A New Era at the Fair

The Florida State Fair is just a few miles from our home.  It is our "tradition" to attend every year on Student Day, a day the schools in our county give a day off and a free ticket.  Our tradition has changed little over the years, the biggest being my son no longer got a free ticket, but he did still get the day off, when he started at private school.  I would take the day off, we'd get there at opening, explore the entire fair, and leave about 4 hours later before any crowds got there.

This year ushered in a new era.  Some was good, some was bad.

My son started high school this year.  The school he attends is in the next county, he no longer gets the day off.  I took a half day off of work and we went after school this afternoon.

The parking lot is huge, with multiple entrances.  I always go in the same entrance and park in the same lot so that I remember where my car is.  When you get there at opening, that is an easy feat.  Not so easy when you get there at 3:15 pm.  I couldn't even go in the same entrance, it was blocked off, having to park my car in a different lot had me discombobulated.  I am easily confused that way, I always park in the same area EVERYWHERE I go.  This was not starting out good for me and I was worried I forgot to lock my car because I was out of sorts about being in a different spot.  I was already driving my son nuts.

I bought a beer about 5 minutes after we got inside.  This was a good change.  You can get one of those at 3:15 pm on your day off.  It relaxed me and I didn't worry so much about my car.  But then I started counting my cash in my head, after having spent $26 for the two of us to get in and then $8 ($8!) for a 12 oz beer.  At this rate we'd be out of money in 15 more minutes.

I asked my son where we should head first.  Every year, this is always to buy fries, even if it is 9 am.  Not just any fries, but Fiske's Fries, from the same Fiske's stand we always do, though they have a few of them.  Not this year, he had eaten lunch just a while earlier.  He wasn't hungry yet, and told me to lead the way.  I headed towards Cracker Country, a living history museums, with actual relocated buildings from the late 1800's along with costumed Florida Pioneers re-enacting some daily pioneer activities.  This is one of my favorite things at the fair, and something we always do.  This is where my son started driving me nuts.  We usually go in all the buildings, and watch all the activities.  This year, this was "the boring part" and he refused to stop and look at anything.  We did the whole area in 5 minutes.  He didn't even let me get Kettle Corn.

Next, I headed to the buildings that contained displays, like artwork and crafts that have been submitted for competition, as we were right next to it.  This was the even "more boring part."  "When can we go do the real fair stuff?"  "We are."  "No, the real stuff."  What usually takes about 30 minutes took us, again, five.  He did at least not mind walking through a special display they had this year on candy history.  I would, however, have liked to READ the actual information displayed.

There are some food stands located near by, so we looked through those next.  It is always interesting to see what deep fried concoctions they have:  deep fried Twinkies, deep fried Oreos, deep fried strawberries, deep fried cinnamon butter, even deep fried Kool Aid.  And there is lots of bacon.  Bacon wrapped corn dogs, meatballs, and chicken, chocolate covered bacon, bacon on a stick.  I'm holding out for deep fried bacon, someone needs to come up with that soon.  My son was not quite yet ready to indulge.

We next went to an area where craftspeople sell their goods.  Yep, you guessed it, another of my favorites, and even ever more "boring" for my now whiny teenage companion.  He was hungry, he now wanted food.  So, once again, 5 minutes.

I asked him if we could look at a few animals, since we were right there by the barns, before heading to the midway.  "They are the same animals that are here every year.  How many of them do you need to see?"  "Well, I think this barn has a bathroom, and I need to use one."  Yes, mom win!  I can still fool you into things!  We got fresh squeezed lemonade outside (and, oh, they had baconade!) and headed in the barn.  The cows were being presented.  We watched that a couple of minutes and then I did actually head to the bathroom.  All I can say is, when the bathroom in a barn is the cleanest of all at the state fair...I was the only stall that didn't reveal cowboy boots under the door, but this is my new fair bathroom.  This is one of my new favorite places there.  It's even better because there is no attendant looking for tips to tell you which disgusting stall is open, and an even bigger one if they lead you to one where the toilet was flushed.

