Randomosity

All right. Here's some pictures of some young people for you. 

Owen tried on my glasses today. He looked damn good in them! And isn't putting on an adult's glasses one of a child's first experiences with an alternate reality?

He also got a pair flip-flops which is a rite of passage around here as soon as a kid has the toe-ability to keep them on. He can. He can run in them. Believe me.

Aw. My grandboy's wearing his first pair of flip-flops! Is there anything cuter than a kid's feet? 

And here's Gibson, sleeping in his car seat, holding his Sophie giraffe.

I know. That's pretty darn sweet.

We went to the library. They were having story hour and Owen and I peeked in to see the other children listening and singing. "Want to go in, Owen?" I asked him.

"NO!" he said and he passed that door right on by. 

The child seems to have picked up a little cold somewhere. He was a bit snotty and sneezy. I don't think he feels very well. We went to go eat some more sushi and he had a tiny meltdown but pulled it together and we had a successful lunch although he didn't eat as much as usual. We love our waitress at Japonika. She is tiny and sweet and always knows what Owen wants and bring him chopsticks and calls Gibson the "little man." 

By the time we'd had our sushi we suddenly all felt incredibly tired so Lily and the boys went on home to take a nap and I went to the grocery store where I bought a bunch of healthy goodness in the form of fruits and vegetables, of course, since we're EAHAS and by the time I got home, the effort it took to get in the house and put everything away made me want to weep but I didn't and then I went to sleep. It stormed out and thunder rolled and the electricity kept going in and out and it's on now but I have no idea why. Some small miracle.

It's still raining. I am grateful. Except that if MORE mosquitoes hatch out we're going to have to move. 

(Not really.)

And now I have to figure out what to fix for supper. Mr. Moon is on his way home and he's never very hungry after a day at auction and on the road. I don't know how he does it. It's a brutal thing, that auto auction. But he does and he doesn't complain. 

And I just wanted to add a clarification to this morning's post. I didn't feel that I needed to apologize to Madonna, of course, because really? She's never going to know what I said. It just struck me with great force that she has carved out her own path in this lifetime and if that's not what's important, I don't know what is. And she's done it with incredibly hard work and moxie and intelligence. Furthermore, she has no more obligation to be a role model to aging women than Keith Richards does to be a role model for aging men. The very idea, at the heart of it, is absurd!

Our culture is what it is as applies to women as they age versus men as they age and we must each and everyone of us come to grips with both aging's challenges and benefits. 

Fuck it. I can't control any of it and it ain't my business anyway. Not really.

Better to tend to what IS my business and just try to do the best I can with that. It's not up to Madonna or Cher or even Oprah for that matter, to make me feel better about being a woman in my late fifties. I can take inspiration from whomever I please and ignore the rest and then set about doing my own best.

Having said that, I feel incredibly fat today. 

It's hard being a woman whether you're eighteen or fifty-eight and I doubt seriously it's going to be that much easier at seventy-eight should I luck up and make it that far. And it does no good to criticize other women. None. It's small-minded and makes me sound bitter.

Me? Bitter?

Never.

Now the Pope has some 'splainin' to do but that's another post.

Love...Ms. Moon