Bad Mammalamma

I heart first responders, and here’s why: despite my sunny disposition and generally optimistic outlook (stop laughing, people who know me), I harbour deep within my darkest heart a terribly pessimistic attitude about my species. I think we’re exceptionally good at finding ways to kill each other, and not much else. And yet… in times of despair, in the midst of non-stop worldwide media coverage of ruin, when it seems every day must be the end of days, when hands reach up from the rubble with no hope of rescue — hands reach down. Human beings run toward and not away. And they do it again and again. Every day, for strangers, for no other reason than it’s the right thing to do. And I think we might make it after all. So when no other words are possible: thank you, all of you.

My initial reaction is one of resigned incredulity; I suppose we were bound to come to this eventually. My next question, though: Could vegetarians eat this? I mean, it wouldn’t technically be “food with a face,” but… I suppose the High Council of Vegetarians will have to issue a ruling.

http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2011/07/110713101952.htm?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+sciencedaily+%28ScienceDaily%3A+Latest+Science+News%29&utm_content=Google+Feedfetcher

Last night at dinner, my husband and I were discussing movies, as we often do. I was sarcastically bemoaning the lack of explosions and aliens in whatever grown-up movie he’d just mentioned, and then my seven-year-old son leaned over. He put his hand on mine and said sincerely, “Don’t worry, Mommy — we still have Independence Day.” Ouch.

Every child should have a rocketship, so every parent may be blessed with conversations like this one:

“Uh, Ma’am?  There’s something wrong with my engines.

{pause}

People keep shooting at them.”

FRUIT.  And no, I won’t be swayed by your rapturous descriptions of beaches, barbecues, or ballgames.  To my mind, Summer is the price paid for burgeoning, blooming Spring; crackling, settling Fall (my favorite); and burrowing, sparkling Winter.  BUT… then there’s the fruit.  I really, really love fresh fruit.  And tomatoes!  And all the other growing stuff that tastes bad the rest of the year.  (Excepting apples, bless ’em!)  So, for that, I suppose Summer gets a pass.  Just call me grumpy.. and get your hands off  that watermelon.