In the span of 2 days SCOTUS has upheld Obamacare and given LGBT couples the right to marry in all 50 states in the USA. To say that Supreme Court Justice Anton Scalia is pissed off is a vast understatement. He is pouting like a 3 year old that someone took away his Matchbox Cars and told him it was nap time. I hate to break it to you Justice Scalia but the world around you has changed. Obamacare or The ACA gives Americans Health Care. Something that you as a Supreme Court Justice have anyway, but maybe the man that changes the oil in your car, or walks your dog, or trims your hedges does not. At least not without ACA. I know Obamacare has its flaws, but until we as a nation can make the leap to single-payer health insurance. This is the stop gap measure. Single-payer health insurance will face the large insurance lobby as its major stumbling block to success.
As for the second ruling, the one that gave every american the ability to marry. I am unequivocally happy about it. There is absolutely no reason that gays should not be allowed to enter into the institution of holy matrimony in every state in this Union. Allowing each state to set their own rules was tantamount to having different currency for each state. It made no sense, we all live in this big crazy melting pot of a country, and we all need to play by the same matrimonial laws. As for Justice Scalia, if he cant seem to get with the times, then maybe he should vacate his post for someone who can?!
I am a lucky girl, a very lucky girl. I have a really cool dad and I will be the first to admit I am a Daddy’s Girl. I went everywhere with my Dad. To the hardware store, to the dump, to the lumberyard, just anywhere he went I was his sidekick.
My dad taught me that there wasn’t much a girl couldn’t do, hammer nails, paint a room change your own oil, drive a stick, fix holes in walls, hang a picture (straight of course) write a kick ass resume, make amazing fried chicken, strip paint off furniture, mow the lawn and even change a tire.
As a little girl my dad was my hero, there was nothing he couldn’t do. If I broke it he could fix it. He was my Superman, he dried my tears and fixed every thing. He coached everything in town. Basketball, baseball, he was harder on me than anyone else, and I was not athletically inclined. I kept score for everything he coached for that I didn’t play, just to go with him. He was well loved and respected, as Coach Whalen, my Dad, doing his thing!!
He worked hard, as a Postal Employee, first as a Window Clerk, then as a Postmaster. On weekends he would bartend private parties so my Mom could be home with us. He built additions on our house, a porch, a den, a garage with an addition to it, a new bedroom and bathroom for my Mom. They have been married 49 years, that is a feat in itself.❤
He would tell you that he was just doing what Dads do, but in my eyes he is my Superman. His fuel is coffee and his kryptonite is oysters!!!
It seems that the societal norm has changed. When I was growing up there were just certain words that were not to be uttered, they included Nigger, Cunt, Fuck, Slut, Bitch and Whore. These days it seems that there is no word off limits, or rather no word off limits to certain sections of the population. The young men call each other Niggas without giving one single thought to what that word means. It was the derogatory name given to the slaves by the plantation owners. Yet they think it is cool to call each other it, as a form of endearment.
In the same breath they call their young ladies Bitches and Whores, and the women respond to those terms without complaint. I for one will not stand for a man calling me any of those names.
Along with the societal norm changing has come a double standard. If we, and I say we encompassing those of us that are not black. Were to use those names or terms of endearment as they refer to them. Then we are considered racist.
I have a suggestion for every one concerning these words. Let’s just remove them. Remove them from the standard vocabulary, remove them from the slang, remove them from the music. By allowing one section of the population to use those words, it has both reinforced the degradation as well as continued to reinforce the class system that we fight against on a daily basis.
I would hazard to guess that if you were to use any of these words in the corporate workplace you would find your job gone and your office belongings handed to you in a cardboard box. My suggestion to all that think these words are appropriate would be to remember where they are derived from.
I have been known to tell my children that “life isn’t fair, a fair is a place we go to ride rides and eat funnel cakes.” This year of Babe Ruth Baseball has totally brought that home to me. Connor plays on a team with 13 other boys, with ages from 12-15. Connor has played baseball since he was old enough to toss a ball, it really is his game of choice.
He has played Cal Ripken Little League, Middle School Ball, High School Ball, Tournament Ball and Babe Ruth. As you can see his life revolves around baseballs, gloves and bats. This is the last year that he will be eligible to play Babe Ruth, he will be too old next year. He is one of the senior players on the team. Yet he has spent time warming the bench this year, so that the 7th and 8th grade favorites of the coach can play. That is above and beyond not fair, that is just true sorry coaching.
I am not looking for my son to be given anything other than what he is due. He is a great shortstop and second baseman. He has been hitting the crap out of the ball, and when he gets on base you can bet your butt he is gonna steal bases and score if given the chance.
15 year olds have paid their dues to play every inning of every game in this league. Next year if they play they will have to be at the bottom of the barrel playing Mickey Mantel. Connor loves the “Great American Game”, but has chosen not to play Babe Ruth Tournament Ball this summer, because it means playing for this coach. So in the span of one season you have destroyed baseball for him. Congratulations, for a job not well done.
