Yesterday, while a sick fuck murdered 17 kids a few miles away at MSD High, I was taking a break from working in the yard.
The Sims is my current game of choice and in that make believe world Katy was busy trying to teach her Corgi Penny to fetch.
It’s not going well.
Nobody older than 50 ‘gets’ this: shooting your classmates with an AR-15. When we were young (yeah, I’m going there) guns of all kinds were readily available. The boys driving trucks had gun racks with deer rifles clearly displayed and nobody thought anything of it because guns are tools. Period. Our parents taught us how to shoot them, how to clean them and how to respect them, just as they did with hammers and horse tack. But I can’t remember anything like this ever happening back then.
What’s the difference in generations? Well, my sister-in-law thinks pesticides are warping young brains. Someone else blamed the ubiquitous ADD drugs, which so many kids are on, even if nothing wrong with them. “Just to make him focus at school”.
We don’t know with this evil son of a bitch yet, in general I believe Snowflake Syndrome has ruined our kids. Can’t spank them. And they’re not allowed to fail. (Everyone gets a trophy!) Or fall down. Or be bullied. Or be offended. They’ve built no fitting response to any damn thing. So when the untoward occurs when they’re older and have access to weapons? Horror.
The answer does not lie in taking away weapons from law abiding citizens, but in a better response to mental health problems. When everything went to hell yesterday the kids knew it had to be this asshole; they knew. If everyone knew, what was he doing with weapons and why wasn’t he in treatment? Who failed? Who’s complicit?
Of course none of this will bring back those precious children. God help us.
Edited to add: Teachers ought to be able to carry concealed. Making schools a gun-free zone is the most shameful thing ever perpetuated on the American public.
And dammit, I wasn’t going to talk politics or current events on this blog.
I can’t really talk about this with anyone IRL because everyone knows everyone else… but this rage has to be quenched or it will spill over…
This is our granddaughter Amber. Picture was taken 3 years ago, but she basically still looks the same.
Now a happy, lively 11 year old. Creative, empathetic, intelligent and I think, pretty. Cute as a bunny’s nose.
Always sewing or wanting to cook, she did make a dish for her family night before last. The bitter, twisted crone that is her live-in grandmother pronounced it “the worst thing I’ve ever tasted” and then proceeded to tell Amber that she is UGLY.
Amber cried for an hour.
God forgive me for what I’ve been thinking… all the ways to cause that woman pain… She needs to suffer. She’s never been what you might call ‘nice’, but that was horrible. And I can do nothing except love on that beautiful little soul when I see her this weekend.
Arthur brought home flowers for Christmas. We didn’t have anything to unwrap because his gift was a new video card and it was installed immediately… and mine from him was a down vest (and I snuck in another little jacket).
You may wonder why I would want outerwear. After all, this week’s temps have been in the 80’s. But… we won’t always live here… fingers crossed til they bleed, baby.
It’s hard to believe that Christmas is upon us once again. Gifts have been sent and received, but this year I’ve opted out of a tree.
No idea why. Just too lazy, probably. It’s just the man and I, so why bother? Last Christmas was overly emotional for me, so perhaps abstaining from a freshly cut fir is more about my mental health than anything else.
I would like my creche out, but again… too lazy to look for it.
Not much has happened since I wrote about the crazy people, who are luckily giving us a wide berth.
After 7 months and several ridiculous meetings, the new windows have the stamp of approval from the city. Never mind some of the sills remain broken… and one won’t open. I was just so ready to get on with it. Now we turn our attention to doors.
I’ve made two cakes within 30 days… that should say something… scream, actually… about my state of mind. Still working out, but let’s get real – there are only so many calories I can burn in one session. Plus, this lazy thing is really putting a damper on life. I’d rather be curled up in bed that anything else. And no, I don’t think I’m depressed.