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Tossed Salad Friday

~~ Another school shooting. More lives lost. Who gives a crap about what I have to say? You should contact your representatives and insist that sanity and safety prevail over the NRA.

~~ Still here? Well, then…

~~ The Pope said, “Who am I to judge?” Then he met with Kim Davis and high-fived her judginess.



~~ NPR had an interview with Bill Withers (“Lean on Me” “Ain’t No Sunshine”). He talked about admiring his brother’s happiness, but when asked if he was happy, replied, “No. I think to be truly happy you have to have blinders on.” Thanks, Bill. You just cut through mounds of psychobabble and self-help tomes! You don’t need no stinkin’ 10 steps to happiness or a think it and be it blissful epiphany. If you want to be happy, just ignore reality.

~~ I had to make a decision about something that was tearing me up. Then I remembered a coping technique I used to do with my son: just pick one option and see how your gut reacts. I did, chose to do the thing, and my stomach flipped twice before sinking to my ankles. I immediately announced I’d do the opposite, and 20 minutes later, I found myself singing. [This likely contradicts my pontification above, but I don’t give a rip. Sue me, happiness acolytes.]

~~ If you’re keeping score at home, the light was still off yesterday (see last week’s blog).

~~ I opened my backdoor to let one of my dogs out, and encountered a raccoon on the step.

Startled, I guess, s/he hissed and went after my 11-pound dog. Frantic, I screamed at the raccoon and started flailing my arms at him or her (I figured I stood a better chance of survival than my little canine). My dog ran off and the raccoon followed. I stood outside and shrieked at the top of my lungs, pleading for Mookie to return. I was frantic and very, very loud. Mookie came back, seemingly unscathed, though I was quite shaken. Once my adrenaline receded, I realized that not one of my neighbors came to see why I was wailing; I don’t recall even a light being flipped on or a window opened. My dog-raccoon encounter may not be a Kitty Genovese incident, but it could have been, right? Shame on my neighbors.

~~ I heard an adorable story about a five-year-old who wanted to know if “badass” was a bad word. His mom said probably, depending on where he’d heard it (he was watching Shrek and she thought maybe someone in the movie said that Donkey was acting poorly.) Next time the movie was playing, he called out to his mom that the word was coming up, then he sang the along. “One is the loneliest number that you'll ever do …Two can be as badass one… It's the loneliest number since the number one…”

Have a great weekend!
LET’S GO METS!
J!-E!-T!-S! JETS! JETS! JETS!
LET’S GO RANGERS!

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