I know that this video is a fascinating sociological experiment and all, but personally I just can't get over how freakin' endearing these kids are. My favourite comment comes from Samirah, age 7, at six minutes in. I'm still giggling now...
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Don't worry. This post isn't some odd existential discussion in which I compare myself to the kitchen fixture I most resemble. I'm talking about SINK as an acronym for "single income, no kids." (Apparently "OINK" can also be used here - "one income, no kids" - but I would prefer to stay away from pig references, thank you very much.) This is about me going against the tide of popular choice and living as a 40-something, never-married, single woman with no kids. I guess technically that makes me a FSNMSWWNK, but we'll stick with SINK for now. I never expected to be in the place I am now. When I was younger, I just assumed that I would one day get married and have children, but for various reasons, it just hasn't happened. For the most part, I am okay with my circumstances, but occasionally my resolve cracks and I bemoan the fact that I will never be a mom. Just recently, for instance, I decided to get rid of some toys that were mine as a kid and that I had been keeping in the hopes of passing on to my own children. And I wept as I did it. They are inanimate objects, but they symbolize my unfulfilled dreams of being a mom. I didn't stay sad for long, though. Because the very next day, I saw this: a real time map of births and deaths throughout the world. My jaw dropped, my eyes bugged out and an expletive flew out of my mouth.
That is some seriously crazy shit, people. There are already too many people on earth, and when you think that there are four births per second (!!!) and only two deaths, the numbers become too hard to comprehend. Each one of those little blips on the map is a living, breathing human being. And suddenly, it all became clear. I don't need to have my own kids in order to behave like a mom. I can be a mother figure to some of the seven billion people who are already living on this planet. Everyone, children and adults alike, deserves kindness and compassion and love in their life, and I can be someone who provides those things for people. My mothering tendencies need not stay hidden simply because I don't have children. We can all use a little mothering once in awhile, and I'm going to make it my new mission to provide it to as many people as I can. While the mothers of the world are tending to their offspring, I can be tending to the rest of us. "Hi, my name is Sarah, and I'm a SINK. Do you need some mothering?" Sarah xoxo Holy moly. What a fiasco. Embattled Toronto mayor Rob Ford's bizarre denial/admission pattern has people the world over wondering if he is fit to hold the reins of a major international city like TO. And rightly so.
From his questionable fashion sense (would someone please rip that tie from his neck and burn it?) to his wholly misguided choice to smoke crack, there is much about Rob Ford to judge. But for once, can we please just eliminate his weight as a topic of major discussion/derision? His size has absolutely no bearing on his abilities, so the jokes and the constant Chris Farley comparisons need to stop. I think we can all agree that smoking crack in a drunken stupor is a slightly more serious offence than having a weight problem. (Those damned drunken stupors. They'll get you every time.) Calling him out on his weight is a lame playground, I-know-you-are-but-what-am-I tactic. Yes the man is fat. So is Luciano Pavarotti. What of it? Everyone in the world falls somewhere on the scale of fat to thin, tall to short, long-haired to short-haired, bow-legged to knock-kneed. But NOT everyone has a place on the never-smoked-crack to I'm-a-crackhead scale, nor the never-lying-while-in-public office to lying-every-time-I-breath scale. Most start out and end their lives at the "never" ends of those scales. And those are the ones we should be using to judge Rob Ford - not the scales that tell us his weight, but the scales that tell us of his character. Sarah xoxo In today's instalment of "Is It Just Me?" we turn our attention to a sign that is often seen on the back of trucks, cube vans, semi-trailers and the like. It's the one that says, "How's my driving?" above a toll-free phone number.
Presumably, the idea behind these signs is to allow companies to keep tabs on their drivers by having other people on the road call in if they see them driving erratically. (Can you imagine the opposite? Hi. I'd just like to say that the guy in truck #72 is a really good driver. He stays in the lines and signals before every turn.) Here's the part that I don't get. Exactly WHEN are people supposed to make these calls? While they are driving? Or maybe later, when they are at home and might have completely forgotten the phone number, if not the entire incident? Scenario #1: I'm driving along and notice a truck weaving in and out of lanes in front of me. I see the sign with the phone number, decide to make the call, and whammo - I get a ticket for using my phone while driving. Scenario #2: I'm driving along and notice a truck weaving in and out of lanes in front of me. I see the sign with the phone number, decide to make the call later because I don't have a phone handy, start fumbling for a pen and paper to write down the number, and blammo - I get in an accident. Both scenarios are possible if not entirely probable, and the only scenario that makes sense is if there's another passenger in your car who can either make the call for you or write down the phone number for later. So I ask you, is it just me, or are these signs a waste of time? I took these photos from my back deck. I love that my view includes so many trees - and particularly my favourite, the one I have named "the doughnut tree." About a year ago, I decided to change doctors. I had sensed that my old doctor was getting a bit set in his ways and wasn't very effective in his treatment.
