Observations by Key Monroe~~Home of Right Opinions, Cynical Viewpoints, and TMI in Hefty Doses
|E-mail: keymonroe [at] alltel [dot] net

June 29, 2004

Not Easily Stimulated These Days

Due to time constraint issues, restlessness issues and other Key issues, I've been in my own world lately.

I haven't had time to visit all of the bloggers in my neighborhood, and I haven't had a chance to put into written word all the many things that pop into my head on a daily basis. ...And like a dieter refusing to be discouraged by stepping on the scales, I refuse to look at my numbers. No, don't tell me! I don't want to know.

I am going to self-medicate. I have written myself a prescription for six days at the beach.

If any of you would like to stimulate my blog in my absence, let me know and I'll get the keys to you.

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posted by Key on 08:53 PM | Comments (10)
» fat teen links with: fat teen
» plumperworld links with: plumperworld

June 28, 2004

I'll take "digestive disorders" for $500, Alex

Alex: A malady of the small intestine, this ailment results in the backing up of fecal matter into the stomach, forcing an excessive and frequent evacuation of watery feces into the esophagus, essentially causing the sufferer to "throw up shit."

ding, ding, ding!

Alex: Yes, Key...

Key: What is Algorarrhea?

Alex: Correct! Make your next selection.

Key: I'll take digestive disorders for $400, Alex.

Alex: This child star has spent her life being viewed as half of whole, having paved the way to fame with the aid of her twin sister. While adopting a darker hairstyle did little to set her apart, being diagnosed with an eating disorder known as anorexia nervosa seems to be doing the trick.

Key: Who is Mary Kate Olsen?

Alex: Correct, Key! You seem to be on a roll. Care to try your luck in Double Jeopardy?

Key: Not tonight Alex! I have a headache. Until tomorrow...

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posted by Key on 11:56 PM | Comments (3)

June 25, 2004

Spoiled by Power

So I've been reading this futuristic novel about a people who are entirely dependent upon the web as their power source, for their survival really. Without it, they are set back thousands of years to a medieval style existence.

And of course it's fiction, but still I think, surely it couldn't be that crippling.

And then...the storms rolled into town on Wednesday.

It looked a little ominous after work, but so what...I needed groceries. I got them, loaded them up (along with the kids), and headed home.

I then called my husband on the cell phone (yes Rob, while I was driving) to see when he was planning on coming home. (In case you guys wonder why we call you after we go to the grocery store, I will shed the light on this issue: WE ALREADY WENT GROCERY SHOPPING WITH KIDS. WE ENDURED NAGGING ABOUT WANTING BUBBLE GUM AND MARSHMELLOWS. WE HANDLED A ROLL-AWAY CART WHILE LOADING GROCERIES INTO THE CAR. THE LAST THING WE WANT IS TO HAVE TO CARRY IT ALL UP THE STAIRS AND INTO THE HOUSE WHEN WE GET HOME! Which I had to do anyway...but I digress...)

I was immediately excoriated by my husband for driving in the weather. "It's been rainy and windy all week. What's the big deal?" I ask. (I figured he was just thinking up an excuse to avoid coming home...)

He ordered me to get off the phone and concentrate on getting home. Okay fine. Whatever.

No problem. I get home and lo and behold, it must have stormed pretty badly there...BECAUSE I HAVE NO FRIGGIN POWER AND A CAR LOAD OF GROCERIES AND HUNGRY KIDS!

I had planned on serving up leftovers, as I had made an abundance of chicken with wine sauce and homemade garlic creamed potatoes the night before. Not happening. Instead, I stood guard in front of the refrigerator and freezer refusing entry for fear the power would be out long enough to ruin hundreds of dollars worth of food.

When I was a kid, I would have translated such an evening into fun and adventure, listening to angered thunder and getting to wander around with my very own candle.

Alas, the burden of responsibility takes all the fun out of everything... I lit candles, sent the kids on a working flashlight hunt, and loaded coolers with the perishables I had just bought from the grocery store.

I found some soup with a pop-top and stared at it...and then the grave reality of the situation hit me...MY GAWD, I HAVE NO MICROWAVE!

