More evidence that we watch too much TV

Today's the day, right? Did you vote? Did you stand in line? Did you get butterflies in your tummy when they called your name and said "Now voting!"? Did you call all your friends and family and remind them to vote? If you said yes to any of the above, I'm proud of you. And if you didn't there's still time. Please, go vote. I don't care who you pick -- just do it. We are so fortunate to live in a country where our choices matter. Don't take that for granted.

OK, off the soap box. Lighter tidbit:
My son is walking around the house (school is closed because it's a polling place) repeating this mantra: “I’m Barakabama and I approve this mechage.” And then I just turned on the boob tube (because I can’t stay away from the news today, even though I really should) and there was a McCain ad on, and Sweet Boy said “Look, mom, that’s John McCain.”

So either my child is really attentive and smart for a 3-year-old and already aware of his civic responsibility... or the television is on way too often in this house. I'm guessing the latter to be more true than the former.

However, when I asked him who he was voting for, he responded with a great big smile “Oh, you silly mommy, I like Barakabama. He makes people clap they hands.”

Good boy. You get to eat a Reeses Cup for breakfast.

Oh, by the way -- today is Big Daddy's birthday. He's celebrating by, um, sitting on the recliner with the TV on...

Comments

Ottomania!

I've been spending a lot of time thinking about ottomans. A ridiculous amount of time, actually, given the number of other things I truly should focus my thoughts on. I find, though, that when the world outside gets scary (and scary is a truly relative term these days) I turn to online shopping for things I don't really need. Actually, it's more like online browsing; I rarely purchase. I spend hours searching for, oh, erasable colored gel pens or standing desks or all-natural curly-hair gel or the perfect black sweater. (Yes, these are things I've fixated on over this winter; I still haven't clicked "buy" nor settled on any of them.) This week, it's ottomans. By the way, my girl Brené Brown would call this behavior numbing . I'm okay with that. Because online browsing is way less detrimental (so far) than chain smoking, which is what I'd really like to do when the world is scary. It's a way to escape, to daydream, to focus on things tha...

Why I Occupy

I marched in the Occupy Philly protest last Saturday, and I've been trying to find the words to describe it all week. People who know me look puzzled when I tell them, and I've been trying to explain why this movement has taken root in my heart. Last Saturday, for a few brief hours, I stood up to the anxiety, anger, frustration, and fear that has gripped me for the last few years. For a few brief hours, I marched with people who want better for me and you and this entire country, people who may be ideologically different but stand together because they believe there’s still hope for this democracy, that there’s still a chance that our government will take action for the people and not for the corporations that fund their campaigns. There’s a perception that the Occupy Wall Street movement is simply a mob of young, disenfranchised 20-somethings who have nothing better to do than sleep on city sidewalks to disrupt the lives of those of us with jobs. Revolutions are ...

Grace happens

Today Honey's roommate in room 364 at Maine Medical Center was discharged. Some other day I'll tell you about why Honey is in the hospital again, but this story is about the roommate because it's way more interesting. Let's call him Elton, because all I really know about him is he plays guitar in an Elton John tribute band and he's originally from the very northern part of England, bordering Scotland. (Or as Honey described it, "that place in England where the Roman Empire decided, nope, those Celts are crazy, and put up a wall.") Elton was in room 364 before Honey arrived, and what struck me immediately, besides his delightful accent and soothing Liam-Neeson-esque voice, was his gentle, good-natured manner. He was going through heck from a botched surgery and compartment syndrome - pain and gore and fear of losing the use of his dominant hand - yet he spoke kindly and softly to every person who came into his room. Every time a nurse walked in, Elton gre...

A Tall Girl's Adventures in a Tiny World

Search This Blog