the dance floor, get a fresh drink – don’t drink from the old one unless someone has been keeping an eye on it. Don’t go home with a stranger, or allow him to take you home. Girls watch out for each other, and that means keeping each other from doing stupid things. Stop getting stinking drunk and making yourself a mark. It is up to YOU to do what you need to do to be safe. And stop blaming guys for everything when you don’t do the basics to take care of yourself.
To be clear, I think feminism is a joke. All blather and screaming and no substance. Because when things get difficult, they always return to the same crap. I am woman, hear me roar, but I am helpless in the face of men, so protect me. Gag a maggot, grow up and be responsible for your own safety.
The Day before Mother’s Day – 2006
There was a funeral on Saturday. It was attended by dignitaries, police officers from across the country, a motorcade of cars miles long. In one of the black limousines sat two young children with their father. Their mother was in the hearse in front of them. She had been shot and killed in the line of duty trying to stop a madman from killing other police officers. As with all tragic deaths, hers was senseless and inexplicable. She was one of the golden ones who changed the lives of those who knew and loved her. It was a sad day and the community grieved for the family so brutally torn apart.
Sunday was Mother’s Day. I couldn’t get the thought of those young children off my mind as I sat with my family and celebrated my years of motherhood. Those children will, forever, have to take flowers to their mother’s grave to honor her on Mother’s Day. No early morning breakfast in bed, sticky kisses, home-made cards, or presents hand-made with too much glue and glitter will be handed to their Mom. There will be no flowers from the garden, whispered secrets, or silly jokes to share with her. From now on, Mommy will become more and more of a memory and less real by the day. The grief will follow them for a long time, and then be pushed into the back of their minds as the move on into adulthood and life.
But, deep inside, that little girl will long for her mommy to help her grow into a woman and that little boy will long for her to help him understand how to be a good man. And every year, when it is Mother’s Day, they will remember the long line of cars, the speeches, the music, and the sadness on the day they lay their Mom to rest. In the blink of an eye, life changed for them, though they don’t yet know life will never be the same. They will have their Daddy, true, and he will love them with all his heart. But a Mother’s love, a Mother’s care is irreplaceable in a child’s heart and mind. They knew her very heart beat from the day of conception, and now it beats no longer. The rhythm of life is shattered beyond repair, and they will have to find a new rhythm with a heart that skips a beat where their Mother’s used to be.
I pray that she can be an eternal influence on her children. I will remember, even when I am very old, the quiet respect shown by all the bystanders as the funeral cortège slowly rolled by, and I will always remember the long black limousine where two young children sat as they followed their mother to her final resting place the day before Mother’s Day in 2006.
Not In The Mood For Small Talk 