Beep!....beep!....beep! Wait, I can HEAR that beeping....sounds familiar.....sort of like all those goofy sounds they dub in to the TV medical shows....when somebody's being monitored in a hospital......yeah, that's it. Beep! And there's some movement....oh, that's just me. Wait, I can see! There's light....the room is coming into focus.......hey! I'm back! I'm alive!
Okay, so I've been a little negligent with my poor little blog, but The Rubber Room is populated once more and I'm clearing out the cobwebs. It's been so long since I wrote anything that there is now this large backlog of topics - the new President and his Stimulus Package (yeah, um, I'm a small business owner who's not feeling very stimulated about this plan), then there's always the economy (going from bad to worse as each week brings new revelations of fraud and recession sliding towards depression threatening global markets.)
Of course, I could write about "Octomom" and her significance as a poster child to the rest of the world painting Americans as self-indulgent, illogical, irresponsible, self-aggrandizing, morally-reprehensible, ....wait, was I talking about Octomom or the Stimulus Package?
Seriously, we've all just embarked on the first few steps down the yellow brick road....and somewhere in the Emerald City, Obama is orating his heart out, "Pay no attention to the many generations of tax hikes and spiraling deficits behind the curtain!"
Apparently, if you are a successful American, who's worked hard to support yourself and your family without relying on government assistance, you are now to be penalized for your success. Your hard-earned money will be taken so that the burgeoning Federal government can spend it to help those "less fortunate." Hmmm, I think I've read this story before, too, but Robin Hood was stealing and redistributing *actual* ill-gotten money, not borrowing mythical trillions from future generations.
I know my sanctimonious sarcasm is dripping a bit more freely than normal in this post, but this hastily-thrown together plan scares the bejeezus out of me. Don't get me wrong, I pray every day that somehow this will all work out for the better for the economy and our country as a whole. But then I also pray every day for the advancement of our society...and then there's a story that grabs headlines for weeks about an unemployed, single mother of six children, living on disability and welfare who SOMEHOW manages to persuade a medical doctor to impregnate her yet again, resulting in the birth of octopulets...... And who is paying for that selfish bit of morally-lacking irresponsibility?
I have to say, my faith in our society is weakening every day. And I don't see a bail-out in sight....
January 7, 2009
On Getting 'Cowed!'
This New Year's Eve marked a milestone in my life - I turned 40, but even more auspciously, I got 'cowed."
You see, there is a tradition in my small suburban neighborhood that apparently began a decade or two before my family's arrival. On momentous birthdays (usually your 40th), a very large black and white plywood cow appears in the yard of the birthday boy or girl, and is usually painted with a witty saying such as: 'Holy cow! (Name)'s 40 now!' or ' Lordy! Lordy! (Name) is 40!'. You get the picture.
Sometimes the cow is fully dressed - mine sported a grass skirt, a straw panama hat, and a glittering boa. There were also helium-filled balloons flying from the cow, my mailbox and front porch. Last year, I also saw the cow on other lawns; once dressed in a hard hat and pocket protector, standing in the middle of a decorative graveyard complete with tombstones sporting black crepe streamers and black balloons. I've also seen the cow decked out in nurse's garb with so many balloons attached I thought it might fly away. But no, there it was on my lawn in all it's glory the morning of my birthday.
I have no idea who started the cow tradition, or how many lawns it has graced over the years. All I can tell you is that it makes me smile. To think of the effort it takes .... I mean, first the cow must be located within our subdivision's club house, or at the last recipient's house. Then it would have to be painted to cover the last message and re-painted with the new message. Just imagine lugging a wooden cow across a lawn, coaxing it to stand, accessorizing it, and trying to be stealthy about it, to boot.
It's not so much the cow that makes me smile. It's the gesture. The friendship. It reminds me just how blessed I am to know that I have people who care about me enough to go to the trouble. Spreading the love my friends, one cow at a time.....
You see, there is a tradition in my small suburban neighborhood that apparently began a decade or two before my family's arrival. On momentous birthdays (usually your 40th), a very large black and white plywood cow appears in the yard of the birthday boy or girl, and is usually painted with a witty saying such as: 'Holy cow! (Name)'s 40 now!' or ' Lordy! Lordy! (Name) is 40!'. You get the picture.
Sometimes the cow is fully dressed - mine sported a grass skirt, a straw panama hat, and a glittering boa. There were also helium-filled balloons flying from the cow, my mailbox and front porch. Last year, I also saw the cow on other lawns; once dressed in a hard hat and pocket protector, standing in the middle of a decorative graveyard complete with tombstones sporting black crepe streamers and black balloons. I've also seen the cow decked out in nurse's garb with so many balloons attached I thought it might fly away. But no, there it was on my lawn in all it's glory the morning of my birthday.
I have no idea who started the cow tradition, or how many lawns it has graced over the years. All I can tell you is that it makes me smile. To think of the effort it takes .... I mean, first the cow must be located within our subdivision's club house, or at the last recipient's house. Then it would have to be painted to cover the last message and re-painted with the new message. Just imagine lugging a wooden cow across a lawn, coaxing it to stand, accessorizing it, and trying to be stealthy about it, to boot.
It's not so much the cow that makes me smile. It's the gesture. The friendship. It reminds me just how blessed I am to know that I have people who care about me enough to go to the trouble. Spreading the love my friends, one cow at a time.....
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