And This Would Be Why I Will Never Reproduce

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God bless my sweet little family, but they are some of the most prejudiced people I know.

Most comments are inadvertantly offensive. My darling little Grandma who loves everyone still calls darker people "spooks". However, my uncles on the other side of the family who aren't so loving have more aggresively rude comments regarding people of other races.

So. Tonight was the night I decided to have the little chat with my Dad whereby I would tell him he had to be nice to my "friend" who is coming to my sisters wedding. My "friend" happens to origonally be from Mexico. Regardless of the fact his English would indicate otherwise, I knew that if I did not nip any comments in the bud--a month ahead--I would be in serious trouble.

At first my father was rather miffed and offended that I would think he would say something offensive. When I communicated I thought it might be more unintentional than purposely hurtful, he was slightly mollfied. To demonstrate to me he had properly grasped the weight of our conversation he carefully thought out his greeting and rehearshed it for me. It went something like this:

"Hello, Hosea! How are things south of the border?! I just want you to know, I welcome a Mexican to the family. Our family is getting a little inbred. We need fresh blood."

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This odd narrative is my life. I ended up in Pittsburgh, of all places--from the beach. I have no hobbies, other than cooking excessively and eating microwave popcorn. I enjoy shopping, the Food network, hiding the remote so the Food network cannot be turned off, find ethnic food stores and restaurants and reading voraciously. My life is decidedly pedestrian.

I worked in the car business where I was required to be ruthless and soul-less wench, which is when I started this project. Since then, I've kept it up because secretly, I've always wanted to join the military. Every male in my mother's family has joined and I quietly entertain thoughts of joining. I haven't yet and don't know if I ever will, but sending the troops cookies keeps me sane. it makes me think I still have a shred of human kindness left in my withering soul. it's a small way for me to salute the men and women who are brave enough to fight for freedom. And makes me feel like I'm contributing toward troop morale--even if I'm not. So if you want to help, send me addresses of troops you know stationed overseas. you may also contribute toward the cost of chocolate chips, but don't feel obligated, that link is here only by request.

the past


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