Figures of Speech

When I hear someone say they're building a house I imagine them wielding power tools, swinging hammers, and hanging sheetrock. But it seems like every time I've heard the phrase "we're building a house" in the past 10 years...the people saying it, in fact, aren't even touching a two-by-four. They've hired a builder and got to have input (to varying degrees) on the design of the home. I've heard that phrase used across the spectrum from being involved in designing the layout to just choosing the interiors.

It needs to stop.

If you choose a lay out or the interiors, you are NOT "building" anything.

Did playing with Legos teach you nothing? 

Conditioning

This is another one of those posts I wrote in my head. It seemed so well-formed when I thought of it...but sadly I can't remember how that version went.

I was watching my little son playing and reminding him for the 80 millionth time that he's not to play with cords when I started to think about conditioning. And how we all like to think that we make decisions based on our intellect and ability to reason - but are we? Or are we just flattering ourselves? Isn't it more likely that the decisions we make are the result of countless incidents of conditioning summed over our lives? 

And consequently, we really are just responding to the sum of our experiences, good and bad, not "making a decision" at all? Is our sense of autonomy completely false?

Furious George

I am beyond pissed off right now. The past several weeks and the next several weeks are a rather intense time for me in my PhD program. Admittedly, this is in part due to my personal choices, and as was rather pointedly clarified for me by a certain in-law, being in my PhD program at all is "personal choice." And apparently, because I've made such a choice, I have no room to complain. (BullShit ma'm, Bullshit. Everyone complains about their choices. Usually about the parts of their choice that are beyond their control. But THAT, is another post).

So, it is during this intense time that I have received, not one, but two letters from two separate family members. In short, these letters are essentially asking me (and Mr. R by proxy) to change our values and beliefs regarding our son to better accommodate these family members and their values and beliefs. OUR son.

I'm beyond pissed. And I just don't get it. I wouldn't be so angry if I didn't want our son to have a relationship with these people. After all, the "are family." This has been my mantra since before Mr. Random and I married - he doesn't quite share it and is ready to just not have a relationship with members of his family if they can't respect him and his wishes. (one of the letters is from his side, one from mine). I'm starting to get on his band-wagon, because this is ridiculous.

One letter basically says that they won't be told what they are and aren't allowed to do with regards to our son. That they have certain "privileges" on account of being a grandparent. Maybe we're weird in that we don't agree? We think that being the parent means we get to say what they can and cannot do with our son? (this is like...big things...like force-feeding a 9 month old cookies w/o checking first with his mother to see if (1) he can handle that food texture and (2) oh....if he might not have allergies or some other digestive issue that might mean you should CHECK before you give a BABY food. Just saying.) We're not saying she has to clear every little detail, which, of course, is what she'll do. If she even acquiesces. She indicated in her letter that this could "mean goodbye" to all three of us. SERIOUSLY? Whatever.

The other letter is from a sibling. This sibling is dating a person who abused and killed one of her cats. BRUTALLY. She continues to date this man. We have thus far made it clear in no uncertain terms we will not allow this man in our son's presence. I've had some people say, oh, as long as lots of people are around, what's he going to do? Well...considering he was abusing the cats in the sibling's presence and she didn't notice...he could do a lot. Not to mention, generally in large family gatherings a lot is going on and there are lots of opportunities for such subtle abuse to occur. We aren't comfortable risking it. Sorry. This person has demonstrated brutal violence against smaller defensive less creatures that "annoyed" him. Not. Going. To. Risk. It.

So the letter was actually from this man, and forwarded by the sibling and we're encouraged to re-evaluate our stance. After all, he went to 4 weeks of counseling. And he attached a "scholarly" article that suggests maybe violence to animals doesn't transfer to humans after all. I can't wait until I have the time to rip the article apart properly (it merely cites correlations, and has weak statistics for it at that) and perhaps find a few other articles that support our beliefs (that it may, in fact, not be safe to have him around a baby).

The bottom line is, WE'RE the parents! These are the kinds of things WE decide. Not them.

So furious.

Feeling Petty

and I don't like it.

I am 27 years old.  I've been married for nearly 5 years.  I bought a house.  I lost that house - primarily due to my husband (the bread-winner as it were) losing his job.  I just had my first baby, and we all three live in an apartment, that is pretty nice, but no house.  And is half the size our house was, so we gave away a lot of things and are pretty cramped here with the rest.  Most of the time, I still feel very lucky and happy with our situation.  We can still have some nice things, buy healthy food in enough quantity that we're never hungry, and we've been able to take some pretty great vacations.

But every now and then...I feel envious of others my age.  Especially those that waited until after the housing bubble burst and are just now purchasing their first homes.  For a LOT less than we bought our house for.  And with a much greater income.  They're just in such a better situation financially.  And it feels like a little stab to the heart.  I want to be happy for them, but there's always a little bitterness too.  

And then...there's my cousin.  She's 21.  She's married, for just over 1 year.  She has no college education, neither does her husband.  They're expecting their first baby.  And they're, apparently, attempting to buy their first house.  This particular situation strikes my heart a bit stronger than the others.  For several reasons.  For one thing, they're so much younger.  For another, they are not as well educated as my husband or I, and consequently work very entry-level jobs.  My cousin works at a fast food restaurant and the husband works at a big box store as a sales guy.  And, apparently, she's still on her parent's medical insurance.

