Category Archives: Politics

Bye Aprill Brandon

Posted on March 21, 2021 | 17 comments

I didn’t realize it at first. It dawned slowly as I stared unblinking at it. Three little words but they were all mine. They were all I had ever wanted. My name. An actual byline. In print.

That was 20 years ago. Since then I’ve seen it in newsprint, glossy magazine pages, slick media websites and my own shoddily constructed blog site, Chick Writes Stuff. All these years later, I still feel a bit of a thrill when I see it.

But this is my last one. I’m ending my humor column.

No one is more surprised than I am. I planned to write my last column on my deathbed. Laughing defiantly until the end.

But as the old saying goes, humor is tragedy plus time. And there is no time anymore. It’s all just one tragedy piled on top of another piled on top of another. There doesn’t even seem time to take a breath let alone process the broken world that won’t stop fracturing.

Which is funny because that’s how all this got started. As a preteen I was overwhelmed by everything. Every day felt like the world was ending. I’d lay awake at night, trying to think of all the awful things that could happen because I believed if I thought of it first it couldn’t happen in real life. Because I was an 11-year-old girl and the only power I had was superstition.

And then, like a deus ex machina by way of Florida, I discovered Dave Barry. I devoured every column of his I could get my eyes on. It was remarkable. Possibly even witchcraft. He taught me that if you could make fun of something, if you could laugh at it, it lost some of its power.

This was doubly true when you could find a way to laugh at yourself. Laughter seemed to quiet the inner demons.

I wanted to wield that magic like he did and make the world a slightly less awful place. To be a tiny flicker of levity, no matter how inconsequential, in the crushing darkness.

But I can no longer write my way out of this darkness. I’ve tried. I’ve sat down before my computer every day for months. Whatever does manage to come out is forced. I am too angry. Bitter. Sad. I didn’t realize how much faith in humanity I had until I lost most of it.

And without hope I can’t find the humor anymore.

I wish I had a better exit than this. I mean, 20 years. Half of my life. This dream job of mine deserves a proper eulogy.

But honestly I just want to get this last one over with. It hurts too much to linger.

And so, let me end this ending by saying it has been my immense privilege writing for you, whoever you are out there reading this. I was never hugely popular, only ever with a small following (and even then that is stretching that concept to its limit) as I moved across this country over the years. But I loved it, all of it, none more so than when someone told me I made them laugh. I cannot thank you enough for reading so I won’t even try.

And to my editors, I still can’t quite believe I found actual live human beings to publish my words. Thank you all for letting me live out my fantasy. Especially to Editor Bob, my Bobbert, Bob Robinson, the man who gave me my very first column when I was 20. And especially to my editors over the years at the Victoria Advocate, who will be publishing my last as I am on the cusp of 40. You took a chance on me. You believed in me. Every writer deserves editors like you. Every person deserves people like you in their corner.

I hope one day to write again. To laugh again. To type something immeasurably witty about the Grim Reaper right before he takes me.

But for now I just…

…don’t know how to end that sentence anymore.

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Posted in funny, Humor, Politics, Pop Culture, Writing

Tagged Aprill Brandon, dave barry, humor column, humor is tragedy plus time, I'm quitting writing, thank you for reading

A Collection of Modern Responses

Posted on January 12, 2021 | Leave a comment

“So, how are you holding up?”

I’m OK.

I’m fine.

I’m alright.

A bit tired.

You know.

I mean, it could be worse.

I have it better than a lot of people right now.

Well, I just got done Googling “can you die from insomnia?” so, you know.

*primal scream*

We’re ordering pizza for the fourth night in a row.

I just don’t understand. Any of this.

Wishing I could afford therapy.

I miss nouns.

Can a person’s soul be exhausted?

I had whiskey for dinner.

I feel so helpless.

What even is reality?

I’ve got all these projects I’m working on so, you know, staying busy.

I just want to go somewhere. Do something.

Everything is so surreal. I can’t even go on social media anymore.

I miss people. I miss my family.

Just, I mean, what the $#@%?

I’m fine. Really.

So help me I will murder the next person who suggests the solution to everything is more kindness in the world.

I had wine for breakfast so…pretty good right now.

I can’t concentrate on anything.

*manical laughter*

I hate humans.

I’m feeling cautiously optimistic for once.

I doomscrolled all night, how are you?

*primal scream*

I’m fine. It’s fine. Everything is fine. Wait, what was the question?

