opinions

a quick rant

This morning, someone I like a lot in real life shared this on Facebook:

This person shares a lot of punny jokes and cute memes and, other than a bit of police worship I don’t agree with, would never purposely insult or hurt anyone. But this one, this stupid meme, has bugged me all day. I started to leave a comment on the post, then changed my mind and deleted it because (1) I don’t want to hurt this person by embarrassing them in front of their FB friends and (2) I’m not in the mood for a bunch of dudes to tell me I need to lighten up.

But because this is my space and I can say what I want and no dudes would be caught dead here, this is what I want to say:

-Criticising younger generations for not being as ‘good’ as us olds is lazy comedy.

-I don’t know the story behind these photos (and I’ll bet the person who made the meme doesn’t either), but chances are they were taken at a protest of some sort, where the point is to, you know, protest. Maybe they were protesting a Black paramedic being shot to death in her own home with zero consequences for her police officer killers. Maybe they were protesting children being snatched away from their parents at the Mexico/US border or protesting the fact that a racist, sexist reality show creep is authorising secret forces to beat up, tear gas and abduct people on American streets. But suggesting that these women are spoiled brats, screaming their heads off all the time about nothing is ridiculous.

-Speaking of women, have another look at the photos. Funny how it isn’t men being called out for this supposed bad behaviour. But women, no, women need to shut up, sit down and do what they’re told, right? How dare they open their mouths? How dare they have opinions?

-If I created a meme featuring a group of older, rich, ‘respectable’ white men totally losing it (and this would be so easy to do) with a snarky comment about how these raging grandpa-babies need a diaper change, would you share that, too? Or would that be (gasp) rude? Continually crapping all over young people for not showing enough respect seems like a poor strategy for ever gaining it, wouldn’t you say?

comments I’d like to leave on Facebook

1. You are older than eight so it’s time to learn how to use your and you’re correctly. Same goes for their, there and they’re. Please.
2. Thank you for posting this unsourced slab of text that claims COVID-19 can be diagnosed by whether or not you can hold your breath for 10 seconds and how if you can’t, you are obviously positive, but not to worry because it can be quickly and easily treated by gargling salt water for another 10 seconds. It’s so weird that the World Health Organization doesn’t promote these techniques.
3. LOVE your post about supporting small, local businesses. Did you know I have a small, local business and that you could help support it by following, liking or sharing my posts? That’s still a no from you, huh? Awesome, thanks so much.
4. Yes, I do love my daughter/son/husband/mother/father/dog, but no, I will not re-post that ugly graphic to tell everyone this. I’m going to go ahead and assume they already know.
5. Yes, I am already aware of cancer/depression/anxiety/arthritis/dementia, but no, I will not re-post that spelling error-ridden screed to show I think they are bad. I’m going to go ahead and assume we all think they’re bad.
6. No, I do not think that adorable little girl with Down syndrome or baby covered in breathing tubes or child amputee is ugly. But I also don’t need to share their photos to assure people of this. I’m going to go ahead and assume people know I’m not a monster.
7. I’m so glad for you that you enjoy all those endless questionnaires about your favourite class in high school and childhood nickname and the town where you grew up and so on. But you can just do those in your head, you know. Even if you aren’t contributing to data harvesting, they convey a certain…what’s the word…self-obsession?
8. I couldn’t agree more with all the ‘Stay Home and Save Lives’ banners and images you’ve been sharing. What’s funny, though, is that every single person I’ve seen posting these is someone who has just come back from a trip. Guess what? I was staying home. You were the one out there disregarding all the warnings.
9. Sorry, but I don’t care what colour your aura is or which Harry Potter character you are or what your job was in a past life. Nobody cares. Please stop clogging our timelines with this crap.
10. Just a heads-up: At the end of a sentence, all you need is a period. Like that one, right there behind me. Ooh, there’s another one. Adding a dash of punctuation here and there makes your unhinged rant more readable, but you don’t need 15 periods between each thought, which makes your already lengthy diatribe even lengthier. Just one period and one space after it. Go on and give it a try.

on the search for a functioning pen

Why why why, in a house full of supposedly half-decent pens I’ve purchased, are the most reliable, smoothest and longest-lasting pens the freebie ones from downmarket restaurants and roadside motels?

sigh

So it’s officially spring. Whoopee. Spring is nice for about seven minutes and then it’s all biting insects, allergies and incessant roadwork everywhere you go. Even worse is that spring is the slippery slope to summer. Which is the worst.

