This morning the homepage on my computer had a survey asking who is the least-attractive, female star in Hollywood. I suppose the brilliant mind behind this survey took their lead from Maxim magazine’s recent list, which has received quite a bit of publicity. Though, not the uproarious publicity it deserves. It seems there are actually sad, little, shallow-minded individuals who care about some sexist fool’s “bottom-five”.

I don’t know who compiled the list for Maxim. I don’t know if it was a man or a woman. I’m not giving their web-site the traffic to check it out. Either way, I’m guessing the guilty party has some female relatives. A sister, an aunt, a niece…a daughter. At the very least, they have a Mother who carried them and bore them. She probably didn’t look too attractive squeezing their block-headed-numbskull out of her either.

In fairness, I can’t just point the finger at Maxim or my cable company. There are lists like these all over the place. I have a daughter who isn’t aware of them yet, and I wish I could shield her from the ignorance and emptiness of that portion of our society forever, but unfortunately I can’t.

At this point, I can only hope that she will grow up to be well-adjusted and know that she is exquisite, no matter what anyone ever says. I want her to know that being humble equals refinement. That kindness equals beauty. And, above all…that people deserve respect.

Follow

Email

I have mentioned before that our dog is getting old. But, it’s becoming all too clear that she’s completely neurotic as well. Once upon a time, the only things that gave her dread were normal dog-phobias. Things like the vacuum cleaner and garbage trucks. But, her bravery is diminishing with each passing day.

Lately we’ve noticed that she is losing her spunk, because her newest fear is going for a walk. The thing we used to have to spell out…W-A-L-K, because she would attack you with kisses if you said the real thing. For awhile, we even had to spell it backward. But not anymore. Her mania has taken over. It’s not just trash trucks or city buses anymore. If she sees anything bigger than a sedan, her tail goes down and her ears flop over. She begins to shake, and darts around on the end of her leash looking for somewhere…anywhere…to escape the four-wheeled monster.

So, now we have a battle before we can even get her outside in the morning. She knows when my husband grabs her collar off the door that it’s time to go spineless and find a good place to hide.

The other day he found her holed-up under our son’s bed. When he got down on the floor and said her name, she turned her head and faced the other way as if to say, “You can not see me! I am invisible! Go away with your leash and find someone else to torture.” My dog…the only one on the block who wishes she she could really be a ghost for Halloween.

Follow

Email

Every night at dinner, I ask my kids to tell me what was the best thing about their day, and what was the worst thing.

My daughter often tells me that the worst part was not having a pop quiz. Which is followed by me thinking to myself, “Please, please, please, let her continue to be a freak of nature and LOVE school so much that the most horrible thing she can think of is that she wasn’t challenged enough.” The best part of her day is usually that she did something cool in science class, or that she and her best friend have come up with yet another secret handshake.

My son starts with the worst part of his day, and it always varies. It can be that a friend didn’t share the bike at school, or that he was sad when his sister got hurt at soccer practice, or that he was punished for not listening.

Then I ask him, “What was the BEST part of your day?”

And, without fail, every single night, he will look around the room at all of us, point at the dinner table and say, “This”.

Follow

Email