For that small window of time, politics, religion, race, all that separates us from one another was removed and we loved our country, and we loved each other.
Source: 11 Thoughts from 9/11
For that small window of time, politics, religion, race, all that separates us from one another was removed and we loved our country, and we loved each other.
Source: 11 Thoughts from 9/11
We just got done with VBS at our church. Thank you for your condolences. For those of you less churchy church people VBS stands for Vacation Bible School. Also, it could stand for, “free baby sitting service for parents who CANNOT be cooped up with their children for one more hot second without going completely postal.” It’s all a matter of nuance really.
So, there are those lucky parents who get to drop off their spawn and enjoy the kid free morning, and then there are idiots like me. My children love VBS. I love VBS. I went to a church once, that did VBS at night, which would have been even MORE fun for the nonparticipating parents. Date night every night for a week. So awesome. I got home at like 10:00 every night that week after telling Bible stories to the children of those lucky people.
Volunteering wherever their children are spending their time is a favored practice of over-protective, possibly micromanaging parents for generations. A time honored tradition. I observe it very well. Apparently this year was a super good year for my volunteering chops because the Preschool Department Co Leader asked me to write a book on how to be a volunteer when the week was over. Nice. I gave myself five stars for this round. Unfortunately for other people I’ve worked with over the years, I have not always been fabulous at this. Also, who in their right mind would read an entire book on volunteering? So, here, I wrote a blog post instead. Here are my do’s and don’ts, most of them learned painfully through years of volunteer work. You can use these in any job you’re working, but I’ll use the context of VBS.
Happy Volunteering, y’all! I’m going to take a nap!
A Step by Step Guide, or a Cautionary Tale Depending On Your Perspective
I wrote this as a helpful guide for my millions of rabid readers out there who have always been wondering how I clean my fridge. Now you can know, and die happy. (But please don’t die just because you know this now. I just mean, you can be fulfilled in your life. Don’t die.)
Make yourself a frappe. This is my version of a glass of wine to make things more enjoyable and/or bearable.
6 cubes of frozen coffee (or really strong cold coffee and ice)
1 Tablespoon of sweetened condensed milk (I used 2 today because … hello! Cleaning out the fridge …)
1 Tablespoon Nestle’s cocoa powder
1 Tablespoon of protein powder to make this drink good for you
water so that it will blend
Pour into a glass, get a pink straw, sip it and take a deep breath
Cue up a good station on your Pandora. I listen to one entitled, “Hey There Delilah”. Don’t judge me.
Run a sink of hot, soapy water.
As an added bonus, get your game face on. This is my game face. I look so confused because I rarely clean my fridge.
Take every single thing out of the fridge and set it on counters. Have a brief panic attack knowing that you won’t be returning things for at least 45 minutes (you’re not really being realistic there, it’ll be like an hour and a half,) and how many days should you be deducting from your milk’s expiration date by letting it sit out so long? In the next nano second have a good, hearty belly laugh when you remember that you just bought this milk yesterday, and it will most definitely be gone by tomorrow.
Throw all the bad stuff directly into the trash can and wish that you hadn’t put so many things into containers that you’re unwilling to part with. Put the disgusting containers in the sink full of soapy water.
Pull all the shelves out. This could take a while if you wait as long as I do to clean out your fridge because your shelves are sticky with something dreadful that someone spilled who knows how long ago. It has also pooled and congealed at the bottom underneath the crisper drawers. Suppress your gag reflex when you realize there is also a refrigerated fly stuck in the bottom of the muck. A fly? What on earth?! Spray the empty fridge with Mrs. Meyer’s Lavender Multi Surface Cleaner and close the door.
Your kitchen now looks like you set a bomb off in it and you can’t imagine it ever looking good again. Take a deep breath, and a sip of your mocha.
Wash all the shelves and drawers. This is problematic if you have a sink as small as mine, because none of them actually fit into the sink all the way, and the parts that stick out shed water onto the counters and the floor. As a bonus step, you may want to mop up the water on your floor.
