Muzzled

Because of my job there are certain topics I don’t write about anymore. 

1.  I miss that.

2.  I miss the emptying out of thought and emotion from my busy head onto the blank page.

3.  I miss inflicting my opinion and voice on whomever might be listening.

4.  I don’t regret changing my job.

5.  Not at all.

6.  So.  Most of the time, it seems like a fair trade.

7.  I love lists.

8.  It’s an election season.

9.  Politics, not politics in general but political candidates and which way the election wind is blowing in specific is one of those things I’m not writing about because of my job.

10. Very frustrating.

11. Understatement of the year.

12.  I am irked by the fact that I can’t find a news station that just reports the news.  Not even CNN, which used to, at least, be more bearable than others.  And, yes, I know, there’s always PBS, but YAWN.

13.  P.S. That hopey-changey thing is working out very nicely for me, indeed, thank you very much.

 

Finally, I believe I was dared, so…

Go ahead, give it a shot.  How do you think I’m going to fill this in today?

 

To A Hammer Everything Is A Nail

IF you haven’t had an apple cider donut or a fire in your fireplace or bought a pumpkin or thought about a Halloween costume or slept in socks yet this fall, I am sad for you because you are missing out and I recommend you remedy that pronto.  Unless you live in the tropics in which case, we’ll be in touch in February.  We are excellent houseguests.

IF you haven’t had a flu shot, speaking of February, please get one.  For all of us.  But mostly for the wives, because nothing says, “Oh Hellz to the No” like a husband with the flu.

IF you find that you are thinking quite often in song lyrics, it’s probably time to lighten up and spend more time playing with kids or puppies or eating marshmallows and watching tv.

IF you despair that your kids aren’t going to grow up and be normal, functional members of society, SHHHHH….yes they will.  Love on them.  Talk to them like they’re people, not puppies, or plants, or idiots, and get them real help if they need it.  Don’t forget that they aren’t you.  If they don’t go to Harvard, nobody cares.  Most people don’t go to Harvard.  Or Princeton.  Or Yale.  Most people are fine and don’t give a flying Wallenda where anyone else went to college.

IF you haven’t laughed so hard that your face hurt this week, you are doing it wrong and should call somebody up doublequick who is guaranteed to give you the jollies.

IF you haven’t cleaned out the bottom of your desk drawers, you know, under the folders and stuff?  You should.  I did this morning and oh my goodness the garbage and junk and crap and detrititus and refuse of past years and lives even.  Good riddance.  Sweet liberty.

IF you aren’t paying attention to how hateful our politics have become, you must, because you are otherwise guilty by association.

IF you are paying too careful attention to how hateful our politics have become, you mustn’t because otherwise you will become toxic by association.

IF you get bogged down in the details of your daily life, as my daughter said yesterday, out of the mouths of babes, “Sometimes doing the same thing every day gets, I don’t know SO THE SAME-ISH and not exciting and I don’t look forward to it,” then perhaps you need to try to find something that is a little not the same-ish.

IF you forget that the world is a good place, look around more carefully.  There is evidence everywhere.

IF you think that everybody has it better than you, and, coincidentally, you don’t like most of that “everybody,” chances are the problem isn’t with “everybody.”  You  might just need a better mirror.  I’m not much (snort) of a bible girl, but, you know, it says, “Judge not lest you be judged”, not, “Go ahead and judge because everybody’s a big jerk and you’re better than they are anyway and it’s the fault of the (gays/poor people/rich people/black people/illegal aliens/white people/jerks who live next door/women/alcoholics/bloggers/blondes/people who watch Jersey Shore*) that your life sucks.”  Get off the cross, we could use the wood.

IF you know Wanda Sykes, could you please bring her to my house for spaghetti?

BONUS TRACK

IF you don’t know why this is here, I don’t know what to tell you…

gratutious Werth.

*This doesn’t apply to crazy mean haters in my book, by the way.  Open season on Glenn Beck.