Please don’t ask me about my mini watermelon. It’s kind of personal, you know?
Signs
Mission Accomplished
Love This Sign
Creative Nomenclature at Pike Place Market
Some Things are Humorous… To Me
When Laylee was building her snowman this afternoon, she asked, “Can you please get me two blueberries and a carrot… and some more blueberries?”
This is literally the funniest site I’ve visited all week. I’m wondering if I could really get a ticket on a literal roller coaster to Hell by simply eating lots of junk food. Thanks to Veronica for the heads up.
When we were driving through Montana this Christmas I noticed a sign along the way in a sparsly inhabited windswept plain. It read, “Jesus is Lord of this Valley.” Funny thing. I thought he covered bigger territory than that.
Currently Magoo’s favorite bedtime songs are “Jesus Beam” and “Chug-a-God.” CHUG CHUG CHUG CHUG
Here you will find the only people in the world who can make ledge jumpers funny.
My Responsibility
There’s a small local bookstore in my neighborhood. I like books. I like supporting the town. So I shop at this bookstore.
The books are used. Sometimes I have to settle for Olivia Saves the Circus instead of the original Olivia, but they’re both cute, they cost less than three dollars and I’m giving my money to members of my community, rather than some faceless chain store.
Once when I was looking at books and Magoo went on a crazy 2-year-old rampage, one of the store owners brought over some toys and played with him until I was ready to check out.
They have an unlisted phone number and no computer. They take cash or checks only. They keep an index card listing of the books you’d like to purchase so that if a copy comes in, they can give you a call. The store smells like my grandma’s basement, not really in a good way. I love this bookstore.
Then a couple of days ago a friend who recently moved to the area said, “I know you like that bookstore but I just don’t feel comfortable going in there with my 3 kids. They have a big bumper sticker right on the door that says ”˜Reproductive Responsibility — 2 is Enough!’”
I was dumbstruck. Nah! She must be mistaken. I’ve been in there tons of times and I’ve never seen that. She was pretty sure she’d seen it. So I took a peek the next time I was driving by. Sure enough, right at eye level, just above the OPEN sign is a good sized sign proclaiming that I should stop having children to save the planet.
I came home really upset. What right do they have to tell me how many kids I should have? Who are they to judge the reproductive choices of everyone on the planet? I was offended and I told Dan that I simply wouldn’t shop there anymore.
As usual, he remained calm despite my 28-year-old rampage and waited for me to join him in his happy place. Then he said something about how we choose not to live in a cave somewhere because we want to be part of a community and learn to get along with people who think and believe differently than we do. The owners of the bookstore are kind people and they’re our neighbors.
So now I’d at least like to talk to them about the sign. But what do I say?
First I want to ask them to explain their position. Then I want to explain mine.
I have the right to choose how many children my family can love, nurture and provide for. I have a religious belief that God created the earth with resources enough and to spare and that having and lovingly raising children is a spiritually fulfilling and earth-building endeavor. If we’re running out of resources, then we should be wiser about how we use them, not be controlling how many of us get to use them. If all the caring and educated people in the world start limiting their offspring in order to save the planet, won’t the very people who are the least well-equipped to care for and teach children become the ones who are having the most of them?
I feel like I need to say something if I’m gonna keep shopping there, especially if we decide to have another baby. Putting my personal feelings and religious beliefs aside, I just don’t think it’s their right to judge anyone else for their decision. I also don’t think it’s appropriate to place a sign like that prominently at the entry to your place of business.
I Saw the Signs
I don’t care what they call it. I’m pretty sure there’s no honey in this bucket.
Now this changing table from a restroom in the crypt of St. Paul’s Cathedral in London is appropriately labeled.
Those things are always pretty nappy.
Be afraid. Be very afraid. I don’t see Beware of Dog signs very much anymore but these seem to be cropping up everywhere. You’d better watch out. They’re all around us. Some may even live on your very street…or in your HOUSE! Watch for signs.
Seriously? None at all? On this, not-recently-barfed-on cement slab in downtown Seattle? Okay. I’ll try to restrain myself. Maybe there’s a sweet spot down by the shipping yards.
I love the endorsements on political signs.
Was he endorsed by some Washington nurses association or is his mom just a nurse and she really likes him? I’m endorsed by software programmers, escape artists, people named Allysha and the Democratic Party (I figure that if at least 20 people living on the internet link to my site, and the internet was invented by Al Gore, it just stands to reason…). Maybe I should run for office.
Boats Can Read but Cows Cannot
Apparently the little boat that sailed into the night reads my blog. On Wednesday I finally called for its return.
Last night at the mariner’s house one small square window was glowing with a dim light, the first sign of life I’ve seen there all summer.
This morning the ship was back afloat the billowing grass, missing only its mast, no doubt having been smashed in some outrageous journey… or taken down for winter storage.
In one field near the house a herd of cows likes to graze. Frequently they can be seen lounging around a sign that reads “Premium Angus Beef: Call for details.” How the rancher gets them to aid in his advertising is beyond me. Needless to say, I fear they are hopelessly illiterate.