Filed under: Family, Goats, Human Rights, P2, P3, Uncategorized | Tags: Parenting, Politics, Seven Deadly Sins
Here in Exile, we’ve been busy. Doing what, you ask? Mostly, sinning our tails off. Not just little tiny infractions, either (although trust me, plenty of that going on, too.) No, we’re talking major league stuff here. Mortal, even. Near as I can tell, we’re about 6/7 of the way to eternal damnation. I heard somewhere that confession is supposed to be good for the soul (no, I didn’t hear that at church. HA! Church! Notice my clever “blog = sacrament” convention. Not exactly Catholic. Perhaps small-c catholic, though. Anyway – ) I present to you the following summary of our surprisingly (for us; we’re normally quite half-assed at stuff) thorough sinfulness, in an attempt to post something cleanse our collective selves:
- Gluttony. This one almost didn’t make the list; it’s fairly recent. Like, yesterday recent. Because for the duration of last week, we were stoveless. And it’s hard damn work to overeat when you are microwaving everything. So when Goat Daddy and the best. neighbor. ever. basically ran the large kitchen appliance version of a “code” last night, and resuscitated the stove, we got a little too excited about the idea of “fresh from the oven” or “hot off the stove” victuals. And pretty much baked/sauteed/boiled/pan-fried ourselves into bellyaches. You’ve never seen four people so excited about making macaroni & cheese “the right way” (because using the microwave, according to the goats [who are oh so right] is “JUST. WRONG.”) Also, I bought a box of Entenmann’s chocolate doughnuts the other day and Goat Daddy and I ate every. single. one. in one sitting, to keep Goat #2 from turning them into her own little doughnut tire junkyard.
- Greed. It started slowly, about two weeks ago. One day, I checked the mail and found the “LL Bean 2008 Holiday Catalog.” Then, a few days later, the bane of parents everywhere: the 2008 Big Book of Toys. (Curse you, Sears!) The next day, the mail carrier actually had to leave the mail in a pile on the porch, because he couldn’t stuff the catalogs into the mailbox. Land of Nod. Hearthsong. Discovery Toys. Constructive Playthings. American Girl.* Cheryl’s Cookies. The Buckeye Corner. Tiffany. Bits & Pieces. Williams-Sonoma. An avalanche of glossy paper, covered with pictures of things we never even knew existed and now? Now our lives feel empty and incomplete and inadequate because we don’t have them. I don’t know how I’m going to go on living if I don’t find a 2.75-carat brilliant cut white diamond ring set in platinum underneath the Christmas tree. Oh, woe.
- Sloth. Much like gluttony, this one’s pretty recent. Within the last month, though, the goats have stopped waking me up at the crack of dawn on weekends. They’re still getting up, mind you. But they don’t seem to require my immediate attention. They are able to use the bathroom by themselves (can I get a “WOO HOO!”? I honestly had started to wonder if this day was ever coming); no more waking to a small person doing the potty dance next to my bed and saying “Mama I need to PEEEEEE!” They like to play together but are also able to play by themselves for longer periods of time now; no more waking to a small person hitting me in the forehead with “Hi Ho Cherry-O” and saying “Play with me.” Neither of them likes to eat breakfast right away, and when they do get hungry, they are now able to get cereal all by themselves. (Not that that’s what they’re eating when we’re not up. They’re eating the junkiest food they can get their hands on. Which this week, has included Halloween candy. And no, I don’t care. I haven’t slept in 7 freaking years. If some verboten Kit Kat bars are going to net me another dreamy hour on Saturday morning, I say HAVE AT IT.); no more waking to a small person holding a carton of eggs in my face and saying “Hungry, Mama.” Also, I’m pretty sure we’re the only Americans ever to carve a jack o’lantern on Election Day. God, I can’t believe I even admitted that. (Perhaps we get some credit for bothering to do it at all?)
- Wrath. This one’s all on me. Suffice to say I’m still so damn angry about Props 2, 8, and 102, and Act 1, that I cannot speak civilly about it. Just like Joe Scarborough, the f-bomb slips right out. Frankly, I’m not ready to stop being angry about it. I think I’ll rechannel the anger, though, and continue my activist ways (but with as little profanity as possible.)
- Envy. We’re working through an entire spectrum of green here in Exile. I’m serious, I don’t care how deprived you think you are, one of us will find something about you to envy. It’s like one big festival of discontent around here. Except for the whole not-so-festive part. This one, I am determined to put a halt to. Not to save my immortal soul, which I think we can safely say is beyond grace at this point, but just to make the rest of our lives on this earth more bearable. Jealousy is exhausting. So it’s not helping with #3 AT. ALL. Also, KD over at abitsquirrelly has started a weekly campaign of gratefulness, and hey, it’ll give me a theme to follow on Thursdays.
- Pride. It makes no sense, you say. We’re a bunch of sinning fools, what could we possibly have to be proud of, you wonder? You can’t do that, you say. To which we respond: Yes. We. Can. We’re proud to have taken our gluttonous, greedy, slothful, wrathful, envious selves to the polls and voted for a winner for the first time in 12 very long years. MommyPie wrote an excellent, must-read post about the exhilaration she felt on Wednesday. (No, I mean it. You MUST read it. Just click the link. All the cool kids are doing it. Go ahead. This can wait.) So yeah, we’re sorta proud here in Exile, for helping turn Indiana blue this year, and being part of the cause of that feeling. It so beats being the pre-ACME-package coyote. (If you didn’t get that, you didn’t read the comments on MommyPie’s blog. Go back and do that now. At least read the first two comments. Cuz that second one? Another thing we’re sorta proud of here in Exile.)
- Lust. Oh, hell no. None of that going on. No way, no how. There’s a simile about the driven snow you might recognize; that’s about us. (Dude. My dad reads this blog. I wouldn’t go there for federal bailout money.)
So…what have you been up to? All you NaBloPoMo-ers, feel free to meme this if you’re desperate for material. We the slothful have no intention of committing to posting every day, EVER.
* I am convinced there is a circle of hell specifically for the jackasses who brought the American Girl Doll-Industrial Complex into being. And when my handbasket and I arrive and I find out I’m right, the smug self-satisfaction will sustain me throughout eternity. Just sayin’.
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