She Was Still Being Facetious Though

So yesterday I picked up some new to me ice cream sandwiches because they were on sale (thereby proving my genetic link to my parents, but I digress), and was sampling one of them with my son. We agreed the ice cream was excellent, and even though the cookie wafer was a little too firm for our liking, we had to admit this might be one of the finest ice cream sandwiches we had ever had.

We said this out loud . . . in front my son’s mother . . . a woman who loves ice cream sandwiches, but has had to cut dairy out of her diet.

Her response?

A very quiet (and I’m quoting her literally here), “Neither of you have parents who are married to each other.”

My son initially thought she was facetiously threatening me with divorce, but after I moment I got what name she was really calling us.

I’m Going To Go Watch A Movie

I wasn’t sure what I was going to write about today, but then my son asked me if I wanted to watch the newest Octonauts movie with him, and I don’t get asked to watch movies with him much these days, so . . .

I Asked Him To Hold The Ladder For Me While I Cleaned The Gutters

Let the record show that yesterday I willingly placed my life in the hands of my son, and that he comported himself in a honorable manner and justified my faith in him.

I Do, And She Has A Point

Do you know what they did in Rome?

– L’s Mother’s horrified response to being advised to “When in Rome, do as the Romans do.”

I Couldn’t Have Said It Better Myself, Son

If you want to have a civil conversation, avoid certain topics unless you want to have a civil war.

– L.

Well It Just Sounds Stupid When You Say It Like That

After deleting my original draft for yesterday’s entry for being too self-castigating, I had a little chat with myself. If you’ll indulge the literary device, the conversation went (figuratively) something like this:

Me: So someone who hurt your family very badly is now suffering, and you can’t bring yourself to feel bad about that, is that it?

Also Me: Yeah, I’m not a very good person in that regard.

Me: You sure have a lot invested in the idea of not being a good person sometimes, you know that, right? You’re not an ideal person, sure, but that’s a work in perpetual progress.

Also Me: I think a good person should be able to care about someone else’s suffering without using a workaround.

Me: You mean your “workaround” that you care about this person’s suffering only in that affects people around them who don’t need or deserve that kind of suffering?

Also Me: Yes.

Me: So this person’s suffering is “deserved,” is that it?

Also Me: Well . . . said that way I wouldn’t necessarily go that far. They did some terrible things, sure, but I also know terrible things happened to them that probably made them terrible in the first place.

Me: Do you want to increase their suffering? Would that make you happy?

Also Me: No!

Me: Would you deny them medication or treatment that would ease their pain?

Also Me: No, that would just be pointlessly cruel.

Me: So you don’t really want them to suffer, you certainly don’t want people around them to suffer, but you want to make yourself suffer just because you’re not as invested in their suffering as you would be if it was someone you liked because that . . . helps, somehow?

I’ll Talk To You Tomorrow

I’m in an odd mood today, and what I was originally going to post here seemed particularly overblown upon review. The basic topic was about recognizing limits, and think I’ll take that to heart and recognize that today my ability to effectively communicate is sharply limited.

My Response: Breathing Is Overrated

I’ve stated before the reasons behind my reluctance to talk about the weather these days, so I winced when yesterday I heard L’s Mother telling one of her sisters how warm it is here. To L’s Mother’s credit, she did add that at the moment the pollen is so thick that it’s practically impossible to breathe right now.

Her sister’s retort was simply, “We got 25 inches of snow this year.”

At Least I Have Clean Dishes

Today I told myself that every time I had trouble writing what I wanted to write today, I’d rinse a dish and put it into the (at the time) empty dishwasher.

The dishwasher is now full.

That’s Progress

Yeah, I still get angry about things that I’d probably be better off just being sad about, but at least these days I recognize that.