The Recurring American Nightmare

How is this even a toy? Vey iz mir…

Mr. President, members of Congress, legislators, and elected officials,  f*ck your thoughts, prayers, flags at half-staff, and hollow condolences. Your inertia is astounding and I am angry. Columbine. Marshall High. Sandy Hook. Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School. Our kinder (children) are dying. What is it going to take to get you to make change?

The constant misinterpretation of the Second Amendment is reprehensible. Bloated white men in high offices are allowing young white males to steal childhood, eternally changing families before our eyes.

How is it that anyone outside of a highly trained militia, can purchase a gun meant for nothing less than mass destruction and terror?

In these United States: you must be 18 years of age to vote in an election assuming you have the wherewithal to register to vote and muster up the energy to actually show up at your place of polling.

You must be 21 years of age to legally by alcohol. Most states, including Florida, have zero-tolerance alcohol laws when it comes to alcohol purchase and consumption. ZERO TOLERANCE. As a kid growing up in sunny south Florida, we, all of us, had fake ID’s that made alcohol purchase easy.

In many states, just like Florida, at the tender age of 18, you can purchase a rifle, shotgun or, say, for example, a militaristic style, long-gun, like the AK-47 or the AR-15. In many other states, in full support of American gun culture and hunting, you can be as young as 14. Fourteen.

You can be hormonally challenged by a newly-formed pimple, bullied or rejected, and/or filled with normal teenage angst, and still legally purchase a long gun for hunting. This is not the 1800’s, and most of us are no longer ‘Pa’ from Little House on the Prairie, desperately trying to track and kill a bison for the winters’ feeding of one’s family.

In most states, including Florida, you must be 21 years of age to buy a handgun the kind that shoots only 1 bullet at a time.

I am in full support of gun safety background checks, like the majority of this country. However, now is the time that we all must come together, parties aside, and ban all semi-automatic weapons sales. Ban all assault weapons. They are not the fabric of our rich American history. Yet history, they are certainly making.

We cannot dare become numb or normalize these massacres. Nor will banning all semi-automatic weapons stop these horrific acts of terror. But it is clear that we cannot and must not sit back and watch.

If change cannot come from the top down, then we all must rise from the bottom, up. As adults, moms, dads, caregivers, it is our job to protect our kinder (children).  This #MomDemandsAction

Yiddish Proverb:

What will become of the sheep if the wolf is the judge? Vos vet vern fun di sheps aoyb di volf iz di rikhter?

     

      

     

 

Vaginas, Muslims, Mac-n-Cheese, and Polar Bears

My mighty girls...
My mighty girls…We fight for you and all the kinder (children)

I am one scared Yiddeshah momma these days. I am literally swimming in shpilkas (nervous in my gut) over the tsuris (troubles) mr T has caused our world in just twelve days of domination, deception, and lawlessness.

If you have a vagina, if you care about the ingredients in the foods you and your kinder (kids) eat, the water you drink, if you believe in religious freedoms and equality or cannot shake the image of the emaciated polar bears, please show up.

mr T, he began spewing the darkest, most Machiavellian mantra of inaugural messaging, while his minions behind the scenes stripped the White House website (and our people) clean of all of the hope and justice created during the Obama administration.

Rapidly putting pen to papers, he began to disassemble the accomplishments and freedoms for the people of this country, my country. The sick and underprivileged are now at risk. Healthcare is in limbo. Women’s rights, LGBT rights, and civil rights have shuddered.  He has thrown out hard facts and true science, sacrificing the environment for our kinder (children) and their kinder  —  all slashed with the click of a pen, held in his tiny, little, creepy hands.

He placed a gag order on the EPA. We no longer need to know what is in our food, our water; what spills in our riverbeds and oceans. He reopened the oil pipelines. 

And on Holocaust Remembrance Day, very late in the daily news cycle, he went above and beyond draconian, incomprehensible behavior. mr T, he banned all Muslims from seven majority Muslim nations, and all fleeing refugees from entering our sanctuary country.