I honestly don’t know. I haven’t stopped drinking eggnog with a 40 percent ABV since the day after Thanksgiving.

I can’t stop crying.

$#%&^*%!!!!!

*sobbing*

As well as can be expected considering it’s just endless darkness and everything is bleak and I’m stuck inside forever with only my family and panic and dread as constant companions in this nightmare dystopia we are living in but hey, I’m just going to keep making this popcorn for my children’s dinner while crying a bit and using every ounce of willpower I have to stuff these feelings way, way down into the cellular soil of the body where tumors start.

You know, I’ve decided I’m going to make the best of this.

Not well.

When does it get better?

Survival mode. Just endless survival mode.

I’m horrified. But no longer surprised.

I got so angry I threw my phone at the TV.

There just aren’t words anymore.

I’m numb. Completely numb.

It has to get better soon.

Will it ever get better?

I am dead inside.

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Posted in Family, funny, Health, Humor, Parenting, Politics

Tagged 2020, can you die from insomnia, fine is a four letter word, funny, how are you holding up, how to answer how you are, humor, i am fine, I am not ok, primal scream, so, wine for breakfast, worst year ever

When the future seems too cucumbersome

Posted on September 29, 2020 | Leave a comment

The other day, my 4-year-old daughter came tearing through the house, her tangled hair flying wildly all around. She slammed to a stop in front of me, her eyes wide and bright, and promptly shoved two strange green objects directly into my face.

“MOM! We got gherkins!”

“Wow, that’s amazing, baby,” I said while internally giggling because gherkin has always sounded like a dirty word to me since it rhymes with merkin and deep down I am forever 13-years-old.

“We’re going to eat like cakes tonight!” she proudly declared.

“Or maybe like kings,” her 6-year-old brother deadpanned.

“EAT LIKE CAKES!” she bellowed excitedly again while running manically around in circles with the gherkins held high above her head.

The point of this adorably heartwarming story? My family has successfully gardened. Like some kind of coven of dirt wizards. We took a bunch of tiny seeds and stuffed them haphazardly into the ground and remembered to water them like three times but mostly ignored them and BEHOLD. We have grown our own food! Well, gherkins. And cucumbers, which are technically food even though they taste like water that is whispering the word “lawn.” We also successfully grew some sunflowers, so if you are ever in the mood for a pickle and cucumber salad sprinkled with sunflower seeds, come on over. But hurry. I only have enough for like three of you. Maybe two and a half. Also the lettuce never sprouted, or the tomatoes. Or the dozen other seeds we stuck into our much too small gardening box so they had to fight for survival Mad Max-style. The pumpkins thrived for awhile but then got a fungus or something according to the half-hearted Googling I did.

Anyway, back to the point.

There is one.

I’m assuming.

We’ll see.

Anyway, all in all, it weren’t too shabby for our first time gardening, if I do say so myself. (You can read about how it all began here). In fact, all this successful mastery over the land makes me wonder what else I could learn to do for myself. You know, if civilization eventually collapses or something (not that it will *hysterical laughter hysterical laughter hysterical laughter tiny sob*). I mean, I read “Little House on the Prairie” as a kid. And “Hatchet.” And spent an entire summer obsessed with “The Island of Blue Dolphins.” AND I’ve seen the 1985 Canadian made-for-TV-movie “Anne of Green Gables” starring the inimitable Megan Follows no less than 140 times. I’m practically a pioneer woman already.

All you really need are the basics. And there’s, what, like only four or five of them, right?

For instance, food. BOOM. Done. Pretty much mastered.

Oxygen? Already know how to use it. Next.

Shelter? This one does seem a bit more involved. And possibly out of my league. Mostly because of the paperwork involved. I can likely figure out four walls and a roof and a massive walk-in closet. But I’ll probably have to get a permit or something. Something will likely have to be notarized. Which sounds like a whole thing. Also I don’t have money. Maybe I’ll just keep renting for the moment.

Now clothes on the other hand, that I know I can handle. I’m old enough that I was forced to learn to sew by public educators. Of course, I only learned how to sew one thing so my family will all be wearing ill-fitting shorts that fall unflattering just below the knee. But they WILL be clothed. Partially.

