Showing posts with label cows. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cows. Show all posts

Saturday, October 8, 2011

Jack, Your Beans Are Enchanting!

I have no scientific data to back my statement, but I’m pretty sure people born in the month of October have contributed to the slowing of our economy. 

I was born in October, and I say this to you in a somber, this is serious, voice, “being an October baby is dangerous.”   Now I don’t want to scare any of you, but I feel it is my responsibility to tell you that if October is the month of your birth, you could be in serious jeopardy.  And if you drink coffee and frequent the caffeine dispensing kiosks that dot the landscape, your risk of peril is increased a hundred-fold.  Sure, everybody who drinks coffee is aware of the risks involved.  It’s not only the October babies who knock over store displays as they’re crawling around looking for the change that dropped out of their caffeine-induced shaking hands when they pay for their Tums.  But it’s the October babies who are in real life-threatening danger.

For example, Friday morning I was going to buy my first “birthday coffee” of the year.  Unfortunately, about 2:30 in the morning I woke up to the pounding of the wind against the side of the house.  Whooosh … bang!  As I listened to the howling wind tear the leaves off the trees, I carried on a debate with myself.

“Maybe I should  postpone my first birthday coffee.  What if it blows out of my hand while  
      I'm walking into work? 

Am I going to let the wind rule my life?” 

           ― “No!” I said.  “No! Fie on you wind!  You will not keep me from my birthday coffee!        
                 Fie!  Fie! Fie!”

Friday morning I got up and prepared to meet the wind head on.  I wore earrings that would not blow out of my ears.  I put my birthday money in a zip-lock baggie and zipped it securely inside my purse.  I squared my shoulders, lowered my head, and fought my way to the car.  Defiantly I drove to my favorite coffee kiosk.  I somehow managed to order, pay for, and receive my coffee without my change or my coffee blowing across the parking lot.  My car door didn’t even get blown into the little wooden house and that’s quite a feat considering I had to use my full weight to open the door against the wind so I could stand half in/half out to pay for and get my coffee.  That’s because Wyoming kiosks are made for elephant-sized 4-wheel-drive trucks, not little Hondas where coffee-starved heads barely reach the bottom of the kiosk window.  

I felt victorious.  I had beaten the wind and proven my superiority to nature!  I continued my journey to work gloating over my triumph.  And then I unavoidably ran over a four or five-inch diameter, four-foot long, leaf-covered branch in the middle of my lane.  No damage.  No liquid leaking from a punctured something or other; but I began feeling somewhat less triumphant.  

A few minutes later I narrowly avoided one of those kiddie-car shopping carts which had rolled from the grocery store, across four lanes of traffic and settled against the curb, partially residing in my lane.  I began to feel a bit anxious.  

A couple of blocks later, on the same four-lane road, I swerved to avoid a tire which had rolled from a tire store’s tipped over display.  My uneasiness increased and I began to fear what awaited me when I finally arrived at work and had to make the walk across the parking lot, fighting 65 mph wind gusts, holding my first birthday coffee. 

I pulled into the parking lot, gave myself a brief pep talk, took a deep breath, opened the door, and fought my way across the lot to the office door.  It wasn’t easy and it wasn’t fun but I made it, with only one hand wet from blown-out coffee. 

This example was just one dangerous day in the life of a coffee-drinking October baby.  Sadly, there is nothing I or any other October babies can do about it.  We’ve already been born.  We can’t change the month of our birth. We must just practice survival techniques and be alert to lurking dangers. 

But some of you have the ability to thwart the peril of the October baby.  I call upon those of you who have that capability to take it upon yourselves to do just that.  If you have been contemplating creating a “bun in the oven”, a “little one”, a small human, otherwise known as a baby, you can do your part to not only make the world a safer place, but you may be able to save our economic future.  Choose another month for this birth.  Because many, many of those innocent, wide-eyed, drooling, nose-picking October babies are going to grow up to be coffee-drinking adults, living where the wind wakes up in October.  They may not survive what awaits them. 