This unprecedented, diabolical action is clear, plain as day, religious persecution. mr T’s deeds defy our American values and places us all in grave danger. He is setting the stage for his campaign promise of a Muslim registry. The indecency of this magnitude has happened before in the world. It all began with words of hate. Never again.

@POTUS44 and @MichelleObama, please stay close to us, for the clocks of history are quickly bending backward in time.

mr T, know that I wish you no ill will. I want you to leave the White House, but unless a bigger, bolder gig awaits you, I doubt this will happen. I will go back to my Yiddish ancestry and offer you up a bissel shiltn (little curse).

May you either have to use the toilet every three minutes or every three months. May ir oder hobn tsu nutzn di klozet yeder drey minut oder yeder dray khdshim.

I sure hope you have good healthcare mr T.  A yiddishah curse, is like no other!

What if we were to make him a new curse, reflecting modern times? Something along the lines of:

May your dictatorial acts, racist, anti-Semitic, and misogynistic views haunt you as your offspring marry a Jew (check), a Muslim, and a member of the LGBT community.

May you be more careful when you make those faces when you speak the words of puppet-master Bannon, because like all momma’s say, your face will freeze that way.

May your fortune grow and grow and grow, to incomparable levels of wealth and riches. And may the next Democratic president, elected 4 years from now, tax the f*cking shi*t out of you and the gazillionaire friends of yours who line your cabinets.

I must say, this curse making is quite fun. Why don’t you try it? Please, send me your creative thoughts and ideas!

Stay strong my friends. Our voices and actions matter more now than ever before. One need not be a lefty-liberal to know that hate has no home in these Unites States. We must proudly and strongly have the courage to stand up and say, “Never again.”

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Who leaves a dog in a car on a hot day?

shhhhhh. Therapy in Session. Help me understand this?

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Last week, I took a walk during lunch and found Truffula Trees! It was delightful and I felt giddy. This week, already marred with the pain and loss of Harambe, don’t you know I find a small dog in a hot vehicle parking lot? A paid parking lot, so this was deliberate and could last for hours! A shonda (shame) on so many counts. Who does this? Why?

I looked in, knocked on the doors and windows, to see if idiot humans anyone was with the soon to be poached pooch. The doors and windows were sealed shut. It was about 84 degrees in the shade yesterday. Furry little guy looked to weigh about 15 lbs, tops, as it sat in its dog bed (evidence of a perpetually bad habit?), panting in the passenger seat of a small mobile home, from California no less.

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Like any good dog loving human, I chased after a police car as it drove down the street. You wanna know why? A dog left in a hot car cooks a slow and ugly death.

  • Their cooling mechanisms will try hard to kick in — They will pant and drool, blood vessels will dilate
  • Blood pressure begins to change as the heart works harder to supply blood to the dilating vessels. Organs will start to pool blood, and pressure will drop
  • Organ damage begins — kidneys, stomach, intestines, liver all start to feel the thermal damages as blood clots form throughout, vomiting and bloody diarrhea develop and the brain swells
  • If that little red Rover was to reach 109F, and that can happen easily, there would be irreversible brain damage, seizures, coma, and then death
That's panting, not smiling
That’s panting, not smiling

Did you know, that even on a semi-cool day, say around 70F, the temperature in a vehicle could be as much as 40 degrees higher than outside?

The police were able to track down this nogudnik (less than moral and ethical character). He was in a local museum in the area. IN A MUSEUM! While Fido was frying like an egg, this yutz (jerk) was in a museum!

I couldn’t stay to watch this person(s), who left Rover without a care, to broaden his/her horizons at the historical, Eastern State Penitentiary (a fitting locale, this prison, for this chutzpenik (asshole a person with audacity and nerve) who could to do something so wrongful to human’s best friend. He/they should have to go to the big house, the joint, lockup.

I was going to stay, to gib a kick (get a load of) the schmuck(s) return from the ‘prison’ to meet the officers at the rolling home holding this canine captive, but I was too farklempt (overwrought with sadness and anger) to look at his/her punim (face).

I thanked the officers who helped to save this haggard and heated little guy. A mitzvah (good deed).

In dog we trust, at least I do…

A bei gesunt (We should live and be well).

