Smoke 'Em if You Got 'Em

The Politics of Being Political

I've made a decision regarding the election. I've decided the candidate that will earn my vote is the person that doesn't engage in personal attacks or the least. I don't care what they think of each other, I don't care who was an acquaintance, minister, lobbyist or who had whom fired from their job when their sister was going through a divorce. I honestly don't care, and please don't tell me what's wrong with the other guy, tell me what you will do for me. That's what I care about, tell me about what your plan is for the fixing the economy, not that the other guy has NO plan.

It just makes you look desperate and on the future President of these United States, it's not a good look.

Laws of Physics or Something Like That

Isn't there something about inertia, or body that's moving will keep moving until it hits something, I don't know something like that. Anyway, things around here lately have been rather difficult, I don't know if it's the weather, impending constant rain or what, but husband and I have been testy with each other. Though yesterday I did get a lot accomplished, I was later slapped on the nose by older son for writing paper towels on the shopping list.

Now, I'll admit, I'm a paper towel junkie and I'm on step three to deal with it, but I just can't go cold turkey. I understand about the landfill thing, and paper towels doused with chemicals, and I know I could easily use a roll a day if given the chance. So, I'm torn between being a good and understanding mom that leads her children by example, and being the paper towel glutton that I am.

I do have to admit he's right, even at the big box place where I buy my beloved paper towels, they're not cheap and currently running over 20 bucks. Now this is for a huge amount but, as my son willingly points out, I would run through them in a couple of weeks. So, I promised him to try not to. It's been over a month and still have a few rolls left. I seriously think my patience will run out before the towels do.

Now instead of just being able to toss a paper towel into the trash, I have to remember to lug a towel upstairs to the laundry room, lest someone come along and try to dry their hands using a goopy towel. Oh the horror.

Halloween

Do I like Halloween, my younger son asked me yesterday. My husband and older son lifted their eyes briefly to me, hearing the young one ask. I know I have to be careful about how I answer the question, especially around this house surrounded by two Halloween nuts. I replied, yes, I liked it. Satisfied with the response he returned his attention to his carrots, which is probably why he asked, so he could avoid eating them.

Older son decided to further probe by asking, what do you like best about Halloween mom. I wanted to smack him, but instead, I thought quick and answered, 'seeing my boys so very happy.' Truth of the matter is I hate Halloween, I don't mind the handing out candy part, or the trick or treating, or the costumes. What I hate is the fact that my husband and son are willing to tear out a wall to exhume the big ladder from the lower depths of the basement, while they were both unwilling to do so when the gutters needed cleaning.

Both are so eager to climb up 20 feet to hang a corpse from the ceiling in the outside entryway and are carefully plotting out the strobe light placement. Why? Because it's fun. These are the same people that bah humbug their way through the Christmas season when I'm trying to decorate the house, and not to mention put up the Christmas tree by myself. Oh sure, they both love getting gifts but neither wants to put in any effort whatsoever. Those presents don't wrap themselves.

© 2008 Whimsical Ranter
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