When I drive, idiots seem to come out of the woodwork, from the lady yakking on her cell phone while she drifts into my lane to the car full of people with the rear axel hitting the road. I certainly cannot let them hit my vehicle, and I can't psychically pull them out of their vehicle and slap them silly(which gets my vote for the best possible superpower to have). My one recourse in these cases is to curse at them, and that is what I do. I curse long and usually quite loudly...unless Zane is in the car.
When my child was born, and we brought him home from the hospital, my
husband and I made a concerted effort not to curse anymore, at least not in front of the boy. I have had nightmares about my son yelling profanity in the middle of Mass, confirming what my great aunts the nuns all said about me years ago. I was determined that those nightmares not come true. I've been pretty successful over the last five years, I'd like to think. With the exception of a few slip ups with the s*** word, I've been able to keep Zane from acquiring new words that would get him kicked out of Catholic school. Until this weekend.
Zane and I were heading to his last soccer game when a truck with a trailer changed lanes in front of me. Or rather the truck changed lanes, then the trailer decided to stick with the truck. It was a chancy thing, and I don't think that the trailer really wanted to go with the truck. I was in the lane where the truck arrived; he not only cut me off, but his trailer almost tipped over onto our car, and I had to slam on my brakes. My heart was racing because I panicked and I was furious at the driver AND his trailer. I checked on Zane in the mirror to make sure he was okay, but otherwise I continued driving.
"Mama, what's a f***er?" came a voice from the backseat.
My heart dropped into my stomach. My brain did a quick rewind, and yes, I DID say that word, and yes, my child DID notice. That's what children do. They pay attention to exactly what you want them to skip over. Their brains are little tape recorders, and my son has an uncanny auditory memory, which is why I didn't want him to hear Larry and I cursing in the first place.
I almost said another curse word, this time to myself, but it was time to accept the consequences, and I could not erase the last minute. I sucked it up and did the adult thing. I apologized to Zane for saying that word in front of him. I told him that I was very scared about that truck, I wasn't thinking, and I said something that I should not have said. I emphasized that the word I used was not a nice word, and that it was not a word I ever wanted to hear him say, because it was a very, very bad word. I think that I got through to him. He hasn't mentioned it since.
Maybe I dodged that bullet for now. Or maybe I will be getting a phone call from the school this week or the next. I don't remember reading anything about the penalty for calling your teacher a bad word, but I am sure that it involves something horrible.
How about you? Anyone else ever cuss in front of a child? How did you handle it?
Showing posts with label idiots. Show all posts
Showing posts with label idiots. Show all posts
Monday, November 19, 2012
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
No Politics and/or Religion
I hang out on Facebook. Mainly I do this because most of my extended family hangs out there, and that's really the only way we keep in touch. I have a lot of cousins. Even before I was born, they were working on my second cousins, and now it's as though the entire state of Ohio is related to me. I try to keep up with as many as I can. It's nice to get to virtually visit without having to remember to send a Christmas card.
I read everyone's status and look at everyone's pictures. What I don't do is post any comment about politics or religion on anyone else's status. If someone's status is something like "Obama sux!" I'll ignore it. Why? Because that is their opinion. I may or may not agree with their opinion, and I may find their opinions offensive, but I respect their right to have an opinion. I don't respond to their comment in a nasty way, because I'm not a troll. I also know that if someone has an opinion that strong, my making a comment about it isn't going to change a thing.
Not. A. Darn. Thing.
If one of my FB friends is convinced that the government is trying to take away his AK-47 so he can't use it to hunt tiny mammals, nothing I say is going to convince him otherwise, no matter how reasonable my comment might be. In the past, when I've prefaced my comment with something along the lines of 'maybe you don't have all the facts' or 'maybe there's more to the story', the conflagration from the flame war is hot enough to roast weinies. I don't go on Facebook to read negative crap or to argue about negative crap, so I learned to just not even bother.
Not everyone gives me the same consideration, and it annoys the bejeebers out of me. If I post a funny picture, I don't want a comment about how that picture is offensive to Jesus. (Have you ever noticed that nobody ever thinks that Jesus ever laughed or told jokes?) I don't want a comment about how this or that particular internet meme just goes to show that the liberals own the media. When I read tripe like that, it makes me want to scream loudly while I hit the delete button.
But I don't. I ignore it. Most of the people I associate with on FB are pretty smart, well-read, and educated people. Educated people tend to get the funny. Well-read people tend to get the funny. Smart people tend to get the funny. Those same people are also going to understand that the person making the intolerant comment did not get the funny. It becomes a sort of in-joke among those of us who did get the funny. Maybe that makes me a snob in some way. Or an elitest.
