Charityism

Charity was having fun playing with us on the floor.  We were apparently on a camp-out, using a worn out black umbrella as a tent, with all three of us huddled beneath it.  Charity let us know that it was dark and time to sleep.  After a few minutes she decided it was time to wake up, so she told us that the rooster was doing his cock-a-doodle-doo routine to let us know it was time to get up.  The rest of it went something like this...

"Daddy, it's time to wake up.  Wake up!"

"Charity, I don't want to wake up.  I want to stay asleep because I'm tired."

"Daddy, it's time to wake up.  I hear the rooster and the sun is up.  It's time to get up."

"I don't want to get up.  Can't you make the sun go away?"

"Ummm, no, I can't; I don't have a gun."

I'm not sure if Charity understood why Carlene and I were laughing so hard.  That is probably not a verbatim transcription of the event.  For example, Charity would have been unlikely to use a semicolon, as she tends to prefer full stops.  

I hope that she's very sad about not having a gun, because I would like to rectify that deficiency someday soon.  Yes, I know she's not yet three, but it's never too early, is it?  If she complains to you about how terrible it is to be an unarmed toddler, you should know my secret.  I've got a special something I've had hidden in the garage since last Christmas.  It isn't real (well, it's a real toy), but I think it will be a good tool to teach her some safe gun-handling basics.  I'll have to post a photo of the joyful event on here after Christmas.  She knows that a 12-sided shape is called a dodecahedron, and the hangy-down thing in the back of your throat is called a uvula.  I think she can handle some basic gun safety stuff.

All I have to do now it convince my long-suffering wife

By the way, does anyone know where I can get a toddler-sized shooting sling and jacket?  Apparently you also can't start training for the Olympics early enough, either.

Fare Thee Well, Peanut Butter

I always thought Peanuts was over-rated anyway

"Ah, Peanut Butter, my dear, dear friend.  We've had so many good times together; So many memories.  Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in my lunch box.  Peanut butter Reese's eggs at Easter.  PB Max.  Oh Peanut Butter, we've been so close these last 34 years and it seems we grow closer every day.  I know... it's been a thankless job, keeping me filled with protein and healthy fats.  You've always been there when I needed you.  Remember those halcyon days when I would roll you up in a tortilla for a snack?  Ha ha!  The youthful innocence of it all!  You've been so good to me, but I think it's best for both of us if we go our separate ways.  It breaks my heard to say goodbye, but alas, it must be so.  You have always been a faithful companion and I'm sure you will find a loving, compassionate peanut butter eater to call your own.  As Shakespeare said, "Parting is such sweet sorrow, especially when that sweetness is swirled in with chocolate Tillamook ice cream."  Thus we part; Me full of happiness for the moments we've shared, you overflowing with endless possibilities for the future, and with no regrets.  Sad, yes, but we shall hold our chins up and our elbows at shoulder-level and march triumphantly into the dark unknown, you at a rapid clip, me at a slow meander, because I haven't had enough protein today and my blood sugar is low, looking to our memories together for strength and solace.  Just remember, Peanut Butter... I still love you, and I will never stop loving you, especially on toast with a little honey.  Adieu, my delicious friend, adieu."

I wrote this in an email to my family a couple weeks ago after I found out that I am allergic to peanut butter, among many other things.  I really enjoy writing junk like this, though I don't know why, because it's kind of pointless.  After I sent it out I thought of other things I would like to have written differently.  Although I thought of modifying it for this post, I didn't because I have a tendency to get carried away with this sort of thing (like you couldn't tell).  Do I really want to spend the next several weeks editing this thing in my brain, just trying to make it... I don't know... 3% funnier?  Not really.  It's dumb enough as it is.  

I got tested for allergies before this email went out and was kind of surprised to find out what I am, and am not, allergic to.  Obviously, I am allergic to peanuts, as well as soy, corn, rye, birch trees, and some other things I've already forgotten.  I'm going to go back in for more tests in a couple weeks to see if I'm allergic to more stuff.  I now have to carry an Epipen (two of them actually [post idea for another day: Why it would be nice if men could carry purses and why no man would be caught dead carrying one even if it was cool]).  Soon I will probably have to get a little bracelet thing that tells the world about my allergies (another post idea for another day: Man-jewelry, the cons and cons; Why it's stupid even if it can save your life someday).

Cutting peanuts out of my diet has been fairly easy.  The hard part has been soy.  If you don't read labels (I didn't until this all started), soy is in EVERYTHING.  Vegetable oil is really soybean oil, and it's in every food.  Soy protein, soy lecithin, soy whatever.  I'm having a very difficult time eating around soy.  I've joked that I should stop eating at all, as that would save us a lot of money on our food budget.  That isn't far from the truth, because if I know it has soy in it I have a hard time making myself eat it.  So nothing sounds good to eat.  But I find myself eating stuff with soy in it because it's almost unavoidable and some of it is so yummy.  What a dilemma.  So for the moment the best I can say is that I'm on a reduced-soy diet.  I still feel like dirt, but at least it's a start.

Forget It

I've been thinking of something witty and urbane to say about the results of today's election.  Something to make me feel better after what I just saw happen.  I thought about it in the shower, where most of my worthwhile thinking is done (only kidding - I don't do any worthwhile thinking).  There must be something wrong with our shower because nothing came to me.  I was looking for the shower of the universe to turn on the faucet of inspiration and wash over me with the soft waters of knowledge and give me the pruney fingers of wisdom.  But I just ended up getting the shampoo of political frustration in my eyes.  As I tried to dry off the dampness of depression with the smelly towel of reality, it hit me.

"Eh," I said to myself, "who cares."  In ten days nobody will remember this blog post, and posting this will change nobody's mind.  Those who are ecstatic over today's outcome will probably never understand why other people are not.  Those who are depressed with today's events will never be consoled by wise words or stupid metaphors.  Writing it doesn't make me feel any better, so I don't expect reading it will help you.

Quick tangent: I am just a little glad that when our daughter grows up she, like my grandfather did, will have sad tales of hardship and scarcity.  I hope that those experiences will make her a better person than I am.

While George Bush was president I got mighty tired of having to ready snarky bumper stickers glued to hybrids extolling the intelligence of the driver by bad mouthing the man in the Oval Office.  I hope it doesn't happen over the next four years, though who could blame anyone for doing so at this point.  I was hoping to think of something as sharp and biting as those (now mostly removed) hybrid bumper stickers.  But I realized that they sound stupid regardless of the party the driver votes with.  So there's really nothing I can say to do anything for anyone at this point, and seeing how this isn't especially cathartic for me, I guess I may as well just wrap it up.  The only thing I do have to say is this:

My family has guns.  If you voted for the incumbent and at any time within the next four years you come to my house in a state of near starvation, asking for food or handouts, you will make an excellent source of protein.