So then, we headed to the midway.  Mind you, this is not to do rides.  My son doesn't do rides that, as he told me a few years ago, might be missing a few screws or bolts. He didn't want to play any games this year either, he is kind of over winning a cheap stuffed animal. It was purely for the food.  He was really hungry now.  I asked what he wanted.  I should have known.  Fiske's fries, from the right stand.  We passed two other Fiske stands to get there.  These really are the best fries, especially if you put the malt vinegar and salt on them.  The kids favorite chips are Salt and Vinegar flavor, but you can't get him to put it on fries, unfortunately.  It did't stop me from eating about a third of his large cup of them though.

We continued walking.  I got on of this year's "new" specialties, a Steak Sundae.  A large amount of fries covered with cheese sauce, sour cream, the mandatory bacon, and sirloin steak bites.  The steak was actually quite good.  I recommend this dish, heck, I might have to make if for dinner some time.  I couldn't finish all the fries though, for which I kept hearing, "If you wouldn't have eaten half of mine, you could have eaten those!"  The kid got a corn dog, one of his fair favorites.

It started getting more crowded, and the kid does not do crowds, so I knew what was coming.  "Are you ready to go?"  "Well, you know I have to look through the Expo Hall."  "Yeah, I know, I'm pretty sure that is why you always park at that entrance." Well, he may be on to something there.  I tried to talk him into silly socks with sharks on them and light up sneakers in men sizes we saw being sold there, but he just wasn't going for it.  He didn't believe me that it would make him the coolest trendsetter in school.  I am actually relieved there was no useless stuff he wanted this year, though it still brings a little tear to my eye when I see the wooden rose on his sports collectible display shelf that he just had to have when he was about 5.

Two and a half hours and $65 dollars poorer after arriving, we headed home.  My son asks "You took the afternoon off, right, you don't have to finish working all night?"  My heart was touched, did he want to spend more time with me?  "Yes, I'm off, why, what do you want to do?" "Nothing, I just was betting that if you are off, you're going to take a nap when you get home."

And I did.

That's why they have wine.

A Challenge for Unity

I'm on the left because I didn't vote for Trump.

I'm on the right because I didn't vote for Clinton.

I’m on the left because I think the refugees that have been brought into our country should be able to get a job.

I’m on the right because I understand the need to improve our vetting processes and delaying bringing refugees in.

I'm on the left because I think the executive order regarding the "travel ban" was overreaching.

I'm on the right because I think we do need to protect our country from terrorist attacks.

(I'm on the "wrong" side to everyone because I think that we aren't including some of the countries terrorists have actually come from).

I'm on the left because I'm OK with insurance covering birth control.

I'm on the right because I don't think it should be free.

I'm on the left because I don't believe in the death penalty.

I'm on the right because I'm pro-life.

I'm on the left because I don't think we need to spend billions of dollars to build a wall.

I'm on the right because I think we should enforce our current immigration laws, including deporting illegal immigrants.

I'm on the left because I would be OK with some exceptions/easy paths to citizenship in some circumstances.

I'm on the right because I don't think we should have sanctuary cities.

I'm on the left because I think teachers shouldn't have to buy their own supplies and I support public education.

I'm on the right because I support vouchers and charter schools for those kids who just don't do well in public school.

I'm on the left because gay marriages don't bother me.

I'm on the right because I think we need to be careful to protect laws that ensure that religious organizations or people don't have to perform those ceremonies if it is against their beliefs.

I'm on the left because I support other religions.

I'm on the right because I am Christian.

I'm on the left because I am wary of Trump.

I'm on the right because I was wary of Obama.

I'm on the left because I support people's rights to peacefully protest.

I'm on the right because I don't agree with everything everyone protests.

I'm on the left because I choose to eat organic and non-gmo whenever possible, and support labeling.

I'm on the right because I don't support the free market rather than regulations in determining what kind of food and sizes can be sold.

You get the picture.  I could go on for hours.  The thing is I KNOW WHO I AM.  I am someone who doesn't really care what a particular party supports to form my opinion.  I'm good with that.  I'm good with the fact that it causes others to think that I'm stupid, racist, a snowflake, or whatever the insult of the day is, because I know I am none of that.