And, perhaps most importantly of all, alcohol. Because if the apocalypse does come, and I somehow manage to survive, I cannot make small talk with a bunch of smug doomsday preppers while sober. So, let’s see, I’d need grapes for wine, potatoes for vodka, hops and barley(?) and wheat(?) and organic carbonization(?) for some craft beer. All of which I assume you just mash up together and wait a hot minute and it magically turns into quality libations.

So, see? We’re all going to be fine. FINE. Just fine. If my family can make it, so can yours.

But, just as a back-up plan, please vote this November.

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Posted in cooking, Education, Family, Food, funny, Gardening, Humor, Politics

Tagged apocalypse humor, eat like cakes, end of the world, funny, gherkins, how to survive the collapse of civilization, my first garden, please vote, vegetable puns, what is a merkin

Impossible Girls

Posted on July 6, 2020 | Leave a comment

To my dearest daughter on the eve of your 4th birthday,

I will never forget the day you were born. Mostly because it’s hard to forget when someone slits your abdomen open and pulls a human being out of it. Then I heard your very first cry and tears welled up in my own eyes. You sounded like a dying pterodactyl. It was a screech so piercing it felt like an ice pick was stabbing my brain. And I’m not the only one. The nurses on the pediatric ward all agreed it was one of the most intense caterwauls they had ever heard. One of them actually twitched whenever you cried.

Oh, but how perfect you were. When you were sleeping.

It’s been an immense pleasure these past few years watching you grow up. I even had a front row seat because you were never not climbing all over me. Four years in and I’ve peed by myself twice. Then, just when I couldn’t take it anymore, you’d fall asleep on my chest and finally stay still long enough to let me smell the top of your head. Which smelled like sweat and macaroni and cheese and everything that is right with the world.

It’s happening less and less now. The lazy afternoons listening to your soft breathing. On the plus side, you’ve taken to climbing things other than me. The unsecured bookcases. The door frames. The extremely large and heavy dresser. Which goes to show that you are a gal who won’t take no for an answer. No matter how many times your parents scream it at you.

Then again, what else could one expect from the girl who invented a game called Fireball? If you are ever reading this in the future and are wondering how you play Fireball, I can’t help you. Four-year-old you won’t tell me. All I know is that you play it in your brother’s room and it often involves horrific crashing noises. One time you were playing it and you tore out of his room hollering “I’m going on the run!” Then you grabbed a handful of Cheerios from the table, shoved them in your mouth, and kept right on running full speed to the other side of the house.

I’m pretty sure you won that day.

This other time you and your brother were sitting on the couch and you asked him if he wanted to play “The Floor is Lava.” He excitedly responded with “yes!” and you immediately pushed him off the couch with a spectacular bang.

Speaking of loud noises, you have less of a pitter patter and more of a brigade of war drums. You make the grand entrance of tyrants three times your size. How something so small could make such a cacophony while dressed like a butterfly princess is an impressive achievement. So much so that I had to search for a word big enough to describe it and came across “cacophony.”

You dance like you want everyone watching. You hug until it hurts. You sing often and loud and joyously and completely off-key. You scream “I hate you, Momma!” at least three times a day. You tell me you love me at least ten. You love books and dirt and puddles and cats and lipstick and Super Mario Bros.

You have an annoying devotion to fairness. You want answers to all the questions. Even the hard ones. You get mad when it’s not what you want to hear.

You are nothing like I’d thought you’d be. You’re better than anything I could have dreamed of.

You make me want to tear my hair out some days. You are utterly impossible some days.

And thank god.

You are growing up in an impossible world, baby girl. It is scary and unjust and exhausting and extreme.

And an impossible world needs girls like you. Fearless, strong, loud. It needs people who love fiercely and aren’t afraid to fight. Who won’t take no for an answer. Who have war drums for feet.

Which is why, on my worst days, the days where it all seems hopeless, I look at you and your wild, tangled hair. The dirt on your left cheek. The butterfly wings and the sword. You make me want to fight the impossible.

You make me want to be an impossible girl too.

