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Number of posts: 9
Email address: email
Posts by Anoni Muss:
living in the now
This morning, I sat at my kitchen table, enjoying a poached egg on toast, regretting that it took so few bites to eat, while savoring every one. I saved a good bit of the yolk until the last bite, intending to prolong the pleasure. As I lifted the small square of toast supporting it, the yolk fell to the floor. I was dismayed… so much for saving the best till last. This set me thinking of similar laments.
was i dreaming?
Whether I was subject to the zeitgeist of debt ceiling brinkmanship or pickles for supper, I had a bad night. I dreamed that Ted Cruz was running for president with Sarah Palin for VP. There are doubtless worse combinations, like Russ Limbaugh and the Donald (what a power struggle that would be, which would be Vice?). My nightmare made me sit up and tremble.
Having seen cultural changes from moon-in-June to hip hop heavy rotation slam rap…
space lawyers consider
As every mother of adult children knows: bigger kids, bigger problems. This morning I found myself sending up a prayer of thanks that I am not Korean Kim’s Mom. “He was always a little monster,” I imagine his Mom confiding. Now he’s all grown up, probably wearing built-up shoes with his funky haircut, and there’s no end to the mischief he could get up to.
My son, who knows I enjoy writing, sent me a video interview from CBS Sunday Morning with a 76 year old Texas woman, pen name Desirée Holt, who writes erotic novels. Since 2007 she has written 140 books.
“Maybe you should turn your writing abilities to this, and make a million a year,” wrote my son. “I’m sure you could improve on the cowboy themes mentioned in the story. Think Mr. Darcy!”
I came near to having an argument with my son last night. I made a comment about one of our family members who is less than empathetic with others, especially me, and he snapped at me, accusing me of being self-centered. We were both right and we were both wrong.
I went home feeling sad and irritated, which slipped into depressed. I watched two films in a row on TV. I couldn’t go to bed until 1 a.m. because I knew I’d lie awake, hurting. I love my son and it is beyond endurance to have a spat.
I finally plucked up courage to consult my G.P. about the pain in my butt. For months I put up with it (it’s a fissure) but I’d reached the stage of taking pain killers three days out of five (an indulgence I would not grant to my arthritis). I promise that’s the limit of too much information.
The doctor prescribed a low fiber diet. The day before I had routinely filled my fridge with healthy items: lettuce, leeks, celery, spring onions, cucumber and whole-meal bread. “Cut out all green vegetables and fruit,” he said, sweepingly.
Who wants to live forever?
My Mother always maintained that she was not afraid of death. When I was young I wondered if she said this to reassure me but later I knew she meant it. Perhaps that’s why I’m not afraid of death either.
That’s not to say I don’t fear the absence of my nearest and dearest, or fail to realize how permanent death is. But I am not afraid of the process personally. I don’t think it will hurt. One’s condition leading up to it might be painful, but death I think is not.
Some More Than Others
A comment on my article in Like the Dew, “Here’s What I Wish I’d Said“, read: ‘We are all equal, are we not?’ When it comes to equality between the sexes and between rich and poor, here’s how I see it.
As a backlash to the aspiration of equality, some see an opportunity to express their chagrin by lack of courtesy. Opening a door or giving up a seat on public transport is not a sign of weakness. It’s a sign of consideration for our fellow human beings. A man seeing it as an opportunity to put down a ‘Women’s Libber’ says more about him than it does about the woman.
The Last Word
Being old is so liberating. While one might live another quarter century, one might equally drop dead any day without surprise. No one says “75? How sad, that’s so young.” They say “She had a good innings.” So I feel it’s time I had the last word.
I was ten years old when my friend Tina in class suddenly turned on me, adopted another BF and started putting me down. She made snide comments audible to all, was rude to my face and unkind to a degree that took my breath away yet nobody tried to stop her, including me.
Worthy of Comment
Also on the Dew
Pope Francis' recent encyclical is sending shock waves around the world. In addition to exhortations to the faithful, Evangelii Gaudium ("The Joy of the Gospel") packs a scathing critique of "unbridled" capitalism and consumerism. Here's the flavor of the Pope's message: Just as the commandment 'Thou shalt not kill' sets a clear limit in order to safeguard the value of human life, today we also have to say 'thou shalt not' to an economy of exclusion and inequality. Such an economy kills. Today everything comes under the laws of competition and survival of the fittest, where the powerful feed upon the powerless. A new Read on →
I live in Alabama, and though I wasn’t born here and didn’t even move here until I was in my late thirties, I have come to be All-Things-Alabamian. For those who don’t know, we attach miracle-like attributes to many of our foodstuffs here. Black-eyed peas, for instance, are thought to bring good luck throughout the South, especially when served on New Year’s Day. Well, who needs good luck then? Good luck is most appreciated when it matters most, and when it matters most here is now — the days following Thanksgiving. You see, we are very different from the rest of you. For instan Read on →
"Where is the Love?" Kristof asks in his Thanksgiving column for the New York Times. Thanksgiving is a euphemistic feast. I still haven't found just the right term to describe cannibals bloodlessly and indirectly destroying and consuming their own kind. Some call it "sacrifice," but that too is a euphemism. "Symbolic predation" doesn't work because the injury and destruction are all too real. The culture of obedience preaches that less than lethal force is OK as long as there's an ulterior motive, better yet an ideological imperative. The culture of obedience inflicts force to impose peace. The U.S. is still destroying the village to Read on →
I looked over and the strange fact that Pamela Kheto was driving seemed perfectly normal, even though my sole contact with her in the last ten years was a brief meeting in a parking lot where she tried to recruit me for some kind of power-grab at her church. When I looked to the front I saw we were on rough terrain. I felt the bottom scraping on large boulders, finally hitting something huge that threatened to completely tie us up, the edge of a cliff actually, but our momentum carried us up and over, teetering on the edge a Read on →