After feeding the kids a hearty meal of pb+j, chips, and fresh fruit, I tucked them in, reading a story by flashlight.

I then picked up my book and continued my own reading by flashlight, at that point wondering if the author had been inspired by the Y2K scare.

It was around ten when the household once again came to life with power.

And the biggest battle of the evening had been convincing my husband that it wasn't worth letting all of the cold air out of the refrigerator just so he could have a beer.

(Don't feel too sorry for him; we do have a wet bar, so he wasn't completely without drink...)

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posted by Key on 04:33 PM | Comments (6)

June 24, 2004


Bad Day.

Closing fell through.

That really sucks when I AM THE SELLER!!

May I have a margarita now? (please.)

Update: If anyone wants a small, renovated farmhouse on a couple of acres in Commerce, GA for what I owe on the stupid thing, let me know. ($20K under appraisal.)

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posted by Key on 10:37 PM | Comments (8)
» Gut Rumbles links with: southern woman

June 23, 2004

New and Improved

You left me with abandonment issues. Shattered. Without closure. And now you think you can just walk back into my life??

Welcome back Chelle and Bro.

I had faith. I never took either of you off the ol' blogroll. (Okay, it could be that I never got around to updating it, but let's not split hairs.)

So! Monday I click the Bejus button for the hell of it, and he's there! But his comments didn't work yet, so I couldn't say hi. (They are working now. )

And then! And then! Tuesday I am linked by the elusive lady with the wild heart. And I held my breath as I clicked. Yes! She's back! Two for two.

What he said. (Great to have you back! Now, for your next trick, show me "Stay!")

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posted by Key on 08:46 PM | Comments (4)

June 22, 2004

Clinton's Life

Obviously I haven't had a chance to read it, but my guess is that it isn't so much that he led a boring life, so much as he's just a shitty writer.

A good writer can make almost anything sound interesting.

Take the review for example. THAT was a good read, but you don't need to read the whole thing (as it does get repetitive). I like the paragraphs Geoffrey selected just fine.

I briefly considered picking up a copy of My Life, just because I (like many others) am curious about what the old chap has to say regarding the Lewinsky affair.

It had to be more than fun and games with a cigar if the poor girl thought she was in love!

...So then I hear from this Time news interviewer that he doesn't even mention Lewinsky until page 773.

Even better. I no longer have to buy a copy. I will walk into Barnes & Noble, pick up a copy, turn to page 773, read five pages, put it down, walk out.

My guess is that he buried the "juicy" with "justification," but I'll report again once I know for sure.

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posted by Key on 04:46 PM | Comments (2)



Thank you MSN for that lovely image.

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posted by Key on 04:02 PM | Comments (0)

June 21, 2004

Happy Anniversary to Me

It was eleven years on Saturday.

At this point, I think we've mutually, silently agreed that less is more on the big day. (Less stress.) It's basically a good excuse to get a sitter, have a quiet dinner, and browse for a while in Barnes & Noble.

I think everyone has their own ideal when it comes to love and marriage, thus we all suffer ups and downs and everything in between.

Have you ever noticed that shopping for greeting cards is especially difficult when stuck in a "down" period? At times, I've spent over an hour trying to find something/anything intended for a spouse that wasn't a complete lie. Perhaps this particular store was out of the cards that read, "You may be Sleepy, Grumpy, Sneezy, Dopey, Mopey and Bitchy, but if you're not Happy on your birthday, I'll be out with my friends."

Fortunately, this is not my current plight, but it's a great idea for a greeting card biz, don't ya think? I'll call it Vitriolic Expressions...

Anyway, at some point during the greeting card madness, I found a card that helped me understand my own original ideal and approach, which is sometimes forgotten over time without some sort of reminder. I purchased the card, but never signed it...just kept it. (It's my reminder.)

Mutual Love

I have heard that you should
"Do unto others as you would have them do unto you."

And I see the wisdom in that now more than ever.
The more I see and hear of couples who are truly
dissatisfied with their relationship,
the more I am determined to remember that in most cases
their misery is a direct reflection
of the kind of love they give.