Open the fridge and realize you forgot to empty the door. Sigh and empty the door taking a brief moment to ponder why someone who lives in a household with only one person who likes mayo, and even they only use it like twice a year, has so many opened jars of mayo in the door. The mysteries of life…
Wash out the goo on the walls and floor of your fridge. Feel a brief moment of sadness for the fly who either froze to death, or starved to death stuck in the goo. Then remember that flies are disgusting little carriers of disease and that this very fly could be the reason you had the stomach bug last week. Suppress the gag reflex again as you wipe him out and all his legs stay in the sticky mess. It’s no worse than all the gross food containers you just emptied though. Get over it quickly.
Pat yourself on the back because your fridge is now sparkling clean and ready for the return of your shelves. Now it is time to try to figure out all the exact spots that they go in, especially the door guards because for some unknown, god-forsaken reason, they are all customized to specific moldings! Why? As you work, compose a letter of complaint to the manufacturer:
Dear Director of Operations at the Frigidaire off brand fridge plant,
Why do you hate us? We are your customers, and the reason you have your job in the first place. I mean, not me personally. I was given this fridge by my brother-in-law who found it on Craigslist from a college student who was giving it away, but that’s hardly the point here. Cleaning out refrigerators is complicated enough without you specializing every single shelf and door guard. (Are those shelf holder thingies in the doors called door guards? I feel like I just made that up to sound smart.) Shelves in fridges are fairly straightforward, so just stop with all the custom molding nonsense. We look into these fridges like 18 times a day and still can’t remember where they all go once they’re taken out. Help us out here. Things are tough all over.
Mom of five who’s barely hanging on by a thread
P.S. Your CEO probably makes $800,000 a year or something, right? Despot.
Now that you feel a little better, and hopefully have figured out where all your shelves go, smile. You’re almost done.
Return all your non-spoiled food to the fridge, categorizing things to your heart’s content. This is actually a fun part. I put fruit in one drawer and veggies in the other. I put all the cheese and meat that wasn’t petrified or fossilized into the actual cheese and meat drawer. All dairy goes in one little section, tortillas in another. “I will keep it organized like this forever,” I croon softly as I work. “This shelf will always be where leftovers go. This perfect little customized spot in the door (mentally redact angry letter to Frigidaire conglomerates) will be where jams and jellies are lovingly replaced. And seriously, with all those mayo jars? For the love of Hellman’s.”
Look around your kitchen and realize you still aren’t finished. There are nasty containers to be washed and trash that stinks so badly, because the smell is why you cleaned the fridge in the first place. Heave the trash out to the dumpster and wish your husband was here so you could pretend you can’t lift it and could make him throw it in. Throw it in like a boss and then rush inside to make an appointment with your chiropractor.
Now you’re finished. Take a picture. Vow a vow that you will do this more often. Make a mental list of which shelves you will clean each week so that it never gets in this condition again. Pretend you don’t hear the fridge chuckling at you as you leave the kitchen, and whispering, “yeah right, Jules. See you next year.”
Then remember that you were going to clean the freezer out today as well. Meh, there’s always tomorrow. After all, it wasn’t the frozen stuff that was stinking. I’m sure the freezer looks awesome.
I edited out additional steps which included stopping approximately 85 times to make snacks for the little people, and three lectures on the starving little kids in China who would be HAPPY to have half of a recently defrosted cinnamon and raisin bagel for a snack.
Joy to the world, the Lord is come. Let Earth receive her king. Let every heart prepare him room, and Heaven and nature sing. Brilliance. I could just stop this blog post there, because if we really understood and took the time to follow the words of this, my favorite Christmas song, we would all have a merry Christmas.
I know there are many feelings that Christmas brings out in people. For some it is a time of sadness because they’ve lost people, or have no people to celebrate with. For some, they feel harried, stressed and overwhelmed. A friend told me the other day that they had to go to four different houses for Christmas to keep all of their family happy. This makes me as sad as the first reason to hate Christmas … and makes me very happy to be in the non-demanding family that I belong to.