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Posted in Family, funny, Humor, Parenting, Politics, Women

Tagged 4-year-old girls, floor is lava, funny, impossible girls, it's a scary world, letter to my daughter, parenting humor, raising strong girls, super mario bros, what i hope for my daughter

39 Things I’ve Learned in 39 Years

Posted on June 9, 2020 | Leave a comment

As it turns out, living through interesting times really is a curse.
Living through interesting times, however, means you are very happy to make it to your next birthday.
Anything can be a breakfast food. The only limit is our imagination.
My husband looks really hot as Grizzly Adams.
I look less hot as Grizzly Adams.
Money can’t buy happiness. But it can buy useless, random crap off Amazon when you’re stuck at home during a global pandemic.
Speaking of which, roller skating is not like riding a bike. You don’t just automatically remember how to do it, which is awful when you’re trying to justify drunkenly buying roller skates on Amazon.
Spending quality time with family is the most important thing there is. Until it is the only thing there is. Then secretly eating a beef burrito in the bathtub becomes pretty important too.
I now know why my dog runs to the window and barks anytime he sees a single human being. Or another dog. Or a leaf.
Children are strong.
Children are resilient.
Children better stop rolling their eyes at me every time I tell them to brush their teeth.
Yes, you have to use toothpaste.
Teachers are mystical unicorn warriors and they deserve all the money and jewels and exotic oils for putting up with our children.
No matter how many times you are forced to watch “Frozen II,” it won’t kill you. You think it will. But it won’t.
Ditto “Moana.”
Ditto “Toy Story 4.”
Forts are still fun, no matter what your age.
Dance parties in the living room are still fun, no matter what your age.
It’s ok to like how the “Star Wars” saga ended even if no one else did.
It’s ok to hate how “Game of Thrones” ended because everyone did.
One way to get rid of a dead body is to feed it to your tigers.
Uncertainty isn’t always bad. Uncertainty is the soil where change can start to sprout. Or something like that. I don’t know.
My family is composed of a toxic mix of sore losers and sore winners and really poor spectators.
Level 8 of Super Mario Bros. 3 is a dystopian hellscape and it’s stupid and no one can pass it and I hate it and it’s dumb.
Twister is a young woman’s game.
It’s never ok to cheat unless you’ve been playing Go Fish for an hour and your 3-year-old keeps holding her cards the wrong way and you just need the game to end.
Ditto Old Maid.
Ditto Candyland.
If you’re going to call someone essential and a hero, they deserve to make a living wage.
I think I say this every year on this list but I feel it bears repeating. Nazis are bad. Always. No exceptions.
Speak up and fight for what is right.
Teach your kids to speak up and fight for what is right.
Boxed wine is less judgmental than bottled wine. Boxed wine doesn’t care how many glasses you have.
Life is too short to read mediocre books.
Life is just long enough to binge watch all seven seasons of “Parks and Recreation” again.
You can never tell people you love them too much.
It’s ok to ask for help.
Never give up. There is always the chance that this all turns out alright. That we overcome everything history has been throwing at us and we fix the world and we become the next greatest generation. That many years from now we will tell our grandchildren “back in my day, we ate murder hornets for breakfast, kid.”

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Posted in Family, funny, Health, Humor, Parenting, Politics, Women

Tagged 39th birthday, advice, frozen 2, funny, grizzly adams, mario brothers 3, nazis are always bad, parenting humor, quality family time, things I've learned, things I've learned during quarantine

In These Uncertain Times

Posted on May 26, 2020 | Leave a comment

Hey, want a fun 2020 drinking game? Take a shot every time you read an article that includes the phrase “in these uncertain times.” I’ll help you get started.

In these uncertain times (drink!), I am constantly torn between making every effort to stay as healthy as I possibly can and saying screw all of this, the world is on the brink of disaster, let’s burn it down. It, of course, meaning my physical, mental and emotional health.

Because on one hand, the best thing I can do, the smartest thing, the most logical, to survive and to thrive in these uncertain times (hey-oh!) is to get my body and mind in top shape. Which is why I go for daily runs every morning. It keeps my body strong but more importantly, I can escape my family for a few brief shining moments.

And then I come back and log onto Facebook for five minutes where I’m immediately like, hey, let’s make this coffee Irish. The world is a madhouse.

But maybe it won’t always be, I tell myself after throwing my cell phone across the room. So I make a healthy breakfast. This too shall pass, you know?

Yup, it’ll pass right up until the planet dies from global warming, I also tell myself, because sometimes I am just the worst in these uncertain times (bottoms up). Which is when my breakfast magically turns into all the leftover fried chicken from last night.

No, no, I have to stay positive. If nothing else then for my children’s sake. They’re so young and innocent. The world can still be a beautiful place, right? A beautiful place that everyone wants to go out in and stand way too close to each other, forgoing any kind of protection, so that there is another spike in Covid-19 this fall and they cancel school and I’m still stuck with my kids all day and someone bring me a carton of cigarettes and whatever the hell that drug Molly is.