What is the fascination all of a sudden with women choosing not to shave? I realize that our bodies belong to us and we don’t have to impress any one else, but really ladies. Unshaven armpit hair stinks!! No amount of anti-perspirant or deodorant can mask that stink.
It is warm, now June, almost July, that means sundresses and tank tops and halter tops abound. Not to mention bathing suits. With the lack of clothing please do us all a favor and make an appointment with your razor ladies. No one wants to see your armpit hair, or your unshaven legs. And for the love of all that is holy please don’t post your hairy armpits or legs on Facebook or Instagram. No one wants to see them.
I was in the liquor store yesterday, purchasing my favorite beer. My favorite summer beer is an odd one, and I will be the first to admit it.
A beer that tastes like grapefruit juice with a kick, my hubby sticks his nose up at me and says it is foo-foo beer. I picked up a six pack and before I carried it to the counter I picked him up a six pack of this
It tastes like Root Beer with a kick, no fruit involved. No sharing involved either, problem solved!🍺🍺☺;)
I have come to the conclusion that someone knew what they were doing when they made sure boys had both Moms and Dads. My youngest son is the epitome of a whirling dervish, being still is torture for him, and his father completely feeds that energy.
In the span of 6 short weeks he has fractured his ankle and sustained a concussion. The fracture occurred during baseball practice and the concussion occurred this Monday during Gym while playing baseball, and to think I am worried about him playing football next year, at least they will give him a helmet and pads.
While his Dad feeds the energy, and can’t understand why he is supposed to rest his injured parts. I am the one telling him that he has to rest his injured ankle so it doesn’t develop arthritis. What 15 year old cares about arthritis? And I am now telling him that he has to rest his brain.
A teenage brain is still “cooking”. He needs to rest it, so that he can properly heal, that means sleep, minimal eye and brain stimulation. I know what it means, but now try putting it into effect with a 15 year old that can’t be still. He is sure that I am punishing him and at this point can’t understand why he can’t go to school until next Monday!! His Dad though I love him just doesn’t get “Concussion Protocol”, and thinks I am being ridiculous. I just roll my eyes and tell him that he has probably had many concussions, and maybe that is why he is like he is👀👀.
Knowing that I am doing the best for my kids, makes it right, even if I have to fight with the hubby about it. He may get it some day, but until then I will keep doing my thing.
My oldest son graduated from High School on Friday, well to be specific he graduated from a Regional Technical High School. 4 years ago when he decided this was the path he wanted, to say I was not impressed would have been a mild understatement. My vision was a child who graduated from a “standard” high school, and then attended college. To hear my first born tell me that it wasn’t his plan hurt me deeply. Wishing and hoping something is true wont make it so though.
Four years later, last Friday night my oldest walked across the stage to receive his diploma at FCTS in the Plumbing and HVAC Department. He is OSHA 10 Certified, First Aid and CPR Certified, and Uponor Certified (which is a specific kind of PEX Tubing). I couldn’t have been prouder, even though it was not the initial plan I had envisioned for him.
He has learned the value of hard work, is learning a trade, and has made his Dad and I proud along the way. My best friend told me before his graduation to enjoy the day and the moment, that this day was just as much about him as it was about his Dad and I and our achievement as parents. When I look back over his 12 years of school plus 2 years of pre-school. I can’t help but think she is right.
Good kids don’t raise themselves, they are raised by good parents. Parents that tug and pull and prod through 12 and sometimes more years of school to get them where they need to be. Parents who truck them to baseball and football and golf practices. Who figure out the summer schedule a so Mom and Dad can work and the kids have a safe place to be. Parents who are happy when they are old enough to be left home alone, but terrified when they learn to drive. Parents that are willing to help along the way, but don’t shoulder the entire burden, because kids need to understand how tough the world is, just not all at once. I am proud to be one of those parents, I raised 2 good kids!!!:)
When I was pregnant both times I asked for girls, I truly did. I wanted a house full of hair ties, make up, glitter, fun clothes and alas drama. Both times I was blessed with boys, my hubby says it is because he only carries Male sperm, whatever the reason. I am surrounded by way too much testosterone in my house.
When I go clothes shopping I am thankful that my wishes weren’t answered. My boys live in jeans, t-shirts, some with questionable sayings, shorts that are long enough they really could be Capri’s. Sneakers, they swear that their feet don’t need air so they refuse to wear sandals, and tank tops or muscle shirts once it gets warm enough.
When shopping I never have the fight of, “no you can’t wear that it doesn’t cover your body parts.” I have more of a fight to get them into nice clothes and out of their Chippewa boots and baseball hats if we are going somewhere that the occasion demands it.
So for all of you mothers of teen girls, I envy you the fun clothes and prom dress shopping that you had, but at the same time. My drama in regards to clothes is way less. Oh I have other drama, trust me on this, drama that you don’t even want to know about, but at least their body parts are covered.