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My Ovaries are Angry Little Fuckers
Happy Halloween or something! Traumatic Halloween experiences in my preteens prevent me from fully enjoying this holiday. Frankly, I could care less about it. I do enjoy little kids in their costumes, and I do enjoy the excited "squee"s of those children after I drop a handful of (the good) candy into their bags (despite my apathy towards Halloween, I'm not one of those crabby houses with the front porch light turned off), but other than that, it doesn't do much for me. I don't dress up. I don't go out (or at least, I haven't...in the past 5 years or so), and I just don't really...care. Some things just stick with you. I had to run out to my parents house last night to pick Oliver up. My sister took him out there to keep Ellie (our family dog) company while she recovered from the surgery she had on Wednesday. Oliver was particularly antsy because trips to my parents house usually mean playing fetch until his legs stop working only this time he spent most of the day cooped up in the house because Ellie isn't allowed to play, and attempts to lock her in the house in order to play fetch with Oliver proved to be futile. I decided, as we left the house last night (taking with us the usual loot that my parents general store provides - mattress pads, candle holders, potted plants, and a tupperware container full of homemade chicken & dumpling soup) I decided to quickly sneak a game of fetch in using one of the old tennis balls laying around outside. I threw the first ball and Oliver lost it. I threw the second ball and...he couldn't find that either. So I helped him find the first ball and threw it again. He managed to keep track of it this time, even to catch it, but suddenly he started running all funny. The run turned into a limp and eventually he sort of yelped and hobbled over to me holding his front paw out for me to examine. I bent down to see what the matter was and discovered poop jammed up in the fur beneath the pads on his feet. His entire paw was covered in fresh dog poop. I looked at him, he looked at me. "Well, I don't really know what you expect me to do about this." I shook my head at him. He whimpered. "Fine." I sighed as I reached for a nearby fallen leaf. I managed to swab some of the poop off his foot and figured I'd try throwing the ball to see if the grass would rub the rest of it off. I threw the ball and we both sat there and watched it roll. He looked at me. I looked at him. "You little bastard." His tail started wagging as he looked curiously up at me. "FINE. We'll go home." So of course my car smells like poop now. As does my dog. After a six month dry spell, I'm thinking it may finally be time to cave in to giving him a bath. NEXT WEEK: How I spent my weekend including such tantalizing bits as: "Raking Leaves!" "Washing Dog!" "Cleaning Kitchen!" and "Fixing Garbage Disposal!" Tune in Monday! Listening To: I threw the Indigo Girls "Swamp Ophelia" CD in on a whim last night. I forgot how much I love love this CD. I'm making a best-of CD mix for any Indigo Girls doubters out there. Step up if you're interested! Reading: Last week's People which just FINALLY appeared in the mailbox yesterday. Interesting article on hazing. Combined with the article a couple of weeks ago about the 12 year old(?!) boy committing suicide I think this points to a disturbing trend in today's youth. How violent are we going to let things get before someone steps in and makes a change? Where are the people in charge while this stuff is going on? Who is raising these children to think that sodomy is an appropriate hazing activity. When I was in high school, we hazed our freshmen boys by making them wear a dress and walk around the campus of a different high school. Nobody ever thought to hit one and most certainly nobody ever thought to stick something up one of their asses. I can't even begin to think of how much is wrong in the mind of a 17 year old person who hasn't learned to differentiate the difference between wrong and right. Is it so hard to pay attention? My mom worked full time and raised my sister and I all on her own. If I so much as looked like I was thinking about stepping out of line, my mom would hand me my ass on a platter. You don't have to be there every second of the day to know what's going on or to know who your children are. I haven't figured out what there is that I can do to put a stop to this sort of thing yet, but once I figure it out, you can rest assured I'm going to do it. There's no reason that a 12 year old kid should be so hopeless about his life that he chooses suicide. Something is broken with the way these children are being raised and/or educated and it makes my heart hurt that nobody seems to eager to do anything about it. We've become so concerned about the adults in the world damaging our childrens psyches and bodies that we've become afraid to step in when we see that they're doing it to each other? Sick. Sick sick sick. Punishment for wrongdoing and strict rules for living are not abuse. Children are psychologically stronger than anyone has given them credit for in approximately 15 years. It's a cop out. Parents are copping out. Educators are copping out. And everyone else who is just sitting around and watching these children demolish each other is copping out. Gah, the whole thing just makes me so angry. I want to kick things. Recently Saw: Not much last night because I got distracted by a phone call, but don't worry folks cuz it's all on tape and I plan to spend the majority of tonight catching up. |
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