Willowmist's Wanderings

What? You think I make these things up??

Last Monday, Friday and Thursday (respectively) some guy hacked into the scrolling electronic message board on the westbound GO train to tell people that Stephen Harper Eats Babies. Now that's funny enough by itself, but it actually gets funnier. What's funnier is that one guy noticed - the guy who knows and works with Stephen Harper, but no one else really seemed to be paying any attention to it at all. Ok, so the message board is not usually riveting prose, but it occasionally holds useful information about transit updates and schedules and things. People must glance at it once in awhile, mustn't they? Apparently not.

So, my thinking is that we could probably do away with these message boards altogether. NO ONE IS READING THEM! But, instead, GO Transit, in typical governmental bureaucratic style is going to power down all the signs on all the trains for three whole days and update them with special password protection software brought in special from the United States.

Alternatively, maybe people did read the message and just weren't all that surprised. I mean, the guy is a gigantic asshole, it's not entirely implausible that he could be a babyeater. Oh sure, the guy who reported the hack-job says that he worked with Harper for five years and never saw him eat any babies even once, but who's to say that the guy isn't covering up, or that Harper isn't eating his babies on the sly?

Maybe we shouldn't protect these scrolling message boards with password software at all. What other important insights might we uncover? Read your scrolling message boards people!!

So I've been watching Texas Ranch House on PBS while waiting for round 2 of the Stanley Cup Playoffs to start. It's a neat little history reenactment sort of thing in which people sign up to live on an authentic Texas Ranch in the year 1867. The ranch owners are the Cooke family, Bill and Lisa and their three teenage daughters. The ranch hands consist of seven cowboys, a foreman, a cook and a girl-of-all-work. Well, anyway, that's how it started off. Since then, the foreman has been fired for fighting with the cook, the cook has been fired for being ornery, and one of the cowboys has left because his best friend was killed in the real world. The girl-of-all-work is supposed to be a house-girl, but, since she is an accomplished rider in real life, she thinks she should be allowed to replace one of the missing cowboys. Which brings me to our topic for today...

Femi-nazis.

Look, when you sign up to reenact history, that's what you're supposed to do. REENACT HISTORY. Not rewrite it. It sucked to be a woman in the wild west just after the Civil War. Hard work, no appreciation, very little companionship, no recognition, and let's not even talk about what lye soap does to your skin and hair! Those godawful corsets and layers and layers of clothes in that heat would be hard to imagine, and big, ridiculous, billowy skirts just look like bug nets to me out on the prairie. So, we're agreed. I am very happy to live today, as a woman in charge of my home, able to sass my husband and argue with the hired help whenever the mood strikes me. But I, boys and girls, am not reenacting history.

Mrs Cooke wants to run the ranch and boss the cowboys around and tell the cook what to do. She is making Mr Cooke look ridiculous. He has lost all respect from his cowboys. She argues that they have been married for 20-odd years and their marriage is based on respect and she notices all those cowboys are young and single so they can't understand. Clearly, Mrs Cooke is not being married in 1867 at all. I would say that their marriage sounds lovely for the year 2006, but they are supposed to be living on a Texas ranch in 1867 - that's what she signed up to do. What amazes me is that she and the other girls are the only ones who seem to be having trouble with their roles.

Which brings me back to the girl-of-all-work. Her name is Maura. The cowboys don't want no woman riding on no cattledrive with them. Certainly, there are lots of reasons why a woman on a cattledrive - (in 1867!!) is a bad idea. Now Maura says she wants to be a hero to all the women watching the show, not just another housegirl.

Yeah, I know what you're saying. I know that there were some women who rode and shot and drove cattle and chased outlaws or stole horses and robbed trains and what-have-you way back then. But, there weren't many, and they didn't start out as Maura Finkelstein, the girl-of-all-work on the Cooke Ranch in the middle of Butt-fuck Texas, ok?

Here's the thing - I'm a housewife. Notice how I didn't say that I am 'just' a housewife? My work is important! I'm more than 50% responsible for the outcome of at least one member of the future human race. And what a little contribution I am preparing for you all, let me tell ya! I keep a household together - ya, ok, a dusty, slighty cluttered one, but it is still together and there are no bugs or communicable diseases lurking about in here. My work allows my husband to go about his day with relatively few domestic cares and come home to enjoy his family. It gives my son the security and confidence he needs to focus at school and karate, and whatever else he decides to try. I derive great pleasure from that. I don't feel unappreciated, or undervalued - or I don't until Maura Finkelstein and her ilk decide to make my contribution seem unimportant and trivial anyway.

I was always raised under the assumption that I would have a career. Little girls today are never even given marriage and a family as an option onto itself anymore. Even now my parents and in-laws will occasionally let their subconscious thoughts slip, suggesting that I don't work, or talking about 'when' I get a job. I don't generally take offense anymore because they are a product of their time period. But the truth is, that I am well educated and very intelligent. I could have a career outside the home if I wanted one; certainly my husband would figure out a way to support that choice. I cannot conceive of leaving my son to be watched by strangers - daycare providers, babysitters, people who just don't love him as much as I do and who won't know him as well as I do. He's only going to be a child for such a short time and I truly despair of missing any of it.