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The Good, the bad and the ugly truth: My Smile is Back

photo by willowandsage1 follow on instagram
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Shhhh. I’m kvetching (ranting). It’s Friday.

Good News: My effervescent (not in a gassy way), cheerful, and sunny disposition has been fully restored to my punim (face) as I recently regained the use of my right trigeminal nerve. Yes, I’m a regular Mary Poppins-berg! In short, I’m able to smile, beam, and grin again like the Cheshire cat.

Bad News: Since March, my punim (face) has been fahrkrimpteh (twisted, scowling). My ability to fully smile, while usually a wonderful and somewhat contagious activity, means that the Botox treatment used to treat the nerve pain I experience from occipital neuralgia and cervical dystonia has completely worn off, shy of the 90 day term. Stop what you’re thinking. It’s not ‘that kind of Botox treatment.’ While I have the shoulders, back of my neck and scalp of a 21-year-old female, this punim (face) wears the aged mask of an alta kocker (old fart) from years of living in chronic pain.

The Ugly Truth: Chronic, persistent, prolonged pain sucks ducks. The walking wounded, we amble among you. We are everywhere. We may look just fine, and we are faking feeling great. Botox, actual botulism in a bottle, when administered by the proper neurologist, beautifully battles the suffering. When combined with bionics and meds, I’m the closest to normal I’ve been in decades. A bei gezunt (We should all live and be well)!

Good News: I am 13 12 days until my next treatment. That’s nothing! My cranium will regain its youthful glow as the surrounding nerves freeze and ease, like Elsa in Arendelle. I don’t mind needles or shots. I’m gonna “Let it go.”

Bad News: I am 13 12 days until my next treatment. Depending on how things go with the turbulent barometric pressure, stress, physical activity, posture, and luck of the draw, we’ll see how I feel day to day. How much can I fake it, and how I can avoid impending flares?

The Ugly Truth: This last round was wonderful! I had one or two days at a time when I totally turned off the bionics (occipital stimulator). On the classic pain scale where I (new-normally) live a persistent 6-7, I saw days in this past couple of months where I was a 2. Nu? Me and the Mrs., we were afraid to talk about it…I am amazed that some gantseh macher (big shot, genius) had the gumption to inject this enchanted neurotoxin to freeze nerve endings and reduce wrinkles. Who am I to judge that this mastermind’s first intention was to use his goldeneh hendts (golden hands) to fulfill the vanity needs of aging starlets? En route, there was a common oddity found among those firmer in the face. These maturing movie stars also saw benefits of less head and neck pain? Ah-hah moment!

Good News: Armed with the trifecta of Botox, meds and my stim, I get more days on my calendar than, well ever before. I have more time with the Mrs., Little and Big, more days for work, more days for play. Priceless.

Bad News: In terms of costs, Priceless, not so much. In fact, “OUCH!” This family will feel the pain in an already vulnerable wallet. There is no frugality in Pharma. They expect a lot of gelt (money). What price pain? This round, we will see how my new friends at Allergan pitch in to help.

The Ugly Truth: Soon, when I lose my smile, know how happy I really am. Pain, gay avek (go away) Neuro-paralysis, here I come.

 

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Did you really just text me a zinger like that?

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Shush! Therapy is in session. Phones off.

Kvetch (rant) week 16: Texting has gotta stop!

Okay, it has to be done. I’ve seen too much collateral damage, both on the side of the road in a puddle of blood, and on the sofa cushions, in a puddle of tears.  Texting is not a form of good communication. I’m as techy as the next mom, maybe more so. But, hear me loud and clear. We are allowing our superior opposable thumbs to:

  1. Slowly and surely slash social human interaction
  2. Cause senseless arguments and misinterpretations
  3. Choke our savings in data plans that feel like extortion

Why you ask? Nuance. In a text you cannot look the person in the eyes, hear the tone of their voice, respond to their body language or sense their emotional state. Emoji’s, while cute, cannot replace the shades and degrees that make up real conversations.