Slow down, slow down. The key word here in these uncertain times (you’re welcome) is “uncertain.” No one knows what’s going to happen. We can make educated guesses and we can make smart decisions and we can listen to the scientists. We can keep calm and carry on. “Uncertain” doesn’t necessarily have to mean bad. I was once uncertain about my husband when I first met him. And it turns out he’s an amazing human being whom I love dearly even though he currently looks like Grizzly Adams and I haven’t seen him in three days despite the fact he is working from home because he’s working 14 hour days to help out his company in these uncertain times (hell, take two, I’ll join you).

At least this is a way to slow down. Smell the roses. Take walks and have picnics with my family. Although all this isolation is clearly having a negative effect on my 3-year-old who is full-on turning into Jack from “The Shining.” All family and no friends makes Mae a dull girl. She’s named a toy knife she got in a kitchen set last Christmas “Stabby” and has started carrying it on her at all times. She’s definitely going to murder us. Or need years of therapy. Or both.

So, you know what? Carpe diem, baby. Which is a fancy way of saying I’ve never tried cocaine but I think I might like it. And if there ever was a time for a 38-year-old mom to try it, 2020 would be it, yeah?

Except no. Right? Because the world is not ending. Things are bad, sure, but nothing we can’t bounce back from. Also I don’t even know where to get cocaine. And according to 80’s movies you have to snuff it up your nose and that sounds horrid.

Maybe I’ll just take a depression nap. That lasts for five days.

Hey, remember back when we were in certain times, you know, when our biggest worry was just nuclear war and vast corruption and rampant racism and sexism? It’s great that those are still there too underneath all the fun new 2020 stuff.

Sigh. In these uncertain times.

The point is, none of us know the future. But it does look bleak currently. But throughout history, bleak is when we humans shine the hardest. But you never know. But we are nothing without hope. But we are on the brink of destruction. But I want to see my great grandchildren and have them call me Gam Gam

So, in these uncertain times, I salute you. All of us. We’ll get through this together. Because there is no other choice. Together or not at all.

In these uncertain times. In these uncertain times. In these uncertain times.

Cheers.

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Posted in Education, Family, funny, Health, Humor, Parenting, Politics

Tagged 2020 drinking game, funny, how isolation is affecting kids, how to keep your sanity, in these uncertain times, quarantine humor, the shining, the world is going crazy, trying to stay healthy during covid 19

Tired.

Posted on August 20, 2019 | 2 comments

I’m tired.

But don’t worry. This isn’t going to be one of those pieces where the author spends 800 words telling you just how much MORE tired they are than you. (Although I only got two hours of sleep last night. Not that it matters. Because, again, this isn’t THAT piece).

See, I know you’re tired too. We’re all tired. The whole world is tired. None of us are getting enough sleep and all of us are under more and more pressure to do more during our waking hours.

Which is why, I suspect, we as a society have turned tiredness into a competition. We all feel guilty that we aren’t doing more so we try to win the only contest we can: Who is more tired?

Person 1: “I’m so tired.”

Person 2: “Me too. I only got five hours of sleep last night.”

Person 1: “I only got four.”

Person 2: “Did I say last night? I meant for the whole week.”

Person 1: “I meant for the whole month.”

Person 2: “I basically haven’t slept since I was a child.”

Person 1: “Must be nice. I haven’t slept since I was literally in utero.”

Person 2: “Really? I couldn’t even sleep in there, what with that constant beating of mother’s heart.”

I don’t know how we got to this point. Maybe it was the Internet, connecting us all to the world 24/7. Maybe it was the rise of social media, connecting us all to each other 24/7. Or perhaps it’s just hard to get a solid eight hours when the world feels like a dumpster fire. But whatever the reason, it appears there is some fierce competition for the title of “Most Tired.” Because you can get into this competition with pretty much anyone. Take moms, for instance.

Pregnant woman: I’m so tired.

New mom: HAHAHAHA…just wait until they are born.

Mom of toddler: Aw, that’s cute. Mine is mobile and can open doors and has opinions.

Mom of teenager: Well, I haven’t slept since mine got his driver’s license.

Mom of multiple teenagers: I’M TECHNICALLY DEAD.

There’s also the generational tiredness rivalry.

Old person: I’m so tired. My angina and trick knee kept me up all night.