Reverse SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder) is a real thing and I have it. As the temperature and hours of daylight slowly climb in March and April, I experience the same impending doom regular SADists (that can’t be right) must feel in October and November as the days grow shorter and colder. June, July and August are my December, January and February: months I need to white-knuckle my way through, nauseous and headachy, cursing this stupid, hot country I live in and literally counting down the days until I can look at a pair of pants without bursting into flames. By late September, I begin to see the (thankfully dim) light at the end of the tunnel, but it’s always still uncomfortably warm until October, when I’m back to my usual self, rejoicing that the monster has been defeated for another year.

For five straight months, I’m preoccupied by my futile attempt at keeping the house as cool and dark as possible by closing the blinds and drapes that a certain unnamed ignoramus keeps opening in our passive-aggressive tug of war. I go outside only when absolutely necessary. (It’s never necessary.) I sit in front of a fan, daydreaming about being a reverse snowbird, fleeing the heat and humidity for a cool, cloudy environment where it’s never too hot for a cup of tea, I don’t sweat sitting still and I can dress with some semblance of dignity.

The most depressing part of all this, of course, is that it’s the exact opposite of what the vast majority of other people are doing and feeling all summer long. Having winter SAD gets you sympathy, commiseration and a hot tip about where to buy a light therapy box on sale. Having summer SAD gets you mockery and scepticism. From everyone, including the winter SAD people, who have forgotten what it’s like to feel persecuted by the weather.

No, I don’t think I’d feel better with ‘a bit of a tan.’ Yes, I am going to wear a gigantic sunhat and a men’s XXL white dress shirt if I risk a trip to the beach, which I guarantee will not be between the hours of ten a.m. and four p.m. No, I definitely do not want to eat outdoors. Yes, I do own not one but two pairs of enormous, wraparound sunglasses that fit over my regular clip-on sunglasses. No, I’m not joking, I really do hate those bloody endless days when it’s still light out at nine o’clock at night. Yes, I often wish my Cameron ancestors had managed to stick it out in the misty highlands of Scotland where wool is always the right choice.

So yeah, great, woohoo, it’s spring. See you in October.

just don’t

An incomplete list of words that make my skin crawl:

greasy
griege
slacks
sneakers

old crank alert: ‘healthy’ is not a bad word

I have two issues with this magazine ad:

(1) it’s ugly

(2) nothing good will come of teaching your kids that healthy foods are inherently less desirable than unhealthy

 Wanna fight?

photos for my forthcoming WFPB* cookbook

*whole food plant-based, duh

  • Me handing a Mason jar of extremely green smoothie to my adoring, supportive and not-grossed-out husband
  • Me strolling through a farmer’s market, a basket filled with leafy things hanging jauntily from my arm
  • Me laughing uproariously with a farmer at his stall
  • Three heirloom tomatoes lined up on my kitchen windowsill
  • Me coasting on an old-fashioned bicycle with my legs stuck straight out
  • Me kissing my dog
  • Sliced avocados
  • Me laughing merrily while making s’mores (homemade graham crackers and marshmallows with organic, free trade chocolate) around a campfire with my perfectly coordinated children
  • Whole avocados
  • Me sipping iced green tea through a stainless steel straw
  • Me serving up an enormous WFPB spread on tables in the backyard, impeccably set with white linens and purposely mismatched china, while my entire family beams proudly at my mastery of this life
  • Me blowing on a dandelion head that’s gone to seed
  • My dog wearing a neckerchief
  • Me in a garden wearing immaculate rubber boots that cost two hundred dollars
  • A butternut squash