As a child, I did stupid things. I knowingly picked some poison ivy to see what would happen and itched for a week. I watched my grandparents’ pigs be slaughtered, even though I was told to remain in the house. (A graphic I will never forget.) I drove the family car too fast, and I once drank far too much cider. (Another experience, which led me to detest cider and later on in college, other spirits, like gin and tequila, where I prayed to the porcelain god I’d live till daylight.)
Yes, I understand this blog risks me as being labeled an old crone. I get it; I’m old. But I’m NOT stupid. Yet, everywhere I go I see stupid people who lack decorum and common sense. In my small world, there were unwritten rules:
- You don’t wear a hat at the dinner table. (Believe me, I’ve knocked a few of those on the floor of some teenagers at my house.) Nor do you come to the table without a shirt. (Spare me. I’ve no desire to see spaghetti sauce splattered on your chest hairs.)
- You don’t spit a hawker on the sidewalk.
- You don’t smoke a cigarette nor cigar in church.
The list is endless; I could rant on till doomsday. (However, I often wonder if doomsday is currently unfolding, particularly in DC where decorum vanished.) I read news accounts of kids being hospitalized for snorting bathroom cleanser, sniffing hair spray, ingesting grandma’s heart medicine. WTF? It never occurred to me Bon Ami, Aqua Net, nor baby aspirin were fun highs.
Thankfully, the proverbial Big Brother came to rescue the stupid with childproof medicine caps. (Those caps wreck havoc on my arthritic hands. Behold my dog medicine bottle. A hammer was the only answer.)
Then, numerous warnings were required on packaging:
- Discard the plastic bag. Don’t let your child put it over his head, for he will suffocate.
- Eating more than 10 candy bars at one sitting may be hazardous to your health.
- Always wear a helmet when riding a bicycle to avoid serious injury.
- This sweater contains non-organic fibers; wear at your own risk.
What? I feel like Big Brother thinks I’m an idiot. Granted, I never worried about plastic bags, candy bars, helmets, nor non-organic stuff, my children and I were smarter.
However, I recently bought new ink cartridges for my printer, which came with this warning: CAUTION: Tri-color inks contain nitrates. Do not drink or place in mouth. Please know if you are invited to my house for a party, I shall not be serving multi-color cocktails. LMAO
A few weeks ago, I shared the story of Bob, my current cabana boy. Bob and his burly dog, Max moved into my guest house over a year ago. For a year, Max only ventured outside when my dogs were in the house. If they happened to see him, they’d chase him back through his doggy door. They’d gnash their teeth if they spied him through the sliding glass door. I would go and visit Max; I felt sorry for him, for his dad was gone much of the time. He spent endless hours alone–unhealthy for a pack animal. Dogs want to belong.
The mantra of my maternal grandmother, probably my clone. She lived to be 99.5 years, had a great sense of humor, and was overtly willing to try most everything–even a second marriage at 80 years old.
Dr. Suze Espouses 