Middle-aged person: I was up worrying about taking care of my aging parents and my growing kids.

30-something: My career is killing me.

20-something: I work three jobs and have no money and no future and the Arctic is literally on fire.

College student: I had to pull an all-nighter for exams and then work all day at my unpaid internship.

Teenager: I had to pull an all-nighter for Fortnite.

Everyone: Oh, shut up, Kyle.

Teenager (sulkily): I won, not that anyone cares.

There’s also usually a romantic partner daily exhaustion war. My husband and I are experts at this.

Husband: I had to finish 57 projects today and re-do the entire website and fight the crowds for the train home.

Me: I had to drag two little kids all over town while dealing with 23 tantrums and 15 meltdowns and I have insomnia and I need to finish my blog about how much more tired I am than you and everyone else in the world.

(Again, NOT that this is all about how much more tired I am than you, dear reader. Even if it’s true, it’s not the point).

And then there is all the situational tiredness. The bad job tired. You ever had a bad job? It’s exhausting. There’s the bad relationship tired, where your brain basically turns to mush rehearsing all the things you should say to your crappy partner but never do because you’re just too tired. Or the financial problems tired, where you trade sleep for calculating which limbs you can sell to make ends meet this month.

And that’s all just the level of tiredness you feel when everything is going fairly well in your life. It’s a whole new level of fatigue when you are, say, battling a chronic disease. Or a mental illness. Or raising a child with special needs. Or dealing with racism and sexism and bigotry every day. Or struggling in poverty. Or…yeah, you get it.

We’re tired.

So who wins the award for most tired? I mean, clearly it’s me. Although the rest of you put up quite the battle. Which is why I’m going to pull a Cady Heron from “Mean Girls” and break apart the crown and give us all a piece of the title.

And as for any solutions? How do we stop being so tired? Truthfully I have no idea.

But I’m sure I’ll be up all night thinking about it.

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Posted in funny, Health, Humor, Marriage, Parenting, Politics, technology

Tagged cady heron, funny, how to fall asleep, insomnia, mean girls, tired, trouble sleeping, who wins the award for most tired

If only thoughts and prayers were bulletproof

Posted on August 5, 2019 | Leave a comment

I’ll be honest. When I heard about Gilroy, and then El Paso, and then Dayton (which is 45 minutes from my hometown), I felt nothing. I just stared, dull-eyed, at the news and at social media feeds and as people lamented the evil in the world while being very careful not to name any specific evil.

And then, yesterday, as my husband and I were getting dinner ready for the kids, I went to the bathroom. I looked in the mirror. And I lost it. I sobbed. Gasping sobs I tried to muffle. Because I didn’t want him or the kids or my visiting mother-in-law to hear. No need to make people uncomfortable when this kind of thing literally happens every day in America.

And I’m going to be even more honest. I’m not sure if I was crying because of the horror of all those senseless deaths. Of the horror that it won’t stop. Of the horror that nothing will change, no matter how high the death toll. Of the horror that it’s only a matter of time before it’s me or someone I know.

Or, just as horrifyingly, if I was crying because I realized I finally really am numb. And the only reason I was crying is because I was mourning that part of my humanity that also died in the latest hail of bullets.

Does that sound defeatist? It is. Because I’m defeated. And maybe you are too. Because the biggest horror of all is that we have decided this is ok. We might say it’s not, we might scream until our voices are raw that we can’t let this be the new normal, but we won’t do anything. It doesn’t even matter what we think is the cause behind these mass shootings anymore.

Is it a gun problem?

Is it a mental health problem?

Is it a young, white, male problem?

Is it racism?

Is it hate?

Is it an uncaring society?

Is it all of the above?

Again, it doesn’t matter. Gun control measures never get passed and still we elect the same people over and over in Congress. Money will never be given to expand mental health care services. People can’t even get healthcare for the physical bodies, let alone their minds. These killers leave behind manifestos specifically citing racism as their reason for killing dozens of innocent people and yet America still can’t take a good hard look at itself and say unequivocally that we have a massive problem with racism. Hate? Maybe if we all just hug each other more. Except kindness isn’t bullet-proof. Neither are thoughts and prayers.

But, hey, I get it. It’s easier to say this is a heart problem, a problem within these individuals, and then get back to the business of living than it is to realize that we have all contributed to this dystopian nightmare because of our collective complacency. Let alone do something meaningful about it. We can’t even be moved anymore by the images of young survivors of a school shooting on TV pleading for us to do something to save their lives.

