out of the mouths of babes

This morning in the car, Isaac was quiet for the longest time. I had the radio playing some soft jazz, then I switched to another station to hear a news update, then back to the jazz. All of a sudden, out of the blue, Isaac announces, "Our car's red."

Um, well yes, yes it is. And?

Sometimes you really do have to wonder what's going on in their little heads. :)

Yesterday my mom watched Isaac, as she does every Thursday, and in the evening I went to pick him up and we decided somewhat on the spur of the moment to go have dinner at a restaurant (in order to, as jenwrites likes to put it, "rent some air-conditioning"). So we did, and then we went back to mom's place for ice cream, and then we packed up to go, and I went to pee (this point becomes relevant very soon) and then we got in the car and went home.

We were literally about two blocks away from home when I felt what seemed like a drip of water on my arm that was hanging out the car window. Is that rain? Why yes, yes it is. Just hold off another minute till we get home, okay? But the sky gods were not listening to my pleas last night, verily. Just as I pulled the car up to the curb across from our house, the rain went from gentle pitter-patter to torrential downpour. *facepalm* So I grabbed all our stuff (we always have lots of stuff when leaving mom's house) and dashed across the street to dump it on the porch, grabbed an umbrella, dashed back across the street to get Isaac out of the car, dashed back to the house. Whew!

And I was drenched, umbrella or no. D'oh. If only I hadn't stopped to pee, we would've been inside before it got bad. Ah well.

hodgepodge

1. A very happy birthday to the lovely lunaris_! You know you're going to hell for the Jon Stewart slash, right? But I'm sure you'll be very happy there. ;) *smooch*

2. I refer you to this cute little article from today's Boston Globe about the latest high-profile same-sex relationship. This is probably kind of hard to understand if you've never lived in Boston and thus don't know what a big deal the swans are, but trust me, they are a REALLY big deal. Anyway, the best part of the article is the final line: Marty Rouse, campaign director of MassEquality, said in a telephone interview: ''We should still cherish and love our swans, no matter whom they choose to swim with."

3. I am filled with rage and despair over rising gas prices and the fact, as told to me by the news lady on the radio this morning, that no one thinks it's going to get better, like, ever. The thing that upsets me the most about it -- well, aside from the fact that it basically means my personal cost of living keeps going up and up -- is the fact that statistically I get lumped in with all the idiot SUV drivers who jump in their behemoths just to go two blocks for a gallon of milk. (Or a pack of cigarettes, which perhaps is a more appropriate purchase for my stereotyping purposes.) Let's face it, even I will rail about the morons who buy a vehicle that gets five miles to the gallon and then drive it around like there's no tomorrow -- but the truth is, for ME there's no choice. I drive 50 miles a day 4 days a week and there simply is no way around that (unless I change jobs or sell my house, neither of which is feasible).

And the rising cost of gas has its effects in far-reaching and not entirely obvious ways. For example: I am stressed, and I have many vacation days saved up. I would like to take a day off work and take Isaac to daycare and go home and have a relaxing day to myself. A few months ago I would have just done this. But now I keep in mind that this means driving ONE HUNDRED MILES in one day (50 miles there and back to drop him off, another 50 there and back to pick him up) and in a car that gets 22-23 miles per gallon, at today's gas prices, that's more than $10 wasted. So I don't do it. So my stress level increases, and my vacation days pile up.

And yet, the media will still report that the rising gas prices are "having no effect on the economy" (on what planet??) and will subtly or overtly blame the American public's "willingness" to keep paying even as the prices go up and up. I've ranted here before about how much that term "willingness" offends me personally, and I don't want to bore anyone ;) so let me just sum up by saying: I am not "willing." I am over a fucking barrel. (An oil barrel, I suppose, would be apropos.) Royally screwed, in other words, is what I am; and also unbelievably angry about the whole situation. But powerless, as always.