PLEASE PICK UP THE PHONE IF:

  • Your text is more than 2 short sentences, such as, “Running late. Be home soon.” If the reader has to scroll endlessly to read your message, and then respond with texting that is twice as long, this is mishegas (crazy making).
  • You need to convey something shocking or impolite, “I’m divorcing you and I’m keeping the house. How was your day?” C’mon. Unless you are really a draycup (one with your head not on straight), think this through.
  • You have emotional news to share, like, “Your father, he’s just fine. He only tried to kill himself.” This Yiddisher momma loves sarcasm as much as you, but nice, not so much. This kind of text can trigger a battle of the thumbs that will rival the Dueling Banjos from Deliverance. And Carpal-Thumbal is soon to be the next medical malady.
  • You may come off a bissel (a tad bit) begrudging, “You did what? And that birthday Rolex will feed your kids how?” You may be thinking, wow, I was damned clever there…but at what price?
  • You may create a monster of a misunderstanding; “You haven’t spoken to me in three years and you want I should drop everything now and take you to the airport!” Don’t text today like nothing was wrong yesterday. Or more profoundly put, “Don’t pee on my foot and tell me it’s raining.”

DRIVING WHILE IN-TEXT-ICATED:

Every day, we mitigate hundreds of risks with the decisions and choices we make throughout the course of our days. And still, we magically (or luckily) make it home for dinner. Kaynehorrah (said to ward off the evil eye)! 1.6 million-car accidents occur each year due to the dilemma that is texting and driving. This number, it is growing. And it is taking our kinder (children) with it. Teens are the biggest culprits. And whom did they learn this behavior from? I’m just saying. Put the phone down. Be a role model. Listen to NPR or Spotify. Be present.

Distracted walking is now even cause for concern. People are texting while walking and getting hit by cars, run over by trains, and are generally more in danger than those of us present. Who is such a macher (big cheese, boss) they cannot walk without the thumbs poised to shoot?

Me, I have a strict rule in the car. I will not text and drive for three major reasons: The Mrs., Big, and Little.

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And because I’m curious, when I do hear that electronic fart telling me I have a text waiting, don’t you know I hit every green light until I reach my final destination. No joke! Keep ‘em coming. I’ll be punctual and arrive alive.

A bei gezunt. (We should all live and be well).

Can you give it up? Tell me about it, won’t you?

 

 

 

 

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Is catastrophe the new us? I’m for a better truth!

Don't my shana madaleh's deserve a better place, a safer place?
Don’t my shana madaleh’s (little girls) deserve a better place, a safer place?

Yes, I’m ranting. Why have we lowered the bar on civility?

Does it really matter where one pees? This Yiddisher momma will tell you that in the many times nature has called when I have been out and about, and the line at W went around the corner, I walked into the empty M without causing an international threat to gender. And haven’t all Euro-pee-ans been sharing a WC without worry for, well, ever?

And should whether one pees standing up or sitting down really dictate the gender pay gap?

If November 8th declares a victory for Hillary, will she only receive $316,000 per year / $0.79 per dollar of all her male predecessors?

Why do so many people care only for the unborn child while in utero, and not give a flying fu, well hoot, once the kid has left its amniotic apartment?

Why so much racism, hate, injustice and senseless violence?

#Black Lives Matter
#Black Lives Matter

How is Monsanto allowed to devastate our food system and spoon feed us garbage and chemicals? Don’t they deserve a squirt or two of RoundUp?

Fracking is the new F-word in the world of fossil fuels, foreign oil, future and further damage to water, health, our environment, and the planet. Pope, can you pipe in here please?

Climate change is real. Even the Pope, head macher (big deal, boss man) of the Catholic Church, says human beings are the cause of this major catastrophe. Why can’t the ‘collective we,’ countries and corporations, that share this planet all own that progress and evolution does not always make for a revolution.

#Climate Matters
#Climate Matters

With the bar so low, can we ever raise it again? How long will it take? I worry about all of our kinder (children) growing up in a world so careless, unkind, racist, bigoted and focused on the wrong green.

Oy vey doesn’t even begin to cover this shpilkas (intestinal terror!) folks.

Please, I am open to suggestions. Wallet activism and voting alone won’t change where we are headed.

