yep. we’re gonna go there.

It’s been a hell of a week.

An iron IV that knocked me off my feet for the rest of the week.  Apparently some folks get up from the chair and feel outstanding; others end up nauseated, exhausted, and with raging headaches.  Guess which camp I landed in?  Yeah.

On a side note, a head’s up for anyone out there who might need an iron boost someday:  for most of the IV day your pee will be a rusty color.  You know, just in case your nurse forgets to tell you.  I could have done without that heart stopping moment in the restroom.

Four full days where I left the house by 8:00am and didn’t get back until around 2:00.  Phoebe and Gracie did not appreciate the sudden increase in quality alone time, that’s for sure.

Twenty minutes before leaving town yesterday T-man took a major spill in the road.  After grabbing Bear from practice plus 4½ hours of crazy involving an urgent care visit and late dinner we finally managed to pack up and leave.  At 9:30pm.  With T-man stretched out across my backseat icing his sprained knee.

Plus the commander in chief referred to places in Africa as “shithole countries.”  So there’s that.

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come in open minded, leave fair food satisfied

On the last State Fair weekend in North Carolina (marking yet another year of slacker parenting by not taking our kids for this experience), I thought it would be perfect timing to share Nick’s musings on Fair food debates.  Enjoy. 

Among the issues discussed:

3. Which type of food on a stick? – They have put every type of food except soup on a stick at the fair, and they’ll probably do that sometime soon, too.  It’s great fun to walk around and carry food on a stick, and you can even put the stick in your pocket or behind your ear to hold your food if you need.”

Top Five Fair Food Debates –

“What are you, exactly?”

One biracial man’s views on the fallacy of a post-racial America.  Pure, thought provoking, honest, and brave.  Please take a few minutes to read his story, then share it with your friends.

“…when it comes time for them to attend school, will my sons be confronted with that same question: What are you?   And when they answer, will they be doubted…?

That kind of doubt and disbelief can run deep in a child.  I know, because I experienced that disbelief, no matter how loudly I protested.  I didn’t dress right, I didn’t talk right, no way was I “mixed” with black.  As a child, more than anything you want to belong, and so the constant disbelief and invalidation of your identity wears you down, to the point where you don’t want to argue anymore, where you almost begin to question it yourself.”

The Unbearable Whiteness Of Being | Cognoscenti

Where’d my funny go?

I’ve lost my funny, you guys. 

It tiptoes around the edge of my consciousness like the wisp of a dream I can’t quite remember.  Bits of ideas, a sentence or two, but nothing I can grab onto with two hands. Nothing that turns into a paragraph, let alone a blog post.

I got a big fat nothing.

I’ve been pretty sick for the last week or so – gotta love those sinus things that morph into full on ugly – but it’s more than going through a box of tissues every other day.  It feels like the solemn has dug in deep and settled in the pit of my stomach.

It seems like day after day of disaster.  Riots in our cities, terrorist attacks across the world.  Flooding, hurricanes, people whose lives have been torn apart.  A country where some people enjoy more equal rights than others, and then yesterday’s news that we had yet another mass shooting on our hands.

I stood on that street with my kids this summer.  I pictured them and I pictured the mayhem, and I just checked out.

Time to work on righting my world again.

home of the free, because of the brave

We’ve had a whole lotta flag talk going around lately.  Folks jawing about disrespecting the flag and our country…other folks jawing about the country our flag represents disrespecting human rights and basic freedoms.

Where do you fall?

“Let’s fast forward a bit from those childhood days of mine, to a few years ago.  I had a neighbor and she flew an American flag in front of her house…Sally flew her flag proudly.  She was very vocal about her patriotism.  Home of the free because of the brave, and all that jazz.  One day, Sally got a new next door neighbor.  This neighbor was part of the American dream, coming from another country and establishing roots in the neighborhood, starting a flourishing local business.

I’ll call this new neighbor Lou.  At first, she was excited about Lou moving in.  ‘Oh, yeah, you know Lou?  He runs the so and so store down the corner!  He’s great!’  So, cool.  Lou is great…

Not long after Lou moved in, so did his wife, a hijab wearing Muslim from a middle eastern country.  The exact same middle eastern country Lou is from, but I guess that didn’t matter until a woman in a hijab moved in with him, because that’s when Sally’s talk of “terror cells” began and never ceased.”

What The Flag Means To Me – I’m Sick and So Are You


Beautiful. Poignant. Tragic. Inspiring.
All this and more from a 13 year old artist. 
Thanks to The Green Rocking Buddhist for sharing. Please take a few minutes to change your perspective. 

The Green Rocking Buddhist

Stereo – a film about reversed gender stereotypes.

Written, Directed, and Edited by Ella Fields, 13 years old.

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“this is your child, your children, your grandchildren”

Life in our current gun culture: watching where you park, tamping down road rage, choosing your battles carefully, even weighing the pros and cons of going into Walmart.

Life for our kids in the current gun culture: innocence gone up in smoke.

“I took this picture because initially I thought it was funny.  I was going to send it to my husband to show what our mischievous little three-year-old was up to.  However, The moment she told me what she was doing I broke down.  She was practicing for a lockdown drill at her preschool and what you should do if you are stuck in a bathroom.  At that moment all innocense of what I thought my three-year-old possessed was gone.”

Rage Against the Minivan: This heartbreaking photo captures life for kids in our current gun culture

“I’m not like those other ‘bad’ white people.”

Come on, folks, click over and check this post out.  It’s a must read.

“Hey. Friends. Addressing this part directly to other white folks. Hey, there. Hello.

When I say that “Nazis are bad,” I’m not actually calling YOU a Nazi. Unless you personally have worn a swastika, marched through the streets with torches, or run a vehicle over a group of counter-protestors, you’re fine. Sit down.

What I am saying is that white people need to wake up to what’s happening in this country. And the first way we can determine the root cause of this is to check your reflexes.

Remember that test that the doctors did at your physical? They’d hit your knee with the little hammer? Let’s give it a shot.

Fellow white people: I think Nazis are bad. Respond!”

A brief note for my fellow white people on what to do after Charlottesville | I Am Begging My Mother Not To Read This Blog