My friend Shawn called me Friday. Shawn’s originally from Buffalo, NY, but she’s been living in Indy for almost ten years. I’ve known her for most of those ten years. In the past few years, we’ve only managed to call or e-mail each other a couple of times a year. I’d like to see us talk more frequently.
Shawn has a five month old Golden Retriever/Lab mix named Timber. Isn’t she a cutie?
Because I’m a glutton for punishment, I decided to read a post in the IndyStar’s Expresso blog. I mostly avoid that blog because the name of it really annoys me.
Anyway, I clicked-through because I saw there was a post about the toll road deal. I was curious because I don’t know much about the toll road deal, and I’m trying to get up to speed about the particulars.
Imagine my surprise when I realized the blog entry more or less described every native Hoosier who isn’t on board with the toll road deal as a backwards hick. It’s bad enough that all the gay bloggers tell me how to vote and where I can shop. Now I can trust the folks at the Star to turn up their worldy noses at me for not blindly trusting My Man Mitch. Whatever.
Oh, you don’t know that much about Mitch’s toll road deal? Shame on you, hick.
It’s round and fits neatly in your doggy mouth. You can swing your head from side to side as if to play tug-of-war with your imaginary playmate. You can drop the soggy mess at your person’s feet, hoping that she gets the hint and plays with you. Is it your girlfriend’s $10 skein of yarn, or is it a doggy toy?
I’m pretty sure it’s a doggy toy. Why else would it be sitting in baskets at just the right height for the dog to reach in and grab as she leisurely strolls by.
BTW, peanut butter is a good afternoon snack to share with a new poochy pal.
We got a new dog Saturday from the humane society. Overall, it was a pretty good experience. Rosy is a lab mix. She’s about one year old. She and the cat seemed to have made a truce. They touched noses this morning, and now they’re both sleeping. Carrot’s on top of the love seat, and Rosy is under the dining room table.
is that it looks like and smells like cat food. And, get this, cats love it. Now that tuna comes in those little pouches that resemble, well, cat food, I can’t help but think about the smell and texture of cat food any time I’m eating tuna.
Anything you drink after eating tuna only amplifies the flavor of the tuna. So you’re stuck with the flavor of tuna until your next meal. And when you’re eating tuna, a tablespoon of mayonnaise isn’t as much mayo as you think it is. It’s nowhere enough to make tuna taste like something other than, well, you know.
When I was eleven years old, my mom was brutally attacked in our home and left for dead. She was in the hospital for two weeks and had a bloodclot on her brain that was surgically removed. She damn near died. While her physical injuries were treated, she never wanted to address the emotional injuries caused by this attack.
We were changed people after that event, and not for the better. While she struggled to hold her life together and pretend like nothing happened, I felt alienated and alone. Everyone stuck their heads in the sand and pretended like nothing ever happened. But we were changed.
Where were the adults? Where were the doctors and the policemen? Where were her brothers and mother and father? Where was my father? Why did all these people shirk their responsibilities to us? Why was it so much easier to leave us alone?
To those of you who were there and did nothing: Fuck you, you weakass, self-centered, self-absorbed motherfuckers. The inside of you stinks like guts of a dead fish. Your stench is known to all around you, and it tells the tale of fathers who did nothing, policemen who looked the other way, neighbors who whispered under their breaths, doctors who sat silent, and of a community that did not care.
I hear the same advice over and over again – if you’re sick, don’t go to work; if your kids are sick, don’t send them to school. Several hundred students fell ill in one Indiana school this week from what officials believe is a norovirus outbreak, aka the cruise ship virus.
As buildings and homes are built to be airtight, as more people are crammed into public spaces for everything from mass education to mass worship, as bacteria become more resilient against our efforts to kill them, I understand the desire to tell people to stay home. However, as any low-wage worker can tell you, there are consequences for staying home.
Many employers have points systems whereby absences and tardiness are counted against an employee. Imagine what happens for a single parent with a couple of kids who works where a points system is the norm. Kid one gets sick on Monday and Tuesday so the parent stays home. Kid two calls from school on Thursday saying she’s sick. Now the parent is out Thursday and Friday. What happens when the parent gets sick? Can he or she afford to stay out Monday? Probably not.
From a public health perspective, I think it needs to become more acceptable for people to stay home when they and the people for which they are responsible get sick. Until attendance and paid time off policies support this public health initiative, I predict even more instances where hundreds and maybe even thousands of students, employees, diners, movie-goers, game fans, and mega-church attendees fall ill.