We need a mindset shift, Yes? Any ideas? I’m askin’ from my heart.

Nu?

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The Frugal Foursome Rant: An Update

Little and Big, with O. and S. Free fun for all!
Little and Big, with O. and S. Free fun for all!

Shhh. This weeks rant is a day late, and , well, a dollar short…

Last year, I shared a post that left me very vulnerable and open, in a good way. Authenticity at it’s finest, brought to you as many times a week as I can type. What, you want I should lie? Like sleep doesn’t already keep me awake at night…and you, my therapists, you should be able to take it.

Well, it’s time I let you know how the ‘path less purchased’ is going:

Live Lean:

  • Slash the budget and stop the hemorrhage.  As much as I’d like to say we have fully coagulated, even formed a scab, we are still bleeding. Maybe we need that nice, Dr. House to help us. Or Susie Orman. We rarely go out, and when we do, it’s a pizza or the diner—no extravagance here. Despite Ich macht a labent (I’m making a living), the cost of our life is still out doing my income. This keeps my metabolism revving, and leaves me a bit ferklempt (choked with emotions). Our biggest expenses still come from Doctors…because of me, I’m a pain in the neck, chronically and literally, and the best progressive education around, at the Miquon School, for the kinder (the kids). Two things we cannot stop attending to.
  • Cut the cord. Goodbye Cable! Done! And we couldn’t be happier. Savings here, ~$200 per month! We have wi-fi, and we stream, like all the cool kids!
  • Eat home, brown bag lunches, snacks and beverages, avoid quaint coffee culture. This has a steep learning curve. Stopping for ice cream, a bottle of water, c-o-f-f-e-e, snacks, all very difficult. We rarely eat out. We make rice and beans. Beans and rice, rice, with beans, and sometimes beans and rice. Thankfully, we are veggies and love this! No sacrifice! Little and Big, they get hungry, and thirsty, even after our well thought out bag of noshes (snacks and drinks) has been consumed. Oy! When we have nothing for me to bring for lunch, I wait until dinner. I allow myself one cup of coffee out per week. My coffee klatch, dear friends back from our barista brewing ‘Buckaroo days…are well worth every penny.
  • Sell the house—downsize, move, rent. Living life the Manor way. It’s an adjustment for us all. We have no idea whose basement has what of our stuff or how long we will be here. But, we carved a savings of about ~$1200 per month. 
  • Make memories, give experiences, learn to live well with less.  Major improvement! My wonderful machetanum (in-laws) gave us a membership to the Morris Arboretum. It’s like our backyard, without mowing or pruning. We have been there zillions of times and keep finding new things to fall in love with and explore. We are making wonderful memories and enjoying outdoor play together!
Coffee Klatch <3
Coffee Klatch ❤

Lean On:

  • Leave senseless money squabbles behind. Better. ❤ We find ourselves on the same page so much more often than ever before. My Mrs., she has come a long way!
  • Share the burden of stresses that I hold so deep and internal. The Mrs. and me, we kibbitz (talk) more about a lot of things. A stolen moment here, a quick sentence or two there—we’ve even texted each other while on the sofa. The best thing for me, when I hear her laughter. Priceless…
  • Recognize that ‘thrift maven’ may come in stages for those of us that are more ‘spendy’ and less frugal. And with this one, we bicker less. Win, win! Baby steps lead to long strides.
Yarn bombing At the Arboretum!
Yarn bombing At the Arboretum!

Lean In:

  • Control what I can control. I’m trying.
  • Always lead by example. Words I try hard to live by.
  • Keep my ‘cup half full attitude. A veritable Mary Poppins, I am.
  • Work hard and make the time to play hard. We all need more play.
  • Set goals together for a purpose, because some may just find the simple act of saving for savings sake boring. Oh savings! I should only live long enough to be bored by you!

Financial stability, I am searching for you around every corner. I am working hard to have you in our lives again. We will be fine. Things will improve. Time and karma.

 

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Rant, shmant…Cell Phones. WTF? Week 11

As you see, the parents are not paying attention to the kinder (child)
As you see, the parents are not paying attention to the kinder (child)

 

Cell phone courtesy: Please turn ‘em off – therapy is in session

Answer: 60 to 125 times a day

Question: On average, how many times do we check our cell phones each day?