When I first saw the new doctor, I explained to him that I had not been feeling up to par for some time. I believe my words were something along the lines of, "I feel like crap but I have no idea why." And oh, how true that was. For seemingly no apparent reason, I had become a slow, sad, frustrated version of my former self. I was exhausted. All. The. Time. It felt like no amount of sleep could compensate. I was moody, my memory was shot, and I couldn't concentrate on anything for any length of time. I knew that something was wrong, but I had no idea what. My symptoms seemed too general somehow. After all, everyone is tired these days, right? All I did know was that after changing my diet to be primarily vegetarian, I had expected to feel clear-headed and energetic, but instead I was foggy and lethargic. But then the tests came back. And low and behold, the culprit was found. My doctor's suspicions had proved right - I had a severe vitamin B12 deficiency. And suddenly, everything started to make sense. Because, you see, when your body is deprived of B12, it can't form enough red blood cells and your major organs don't get the oxygen they need to function properly. Sooooo... yeah. I'd say that's a pretty good reason for feeling tired and out of sorts. I have a condition known as pernicious anemia. My body can't absorb enough vitamin B12 from food, because it lacks a protein called intrinsic factor, which is made in the stomach. The term “pernicious” means “deadly,” and the condition is called pernicious anemia because before B12 treatments were available it was life threatening. Without treatment, it can lead to serious, permanent problems with the heart, brain and nervous system. Luckily the treatment is easy and inexpensive. I went for monthly B12 shots for about eight months (your body can only absorb so much B12 at one time, so more frequent injections are pointless), and now I'm able to keep my levels stable with supplements alone. (And since you can only get B12 from meat, I'm back to being a carnivore to help increase my odds.) It's quite amazing, really. I have a condition that would have been fatal had I not lived in this day and age, and yet it can be easily controlled by popping one vitamin pill each day. Let's just say I'm thankful I was born when I was. And you too, my friend. If you've been feeling less than stellar lately and my story sounds familiar, get thee to a doctor toot sweet. B12 may just have sunk your battleship, too. From the Twitterverse this week:
"9:58 is the new 10:58." Sandra Bernhard "'Boo!' - Cow with a cold." Patton Oswalt "You can't spell hero without her. (boom)" Sarah Silverman "It's only November 1st and I'm already seeing Halloween decorations. Jeez." Jim Gaffigan My therapist once said to me, "Sarah, you live with an extraordinary level of awareness." I'm still not sure whether this was a compliment, an insult, or merely an observation, but I agree with his statement, so I'll take it regardless. I do know what he means. As I mentioned yesterday, I am a self-diagnosed HSP (highly sensitive person) and as such I tend to be aware of EVERYTHING around me - sights, sounds, smells - even other people's feelings.
And so it is that often, I find myself pondering the wonders of the universe and all of its glorious minutiae. (Let's just say that I rarely get bored.) And often, I think about things that just don't quite make sense to me, and I question whether I'm the only one, or if others are perplexed as well. In other words, is it just me? So I'm starting a new feature here on my blog where occasionally I will bring up a topic that I've been pondering, just to see if it makes sense to anyone else. Comments are wholeheartedly welcomed but not necessary. I think I'll be happy enough just knowing that a few people out there might be thinking along the same lines as me. Strength in numbers and all that. My first topic for consideration is... hair dye. Specifically, the difference between permanent and semi-permanent colour. I didn't say that this was going to be earth-shattering, important stuff, did I? :-) Now I know that one of the things that sets the two apart is that with semi-permanent colour, you can only make your hair darker, not lighter, because it doesn't contain any peroxide or ammonia. That part I get, but what I'm questioning is, how long it lasts. They say that "permanent" colour lasts longer, but that doesn't make sense. Here's the quandary: If our hair grows out from the roots and not the other way around, the old colour will start to show at the root at the same time, regardless which type of colour we use, right? Therefore, in order to last longer, hair dye would either need to control how quickly your hair grows, or be able to penetrate your scalp and colour the hair beyond the root, which obviously, it can't. It seems to me, then, that there really is no difference between how long the two last. Does that make sense to anyone else, or is it just me? |