I Think Thoughts

I am my Mother

I am my mother.  It happened today in the car with PC on the way to work (don't get me wrong, it's happened many times before, but today felt rather poignant.)  Let me preface by saying I have road rage.  I've tried to reign it in in an effort to maybe be a better person (baby steps), and also because that PSA with the mom exhibiting road rage in front of baby where the moral is that bad behavior is contagious, blah blah blah, well, that really resonated with me and I don't want to teach my kids to be assholes.  Let them be born that way, but I'd rather they not pick it up from me (nature vs. nurture and all that.) 

So anyway, some douchebag in a mercedes wasn't moving swiftly enough, so PC gave a little, reasonable honk.  Mercedes starts moving, but then at the next light, slows enough so that PC gets caught at the light and douchebag makes it through, giving us the finger in his rearview.  I saw the stiffening of the jaw, the clenching of the fists.  Playfully, I say "whatever honey, he's the asshole, who cares."  Well, that's when the stalking began and we followed Mercedes for the next 15 blocks (somewhat out of our way, mind you,) so that PC could teach some idiot a lesson with a glare, shaking of the head, waving of the fist and some good old fashion intimidation. 

On block 3 of the pursuit, it just happened.  My mother took over a la Patrick Swayze and Whoopi Goldberg in Ghost.  I didn't even process the words before I spoke them. 

"What if he has a gun?!"

It was a minor fit of hysteria cloaked in rational thinking.  But there it was.  My mother's words spilling out of my mouth and I believed them.  I thought it was a compelling argument - you can't always identify crazy - and I silently praised my mom for the knowing little gems and cautionary tales she's bestowed on me throughout my life.  Big shout out to the invention of email, so that I can now receive her warnings via urban legend forwards (please tell me you can smell the sarcasm on that one.) 

**I won't pretend that I would not have exhibited similar behavior had I been alone in the car with no one there to witness my outburst. 

How to Function in an Adult World

As a young, professional adult (on the outside), there are two things that would aid my success in the business world.  No, it's not an MBA or any other acronym that denotes higher learning and a mountain of debt.  It is 1. Having a child and 2. The ability to use chopsticks.  Can someone please pick Boyfriend up off the floor and administer CPR STAT?!

As you get older, there's a new level of bonding and communication that goes way beyond getting drunk and acting stupid.  Although, many would say that is a natural precursor to having a child.  As you grow/mature/age, you graduate from the post-college water cooler gang and your circle incorporates an older set of business associates.  This new crowd talks strollers and throw up and commiserates over how gross and wonderful children are.

Oh, and using chopsticks - I understand why obesity is not an epidemic in Japan.  I, too, give up on my meal after 5-6 attempts to clumsily grab something, ANYTHING, off my plate.  Oh, and as it relates to business, Sushi is so damn chic (read: everyone else is doing it) and healthy these days that it's the go-to for business meals.  Asking for a fork....not so chic.

PS...meet my imaginary toddler, Johan (pronounced Yo-Hahn).  He speaks french, is potty-trained and reads at an 8th grade level.  Yea, he's a genius.  Much better than your kid.

Protection is Awesome

When I was little, my dad kept a machete under his mattress.  That's right, a machete.  Big, big knife.  It had an army green canvas sleeve and I think a black plastic handle.  It's like it was stolen off the set of Rambo, only it wasn't a prop.  The most interesting thing about the machete was its matter-of-fact existence.  Ordinary and acceptable, never exceptional.  Although, my brother and I would sometimes marvel at it when mom and dad weren't around...take turns taking swings at each other.  I guess our default assumption was that it was there for protection.  Just imagine, upon hearing an intruder my dad leaps out of bed, heaves the mattress off its platform and grabs the machete, ready for combat.  To be fair, in Dad's day, people fought with dinosaur bones and rocks, so he must have found the machete to be pretty advanced.  I at least believed he'd have the element of surprise on his side because I, for one, would run like hell if some psycho was rushing towards me wielding a machete.  Maybe it was the "shock and awe" tactic he was employing.  I watch enough CSI now to know that he probably wouldn't stand a chance, what with automatic weapons and the like.

The machete's disappearance has always been a mystery.  One day, it was nonchalantly hanging in the garage and the next thing I knew it was gone.  I miss that machete - it was a piece of my history, a cornerstone of my childhood.  Maybe I'll go try my luck on ebay...