What I'm not good with, the hatefulness that is prevailing in our country right now.  The hatefulness coming from the Donkeys and the Elephants and all the rest of the animals in the zoo.  There is not a reason to call other people names, not a reason to post pictures to make fun of people, not a reason to hate someone because of their opinion on a subject or who they did or didn't vote for.  This is supposed to be the UNITED States.  Can we work on UNITY again?  I find it extremely disturbing that we somehow found ourselves as a country divided in two, with both sides only trying to hurt the other, to make them mad, to get some kind of revenge on them. We are so much better than this, at least I hope we still are.

You know, if you really listen to people, really listen, you will see how much they actually have in common with you, how much they have the same values, how much they want the same things in life.  We don't all express it in the same words, or all agree on the best solution to a problem, but most of us actually do agree on what the problems are.  

Stop calling names.  Stop relegating people to "them" and "us."  Stop making us the Divided States. Start focusing on how to make things good for everyone. This is my challenge to you. 

That's why they have wine.  It's that or living in a big bubble. 

R-E-S-P-E-C-T, Find Out What It Means To Me

There is a post being shared around social media about not supporting the Women’s March, and how we don’t have anything to complain about as women in the United States right now.  If you don’t know what I’m talking about, you can read it here:

https://www.facebook.com/brandi.goingsatkinson/posts/10154999873267372?pnref=story

I agree with much of it.  I can vote.  I can have a job, and I have a pretty good one.  I can drive.  I can speak my mind, which I’m doing right now.  I don’t blame anyone else for things in my life or consider myself a victim of anything.  Rather, I take responsibilities for my actions, learn from those circumstances where bad things out of my control have occurred, and don’t consider myself any kind of victim (and I believe being a victim is more of a choice, you can choose to be an overcomer).  I believe that there are much worse conditions that women endure in other countries, and that we should put a lot more focus on that.

However, I think that women in this country do often lack something that they should have, and that something is respect.  Respect as a human being, not respect as someone who looks good in a bikini or has a pretty face.  I want respect for my intelligence, my emotional strength, my kindness, my ability to do my job, my talents, my thoughts, my personhood.  While we have come a very long way in American society, and I do get that kind of respect from most people, there has still been a bias about women in my adulthood.

I experienced when I went to an Armed Forces recruiter and was told they didn’t want me, though the paper laying on his desk in my view clearly showed I scored the highest in my school on the ASVAB.

I experienced it when an employer eluded, after I worked there a while, that he gave me my job because I was pretty.

I have experienced it when I go to Home Depot to get something for a home repair, and when asked what I am looking for, I get 5000 condescending questions about what I’m doing before the inevitable, “Ok, you have the right thing.”

I’ve experienced it when I walked around a car dealership with my child for an hour and could not find a salesperson to help me, and when I finally did, test drove, and went to buy the car, was told, exact words, “Wow, you actually can afford this and you have good credit.”

I experience it daily when I see posts online that say things like “She just thinks that because she is ugly.”

I experience it when I turn on a movie, and the male lead is a 70 year old past-his-prime man and the female lead playing his wife or love interest is a 25 year old attractive woman with fake breasts.

I experience it when I read that a man that commits rape is given a light sentence and excused as just a “boy being a boy.”

I experience when I am told I’m a “bitch” for doing or saying the exact same thing that would be esteemed in a man.

I experience it when I’m told that saying “I can grab a woman by her *private parts*” is just something all men say and there should be no concern about that, because that’s just normal.

Yes, I have a job with a good income, I have earned respect at work for my abilities, I can run my household, express my voice, vote, have served on the board of an athletic league, have been an athlete myself, have control over my medical care (after figuring out what insurance companies try to not have available to you), I can handle my own finances, I can stand up for myself, can support myself, can take care of myself, can feel comfortable in my own aging skin and weight-gaining body.  Yes, I am a strong woman.  No, I am not a victim.  I have a good life, with a great husband who does respect me and a son that has been taught to do the same. Yes, we are equal on paper, but sometimes in actual life, it really doesn’t feel that way.

Respect.  That is what every human being wants.  That is what some women speak up for, march for. And no, men are not all, or completely, to blame.  We women can be our own worst enemies sometimes, as often all the concentration is on abortion rights (which, by the way, not all women support) or birth control, or dressing up like sexual parts, and there are those who try to find their respect by conceding to the sexual object persona which seems to be desired.  However, saying everything is OK, everyone is considered equal, everyone is respected is a lie.  Just like it is a lie when we say that about equality of races or sexual preference.