So I'm not suggesting that girls should drop out of high school and get married and pregnant and stay stupid and dependent on men for their whole lives. Homemaker does not mean stupid, or uneducated, or couldn't do no better. I'm a housewife because I care about my husband, and I care about my son, and I take pride in my family and my home. The femi-nazis are just going to have to find a way to deal with me.

1) Smokers. I could just leave it at that and think the word self-explanatory, but, specifically, I hate that they all seem to think that cigarettes don't count as garbage and so they needn't worry about tossing their nasty little butts any ole' place they feel like doing so. I have a layer of cigarette butts that is easily several inches deep along the front edge of my lawn to prove this point if you don't believe me. Here's a newsflash - it's still litter folks! Find a freakin' garbage can. Beyond that, your cigarettes stink. I walk through a group of smokers (and they must congregate in doorways and make me walk through them) and my hair and clothes stink too. I look forward to the day when I can eat in any restaurant without the stink of cigarettes wafting over to my section and ruining a perfectly good meal. Smokers are amongst the most inconsiderate people on earth. Why is that do you suppose?

2) Speaking of litter - people are pigs. PEOPLE ARE PIGS!!! Here's another news flash - it doesn't disappear just because you aren't thinking about it anymore. God, you all will throw just about anything on the ground. They're a bunch of nasty, sloppy, pigs who deserve to live in their own slop, but I do not deserve to live in it and neither does my son, so find a freakin' garbage can.

3) We're all a little self-absorbed. But I am constantly in awe of the level of self-absorption that is demonstrated, particularly by drivers, everyday. Is it just because you are in a small metal bubble with your radio on and you feel isolated from everyone else, or do you honestly believe that where you are going and what you have to do is more important than anyone else's mission? I find that difficult to imagine. Essentially, we've all had a long day at work and we're all just trying to get home. Not just you. All of us. So lighten up. And here's a little secret - if you let people in, traffic will move more smoothly. Yup. What is it with those poeple who ride up on each others' bumpers and refuse to let anyone in front of them? Do they really think they're getting ahead that way? Sad, sad, little human beings.

4) Victims. Oh, I am so sick of everything being everyone else's fault. Trace it back, trace it back, it almost always ends up with a decision that you made all by yourself. Life owes you nothing and it's not always fair! How many times did you whine to your mom that something wasn't fair and she told you that life wasn't fair? Suck it up! If you want to get things in life you have to be smart or attractive or resourceful - and if you can combine any of those characteristics than your just golden! If your dumb and ugly than you better start making the right friends.

5) Speaking of dumb. If you're dumb, please, shut the hell up. I know we can't all be Einstein, but for the love of god, do you have to advertise it? Was it Abraham Lincoln who said that it is better to be silent and thought a fool than to open one's mouth and remove all doubt? Amen brother! It's ok not to know things, and it's totally ok to ask about things. It's intolerable to spout crap about things when you don't know what the hell you are talking about in the first place. You're confusing the ones who want to know about things and you're irritating the ones who already know about things. Stop it.

6) Christians. Ok, I don't mind all Christians, honestly. I even like a lot of them. It's the whiny ones that get on my nerves. Oh woe is me, it is SO hard to be Christian in this country! "Put the Christ back in Christmas, bring prayer back to school, creative design, abortion is murder but killing abortion doctors isn't, save the sanctity of marriage" Christians. Do you see anyone else trying to ram their religion down the country's throat? Anyone else with so much difficulty grasping the concept of separation of church and state?

7)People who pet my dog without asking first. He could be ferocious. Shut up!! He COULD be. The point is that they don't know.

8) Teachers who think that they get to decide when five-year-old children should learn about death without even checking with their parents first.

9) Earth Day. I hate Earth Day. Plant a tree and say sappy-happy crap about how much we love the earth for one day and then continue throwing our cigarette butts on the ground and driving in our gas-guzzling cars to the multinational chainstores that get cheap prices from underpriced thirdworld labour for over-packaged products that we buy in consumer orgies, stopping at McDonalds to gorge on the rainforest-grazed beef and fries that never decompose. At my kid's school, his teacher taught them how they could make art out of a cardboard paper towel roll. We had to use up a roll of paper towel so Vaughan could make some art to hang from his bedroom doorknob.

Having said all of that, hard as it is to imagine, I have only a few friends, whom I value very highly. What I like best about them (and they know who they are!) is that I could say all of this to them in person and they would nod at me in sympathetic agreement, or laugh and tell me that I need to take a nap, but either way, I could tell them and they would understand me. If you have friends like that, cherish them -buy them a martini! You're doing ok.

Happy April 25 everyone.

To the Knotty Knitters:

I know you all think that we are very naughty, but here is my case for the Stitch Witches, hear me out. How many of you came last night complaining about stress, or a bout of the downers, or other, less mentionable physical ailments? And how many of you went home feeling much better? Was there medicine at the bookstore? Indeed, yes, I believe there was. We really aren't that naughty anyway. We're just a bunch of silly, young, middle-aged, and red-hatted women who clearly need to get laid more often! But I left early, and I will be a proud knotty knitter. It was worth it. Ace got voted off.

