I Don’t Know If It’s Art, But I Know What I Like (PG-13ish, But You Have To Think About It)

A couple of people I know are planning to hit an “Erotica” museum soon, and I admit I’m looking forward to hearing from them if it’s worth the price of admission.  Now, I hardly expect to end the perpetual debate of “Is it art or is it pornography?”, but I can share the best definition I’ve personally ever heard regarding the distinction between erotica and pornography.  (Sadly, I have no idea who deserves credit for this.  I just know it’s not me.):

If you’re still interested in looking at it after you’re done . . . it’s erotica.

New Category: The Wit And Wisdom Of L’s Mother

L’s mother has actually been at me for a while to record (not necessarily here) some of the things she has said that have caused my jaw to drop, then clamp shut again, but today’s nugget was enough to make a new category here just for such sayings.

Let me first explain that L’s Mother has . . . let’s call it a “knack” for sounding like she’s saying more than she’s actually saying.  Usually this is harmlessly amusing, if a trifle unintentionally insulting on occasion, like the time I was feeling under the weather and didn’t want her to change her plans just because of me.

“Just go out without me,” I told her.  “There’s no need to cancel on your friends on my account.  You like these people!”

“But I don’t want to spend time with people I like,” she protested.  “I want to spend time with you!”

Gracie Allen, eat your heart out.

But occasionally, like today, her sayings can be more akin to panic inducing:

What she meant:  “I got so busy this week, I haven’t been taking my vitamins, and I need to start taking them again.”

What she said (and keep in mind than I’m still trying to figure out how to juggle my time with only one little L. in the house right now):  “I need to start taking prenatal vitamins again.”

It didn’t take me long to understand what she meant, of course, and I’m pretty sure the time I spent in a dead faint doesn’t count against my overall time.

Maybe I’ll Sleep On It And THEN Decide

L’s been having a string of restless nights lately, and that means, of course, so has everyone else in the house.  I’m not even sure why he’s been so restless, which is yet another reason why I really need him to be able to talk, so he can tell me what the matter is!  (Yes, I’m aware that doesn’t mean he will, but one problem at a time.)

And as much as it cuts against the grain for me to wake a sleeping baby, L’s day time nap schedule has started to be strictly limited in the hopes he’ll rest more at night so we can rest more, and the first time I deliberately woke him up from a nap was just the other day.

Suffice it to say that he was . . . displeased.

And honestly, I found myself thinking, “See, not so pleasant when someone wakes you up, is it?  That’s what it’s like!  This is what justice taste likes, son!”

I’m not certain that was the healthiest reaction on my part though.

The Misadventures Of L., Episode One

Now that crawling has been mastered by L., misadventures are pretty much inevitably going to follow.  Yesterday’s was the first of note:

L. had crawled over to his (empty) plastic bathing tub which I had left in the floor tucked out of the way until it was needed again.  He was fascinated with it, and since it is his, I figured this was a harmless enough pastime for him, and turned my attention elsewhere for a few (literal, but critical) seconds.  Just enough time, in fact, to start to think, Unless, of course . . .

Clatter-Thud-Shriek of outrage!

He somehow manages to pull the tub over on top of himself.

Son, remember when I said we don’t live in a sitcom?

You’re not helping my case here.

So Far So Good

I know I’m only eight months or so into fatherhood, but as tired as I am right now, I can still make the distinction between me needing a nap and L. needing a nap.

Guess some of the things I learned from my childhood are still useful after all.

But It Rhymes With Cartouche

I walked into one of my favorite places yesterday, and saw someone I’d never seen before sitting at the counter, someone I took an instant dislike to.  I say this with neither pride nor embarrassment, because this happens to everyone from time to time, I suspect.

I even know what initially set me off.  It was his faux-casual business attire and the way he announced into his phone in a voice I found just a touch too loud that he had an “important” business meeting coming up.  Honestly, my first thought was a bit of juvenile vernacular that I will not be repeating here.

Still, first impression are far from everything.

But I will say that watching him harass the staff in a “joking” manner because he wanted them to make him a frappuccino (something they don’t do), didn’t help his case with me any.

Then he took it to a level I’ve never seen before when a policeman came in and sat down next to the guy at the counter.  I won’t bore you with the details of their conversation, but I will tell you what I said to the officer once the guy had left.

“I want to make it clear that I have never been involved with drinking and driving,” I said.  (I’ve always filled up my “Stupid stuff to do” list with other things.)  “But if I had, I would not strike up a conversation with a random cop I just met about my drinking and driving incident in another state.”  (As near as I could tell, he was crudely digging for information of the likelihood of a local cop ever finding this out if he got pulled over, all the while justifying his actions because cabs are so expensive and a hassle out west, you know?)

Sometimes . . . there simply are . . . no . . . words.

(Nothing I’m going to say here, at least.)

A Moment Of Silence

For the final launch and return of the American Space Shuttle Program.

That it’s time to retire the program really isn’t in question, because at this point, as it was explained to me once, flying the Space Shuttle is a bit like taking your granddad’s old Buick into orbit since they were both probably made at about the same time.  (Which honestly only adds to the cool factor with me.)

Even so, I’m going to miss the old girls, and this candle is for them, and for all the men and women who were ever privileged enough to fly in one.

Hugger Mugger

Particularly when things get hectic from all of life’s little demands, it can be difficult to find the desire to do what you need to do, and that much harder to find the motivation to do it.

What’s the difference you ask?

Ask a mugger, because there’s someone whose very livelihood depends upon explaining to you the difference between wanting to do something, and being motivated.

Something We All “Nose” To Be True

You can pick your friends, and you can pick your battles, but you can’t pick your friend’s battles.

(True, profound sounding, and a nose-picking reference.   I don’t honestly know if I’m the first person to say this or not, but I really, really hope I am!)

Good Company Doesn’t Love Your Misery, And Bad Company Doesn’t Deserve It

It took me a long (long, long . . . long) time to realize this, but making yourself miserable over something is just flat-out counterproductive because either you don’t deserve that . . . or you do.  If you don’t, then you’re making things unnecessarily hard on yourself and in the process causing pain to those that care about you, and if you do, you’re probably not making yourself as miserable as you deserve anyway.

You could always try harder, I suppose, but do you really want to add to the joy of those who find their happiness in your misery?