Everyone deserves respect.  The main rule my child has is “You don’t have to like everyone, but you have to treat everyone with respect.”  He’s learned it well.  Can’t we all?

That’s why they have wine.

You Can't Just Spank It Out Of Them

Now that elections are over, and political articles and posts are dying down, it seems like the judgmental parenting one’s are again taking over.  Specifically, I have seen no less than 4 on children with ADHD or Autism in the last 24 hours.  While most of the articles and blogs are positive, there is always a barrage of negative comments, or sharing of the articles with a negative post.

As anyone who regularly reads this blog, or those that have known me for a while, knows, my 15 year old has ADHD. He has a couple other side diagnoses too, which is typical for kids with neurological disorders.  Fighting the ignorance on these disorders is something I will do till I’m dead, because I know first hand how that ignorance can affect a child’s life, well into adulthood.

The biggest fallacy that people cling to in this area is that ADHD is not real, and that parents just don’t discipline their children.  Let me talk about that for a moment.  People that have met my son in the last few years, they looked shocked if he mentions he has ADHD.  Some of those people may be shocked right now reading this, they see a polite, somewhat shy, smart, sensitive, caring, athletic, disciplined, amazing teenager.  Why?  Not because I am a lazy parent who sits on the couch eating bon bons and watching TV while my child runs wild, but because as a parent of a child with ADHD, I have invested huge amounts of energy in finding resources, treatments, and strategies that help him cope with his symptoms and frustration. 

For us, one of those is medication.  Medication that gets him through the school day and wears off in the late afternoon or early evening.  He doesn’t take it so that I can drug him into submission and not deal with him (though it is nice when it’s still in effect and he isn’t a constant chatterbox), it has worn off by the time I am around him.  It is so that he can focus in school and learn.  It is so the stimuli isn’t all hitting him so hard he can’t filter through it.  It is so he has a chance to process his feelings and thoughts without something else interrupting.  It is so he can practice the strategies we’ve worked on for years.

When my son was younger, before anyone would listen to me that something was wrong, I was more of a disciplinarian than I am now.  He was grounded, he was spanked, he had toys taken away, and privileges revoked.  Yet, he still was not reaching his potential in school, I got notes and calls from teachers, he was actually suspended once in the 3^rd grade, he would hit me, throw things, destroy his belongings, lie constantly.  We did sticker charts, behavior contracts.  When I pushed, teachers told me they were going to get him tested through the school system, and none of it ever came through, and many of those same teaches treated me very condescendingly at conferences, as if I was to blame for everything.  I spent way too much time hiding in the bathroom crying out of frustration.

For my son, a turning point came at the end of 5^th grade, when a new teacher (I think he had 4 different teachers that year, which definitely wasn’t a help!) had a conference with me, and to my surprise agreed with everything I said about my son, because she actually saw his full potential.  She encouraged me and helped me to get private evaluations done because it would be much quicker than going through the school system.  She filled out paperwork in a very short time frame for the neurologist evaluating him, and the summer between 5^th and 6^th grades he started medication.

Because we don’t really just drug the children of our society, the doctor started him on a very small dose.  It can take a while to find the right medication and dosage that works for a child.  While we worked everything out with the medication, he still struggled, and ended up failing 6^th grade.  However, about that time, we found the right medication treatment and I enrolled him in a private school for children with learning disabilities.  The child he always was, was finally visible. 