And I want to be respected
so I will be respectful

I need support
so I will be supportive

I want encouragement
so I will be encouraging

I want consideration
so I will be considerate

I want to be understood
so I will be understanding

I must have loyalty
so I will be loyal

I need to feel trusted
so I will be trusting

I long for your attention
so I will be attentive

I want to feel cared for
so I will be caring

I need to be reassured
so I will be reassuring

I want tenderness
so I will be tender

I want affection
so I will be affectionate

I want romance
so I will be romantic

I want to be loved
so I will be loving

Deep within me, I know that's
the way it should be, and so all that
I long for, you will find in me.

...so simple, so difficult. But there you have it...my sincere moment du jour.

(BTW, the card company is actually named "Wistful Expressions." I found that interesting.)

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posted by Key on 07:41 PM | Comments (8)
» wild-heart.net links with: What's going on out there?

June 18, 2004

If you're gonna cheat, make sure it's worth it

If you're heart isn't in it, you'll have regrets.

I suggest peanut butter M&Ms.

Look, I'm tough. Snickers doesn't even tempt me, but this...this is special. I'm hooked.

My heart is in it.

No regrets.

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posted by Key on 05:56 PM | Comments (5)

I've been wondering the same thing...

So I'm glad Jim asked.

Here's my problem: I break things.

I bought a 35mm for $300 a couple of years ago.

I dropped it, then paid another $200 to have it fixed...which was stupid, but I didn't know it would be that much until I got the bill.

Then it started eating film, and the flash started smoking. (I didn't care. I continued to use it until it coughed, sputtered and died.)

Here's my point: given my track record, I'd rather not drop $500 on a digital.

Is there something decent out there for a little less?

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posted by Key on 05:14 PM | Comments (5)

June 17, 2004

Girls! Girls! Girls!

...ALL over my house!

My sister-in-law is on vacation. I have her girls, ages 10, 9 and 2. Combined with an eight-year-old Miss Priss and the four-year-old new addition, I have quite a houseful until Sunday.

My blogging will probably suck until then, but I'll do the best that I can.

In other news, I need a vacation.

If anyone would like to loan me their beach condo, I'll be your best friend forever.

...and I'm willing to solidify the deal with a pinky promise.

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posted by Key on 08:41 PM | Comments (6)

June 16, 2004

About that Fat Sac

I'm getting so many google visitors from that one time I referenced Kelley's fat sac. (cul-de-sac that is...)

Everybody lookin' for a fat sac. People, let Key offer you some advice: DON'T BUY YOUR SAC ON THE INTERNET! Jeez. You're making it too easy for them. They don't even have to arrange a buy anymore. All they have to do is troll the internet.

Alas, I reside here in the realm of responsibility, the college days are ancient history, and you'll find no fat sacs here.

Having said that, I must admit, this an utter waste of fatsac.com.

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posted by Key on 01:00 AM | Comments (0)
» A Single Southern Guy In America links with: Oddities I See

June 15, 2004

Better Late than Never

I've been meaning to say something in response to the flattery that I received from my buddy Sam.

He's such a loyal cyber sweetheart.

His recent post on Honor and Respect is well worth the two minute read. (And I'm not just saying that because I'm quoted there...)

Nobody ran with it in your comment block Sam, but being a gutter brain myself, I tend to attract the same, so allow me to clarify... When Sam calls me his back door girl, I'm pretty sure he means that we've reached the level of friendship deeming me worthy of entering his home by way of the back door.

Right Sam?!

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posted by Key on 11:09 PM | Comments (2)
» A Single Southern Guy In America links with: Oddities I See


I can admit it. He said it a little more eloquently.

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posted by Key on 10:22 PM | Comments (0)

June 14, 2004

I Feel ALL Warm and Fuzzy Inside

Seriously. The cynic in me is not dead, but it was nice to hear a couple of men from opposing parties dredge up something nice to say about one another.

It was sappy almost.

I haven't been around the block today, but I'm sure other bloggers have called them everything from smarmy-heads to butt-munchers.

