It just occurred to me that I might look like that lady on the “People of Walmart” blog, whose skin tight flesh colored leggings made her look like she was nude from the waist down.
I found $20 in my pocket today, that survived both the washer AND the dryer. I also recently won $2 on a scratch off lottery ticket that I got from a self-serve machine about a week ago. Feeling lucky, I just walked over to the 7/11 on my lunch break to cash that in and buy $20 worth of Megamillions tickets.
First, I wait for 15 minutes while the kid with a heavy accent AND a speech impediment helps everyone else in the store–he sees me, he acknowledges me, and then promptly serves everyone else that comes into the store after me. This portion took 15 minutes. I know, because I was watching the clock and talking to the guy in line behind me about how people today can’t even work a counter at a convenience store.
When I finally say “I’m waiting here, wanna help?” as he was nearly DOZING by his register, waiting for anyone else to come in before me…. He comes over and I hand him my winning ticket and start rattling off the lottery tickets that I want to buy.
“Hold on, I cannot read this” says, and sees that the lottery ticket printed on the back is mismatched from the front, so he cannot scan it.
He then rips the ticket in half and tries to scan the remainder, which fails. He calls his supervisor over.
His supervisor begins, but then the phone rings and he begins rattling off in a foreign tongue and walks to the back, as though I understand what the fuck he’s saying. He finally comes back and says “I cannot read the back of this” and hands it back to me like I’m a criminal.
“Well,” I say, “perhaps I COULD have sent it off to the lottery folks in Trenton, BUT THAT KID DEFACED THE TICKET when he RIPPED it in half.”
The kid in question then goes to his register to pull out $2. His manager says “He’s going into his own money to pay you.”
“I don’t care if it comes out of his mother’s ass, he defaced the ticket and made it worthless.”
Once I got the money the kid asked what lottery tickets I wanted to buy. I told him that I want whichever ones will send them both straight to hell. Then I left.
I will never set foot in that store again.
In 2001, a man named Ernie Stewart asked folks (I was one of them) to step up and help him collect a few bucks to get military members home from the holidays. I helped out without hesitation, not realizing that one day I’d have two kids in the military myself (one’s out now, the other still proudly serves).
Every single year since then, I have contributed–years when money was tight. The year divorce forced me into bankruptcy, which was also the year that some nights I didn’t eat dinner because I wanted to make sure my youngest daughter ate…even that year, Ernie Stewart got a couple of bucks from me for LBEH. I even asked that friends and family donate in lieu of giving me a holiday gift… because I knew two very important things:
1: all donations go to getting military home for the holidays
2: this man works VERY HARD at reaching his goals every year. He is relentless in his quest to give back to the folks who give so much for us to be thankful for.
SO…step up to the plate with me. Head over to lbeh.org RIGHT NOW, and give what you can. ANY LITTLE BIT HELPS.
Instead of hemming an hawing about a mall being open for Thanksgiving, get a kid home to his or her Mom and Dad for the holiday season. As a military Mom, I cannot begin to tell you how important that is.
Recently, I posted about my DNA ancestry results that showed French and German as my predominant traits. Then, I had my mother genotyped, and all of those “nonspecifics” fell into place. When I log onto 23andme.com now, I see this. I have discovered and what I knew about my dad’s family is essentially true; but what I thought about Mom’s family–all wrong. I learned that through Mom I am also just under 3% Middle Eastern, and 0.1% Ashkenazi. I also have Iberian and some other stuff thrown in for good luck.
I’ve been seeing things on Facebook lately, as Thanksgiving approaches, about declaring that stores should be closed on Thanksgiving and that the holidays are for family! Let’s keep that in mind–the holidays are for spending with family!
Well, that’s all well and good. Unless, of course:
-You live alone
-You’re a new widow/widower or divorcee
-your children have all moved out and are far away, or are in the military and cannot come home
-any other of a million reasons why someone is going to be alone for Thanksgiving
And so, what else is that person to do this season, do you think? Go to a restaurant and have a turkey dinner alone? Sit home with a bowl of Cap’n Crunch and the TV remote, watching the parade and remembering what life was like when they had a full house of people around them on Thanksgiving, or remembering Thanksgivings past, with Mom making all their favorite treats? They should toddle around an empty house or apartment, waiting for the day (and the reminders of their lonliness) to end?
…or maybe, they can just head out to the mall.