So, my first thought is How?!  How on EARTH can they afford a house?  My next thought is that they're getting help from their parents.  And this frustrates the hell out of me.  And then that frustrates me because I feel like I ought to just be happy for them.  But I mean, come on!  Mr. Random and I have been on our own financially since we got married.  Before we got married even.  When we were about their age.  Since then we moved 1000 miles from home, we rented apartments, bought our cars, bought our house, lost our house, and are now taking a boatload of student loans to live off of.  All on our own.  We pay our own medical insurance, car insurance, life insurance, renter's insurance.  All our own bills.  And...honestly, that's as it should be!  I feel that if you're mature enough to marry, you should be mature enough to provide for yourselves financially.  I realize these are hard economic times (I DO, first hand, believe me!) but that doesn't change the fact that you should be buying your own insurance and paying your own bills.  And especially if you're having a baby, you should be financially independent first!  

I guess it doesn't always work that way, and if you're parents can help you out...well, why not, right?  I guess I just feel frustrated that we tried so hard to do it all on our own - and had it blow up in our faces due to circumstance beyond our control (some of it was within our control, but ultimately a lot of it wasn't) and it feels like other people, like my cousin, aren't even trying to do it on their own.  And they're better off for it!  It just seems like it shouldn't work that way.  

Trial by Jury

The general sense of apathy and entitlement present in today's young society is, quite frankly, appalling. I say young society because that is the part of society I am most familiar with. And truthfully, I hope that some of our society might not be as degenerate.

What's prompting this rant? A status on Facebook. Yup, I'm on Facebook. And one of my FB "friends" posted a status that said, and I do quote: "NO!!!!!!!!!!! i have jury duty tomorrow! :( "

Several other "friends" commented on this status to the effect of "that sucks" "hahahaha" and then the original poster replied "it's not fair"

Seriously?????

No, I mean SERIOUSLY???

Do you want to have the right to a trial by jury if, God forbid, you should need it? Do you want your family and loved ones to have that right?

Then SUCK. IT. UP.

Do your duty. And do it honorably. And stop whining.

Really? Do I look Fat to you?

We went to the state fair yesterday. It was tons of fun...and really bad for our digestion. We've taken to spending most our money on the food. In fact, we made sure to go for a full day today, so we could eat everything we wanted. Last year we just couldn't manage it. This year...we didn't make it either. We just couldn't stomach that funnel cake at the end of the day. We'd had enough. It was a good day.

But in the midst of our smorgasbord we were inside looking at exhibits/shops/not-really-sure-booths and found a place selling the most delicious cinnamon rolls! So we got one...with the cream cheese frosting on top. Yes we did. And not 3 booths down we found a place that was doing free cholesterol and blood pressure screening. Mr. Man decided he needed to do it. As I'm standing mid-bite with that lovely cinnamon roll in hand.

Sighing, I put the fork down, and say I'm game too. They start out by asking you to fill out your standard release form and then ask your height and weight. They then read your BMI off a chart and put it on your form. The lovely "intake nurse" who filled out my form heard 5' instead of 5'4" when I told her how tall I was. She got my weight right (didn't think I'd publish that did you?) but the result of the 4 inch discrepancy was that my BMI was recorded as 24. I believe 25 and over is considered overweight. I noticed the error, but at this point was waiting to move to station #2 - the finger jab.

It didn't hurt as bad as I remember my last finger jab, so that was nice. They took 2 drops of blood - one for a cholesterol screen and one for glucose. Hah! I was convinced mine would look terrible considering the few bites I had already smuggled of that delightful cinnamon roll. (in fact it was measured normal...and even lower than Mr. Man's!)

After getting your finger poked you moved to Station #3 where a lady debriefed you on your numbers. Upon determining that Mr. Man and I were, in fact, together, they debriefed us together. She started on me, with my BMI of 24. She informed me in disapproving tones that I could not stand to gain another pound, and in fact, the difference between me and *overweight* was a mere 10 pounds. At this point I interrupted her to point out that the BMI recorded was incorrect, and in fact my real BMI was 21. Yeah...at the time I found it a little amusing, but something rankled.

As we walked away and I tucked into that cinnamon roll I realized what it was. Really, lady? Do I look as if I'm nearly overweight? Answer carefully here. I'd like to believe she just looked at the paper and went into her spiel and having done it countless times already wasn't really thinking about it. But she looked me right in the face as she delivered her lecture. And she seemed quite sincere and concerned...not at all canned. Now, may I point out, that my actual weight is 120 pounds (yup, I said it...but I figure this is an anonymous blog, I'll go for it. It helps illustrate my point). In order to have the BMI she thought I had, I'd need to put on a good 20 pounds to weigh 140 pounds. I don't know how much YOU study body types - but there's a difference between a woman who is 5'4" and 140 pounds, and one who is 120 pounds. There's no dancing around that fact. And quite frankly...I'm offended that she thought I was a good 20 pounds heavier than I actually am.

So I made sure to finish that cinnamon roll...and the ice cream cone...and the Navajo taco...and the curly fries...and the deep fried smore (so not worth it)...and the multiple pink lemonades...but I guess that's all we got through. It seemed like so much more at the time...

Though for the record, Mr. Man and I split each of the above. :)

A Modest Proposal

There are a LOT of piss-poor drivers out there. A lot. And, unfortunately, it seems that most often these bad drivers are also driving large vehicles. This correlation is downright distressing. And dangerous.

What I propose is this: we make driver testing mandatory, every 2 years. Both written and performance. And then have tests to qualify for a specific class of vehicle. To start, you get to drive a smart car, or similar sized vehicle. If, after 2 years, you've got a clean record of no accidents (that were your fault) and you can pass the test again, then you can test for a larger class vehicle. But you will have to continue to qualify to drive that larger vehicle every 2 years.

What's that? Your lifestyle requires you drive a truck? THEN LEARN TO DRIVE IT RESPONSIBLY!!!! Because quite frankly, in your current incapable hands that "truck" is a multi-ton killing machine. A weapon, with some added features like space to carry passengers and cargo.