But, I have forced myself to say something nice, making my own little miniscule effort to diffuse party tension, which has gotten ridiculous from every angle.

I won't be making any promises for the future, but at least in this post, I'm obeying the "If you can't say anything nice..." rule.

...which is why I neglected to mention a certain former lady First Lady.

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posted by Key on 09:12 PM | Comments (6)
» Random Fate links with: Leading by example

June 11, 2004

Blog Neglect

It comes with the weekend...

Often, I come into the office to get a little work done on the weekends, at which time I can usually come up with something to blog about.

However, I have a house full this weekend. In addition to Miss Priss and the new recruit, I will be watching a toddler for a foster parent who hasn't had a break in four months.

I figure it won't be too terrible. I've gone without sleep before, and the foster parent picnic will take up most of the day tomorrow. I'll give them a hot dog, deposit them on the play ground, and dodge the association officers who are likely agitated with me for declining the position of Foster Parent Association President...no sweat.

If someone would like to fill the space that I'll be vacating tomorrow, feel free. (Rob, if you go into my house, try not to get lost again; I'm the third door down!)

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posted by Key on 10:05 PM | Comments (1)


Last night I dreamt of a big, ugly spider.

The hairy, beady-eyed monster was crawling all over me. Despite my attempts to shake him or squash him, he held on.

Finally, I gave my arm a good fling. I then inspected my arm.

No spider. Not on my arm, not on the ground, not anywhere else.

Where the hell did he go?!

Disappearance won't do. I want to know where the eight-legged beast has gone. I want to collect a dead body, so that I may give it a swirling burial within a porcelain tomb.

Alas, no such luck. The dream ended. I overslept.

After my munchkins were fed and dressed, I retreated to my room and tugged my hair out of its ponytail.

That's when I found it.

Behind my right ear, I have the biggest, ugliest spider bite that I've ever had. It's red, raised and tender, and about the size of a quarter.

The bite isn't what bothers me...It's the thought of that ugly little beast having been perched upon my head as I slept.

I may take the sofa tonight.

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posted by Key on 08:21 PM | Comments (11)

June 09, 2004

Not a Happy Ending, Not Yet

Once upon a time there lived a little girl whose father died when she was only eight years old.

Her mother had many troubles afterwards, and consequently, the little girl ended up spending the following two years in foster care. After that, she bounced around with various family members until she was old enough to go out on her own.

Maybe she wanted to make more of herself. (Maybe she wanted someone else to fix the problems.)

She married a man twenty years her senior, whose life-long ambition was to stretch the disability check far enough to keep the two of them sufficiently drugged out of their minds.

(Maybe an old, trashy single-wide trailer looks like Cinderella's palace in that state of mind.)

When everyone else was stressing out about Y2K, she was conceiving a child. The lifestyle did not change after he was born.

She was visited by the same system in the same county that had taken her in years earlier. She was warned that she would be visited again a few weeks later. If there was any evidence of drug use, she would lose her son.

Three weeks later she tested positive for crack. At 5'6" in height, she weighed in at less than 100 pounds. Thanks to extensive methamphetamine usage (and poor oral hygiene), she has no teeth.

Her son is almost four years old. He hasn't been potty-trained, he's never heard of ABC's, and judging from his porcelain white skin, he's never seen the light of day.

The past two days I've been calming irrational fears of the potty monster by day, making up excuses for wayward parents by night, and spending the moments after he falls asleep wondering where he'll be six months from now...

(...part of my chaos defined.)

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posted by Key on 10:39 PM | Comments (12)
» Gut Rumbles links with: feral parents

Thank You Will!

I've been pop-up free for about ten minutes now. (The free download from lavasoft just exterminated 121 ad roaches.)

That level of non-consensual infestation really should be illegal.

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posted by Key on 10:07 PM | Comments (1)
» A Single Southern Guy In America links with: Bug Squashing

June 08, 2004

One More Thing...


How did somebody hack a link in my "Robbed" post below?

I feel violated.

Update: Okay, it's no longer there, but there was a link on the word "tournaments" to some poker club. I'm not the most litigious soul, but is there anyone I can sue (or maybe put a hit out on) for all this spam?