He excelled in school, getting all A’s but for ONE B in the next three years, and now in a regular high school he is still getting all A’s and B’s.  There were not nightly fights about homework.  I no longer had to ask him for a 5 minute break here or there, because he discovered how to entertain himself.  He still hates grocery stores, noisy restaurants, and crowded events because of the amount of stimuli, but he can handle them without a meltdown.  We still technically have a behavior contract, but the only part of it we look at anymore is the part about school grades, specifically the rewards he earns for them.  He now has an “off switch” that he can control. As a hormonal teenager, he can get loud and rude and obnoxious when I ask him to do something or not do something, especially after his meds wear off, however I have learned to tell him he is being unacceptable and walk away, and wait the 10 minutes for him to calm down and inevitably come and apologize to me for it and then talk about the problem and he follows through on my requests. And, well, I hand it to the naysayers, I rarely, very rarely, discipline my child anymore.  I don’t need to.  Those lessons that I tried to teach when he was younger, they actually did sink in, it was just hard for him to find them before.  If he does get stubborn, all I have to do is give the look or, at the worst, start to pull the cord out of his PS4, and there are no more issues.  He has really come to recognize his symptoms and is in control of telling his doctor if he needs a medication adjustment, as well as learned how to recognize them in others.  We often give each other that knowing, our heart feels for them look when we see a child struggling with his own issues.

A neurological disorder is not something you can just spank out of your child.  It takes a lot of hard work, education, rethinking how you deal with your child.  And it takes TIME. Time in which both the parents and the child are frustrated and working hard. The next time you see a mom in the grocery store who looks like she is about to burst into tears because her kid throws a box out of the back of the cart on the floor AGAIN, try picking it up for her instead of giving her a dirty look.  She might just think back on it at the end of the day and feel encouraged, instead of having to cry in the bathroom.

That’s why they have wine.

It's The End Of The World As We Know It....And I Feel Fine.

On the way to school this morning, my son, a high school freshman, asked, “Tuesday is election day, right?”

“Yes”

“Ok.  Then Wednesday is the end of the world.”

Election time.  Isn’t that kind of how we tend to react?

8 years ago around this day, that same son got in the car after school and said, “Mom, you are a racist.”

“Um, what?”

“We did mock elections at school.  If you don’t vote for Obama, you are a racist.”

I tried to teach him his first lesson about voting.  “You don’t vote for someone because of what color they are, you vote for them if you feel they represent you.  You vote for a President based on if you think they will be a good representative of our country and you have the same kind of opinions they do.”

“Well, according to school, you are a racist.”

Ok, then.  Apparently he was not ready to learn politics.  He was 7.  Unfortunately, there were people who were old enough to vote that weren’t ready to learn that either, so, I resigned myself to being labeled a racist, I was still going to vote for who I felt was the best candidate for me.

4 years later, my son was much more interested in what was going on.  I told him the candidate I was voting for, and why.  I explained differences between beliefs of candidates.  He followed the campaigns.  He went in the voting booth with me and read everything, and we discussed the amendments. He watched the election results all night. Again, in school, they had lessons revolving around politics, and had a class President election.  He introduced his grade to the Libertarian party, and subsequently became their Libertarian President-elect.  I’m pretty sure, however, that his promise of “Fun Fridays” appealed to all, regardless of party.

During this time my son actually APOLOGIZED to me.  He now understood why I voted for who I do, and he couldn’t believe he ever called me racist.  He’d learned a true lesson, not only that you should vote for who you feel would be the best President, but that sometimes politics are really ugly, and we try to influence people by calling names, a tactic most 11 year olds can tell you is pretty counter-productive.

This year, he didn’t have to ask me who I was voting for, he knows me well enough by now.  And, well, that Johnson/Weld sign in our front yard kind of gives it away.  We still talk about politics.  He actually got me back into listening to talk radio a few years ago due to his interest, so we hear a lot of things in the hour and a half or so we are in the car together every day (thus his sarcastic doomsday comment this morning).  He laughs when I yell at the radio and tell them they are wrong.  He asks questions if he wants to know more about something.  He’s formed his own opinions on the candidates.  I’m pretty sure he’s glad he’s not old enough to vote.

Most importantly, he’s gotten to see what the third party movement actually is, and he has learned that our choices in life aren’t really as narrow as the majority would have you think.  He’s learned that being successful doesn’t necessarily mean winning.  He’s seen that getting excited over the small stuff can be a big deal.  He sees parents who don’t back down on expecting our leaders to have integrity and be someone we can be proud of, and none our discussions have had to be why it is OK for Presidential candidates to do and say things that he would be grounded for life for.  