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So this morning I did a rash and vaguely silly thing. I applied for a job as a tour guide at Eastern State Penitentiary. They are looking for people with degrees in History, although it isn't required.

C'mon, how much fun would this be?? It was the nation's first penitentiary, built in 1829, most of the world's later prisons were built based on this design. In fact, it was the most expensive and high-tech building of its day. The whole idea of a system that would encourage penitence, rather than strictly punishment was entirely new (and very Quaker.) It was based on the idea of solitary confinement - I mean inmates weren't allowed to see anything. They had to wear hoods when they were outside of their cells, no books except the Bible, only light that could make it in through the skylights above, no letters from home - nothing! Dickens said it was rigid, stict, hopeless, cruel and wrong. In 1945, 12 men managed to dig a 97-foot long tunnel that opens up onto the intersection of Fairmont Ave and 22nd St. They were all caught, mostly within a few mintues, although one guy managed to sneak away for a couple of hours. It was all but completely abandoned (except for a family of stray cats that the single caretaker continued to feed) in 1971 until the mid-80's when the city bought the building from the state and started looking into commercial proposals for the land. They started restoring it in 1991 and by 2001 they were enjoying more than 65,000 visitors a year. Last year they reenacted the tunnel escape as part of its anniversary celebrations - how cool would that have been to see????

So why is this rash and silly, you ask? It's a daytime job. Seasonal, but daytime nonetheless. I'm covered for the months of April, May, June, September, and October, but what the hell am I supposed to do with Vaughan throughout July and August praytell?

The little boy that I babysit in the mornings always says - wait and see. That's what we'll do. I don't even know if you should cross your fingers for me or not. I'm totally psyched about this job though.

Happy April 20 everyone.

Ok, so I put my hand through a window yesterday. This is, evidently, god's way of telling me that I should not clean. Or, that I should clean more often so as to make the chore less challenging - but we all have to interpret god's message our own way, don't we?

The weather has taken a turn towards nice (I hesitate to actually call it pleasant lest it should hear me and whimsically start to snow again!) Tom, Vaughan and I spent Easter Sunday at the Philly Zoo. I'm so stupid. I walked around for about three hours thinking, 'my goodness but there are a lot of Jewish and Asian people at the zoo today,' before cluing in that they were there for the same reason we were, the same reason we all congregate at Chinese restaurants on Christmas Day - not our holiday! So I concluded that our company at the zoo that day consisted of the Jews, the Buddhists and the godless heathens, and I was suddenly so comfortably at home. It was one of the most pleasant days that I have ever spent at the Philly Zoo. And I am not the Philadelphia Zoo's biggest fan generally - small, inhumane cages, inconsiderate, rude, filthy-pig crowds, ridiculously overpriced...

Those of you who follow Tom's more genial and photogenic blog, will already know that he has officially removed himself from the genepool. We will not be having any more children. We waffled for a long time, but ultimately, we are lazy, selfish people who love our son, but would really like to sleep in more and have more time to ourselves. Let's face it - children are just not compatible with our goals at this time. The truth is that I just don't like kids all that much, and I like babies even less than that.

I have been very surprised by some of the reactions to our decision. First of all, let me predicate my surprise with the fact that I really wouldn't have expected any reaction at all beyond maybe asking Tom how he feels physically. Why do so many people assume that everyone wants at least two children? I mean, they blatantly assume it. Why? I have heard Tom put in the position of defending his vasectomy after only one kid several times now. Defending it - like his decision is, in some way, unreasonable. Oh, he laughs it off because, of the two of us, it is my job to hold the grudge, and I am dutifully galled.

So, here it is folks, pay attention - Tom had a vasectomy because my over-frequent migraines require me to take medication that complicates my birth control pills and we had to make a decision as to whether or not we were ever going to have any more children. We wholeheartedly decided that we did not want any more children. We love Vaughan. Quite honestly, I'm fairly certain that we used up all of our good karma with him. A second child is almost doomed to be mean, dumb and ugly. Besides, we prefer to concentrate our scarce resources to the benefit of one child rather than divide them among more (and by scarce resources, I do not just mean money, mama only has so much energy and patience to go around!) But, more to the point, what the hell would I do with another kid?? No sir, we are done. If you want more, ladeeda for you. If you think we should have more, I recommend getting over yourself, or, at the very least, keeping your opinion to yourself.

And, by the way, vasectomies are barbaric procedures. Would somebody please tell me why they can't have a freakin' Vicodin or two to take home with them? I get that it is a very simple procedure. I get it. That's grand. That's precisely why we opted for Tom's vasectomy over my own tubal ligation, which is much more complicated. But, c'mon, cutting holes into people, pulling out parts to weld them together and then sticking them back inside is still worthy of a prescription level painkiller! If it were me, the doc wouldn't get my naked little bottom off the metal plate that I had to sit on to keep me electrically grounded during the procedure until I had a presciption in my hand for at least three days' worth of the good stuff. Men need to give up the bravado and insist on better treatment.

Happy April 18 everyone.