OK. So I'm just a leetle embarrassed by that last post. And I've stayed away in part because of that embarrassment.
It was sincere, but there's more to that story.
I've been growing our my hair a bit since November. People are nicer to me now that my hair is longer and brown. Parents at Graham's preschool are nicer. People I work with are nicer. Checkers at the grocery store are nicer. The guy at the Costco gas pumps is nicer. Strangers are nicer. Heck, just about everyone is nice to me now that my hair is a socially acceptable length and color, and I HATE THAT.
But not enough to cut off all my hair; not just yet. I'm growing it out because I've had the same-ish hair style for like 18 years and I'm bored with it.
So, meh. I don't give a rip about Britney; I just can't stand the fact that appearence is still THE gage of a woman's character. Blah blah blah the patriarchy blah blah superficial bullshit blah blah celebrity obsessed fuckwits. blah.
So, If I hadn't been sidelined with a severe case of 'what the hell was I thinking,' I might have addressed the following topics:
Seeing The Who (OK, The Two) live in concert in my hometown, which was a profoundly moving and totally fanfreakintastic night. Third row, right in front of Pete. And yes, I still have a crush on Pete. I do I do.
The terrorist known as Gerry Adams and pus-infused vat of hate known as Ian Paisley sitting down together in the name of peace. This happened several months ago and my brain is still wrestling with it.
My dog Akachan's emergency glaucoma surgery. You really don't want to know the details. He's adapting well to being almost blind.
Oh! Roger got his dream job in a hospital IT dept. I've cut back on my hours so I can be home with Graham more. This is perhaps the weirdest thing that's happened to our family in a looong time. I mean, I cut back on my work hours after returning from maternity leave, but this is a much bigger change. Me working less. It's been less than a month but I think I like it!
Now that Roger has a (mercifully short) commute for work, I talked him into getting rid of his totally ghetto 1995 Nissan Sentra. So he's driving the Prius now and I bought a pristine 2002 Subaru Legacy wagon. It's such a mom-mobile / camping car. I love it. Exciting, huh? You may have guessed we are not car people.
And on a far more somber note, I spent two recent afternoons writing to various media outlets about the use of the term "honor killing." I understand that, in reporting a story like this, the term has to be used in the first reference to explain the nature of the crime. However, after that, it's a murder. MURDER. Quotes are different, of course, but please, stand up and tell the world that these girls and women are being murdered.
Graham is registered to start kindergarten at the end of August. He is ready; I am not.
Randomly, I don't have any photos to share of this weekend because my camera is attending the Sasquatch Festival. I hope it is having a good time and that it brings me a little piece of Bjork's soul.
And the title of this post is a song by Iris Berry / The Ringling Sisters that is stuck in my head. It is an excellent song that I haven't heard in at least 10 years. I was reminded of it because a much younger woman cited it online. She quoted the "If I want to sleep on the bathroom floor / If I want to sleep in my breakfast / If I want to sleep in my dinner / If I wanna die watching TV / It's my business" bit as some sort of feminist manifesto. I've never seen heroin addiction mistaken for feminism before, and that was unnerving. But I was glad to be reminded of the song.
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