I don’t expect Gary Johnson to win the election tomorrow.  Gary Johnson doesn’t expect Gary Johnson to win tomorrow.  But we’ll be watching the results, not to see who wins (after all, Wednesday is the end of the world!), but to see if history will be made in Johnson getting 8%, which will give the Libertarian party equal access to state ballots and funding that the major parties have, thus the beginning of the end of the era of the two party system.  Some people will consider it success if we have our first female President.  Some will consider it a success if we build a wall.  I consider it a success if just one more person did some research on the other candidates.

Revolutions can start small, but they can have a big impact.

Make sure you vote, for whoever you feel best represents you.

That’s why they have wine.  Here’s to successes, not matter how small!

Be Not Ashamed

Shame, it’s a powerful weapon.  One that seems to have become quite popular, especially on social media.

And one that is often misused, sometimes even unintentionally.  We’ve somehow found ourselves in a time where we have decided our dislike of “political correctness” gives us justification to treat other members of society in demeaning ways, to not give a second thought to how they feel, to write off anyone else’s opinions, or, sometimes, even facts.  We have decided our opinion must be the only way, the right way, because we’re the only ones to speak up and call out the other opinions as politically incorrect.  In reality, we are just trying to get them to not voice their thoughts, to make them feel ashamed of their opinions.  We are actually just being mean.

There is a place for shame, but, ironically, it’s often missing from that place.  Shame should serve to stop us from actually doing things that are inappropriate, immoral, illegal.  It is the emotion that helps us to feel remorse when we have crossed those lines.  It’s not something that is supposed to be used to make others feel at fault for something they have no responsibility for, and to justify our behavior in making them feel that way.

Some of our shame is very ingrained in society.  I grew up in a home with an alcoholic parent, it was a very dysfunctional environment.  I’m not even supposed to say that out loud.  Shame is supposed to make me keep those facts hidden.  Ironically, most of my memories are actually of the shame.  That shame, while I, myself, am no longer ashamed, is keeping me from writing any details because it could trigger shame in family members who read this.  This isn’t how we are supposed to live.  I shouldn’t feel some kind of blame for things that I didn’t even do.

Things I didn’t do.  That seems to be what we like to shame, actually.  We like to kick those that are already down.  Maybe it makes us feel better about ourselves, about our own shame, to shame others.

Children are often shamed, particularly those with disabilities.  What kind of cruel people are we?  Read through your Facebook feed.  There might be a post about a horrible, horrible 6 month old that had the audacity to cry when their diaper needed to be changed, ruining someone’s trip to the grocery store for a carton of milk.  There might be a complaint that someone couldn’t send in peanut butter cookies for a class party because a child in the class had a deadly allergy.  There might be several memes suggesting a child with ADHD just needs to be spanked.  There might be comments on all of those that suggest that the child and the parent’s should be ashamed how much inconvenience they cause, just by existing.

I have a child with ADHD.  I’m not supposed to say that either.  I’m supposed to keep that secret, or else everyone will know what a terrible parent I am, how ill behaved my child must be, and that I’m just perpetuating a myth that striking a child with a belt doesn’t solve all problems .  I’m not supposed to say that he takes medication, or else people will think I am just drugging him like a zombie.  I’m not supposed to let him talk about it for all the same reasons.  I’m not supposed to let him know it is no one’s fault that he has a neurological disability, that it even IS a neurological disability, that it is something that neither he nor I caused, that there are actually some benefits that it gives him.  I’m not supposed to let him feel OK with it, I’m supposed to tell him to keep it secret, to be ashamed. To be ashamed for something that is not his fault, that does not make him inferior, that only gives him a few obstacles in life just like we all have.   I’m not even supposed to say that he’s actually one of the most polite, well behaved boys you will ever meet, because that doesn’t fit the narrative.

A recent news item has brought the treatment of women into the limelight, from catcalling to misogynistic statements, to name-calling, to inappropriate workplace behaviors, to actual assault.  I am a victim of all those things, but, again, I’m not supposed to say that either. I’m not supposed to have any sort of emotion whatsoever when someone calls other women derogatory names or judges their abilities on their looks. I’m supposed to feel like anything that is directed at me is/was my fault.  I’m supposed to feel like “boys are just boys.”  I’m supposed to believe that I don’t really understand what sexual assault is.  I’m supposed to think that if any woman ready a particular book, that no woman is allowed to speak out.  I’m supposed to believe that I can’t tell the difference between someone whistling at me and someone raping me, that I think it is all “assault.”  I am supposed to be too ashamed to say when something happens, and then I’m told if I don’t tell someone right away that I can’t possibly be telling the truth.