But if I didn't laugh about it, I'd cry about the intolerance of people, and the hatred, and the general tendency to troll everything, even the funny stuff. That's not funny, and I wish it would stop. What can be solved by insulting people who disagree with you? Maybe if such comments were automatically met with a blank stare and the sound of crickets, eventually even the most ignorant sorts would get the message. Maybe. It's a tricky thing with ignorance. Sometimes the light bulb burns itself out with the intensity of the epiphany.
Still, we should make an effort.
I read everyone's status and look at everyone's pictures. What I don't do is post any comment about politics or religion on anyone else's status. If someone's status is something like "Obama sux!" I'll ignore it. Why? Because that is their opinion. I may or may not agree with their opinion, and I may find their opinions offensive, but I respect their right to have an opinion. I don't respond to their comment in a nasty way, because I'm not a troll. I also know that if someone has an opinion that strong, my making a comment about it isn't going to change a thing.
Not. A. Darn. Thing.
If one of my FB friends is convinced that the government is trying to take away his AK-47 so he can't use it to hunt tiny mammals, nothing I say is going to convince him otherwise, no matter how reasonable my comment might be. In the past, when I've prefaced my comment with something along the lines of 'maybe you don't have all the facts' or 'maybe there's more to the story', the conflagration from the flame war is hot enough to roast weinies. I don't go on Facebook to read negative crap or to argue about negative crap, so I learned to just not even bother.
Not everyone gives me the same consideration, and it annoys the bejeebers out of me. If I post a funny picture, I don't want a comment about how that picture is offensive to Jesus. (Have you ever noticed that nobody ever thinks that Jesus ever laughed or told jokes?) I don't want a comment about how this or that particular internet meme just goes to show that the liberals own the media. When I read tripe like that, it makes me want to scream loudly while I hit the delete button.
But I don't. I ignore it. Most of the people I associate with on FB are pretty smart, well-read, and educated people. Educated people tend to get the funny. Well-read people tend to get the funny. Smart people tend to get the funny. Those same people are also going to understand that the person making the intolerant comment did not get the funny. It becomes a sort of in-joke among those of us who did get the funny. Maybe that makes me a snob in some way. Or an elitest.
But if I didn't laugh about it, I'd cry about the intolerance of people, and the hatred, and the general tendency to troll everything, even the funny stuff. That's not funny, and I wish it would stop. What can be solved by insulting people who disagree with you? Maybe if such comments were automatically met with a blank stare and the sound of crickets, eventually even the most ignorant sorts would get the message. Maybe. It's a tricky thing with ignorance. Sometimes the light bulb burns itself out with the intensity of the epiphany.
Still, we should make an effort.
Saturday, July 23, 2011
How Not To Play With A Cat
Zena, our youngest cat, is at that "playful but predatory" stage. This means that all the ankles in the house are to be stalked and pounced upon at any time, without warning. Zena is also a jumper, so elbows are also considered to be likely prey. Actually, anything that is moving is considered to be prey to this cat. My older cats don't do this. They never did. I'm not used to being pounced on by things with claws.
I had the bright idea that if I played with Zena, maybe she wouldn't be so eager to pounce on everything. I couldn't find any of the toy mice we had for her. So I sat on the floor, placed my hand on the carpet and moved my hand back and forth quickly.
Zena's eyes locked on my hand with laser precision. She put her head down and her butt in the air. Her head moved with the motion of my hand. Her back legs did a little two-step, and then she was airborne. She landed on my hand and immediately started to bite me as she gripped my hand with her front paws. And claws.
That was when I remembered that you aren't supposed to DO what I was doing, because it teaches the cat to bite hands that might want to pet instead of be clawed. I bought all kinds of books when I acquired my first cat, Isobel. That was over ten years ago, and I've slept since then. But it was too late. Zena's back paws were digging into my palm and her front claws were digging into the top of my hand and she had my index finger in a death grip with her teeth.
Ow.
I was feeling like an idiot and hoping that I don't drip blood on the carpet. I remembered that you aren't supposed to pull away when a cat has their claws in you, because that makes any injuries worse. I did try to get Zena to loosen her grip, but that just seemed to make her dig in deeper.
So I sat there and was as still as I could be in spite of the pain, but Zena determined that my hand was not dead for several more minutes. Finally, she was satisfied that my hand had been vanquished, and she released me and loped off. Only a couple of the puncture wounds were bleeding, so I cleaned them as best I could, and we all went about our day. I felt very stupid about the whole episode.