So, I ask you, are you average, above average? Stellar perhaps? Just how tethered are you? Can you give it up? Would you? I have to admit, mine goes everywhere with me. Apple had me at, “iHello.” And to be honest (we are in therapy after all) the phone is my least favorite feature. It’s that dreamy camera—the ability to capture my kinder (kids) in every escapade imaginable. Kodak moments? Not so much (who prints when we can swipe?). Between the Mrs. and me, we record every waking moment of our lives with Little and Big. Second children no longer have to grow up unnoticed (and needing therapy); Little is in just as many pictures as Big.

please watch this short video…my mishpocheh (family) in action. That Kenny, he’s got the making of a star! Nu? Thank you to my nephew, Max-a-lah,  for making such a video!

What on earth did we all talk about before everyone on the planet got a smart phone? I vaguely recall long, lovely, limitless, uninterrupted time to myself. I walked the dogs (furry first children) and was totally one with them in nature. I could run to the store and pick up a script without a care. I actually peed without bringing a phone in the bathroom. The Mrs. and I, we schmoozed (chatted) about everything, snuggling on the sofa watching Olivia Benson kicking some major butt!

There were no electronic farts, noises, beeps, or music telling me about a new email, a tweet, a status update, a news alert, or a lightening strike within my immediate proximity. I was not instantaneously answerable to anyone. I think I was still okay? I managed to meet with friends and family and not call if someone was 10 seconds late (of course, I’m Jewish, so I imagined them dead by the curb, or on a respirator in the hospital, but which hospital? Oy). I knew how to dress for the weather because I walked out the front door to check. I was up to date on the news and current events; I definitely held my own during many a ‘water cooler’ conversation. My landline rang and I let the answering machine get it. Yes, I was a proud screener.

I’m positive we talked more before smart phones. I used to take time out of my day to write letters and send cards to people for special occasions. Now, I can text or instant message birthday wishes, Mazel Tov’s or even my deepest sympathies. Why even say how I feel? There is an amazing array of emoticons for every expression. Feelings? Feh!

Oh Siri, how I love and hate you so… Like Google on crack, so many answers you have? This techno age is meshuggeneh (crazy). Being connected is so easy, yet I look around at restaurants, on the train, even walking, and everyone is looking at his or her phones. Talking to each other? Not so much.

Was life better before? Is life better now? I don’t know. I do know life is faster now. Yet, somehow, it’s a lot easier to feel disconnected, being so connected. It’s a shonda (a shame). WTF?

 

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Rant, shmant…what to do about litter? Week 10

It's not like there is another planet we can go to
It’s not like there is another planet we can go to

Shhhhhh. She’s in therapy again. Help her.

Today at lunch I walked around and could not believe the dreck (crap, trash) I found

Just a little jaunt to breathe fresh air; feel the sun on my back and the wind in my hair

For spring had landed in Philadelphia – I wanted to stroll; feel a bit healthia’

The neighborhood, a very desirable place, had so much trash, it was a disgrace

I won’t belabor or beat this dead horse; rather let me show you as a matter of course:

whoever did this, shlepped (carried) it along lonng enough to drink it all
Shlepped (carried) it along long enough to drink it all, you nogoodnik!
You mean you can add littering to your bad choices?
Wonderful, add littering to your bad choices!
Recycling, not much?
Recycling, not so much. Kish mir en tuchis (kiss my ass butt)!
Sucha big macher (big shot) you are, Mr. Cigar. Such chazzerai (garbage, pig slop)
Such a big macher (big shot) you are, Mr. Cigar. Tidy, you are not.
May all your teeth fall out, except one, so that you can have a toothache.
Such schmutzik (filth) everywhere?
First, you eat bread made from yoga mats, now you do this? Feh!
Eat bread made from yoga mats, then you litter? Feh!
A shonda (shame) to toss a childs toy aside
A shonda (shame) to toss a toy aside, like chazzerai (pig slop)

Such a mess, this is tantamount to; people, I gotta’ ask? Who raised you?

