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Archive for the ‘Love is Just a Four-Letter Word’ Category

Cupcakes are good. I know it, you know it, and my 6-year-old knows it. But, you know what’s better than regular cupcakes? Cupcakes with rainbows and sprinkles. My 6-year-old really, really knows that. This is why her little sugar-grubbing heart was broken when my mom took her to Cupcake Royale last week and they were fresh out of their rainbowgasmic offering, The Gay. She settled for another cupcake, but the rest of the day went a little something like this:

-Averi, are you hungry for dinner?

-I really wish I could have gotten The Gay.

-Averi, should we read a book?

-The Gay had rainbow sprinkles and also a big rainbow on top.

-Bedtime, Averi!

-I think you can eat the rainbow that is on top of The Gay…

You get the point. Since she used the word “gay” about 100 times within a 4-hour span, I thought I should refresh her memory about the meaning of the word. That went a little something like this:

-Do you remember what the word “gay” means?

-No.

-Some people love, and sometimes want to get married to, people who are the same sex as they are. So some boys love boys and some girls love girls.

-(looking accusingly at her baby brother) Well, I want to marry William, but I think he wants to marry you!

So that was how that went. No snickering. No ewwwwwing. No judging.

I think it’s a very, very good idea to let our children know that there are different types of people in this world. I also think it’s a very, very good idea to let our children know that those people are just as awesome as they are. I’m not into the whole I’m-a-better-parent-than-you-because thing, but I feel pretty confident in saying this:

If you choose to model intolerance, you’re sort of failing at The Good Parent Thing.

Let’s do better than that. Let’s raise kids who worry less about who their neighbor loves and more about how to love their neighbor. There are enough assholes in the world. And it’s probably not their fault. Still, I would prefer to share a gay cupcake with somebody who isn’t an asshole. Even if they do want to marry their baby brother.

ImageThe Gay

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So, I just got a brand new pair of walking shoes and have decided to commit to taking a daily walk, weather permitting.  The main reason that this resolution is not a great, big, terrifying albatross around my neck is that I live in Oregon.  The weatherman predicts one more day of sunshine before we head into approximately 7 months of rain.  Perfect!  But in the meantime, my daughter and I have been taking a daily stroll along one of the walking trails near our home.  You know who else is taking daily strolls along this walking trail (besides the scary dude who chants to himself while clutching a plastic bag to his chest)?  An unreasonable number of couples who are walking hand-in-hand, that’s who.  I don’t get this phenomenon.  Why are they doing this?  Is one of them prone to dodging into traffic without notice?  Is one of them kidnapping the other?  Have they seen too many Meg Ryan movies?  Even these reasons are not good enough for me.

I like to have complete and total charge of my own appendages.  What if I trip?  Or worse, what if my husband trips?  I don’t need anybody dragging me down with them.  Gravel in my forehead was not a part of my wedding vows.  What if a bee or a mosquito or a bear or a Jehovah’s Witness approaches my face?  I would like to have both of my hands available to fend them off.

Do you stroll hand-in-hand with your partner?  Do you live anywhere other than Europe? {For some reason I choose to give a pass to Europeans.  They seem to look “right” holding hands.  They can wear weird hats, too.  And forgo deodorant.  You can’t.}  Yes, you do participate in the hand-holding?  Explain yourself.  That is, if you have two available hands with which to type.

^^NOT European^^

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Men Are From Mars BookMy daughter came home from preschool today and said, “I like to hug, but some people don’t.  Olivia, Kendall, and Hanna like to hug but Ethan and Jacob do not.”  Ain’t it the truth…

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I spotted this sign yesterday while I was sitting in traffic.  No, I did not alter the photo.  There is no additional information given as to what or who you might expect to find on the other end of the line if you choose to dial the number.  What could it be?  A very low-rent dating service?  An open-call for prostitutes (The sign was on the corner of 130th and Aurora which makes this entirely feasible…)?  A lonely man or woman who has just run out of ideas?  I know I’m curious.  But not quite curious enough to let this individual have my phone number.  If anybody calls, please report back.  I won’t tell a soul…

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“That which does not kill us makes us stronger.” -Friedrich Nietzsche

Sorry, Nietzsche.  I realize you’re sort of a big deal in the world of dead, German philosophers and I really do appreciate your ability to grow an outrageously ginormous mustache, but I think you were wrong on this one.  I have faced many trials in my life lately and while, admittedly, I am not dead, I do not feel any the stronger for having endured them.  Quite frankly, I don’t know that becoming “stronger” is a goal of mine.  So if you don’t mind, I’d like to modernize this for you:

“That which does not kill us makes us kinder, wiser, and more insightful and compassionate.”

At least in my dreams…

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