Do not be the parent who sends them on a direct path toward risk of bodily injury merely because of the month of their birth.  Please, all of you Fertile Myrtles and Ardent Arnies, if you do your part, not only will no future babies be faced with the October baby danger, you may very well be the saviors of our economy.  Because if the insurance companies no longer need to pay out all the October baby claims, they will of course pass those savings on to the public in the form of lower premiums, which everybody will spend, which will save small businesses and big businesses and create jobs and security and the economy will be healthy and strong again ....................................................................or not.

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Monday, December 14, 2009

The Glitter and Sparkle of the Season

Last night I was happily cleaning up after dinner when melancholy and mournful celtic music began playing on the radio.  It made me get all misty-eyed, nostalgic, and appreciative.  The moaning of the music made me think about how grateful I am that I'm not a cow living out on the range suffering through all kinds of weather.  Every time we are driving down the highway through blowing snow, or blowing dirt or just plain blowing air, and I see cattle out on the range all huddled together with their butts to the wind in a vain attempt to keep warm, I feel bad for them.  I sigh deeply and think to myself I'm glad I'm not a cow.  I'm so happy I have a hat and mittens and a leather coat and a warm house.  Of course when it's a beautiful summer day, the thought of spending my day out on the range with nothing to do but eat and nap in the sun sounds more appealing than sitting at a computer working for nerds.  But on the whole, I think I am still thankful to be a human.

I also thought about how grateful I am to have a husband who knows when it's time to muster the troops (daughters) and ask for help for their mother who is freaking out about all the things she thinks she has to do to get ready for Christmas.   He can survive a cranky wife for a while and he can sometimes endure a stressed-out wife for a short time but he does not tolerate a cranky and stressed-out wife for very long.  I like to used to think I am the mother who can do it all.   As it turns out, this is the year I can't make Christmas perfect all by myself for a variety of reasons which I won't bore you with (pssssst.....travelling, dissertation defense, pride, PhD, joy, PhD, celebrating, travelling, graduation, PhD, party, PhD, more celebrating).   At least I can't do it all without driving my husband, daughters, and everyone remotely close to me crazy with my perfect Christmas obsession.

Listening to that dang celtic music made me remember past Christmases and the next thing you know I was wondering how it happened that yesterday my girls were leaving cookies and letters for Santa and today it is my grandchildren writing the letters.  Then I got a bit sad thinking that next year Abby and Jorge will be living in Ecuador and we will still be here celebrating Christmases without them, because nobody in their right mind would choose to leave a beach in Ecuador to celebrate Christmas in sub-zero temperatures and howling winds.  Hey..........I just realized I could leave sub-zero temperatures and howling winds to celebrate a future Christmas at a beach in Ecuador!  So anyway, this is not the year to forgo any traditions just because I'm too busy doing things like working for nerds or losing countless minutes walking around in circles mumbling to myself.  This is the year it must all come together and be perfect because it might be a long time til we're all gathered together again around the Christmas tree as the gentle Wyoming wind rocks the house, the white snow drifts and our street becomes an ice rink for cars.

It's a hard thing to admit I can't single-handedly create the perfect Christmas like I did back before I became old and forgetful and slow.  I thought I could do it all...I was trying to do it all...but I couldn't get it all done.  Not perfectly anyway.  Oh, and stress-free.  Perfect and stress-free.  It was the stress-free part I was having the most difficulty with when Dean stepped in.  Thanks to him my Christmas preparation list has been divied up among the troops.  One of the things I gave up is gift wrapping.  I hope nobody is disappointed when, instead of packages that look like they were wrapped by a one-armed person suffering from palsy, they receive gifts in creatively sculpted and painted paper mache boxes.  (Thanks for adding to my already behemothic guilt, Dean).



So once again life is sparkly



And filled with glitter.











It won't matter if every cookie isn't perfect or if there aren't going to be enough ornaments for the tree because I got a bit carried away this year.



It won't matter if my second try at the candy cane bread isn't as perfect as the picture in the newspaper.



And it won't matter if I don't get my Christmas cards mailed out until April (it won't be the first time).  Here's what I think.  I think it's going to be a perfect Christmas anyway.  It's going to be perfect because we are all going to be together.................................. and I'm not a cow out on the range in the blowing snow with my butt pointed to the wind.














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