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posted by Key on 10:34 PM | Comments (4)

Bad, Bad Day

Chaos. Sleep deprivation. Sadist with a drill Dentist. Car in shop. Screaming children heckling me at work. Need to go to the grocery store...

Calgon? Excedrin? Wine?

Yeah, wine the whine. That'll work.

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posted by Key on 10:29 PM | Comments (2)

June 07, 2004

Remembering Ronald Reagan, my Childhood Pen-pal

Well, at least on one occasion.

Even as a ten year old, I knew a well-respected and well-loved President when I saw one. (I didn't realize what an amazing anomaly the man actually was until many years later.)

I decided I'd like to meet him.

Because jumping a plane was out of the question, - which was the only hindrance I could think of - I went for plan B.

I decided to write a letter. I have no idea what I said in that letter. I wish that I could remember. (More so, I wish that I had a copy of it.)

When the letter was finished, I stuck it in a large envelope, and then I got out my little potholder maker.

I fashioned a red, white and blue potholder and stuck it in the envelope with the letter. I then went downstairs and asked my mother what the President's address was. (Of course, I know this now, but the trivia was a bit much for a ten year old.)

She didn't know.

I wrote THE WHITE HOUSE, WASHINGTON D.C. in big letters on the front of the envelope, put plenty of postage on it, and stuck it in the mailbox.

I then eagerly awaited response, much to the chagrin of my mother, who reminded me every day that the President "is a busy man."

Three weeks later, I got it. A large envelope from The White House. My parents stood in disbelief, as I snatched my mail and tore into it.

Inside was a book about the White House, as well as a short, typed letter from the President with an original signature....Ronald Reagan.

My parents took the letter and held it to the light. They examined the way the ink from the felt pen had feathered into the fine paper on the edges. "I think he actually signed it himself," I remember one of them saying.

"Of course he did," I said snatching the letter and the book from them. I knew enough to know that he probably had a secretary who did most of that stuff for him. But I still thought he was one cool President.

I put the contents back in the envelope and hid the package in an antique desk in my room.

I still have the antique desk. The envelope and its contents are still stashed within.

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posted by Key on 05:15 PM | Comments (11)

June 04, 2004


My girls were robbed.

We had our first tournament game Tuesday night. We are a city team, and we were playing a county team.

The first thing the umpire said to me as we took the field was, "You a city team? Yeah, well, this is a county field, and we play by county rules."

Okay fine, dickweed, we'll skunk your ass anyway is what went through my head, but, as I didn't want to contribute to his already blatant bias, I affixed a smile to my face and returned to the dugout.

Luckily they had first bat. Meaning they may get on the board first, but we'd get last bat, and those final points often make the game.

There is a five run limit per team, per inning. Unfortunately, we were only averaging a couple of runs per inning, due to a scoreless third inning on our part. The score was six to seven (them) at the bottom of the third.

I figured we were still in pretty good shape. A game in this league is five innings, and it's only called at the bottom of the fourth if a team is more than six runs behind, meaning that even if they scored their five runs in the fifth, it wouldn't be enough.

So it's top of the fourth...their bat. And, crap. They got their five runs. Now it's 12 to 6, with them having batted 4 times, us 3 times.

No prob. We were at the top of the line-up. We'd get our five, and the score would be 12 to 11 going into the fifth, making that last inning that much more exciting.

Just one problem...the ump called the game.

That's right. Either he had it out for us, or he had his tops and bottoms confused. Either way, with 21 minutes left in the game, at the top of the fourth, we were robbed. My best batter was up, and she was devastated. They didn't get last bat.

The head coach (my husband) tried to protest, but the ump wouldn't hear it.

"It's over. You can't catch up."

Hmm... Let's do some math. Two times left up to bat equals a ten run potential for us, next to their one time left to bat, a five run potential for them...

...I'd say we could have caught up.

There was no supervisor in site, and the other team was packing it up and sneaking out. Yeah, they knew...

