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Well, I came home from getting some gas for the car and my darling wife was making something in the kitchen, cooking up a storm. She was dividing up a bag of flour into ice cream tubs and putting supper together all at once, and when I came in she held up one of her bare feet in the air, pointing it in my direction…
In confusion, I said “Uh, what’s going on Sweetie?”
She proudly announced that she was “barefoot and in the kitchen”, and that was “one down and one to go!”
I laughed and laughed and laughed when she called herself “such a feminist” that I had to blog it.
Gender nondescript persons alive! It’s the 21st century: Finally, women can be liberated to love being feminine and not be expected to have to learn a blue collar trade and financially provide for their family. Maybe one day, my oppressed brothers and I will be able to throw off the shackles of this Estrotalitarianist culture, burn our jock straps, buy things on a basis other than “cuteness”, talk without “expressing ourselves” and not have to worry about being sued for trying to raise our kids with a shred of discipline…
The tides are turning, and maybe one day, we’ll see change…
Well, you see, Nestle… That’s not exactly how it works down here. And I don’t anticipate your billboard turning the tide on this one.
Last night, as I sleepily ventured from my bed for–well, what do you get out of bed for in the middle of the night?–eyes half-open, I stepped into the hallway. My eyes flew open as I tried to process the information before me. A bright strobe light flashed white onto the ceiling and walls. No siren beeping or ringing though…
I called for my sleeping husband as my feet were firmly planted in place. He rushed to my side, still mostly asleep, as I clutched my hand to my chest. I sniffed at the air, willing myself to detect the oderless carbon monoxide that was setting off our hall alarm and that was slowly killing us in our sleep.
What if I hadn’t woken up? Would I have felt the deadly affects of CO? …What are the deadly affects of CO?
In the time I pondered these, Hubby sought out the source of the bright, silent strobe alarm. As he brought a box down from the top of our open shelves, he calmly identified the cause of alarm.
It was a novelty, light-up hair clip that I had received at a bar mitzvah last year. I had clipped it to the edge of the box because 1) I’m a packrat, 2) it was a souvenir of my first bar mitzvah, and 3) you never know when you’ll need a swatch of hair that lights up. Like, all the time!
So in the end, we were no closer to death than what each breath brings us daily.