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Can we just jump to January please? - 2014-11-14
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Max, Wolf, and the goats - 2014-10-15
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12:46 p.m. - 2013-10-12
Doing the polka at Sam's Club

I will not speak about the GOP's latest and outrageously illegal attempt at extortion, it makes me too crazy. Though I will say this is partially the Democrats' fault. Oh no, no, no, not this current Mafia-esque shakedown by the Repthuglicans, that's on them. However if the Democrats hadn't been such wimps for the last 20 years and let the bullying gits get away with so much shit all along then we wouldn't be here now. Everyone knows the GOP is simply a horrible gang of ill-behaved children. It's always been on the Democrats to rein in those jerks. And they haven't. Like parents who refuse to discipline their kids and instead pacify them by giving into tantrums with bribes and refusing to check wretched behavior. It's always those parents who after years of giving into their kids' shrieks for cake right before dinner and replacing broken toys and furniture when their brats stomped on them and wantonly poured grape juice all over the couch, the ones who make teachers apologize because their little precious hellion causes endless disruptions in class and the teacher dared try to punish their darling, the parents who shrug and look at their kid rampaging around and whine how they caaaan't get little Spencer to behave, feh, it's always those parents who are just shocked when Spencer's in jail for vehicular manslaughter after drunkenly running over the marching band with the principal's stolen car. Surprised as all hell when the brats they'd let run wild for 20 years end up doing something really terrible. So yeah, if the Democrats had made the Republicans eat their carrots and pay for the stuff they broke, it they were called out on their crap instead of being rewarded for it, if the Dems hadn't been such utter pushovers for so long there's no way the GOP would be trying to hold the entire country hostage right now. But the brats are used to getting their way and fully expected to have their way this time. And now when faced with having our whole government collapse are the Dems finally using some tough love. Now that it's probably too late, now that half the marching band is dead. Crud.

If only Bill Clinton had said to Congress, "Go to Hell. Who sucks my dick is NONE of your goddamn business, now get back to work!" Sigh...

I'm going with The Oatmeal on this one and celebrating Bartolome Day. Around here when I was a kid Columbus Day wasn't really about Columbus, it was the Italian St Patrick's Day. Instead of shamrocks and green beer there was antipasto and chianti. The Hibernians huddled up in their pubs while the Sons of Italy had a street party. The various Catholic churches tried to be mini-Switzerlands with blandly unspecified rummage sales and Bingo marathons but the glares shooting between Monsignor De Santis and Father Sheehan were hilarious. And poor Saint Columba in the geographic middle between the mighty parishes of Sacred Heart (Italian) and Saint John's (Irish) was always caught in the crossfire despite it being their Saint's Day. Saint Stanislaus over in the Black Dirt region stayed out of it entirely, the Poles preferring to concentrate on the onion harvest and the annual polka festival they threw every November when Jimmy Sturr would roll back into town in his sparkly tour bus and put on a show for the hometown folk. I have to admit I always liked attending mass at Saint Stanislaus, it's the only church I know where the hymns are played on an accordion.

I picked Wolf up after culinary school yesterday so he could go shopping with me. Originally Mick was scheduled to work the football game while Wolf and I did a Sam's Club run and had a fabulous dinner at the snack bar, but Mick came home mid-morning laid low with gastric distress and for a bit our plans were up in the air. My poor groaning Mick insisted I stick with it, he had no need of a nurse as he trotted between his den and the can. With everything inside him bolting for the nearest exit north or south I needn't worry about making supper. I felt bad about leaving Mick on his own when he was so poorly but until the Pepto and the Imodium kicked in there wasn't much I could do for him.

Wolf and I had a nice time. I'm used to it now but still don't take it for granted. Oy, 10 years ago a trip to Sam's with Wolf was an entirely different kind of deal. Even at 6 I had to jam him into and strap him tightly in the baby seat of the cart. He kicked. He howled. He bit when he could reach. Setting him loose to run amok was not an option. To sit with him yesterday and share some laughs over hot dogs and cherry Cokes was a joy.

We tootled around loading big clunky stuff into our cart. 30lb sacks of cat food and cases of pineapple juice. Shopping at Sam's is like a visit to the Land of Giants. We dream shopped a bit in the electronics and toy aisles. The shopping itself was mundane, nothing but necessities- grubby boring shit like kitchen sponges and peanut butter. But we hinted at Christmas gifts and I made a point of highlighting the attachable accessories to my Kitchen-Aid stand mixer (I need the pasta maker) and Wolf waved a casual hand at some of the newly released video games. I mock-threatened him with footie-pajamas and he pretended to put a case of Depends in the cart. That we can goof around like this is so sweet. More than doubts during the hard years I was certain it was always going to be a bitter slog. I had nightmare visions of having to leash him to the cart when he got too large for the baby seat. I saw myself shoulders hunched against his screams wearily prying things out of his hands and trying to rise above the dirty disgusted looks from the other shoppers forever. So when that lady said what she did yesterday it took all I had not to collapse to the floor in grateful tears.

Wolf and I were in the bread aisle. Bread at Sam's is 2 for 1. Wolf was stumping for one loaf of Italian (my favorite) and one loaf of potato (his). I said we still had potato bread at home in the freezer and his face kind of drooped. I relented and said I knew his bread didn't taste the same when it was defrosted, so okay he could get the potato. He leaned in and pressed his forehead against mine. "No, Mom, you get what you want, you deserve it." I gave him a kiss and said, "Nope. I have everything I want right here."

That's when the woman we hadn't known was watching chimed in. She said, "What love! I wish mine own were like that. You have a terrific son."

Yes. Yes I do.


Doin' the Mom thing and knowing it's gonna be all right, ~LA



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