Please all you folks who live out there, teach der kinder (the kids) well, make them aware.

 

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Rant, Shmant, at least I can vent…Week 6

 

Shhhh. Please be quiet...therapy again! Yup.
Shhhh. Please be quiet…therapy again! Yup.

My rants of the past few weeks have been a little on the ample

Like politics and racism, just to give you an example

Today I’ll take it down a stretch and act a bit more tranquil

And leave my lefty, liberal thoughts and opines, for some of you will be thankful

 

I despise it, laundry the charge that never ends

Despite the amount you do, it continues and transcends

If we had one, we could bagroben (bury or hide) it all deep within the basement

Then the Mrs. and the Kinder (kids) would look at me with such amazement

 

The clothes are always inside out and the bin is overflowing

The stench gets rather pungent and the hallway somewhat glowing

It’s never in the hamper rather scattered all about

What is dirty, what is clean? Is something regularly I shout

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Please use your towels more than once do you think this is my only job?

Pick up those scattered dirt-drenched things and stop living like a slob

It’s almost time to essen (eat) so we can’t change our clothes anew

And there are only three out of four of us who are neat enough when we chew

 

As for sorting out the colors from the others in the bin

When something is mis-washed or spun, it’s deemed a venal sin

If something should be hanging but somehow makes it through the dryer

You’ll find me running for the hills as if my hair were lit on fire

 

Darks and lights, black or white, what about the stripes

Lately there are too many categories and subsequent subtypes

Fancy little outfits, sheets, knits, towels, maybe a sweater

Farmisht (befuddled), I just put everything on delicate-cold, I’m trying to be better

 

As for the lone socks, I alone will simply not accept the pressure

For mix-matched wearing is quite fashionable, a real wardrobe refresher

Fargessen (forgot) and doing the same load for two to three days makes me go berserk

Yet heeding that annoying buzzer has not yet become knee-jerk

 

She who does the wash and finds gelt (cash) in the washer/dryer

While fun and gleeful, it’s just a bissel (little), not nearly enough to inspire

What is the point of folding when all the drawers are a complete mess?

Well, at least not mine, one out of four, of that I can confess

 

Putting away the farkakteh (pain in the tuchas-butt) laundry is a struggle I abhor

Perhaps clean clothes and such should be in a jumble on the floor

A baleboosteh (great housekeeper) I am not. And laundry, fun? No way

Nudist? Naked? Maybe? Just think of all those hours saved each and every day

linky 2-26-16 #FabFridayPost
linky 2-26-16 #FabFridayPost

 

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Rant, Shmant, as long as I can vent…Week 3

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Quiet! Third therapy session in progress

The amount of shpilkas I’m experiencing from just the news alone; I could plotz. It’s getting worse as Little and Big are growing and asking more and more sizable questions about the planet and the people who surround us. They are going to have to live in this world, clearly a work in progress (perhaps I use this term loosely), and I am fearful of so many things.

Oy vey, this week. Caucusing! What nudnik came up with this process? We schmooze, we kibbitz, we vote. And then, straight from the clown car, Cruz cruises into the main ring? The top three from that car, vey iz mir! These party leaders, who hold punishing values and regressive perspectives toward women, gays, sick, aged, underprivileged people. And science? They allow for religion to trump science (yes, I used that T-word on purpose). There is an age-old Yiddish curse that I offer to these GOP machers: May every tooth in your head fall out, except one, so you can get a toothache! Then I add to this Yiddisher-spell, deal with the fact you no longer have dental insurance!

Oh Bernie, how I feel you and the tie/loss. I do not believe this country, my country, can or will elect a lantzman. Hillary, you squeezed success by merely a bissel. Everyone please read her emails. The state department releases them in bunches (like your panties) each month because they are public record. See who she really is. Forget the blue pants suit already. A shonda.