Sure, people are going to be working that should be home. This is, after all, Thanksgiving.
So here is an idea. This Thanksgiving, truly give thanks for what you have, by giving something you take for granted to someone who could use it: invite someone to dinner in your home with your family.
Think of that friend, distant relative, coworker. Think, and then invite.
Share your family and your table with them.
Don’t just talk the talk. Don’t just forward a trite graphic on Facebook.
Invite someone to your family dinner this Thanksgiving.
Show that you are truly thankful, by remembering someone who might not have the wealth of family that you do–because around the holidays, family IS wealth.
That is so much better than sharing a stupid little graphic about keeping stores closed for Thanksgiving.
Heard, once again, from someone that atheism “is a religion!” and when I hear this, it always makes me chuckle. (I’m not quite an atheist myself, I am antitheist.)
I have to say: a group of people who share the same knowledge does not a religion make.
A religion is a belief that usually revolves around the cause, nature, and/or purpose of the universe, and (this is the important part) requires devotional and ritual observances and rites.
Atheists, ladies and gentlemen, have no rituals and observances, no holy days, no calendar of holidays attached to their view that there is no god. They’re just there, living their lives, hoping to be left alone (unconverted and without having to hear about your great and powerful Oz and the superiority of life with him).
Here is an example of religion:
George walks along one fine day, enjoying life as he knows it, when he is struck by a perfectly spherical ball of frozen toilet contents from a plane flying far overhead. Luckily for him it is not a direct blow, so he does not die; in fact by a miracle it only glances the side of his head causing a mild concussion before landing before him in a blue, melting heap. George is quite literally shaken to his core. He is also quite astigmatic and now concussed, and so instead of seeing a round ball of frozen blue toilet water, he sees an egg-shaped ice ball with…something, something ever so elusive, just beneath the surface. He tries to pick up the “egg” but it is too large, too slippery, to be held in his grasp. He runs off to find help.
While George is away, the ball melts more. That “something” just below the surface is now visible: a partially thawed piece of frozen toilet paper.
A bird swoops down to get it, to make a nest. The ball continues to melt until it is finally nothing but a puddle that smells vaguely of deodorizer and excrement.
As George walks, his slight concussion causes a bit of a headache. He can’t help but think of that blue glow of that frozen egg, with…something inside of it. He must rest, it seems like he’s walked forever. He lies down for a moment, and closes his eyes, dreaming of the blue egg. That magical, mystical blue egg, which has something inside, struggling to be free; something ethereal. George’s concussion begins to make him see flashes of light and shadow as he sleeps.
George dreams of eggs and mystery.
Hours later George’s son, who went looking for him, stumbles upon his concussed father lying in a field with a knot on his head and a tale of glowing translucent blue eggs, holy intervention and flashing lights. He helps his father to his feet and accompanies him to the site of the landing, where there is nothing but a puddle, a crater in the ground, and a vague odor that he can’t quite place.
Eventually word gets out about the mystery, and a small contingent who have known and respected George, who believe what he’s seen as fact (not realizing his perception was colored by astigmatism and concussion) come to his defense. The incident is written about at length online, as no one could find the egg or its contents; but the holy crater remained. Some people believe the crater is the shape of the elusive, wisp-like creature that was just below the surface of the egg’s shell. The area around it becomes a viewing area, and the first anniversary of the incident is marked by his friends on-site…
…where by coincidence, they see a meteor shower overhead.
This is seen as a divine intervention, a sign that their belief in George’s story is true. Word continues to grow and the viewing area becomes a shrine. People from far and wide make the trek to the Holy Crater to see the outline of The Wisp.
As word continues, faith in George’s perception grows; the anniversary is marked annually and when George passes away from old age, his faithful friends mark the date with remembrance.
“Good old George,” they say. “He saw things we could only dream of. The mystical Blue Egg, that left life-giving water when the being sent to us left the egg, the Wisp, the Spirit of the Egg: unseen by all but good old George, revealed to him because of his generous, and Wispy nature.”
The above is how a fact, changed by perception, can cause a religion.
Not believing that a frozen ball of toilet water was a Divine Happening and not believing that a chunk of frozen toilet paper was a Holy Wisp does not make another religion. It simply means there is a lack of belief in the Egg and the Wisp.
Somewhere in a nest, an egg perched upon that piece of toilet paper is hatching.