Tough break, kids. But really it’s your fault and all those video games you play.

Afterall, the world can’t stop for every mass shooting when it happens all the time. We still have to make breakfast for the kids and send them off to school. We still have to go to the office. We still have to go shopping and head to church. It’s easier just to teach our toddlers how to run and hide when they hear gunshots going off. Easier to just turn off the news and shrug our shoulders at the growing piles of bloody dead bodies and dash off short tweets about how there will always be evil in the world. No need to actually try to stop it.

Does this make you angry? Sad? Does it make you feel anything? Does it make you want to do anything? Are you nodding your head in recognition? Or getting ready to dash off a scathing comment about how they’ll be coming for your guns now even though no one has ever come for your guns? Not even after a classroom of kindergartners were slaughtered.

Because it doesn’t matter. We can argue about this forever.

And while we do, more of our children and friends and lovers and neighbors and classmates will die.

And we’ll still be right here. Where we started.

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Posted in Politics

Tagged dayton, el paso, gilroy, mass shooters, mass shooting, parkland survivors, thoughts and prayers aren't bulletproof, why won't we do anything

I ran 13.1 miles & all I got was this lousy self-esteem

Posted on October 30, 2018 | Leave a comment

People do dumb things. It’s one of the few things you can rely on. You’ve probably heard that old quote that goes “the only constant is change.” But really it should be amended to “the only constants are change and people do dumb things.”

I should know. I am a people and I just did something dumb.

I ran a half marathon on Saturday.

Not dumb enough for you? Just wait, there’s more. I ran a half marathon during a Nor’easter, which is a wicked storm featuring heavy rain and snow and strong winds.

Still not dumb enough for you? Here’s the best part. I paid not-dumb people $80 for this privilege.

If you would have told me 20 years ago that I would one day sign up to run a half marathon, I would have rolled my eyes so hard at you I would have seen my brain. Shoot, if you would have told me just last year that I would sign up to run a half marathon, I…well, I wouldn’t have heard you over my screaming children. But after I asked you to repeat it four times I would have responded by laughing so hard I probably would have woken up the baby and then I would have thrown a pan at your face for making me wake up the baby.

And yet, there I was. On Saturday in Cape Cod. Running 13.1 miles. In a row. On purpose.

Not only that, I trained for it. For months, I was getting up at 4:30 in the morning and strapping on my shoes and running four, five, six miles in the dark. On the weekends, it was seven, eight, nine miles. All on voluntary terms. All without anything chasing me. And all with no other purpose than I needed to run a lot to get ready to run even more.

Like I said, dumb.

On the plus side, it was also hard and painful and exhausting.

But it was transformative.

For some reason in our society we have this idea that people don’t change. Maybe they do. Maybe they don’t. But I do know we evolve.

We evolve with each trial and tribulation we overcome. We evolve every time we learn something new. With every new experience, every new person we meet, we evolve. We evolve every time we fall in love. We evolve with each heartbreak. We evolve when we hold our children for the first time.

And we evolve every time we conquer what we think is the unconquerable.

That’s why I signed up, dumb as it was. It’s easy to think that the way things are, the way you are, is how it will always be, how you will always be. I was a tired, overwhelmed mom who was getting increasingly frustrated at both herself and the way the world was.

But change is the only constant. And that’s why I ran (limped) for miles in a storm. To prove I could evolve. That I could become the kind of person who crosses the finish line. That I can be whoever I want.

And now that I did, I have a whole list of other unconquerables. I want to write a novel. And a children’s book. To become a decent photographer. To buy a house and foster orphaned pets. To be the best mom and wife and daughter I can. And, lord help me, to run a full marathon.

And there are now fewer doubts in my mind that I can do all these things. Because I evolved. Because through this experience, I became a better version of myself.

And look, this could just be the endorphins talking here, but finishing that half marathon gives me just a little bit more hope for all of us. We can be better. We can make this world better. We can do the impossible because history has shown us that doing the impossible is what humans excel at.

All we have to do is try hard. Forgive ourselves. And try harder.

And yes, I realize how naive this all sounds but hey, we could all stand to be a bit dumber that way.

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Posted in Family, Health, Politics, Sports, Weight Loss

Tagged become who you want, becoming the best version of yourself, cape cod marathon weekend, people do dumb things, running a half marathon, strong women, training for a marathon, why I run