The county rec dept. confirmed the next day that the ump was "mistaken," and inquired as to why we didn't take it up with a supervisor. (I thought that was cute.) He said he'd have given us a field, if he had one, so that we could finish the game, but during tournaments it was just too booked.

I knew that already, besides it would have royally screwed up the brackets.

Luckily, the tournament is double elimination, so my girls aren't dead yet, just a bit discouraged.

They were robbed.

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posted by Key on 09:42 PM | Comments (6)

Learning Things from my Pop-ups

Okay, perhaps if I were single, I'd be tempted to surf the nastiness...for about thirty seconds or so. So, what happened to the STD panic?

I'll spare you the link that I accidentally stumbled upon while doing a search on a client name.

I saw things.

Nasty things. Prono is one thing. But what I saw was the death of a sphincter. Sad. So young. I don't know if I'll ever be able to erase the depressing image from my mind's eye...

I saw the dead sphincter! I tried to erase it! I must have killed the image thirty times, but it didn't want to go... my pc haunted by the girl's dead sphincter.

I invited a fellow blogger to join me as I held a memorial service. "Only sixteen years of diaper-free existence was all life had to offer her..."

There was a slight pause before he asked, "So, you still got that link?"

Forget it, Rob. I remember the name I searched under, but I'm not going there again... You can't make me!

Trust me, I'm saving you from the most brutal nasty-freak spamming of your life.

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posted by Key on 02:56 PM | Comments (9)

June 03, 2004

Anybody Want a Dog?

I love my dog, really I do. But she's a friggin head case.

Kira is beautiful, part husky, part shepherd. I rescued her from animal control over two years ago. (She was to have been put down the next day.)

Her nerves are fried. I give her muscle relaxers when it storms. But she is otherwise a very laid back and loving animal. She's very quiet and very affectionate...and very stupid.

Every time I let her out, she crawls her retarded ass through a tiny 18" opening leading underneath the porch and into the mud. She honestly thinks that she should be a mud-dog by day and a carpet-dog by night.

Not happening. I can't let her in onto our nice, freshly cleaned carpets once her happy ass is caked with Georgia red clay.

So, she's spent the last three days underneath that stupid porch. I was hoping she'd get enough of it.

Last night she begged to come in, and I caved. I gave her another bath...tore up the bathroom again, clogged the drain again.

I took solace in the fact that my twice a month housekeeper would be coming today, and she would be tackling the bathroom this time instead of me.

I took Kira out twice on the leash this morning, then left a note to my housekeeper begging her not to let the dog out.

She just called.

She's very sorry, but she didn't see the note until she came in, and by then, Kira was already out.

"Is she under the porch?" I asked.

"Yes, I'm afraid that she is," came the hesitant reply.

It's really a good thing I'm not home right now. I would probably be throwing ice water all over the porch...which would only exacerbate the situation, but it'd get her out from under the stupid porch.

Any ideas?

(I can't block the opening, or she'll turn the raised flowerbed in front of the porch upside-down to get in that way.)

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posted by Key on 09:12 PM | Comments (13)

June 01, 2004

Just Making Sure the Kid Gets It

...as in understands.

We were driving by the courthouse yesterday, and seeing our local World War II monument with an array of flags lining the small hill in front of it, reminded me that I hadn't discussed Memorial Day with Miss Priss.

"Do you know what today is, Sweetheart?" I asked her.

"Monday," she answered matter-of-factly.

Alright, no points either way on that one. She gave me a simple answer, likely assuming I was being a scatterbrain and had forgotten what day of the week it was.

"It's Memorial Day. Do you know why we celebrate Memorial Day?" I didn't expect her to remember. It had been a while - perhaps a year - since we had discussed it.

"For the soldiers," she replied.

She remembered. I was impressed. "And do you remember why they fought for us?"

"Freedom!" she said enthusiastically.

"That's right sweetie. And do you understand what freedom means?"

"Yup," she said as confidently as a kid answering a rehearsed question, "it means you can do anything you want except pee in the shower."

She got me. History lesson over. I was laughing too hard to continue.

Hey, two outta three ain't bad.

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posted by Key on 10:24 PM | Comments (9)