This is Where I Live

Utah is going to be in the news for the next few days.

No, it isn't because the Sundance film festival is starting, or because we have another Nobel prize winning scientist among us. It isn't even because the Mormon church is making headlines. It's because some idiot decided to go into a store like this.

Yes, that is an assault rifle. Yes, it is perfectly legal for him to be carrying it. Under Utah state law as long as the gun is unloaded, or he has a concealed carry permit, he can take it anywhere he wants, no matter if it makes others around him feel unsafe, or if he has mental problems, or if it is just plain dumb. Yes, the police can stop and question him, but as long as he meets the criteria, he can do what he wants.

Do we all see the problem with this?

Guns are becoming more important than people.

More important than maintaining a civil society.

Don't tell me this is about rights. If this were about rights then the same people screaming about guns would be screaming that homosexual couples should have the right to express their love like all other Americans, and that women should be able to make their own reproductive decisions. After all, don't all "slippery slopes" end at the bottom?

Don't tell me this is about safety. I could quote a millions studies showing how a gun in the home is more likely to get the residents injured or killed than any intruder. How having a gun involved in a  crime raised the risk of fatalities. How most of the people who commit gun crimes own their firearm, don't steal it. However, if you have ignored those studies before, you are going to ignore them now.

Don't tell me this is about hunting, or self-reliance.  That dude is not going hunting at JC Penney. I know they claim to have "killer prices" but I don't think he is trying to take it to the extreme.

What this is about (at least as far as I am concerned) is intimidation. It's about people who feel their way of life is being threatened and so they are figuratively and literally pulling out the big guns.  They feel they are becoming the minority after so long in power, and it's scary. I get that. But the answer isn't to threaten your fellow citizens, even under the guise of trying to protect you and them. After all, I bet if anyone talked to that guy he would say the gun was "for protection."

I really wish that we could all just talk about this. That I could say to someone "I fear that guns are becoming so prevalent that I want background checks on the parents of all of my daughter's friends" without being told I am a liberal fascist (yeah, I know, but I have seen the term used). I am sure that gun owners want to vent their fears of inadvertently being painted as criminals because they are exercising a constitutional right.

That won't happen though -- at least not right now. So, maybe we could all just agree not to be total assholes. At least not in ways that makes everyone else in the state have to explain to their friends why exactly it is we live here again. We can only extoll the beauty of the mountains, and the not so weird liquor laws, so many times.

Please?

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The Mighty Pen(manship)

I have horrible handwriting. My husband describes it as "serial killer-esque, if the serial killer was always in a hurry."

Wait, that probably doesn't give you the full effect.

That's better. See what I mean? It is not good handwriting. It's the reason I try to type almost everything. Of course, there are some things you just can't type, like thank you notes, and funny personalized messages on Christmas cards. Every time I have to write one I wonder if this will be the time the person receiving the note will think "enough is enough, the nightmares about Libby keeping my head in her freezer with a poorly scrawled label are not worth this" and cut off contact. So, about November I decided it was time to work on my penmanship, and make it a little less creepy.

A little less scary, but it kind of looks like what they teach in serial killer kindergarten to get them to blend in with society.

But I think I need to take meth to keep that up.

Yeah, you don't want to know how long it took me to write that. It would take me ages to just make a shopping list. And I know it's not correct, because my Mom and my sister both write beautifully in cursive. I just speak beautifully in it. (Get it? Cursive? Like swearing? Man, I am clever.)

I think it's less scary, but still kind of casual. No, it doesn't give me a reason to handwrite my blog and just post a picture of it, but I think it will also stop people from screaming "oh my eyes" when they open a heartfelt letter from me. At least they won't feel like I'm yelling at them. Yes, I am capable of heartfelt letters.

Of course, Ryan has pointed out it may be more serial killer-esque to try to change my handwriting and appear more friendly, than just keep my old handwriting.

I guess only time will tell on that one.

 

I mean, work on on my penmanship.

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I Miss Santa

Before I had a kid I used to say things like "I don't think we'll perpetuate the Santa Claus myth," and "I don't see why I should have to bribe my child to behave well with some imaginary specter." 

God, I was an asshole. 

As the mother of a 3-year old who has just come through the holiday season I am hear to sing loud and proud: Santa Claus is the greatest invention ever. Better than sliced bread. Better than indoor plumbing. Don't tell it I said this, but possibly better than wine. 

Just the mention of Santa's name is enough to stop a full fledged toddler fit -- which I think we all know have been scientifically proven to be all but unstoppable. His name gets food eaten. It gets bedtimes observed. It brings moments of blissful quiet in times of chaos brought on by too much time in the car, too much time between meals, or too much excitement. It's powerful enough that the words don't even have to be said, that just the thought needs to be present. Meg actually started self correcting behavior before I could say anything, aware that "Santa is watching." She would be on the verge of a meltdown, and then go silent. The only sound from her? The soft singing of "Santa Claus is coming to town." It was half prayer, half warning -- and it filled my heart with Grinchy glee.

Now though, Santa is gone. The world is dark and cold again. 

I tried summoning him, saying that "Santa is still watching," three days after Christmas when Meg painted her toes -- not toenails but entire toes -- with nail polish from her much coveted "Hello Kitty" make-up kit. For a second I thought it was going to work, until she looked up at me with the eyes of an expert and said "he's resting after Christmas, Mom." 

Then later she painted her fingers. 

I was thinking maybe there could be some other seasonal figures to be employed in a similar Santa matter. I know the Easter Bunny is the obvious first choice, but it just doesn't jibe for me. I can work out a rationale for Santa bringing presents on Jesus' birthday. After all, birthday = presents. However, I just can't make sense of a large rabbit bringing candy and goodies to commemorate a mob murder. Yes, I know the ending is positive, but still... 

What about Martin Luther King Jr.? It's a birthday celebration, and maybe he "has a dream" children will behave? Or what about arbor day? Maybe trees bloom presents for children who eat more than three bites of dinner without Geneva like negotiations. 

Neither one has the same panache though. Nothing does. Let's face it, if anyone could come up with another enforcer as good as Santa Hallmark would have capitalized on it by now. 

Now I just have to sit and wait. Use my patience. Hope that if I am a good enough Mom come November once again Meg will fall under the spell of the man in red. If I'm bad, she may not believe again next year, and end up hucking coal at my head. 

Wait! I've got it! Flag day! 

Okay, so I'm still kind of an asshole. 

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