While I’m on the government and this merry-go-round of Looney-tunes, I must say the water crisis in Flint, this disgusting, inhumane cover-up—how can we do this to our own people? How can we do this at all, and sit back and deny, deny, deny. How do these politicians and GM corporate gonifs sleep at night? What do you do when your tap water starts to look like coffee and the EPA says, “it’s all good; drink up!” If not Flint, where else? What don’t we know? What are we drinking? Pepsi, the behemoth of bottlers even revealed that their Dasani bottled water is simply tap water. Tap water from where? I’m in Pennsylvania, the fracking epicenter. You think I feel good about our water? A shonda.

Voter apathy. People, if you care at all, please register to vote now. Primaries are looming. They matter. Read about the people seeking the biggest, most undesirable and scrutinized job in our nation, because you have ‘say.’ Make your decision and please, no matter whom you choose, VOTE. I know, the roster has been meh at best…but your voice, it matters. On November 8th of this very year, your VOTE matters. Get yourself ready to vote because #humanitymatters.

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If not for you, please, for my Little and Big and your kinder too.

#humanitymatters

 

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TY linky 2-5-16

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Rant Shmant, As long as I can vent…Week 2

Have a Seat, Lisa
Have a Seat, Lisa

Quiet….Second Therapy Session in Progress

I gotta say, my kishkas are really in knots over the Second Amendment. I believe, we as a country, are snow-balling towards greater tsuris each day. My Little and Big, shana madelas that they are, will grow up in this world. The Mrs. and I, we brought them into a society spiraling out of control, and I worry, oh how I worry, about their safety and wellbeing. Poo, Poo!

I’m talking about guns. Now, as you may have figured out, this lefty, liberal, jewish, lesbian is a tree-hugging, berkenstock wearing, granola chewing (albeit gluten-free) lover of the planet, and a pacifist. Here, in the US, we are picking each other off at alarming rates for no reason. A real shonda. And it all harkens back to this one sentence in the US Constitution:

“A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed.” 

Doublespeak? Can you say ambiguous? Masters of grammar and the English language, I think not. Did the Founding Fathers even proofread this very important, horribly written sentence? Did they think about the misinterpretation matrix that ultimately allows those powerful schmucks in the NRA, with their gun-packing followers, to twist and turn these words with such vengeance and fear-mongering?

We can no longer sit back and say Beshert is Beshert. This, my goyim friends, is like when Doris Day would sing Que sera, sera. I say no more to, “whatever will be, will be”…The future is ours. We need to fix this awful mess to make the world safer for our kinder. The boychicks and madelas that so innocently trust, play, and explore, deserve so much more than we currently have to offer.

I can’t tell you how many times, this week alone, I’ve read how a youngster has found a gun in their home, and either accidentally killed their sibling or themselves. Shonda. Think about our president, who has held almost weekly prayer vigils for all of the mass shootings that continue to happen in this country. George Zimmerman is claiming, “Stand your Ground!” and getting off scott-free! People are shooting people. People are shooting cops. Cops are shooting unarmed people. Think about how 30,000+ lives are taken from us here, in this country, due to senseless gun violence. Shonda. Think how nothing has changed since Sandy Hook. Nothing! Shonda. This, they call rights?

Then, we couple these unthinkable acts with the GOP frontrunner (curiously, rhymes with RUMP), a real no-goodnik, who has the chutzpah to so proudly state this week in the news, while holding a rifle, “I could stand in the middle of Fifth Avenue and shoot somebody and I wouldn’t lose any voters, okay?”  They call him a candidate to lead this country? Shonda.

People, it’s harder to buy a car or rescue a dog, than it is to buy a gun. It’s harder to buy allergy meds at your local pharmacy! 30,000+ each year. At school. At the movies. At work. At play. Where will it happen next. Who is next? Why doesn’t it stop? Why is it escalating. The answer is always the same. Money. Money. Money. Inspiring fear sells guns. Kindling the misguided news that ‘we’ are out to take your guns, sells more guns. Ignorance, racism and bigotry sells more guns.

So, who among you will help me make this planet safer for the kinder? Help us to STAND OUR GROUND and be safe. We need to VOTE and to use our VOTES wisely people. Our kids depend on it. Humanity matters and should not be stolen so capriciously and painfully.

L’chiam! To life!

FabFridayNewYear1 with  and @ethannevelyn

 

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