Zena just took a nap. Cats are cool like that.
I had the bright idea that if I played with Zena, maybe she wouldn't be so eager to pounce on everything. I couldn't find any of the toy mice we had for her. So I sat on the floor, placed my hand on the carpet and moved my hand back and forth quickly.
Zena's eyes locked on my hand with laser precision. She put her head down and her butt in the air. Her head moved with the motion of my hand. Her back legs did a little two-step, and then she was airborne. She landed on my hand and immediately started to bite me as she gripped my hand with her front paws. And claws.
That was when I remembered that you aren't supposed to DO what I was doing, because it teaches the cat to bite hands that might want to pet instead of be clawed. I bought all kinds of books when I acquired my first cat, Isobel. That was over ten years ago, and I've slept since then. But it was too late. Zena's back paws were digging into my palm and her front claws were digging into the top of my hand and she had my index finger in a death grip with her teeth.
Ow.
I was feeling like an idiot and hoping that I don't drip blood on the carpet. I remembered that you aren't supposed to pull away when a cat has their claws in you, because that makes any injuries worse. I did try to get Zena to loosen her grip, but that just seemed to make her dig in deeper.
So I sat there and was as still as I could be in spite of the pain, but Zena determined that my hand was not dead for several more minutes. Finally, she was satisfied that my hand had been vanquished, and she released me and loped off. Only a couple of the puncture wounds were bleeding, so I cleaned them as best I could, and we all went about our day. I felt very stupid about the whole episode.
Zena just took a nap. Cats are cool like that.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Happy New Year! Get off My Lawn
Our neighbors like to celebrate the New Year by lighting fireworks. Lots of them. It seems that they buy fireworks by the caseload on this street alone. I have no doubt that if someone were to set up a Fireworks store outside this subdivision, it would sell out of everything in less than an hour.
I do not have a problem with fireworks. Some of them are very pretty in the night sky before they burn themselves out (there's a metaphor about life in there, and I wasn't even trying!) However, I do have a problem with some of the people who light the fireworks.
My neighbors light fireworks on the street, away from the grass and from any cars. There are always adults out there supervising, and they are the ones who are lighting most of the fireworks. I've also seen that these people have the implements to extinguish a fire if they need to, including a fire extinguisher. When they are finished with the fireworks, about five minutes after midnight, they take the time to clean up as much of the debris as possible.
Then you have the idiots who were out behind my house last night. Teenagers with no adult supervision, judging by their laughter. Someone had to have purchased the fireworks for them, and should have known better, so that person is even more of an idiot than these teenagers. Yes, these teenagers were lighting fireworks in the drainage ditch behind my house, which is full of tall, combustible grass. Some of the fireworks found their way into my backyard, and probably a couple landed on someone's roof. It is fortunate that we had some rain two days ago.
I probably should have called the police, but on New Year's Eve, the police have a lot more important stuff to do, like keeping drunk drivers off the road so they don't kill anyone. So I just keep an eye on the kids out back, ready to call the fire department if I see any smoldering grass. Maybe next year I'll ask the firemen if I can borrow their hose so I can hose down those kids and their fireworks before they start. Or would that be too much?
I do not have a problem with fireworks. Some of them are very pretty in the night sky before they burn themselves out (there's a metaphor about life in there, and I wasn't even trying!) However, I do have a problem with some of the people who light the fireworks.
My neighbors light fireworks on the street, away from the grass and from any cars. There are always adults out there supervising, and they are the ones who are lighting most of the fireworks. I've also seen that these people have the implements to extinguish a fire if they need to, including a fire extinguisher. When they are finished with the fireworks, about five minutes after midnight, they take the time to clean up as much of the debris as possible.
Then you have the idiots who were out behind my house last night. Teenagers with no adult supervision, judging by their laughter. Someone had to have purchased the fireworks for them, and should have known better, so that person is even more of an idiot than these teenagers. Yes, these teenagers were lighting fireworks in the drainage ditch behind my house, which is full of tall, combustible grass. Some of the fireworks found their way into my backyard, and probably a couple landed on someone's roof. It is fortunate that we had some rain two days ago.
I probably should have called the police, but on New Year's Eve, the police have a lot more important stuff to do, like keeping drunk drivers off the road so they don't kill anyone. So I just keep an eye on the kids out back, ready to call the fire department if I see any smoldering grass. Maybe next year I'll ask the firemen if I can borrow their hose so I can hose down those kids and their fireworks before they start. Or would that be too much?
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