Shame.  I’ve decided to not let it be used against me anymore.  When I first became very public about my son’s ADHD, you have no idea how many other moms, and even some adults, told me in private messages and whispered conversations, relieved to have someone to talk to, that they were dealing with the same issue.  The same shame.  It was almost as many as have started to speak out on the issues that affect women.

And I’ve only touched on the tip of the iceberg of the things we shame people for – religious beliefs, physical appearance……even what kind of food someone chooses to eat - I could probably write a book.

We’re all in this life together.  Have some understanding, have some respect, realize that many problems are not just something made up to advance political correctness, but that they are real and can cause hurt.

That’s why they have wine.

What That Meme Tells Me

That meme.  That one.  You know, the one that appears to be mandatory to post for every supporter of a particular candidate.  The one that accuses people of being offended by a subject or words, while feigning ignorance to what the context means.  Yeah, you know it.  The one that tells me I’m a hypocrite for finding something despicable when I’ve bought or read “50 Shades of Gray.”

Except, I haven’t.  

So I guess I have your approval to write this blog.  Not that it matters, because I don’t need your approval, I am lucky enough to live in a country that gives me the right to express my opinion, whether you like it or not.

Let me start with a disclaimer, to stop the other talking points that everyone finds so factual.  I don't plan to vote for Clinton.  I condemned what Bill Clinton did and still do.  If this kind of fact comes out about who I do plan to vote for, I will be writing in Mickey Mouse.

Let me tell you what I hear every time I see that meme:

• As stated above, I’m not allowed to have an opinion if I read a book.  A fictional book.  One that has no possibility of having an impact on my life for at least the next 4 years.2.      

• I’m obviously a hypocrite.  Because ALL women have read the book, and that the book about a consensual sexual relationship is an indicator of our morality.  Well, maybe I should read it, because I do support consensual sexuality.     

•  You don’t get it.  You really don’t, or you think it’s better to feign stupidity.  It’s not about the “dirty words.”  Pussy, pussy, pussy, pussy….look, I can say that. (And darn, now my cat thinks I’m calling her.)  It’s about those words in context.  It’s about what the context means.

• You don’t think I can understand the context, and that I’m going to fall for the accusation that I’m just offended by words.  Guess what, women are not stupid, at least not all of us.

• You think all people need a tic-tac so that they can go kiss some unwilling person, that’s what you all talk about with your friends.

• You think that women are dying to kiss that man or be groped by him.  Or you.  It’s just a fact.

•  You are so enamored by a charismatic person that you don’t care what they do or say.  That is actually just downright scary.  His wife, running mate, and even himself can say it was offensive, but you will defend it as harmless locker room talk….   

• YOU THINK THAT A MAN TOUCHING OR KISSING A FEMALE JUST BECAUSE HE WANTS TO IS OK

I’m not a person who is offended by much. I have male friends, I roll my eyes at their actual “locker room” talk, but I’m not offended by a man finding a female attractive.  I’m actually not OFFENDED by what this candidate said, I am saddened.  I am saddened that there are men who still think women are nothing more than objects for their pleasure.  I am saddened that it’s so widespread that we find that to be acceptable.  I am saddened for anyone who has actually endured some type of sexual assault (including myself, sadly, millions of women have been), I am saddened that there are a number of friends that I will never see the same way again, and really unsure if I want to associate with them if they think that those of my gender only have the worth of their “pussy.”  Especially when they themselves are female.

I don’t have issues with people for voting for a particular candidate because they think they are the best choice.  I don’t let politics get in the way of friendships.  You vote for who you think is best in your opinion, I will vote for who I think is best. But I do have standards for those I choose to call friends, and one of those is that they don’t condone sexual assault, or the vocalization that it is OK.  I’m hoping some of you, those who really think they are just somehow being patriotic, will rethink what you are telling others.

That’s why they have wine.