I usually do all the Christmas things. I make an Advent Calendar, we look at Christmas lights, we go to The Nutcracker, I wrap presents, we go caroling, everything. I love Christmas. This year has been slightly different because we decided to participate in our church’s production of “A Christmas Carol”. It was brilliant. They made it snow … they created the creepiest graveyard imaginable, my scene as Mrs. Cratchit made people cry. I consider that an accomplishment, though whether it was the brilliance of my acting, or the crumminess of my acting that made tears flow, I don’t know. No one would tell me. The acting of our Bob Cratchit was beautiful. It was probably him that caused the tears, but I’m taking some credit anyway.
So this Christmas, we’ve done two days of the Advent Calendar. We have at least gone caroling. I’ve lost track of how many candy canes my children have eaten. I’ve introduced my husband to the wonderfulness of the movie “Elf”. Christmas mission accomplished. I don’t let whatever this month is lacking bother me because of the song I copied at the beginning of this post.
There are many things that we Christians have probably misinterpreted about the Bible. There are too many verses that we modernize to suit our selfish lifestyles, or to make ourselves feel better about ourselves. There are verses that we misinterpret because we simply cannot fathom God and His ways. There just isn’t a scenario in which our tiny human brains can explain the complexities of the Creator of the Universe. But, as we belted out “Joy to the World” onstage Sunday afternoon, and the audience joined us, this is the thought that crossed my mind, “we are getting this part right.” What could possibly be more worthy of an entire month of celebration than the fact that Jesus came here to save us? What could be more important than earth receiving her king? Even Santa doesn’t bother me anymore since I heard this delightful explanation from my friend Erin Crawford, “My Dad always told me that Santa is real. Santa is the love that parents have for their children.” Now that’s a Santa I can believe in!
My Dad always told me that Santa is real. Santa is the love parents have for their children.
So if you feel yourself getting overwhelmed with all the “things” of Christmas … remember this. If you have Jesus, you have a reason to be joyful. Forget the rest. Kids don’t need that many presents to be happy. They need love and hugs and kisses and you. Give them the gift of your time. Your extended family doesn’t have to drain every second of your holiday. You can make a rule like my husband did years ago and just say, “Christmas day, we stay home. You are welcome to come to us, but we’re staying home.” This rule has created lots of peace for our Christmases. Our family is loving and understanding, and sometimes they come over. That’s awesome too. There is a reason for this season of celebration and it is the most worthy of our excitement ever! Our king, our savior, the fixer of all our broken hearts, He came. He lived. He died. He’s alive again and building an eternity to spend with us. I’ll see my daddy again someday because of Him. I’ll hug my grandpa, uncle and cousin again one day in a perfect place with no more pain and heart break. That is worth a month of parties!
I’ll finish with my favorite poem of all time because it talks about all the brokenness He fixed because He sacrificed His place in heaven to come to earth and die for us.
The Miracle of Dreams, by Susie Best
That night when in Judean skies the mystic star dispersed its light,
A blind man moved within his sleep and dreamed that he had sight!
That night when shepherds heard the song of hosts angelic choiring near,
A deaf man stirred in slumber’s spell and dreamed that he could hear.
That night when in the cattle stall slept child and mother cheek by jowl,
A cripple turned his twisted limbs and dreamed that he was whole!
That night when o’er the newborn babe the tender Mary rose to lean,
A loathsome leper smiled in sleep and dreamed that he was clean!
That night when to the mother’s breast the little King was held secure,
A harlot slept a happy sleep and dreamed that she was pure!
That night when in the manger lay the Sanctified who came to save,
A man moved in the sleep of death and dreamed there was no grave!
May your Christmas Season truly be merry and bright!
I should just stay off of Facebook. Really. And I would, because it’s definitely what my husband would call a “time suck” but I just CAN’T for some reason.
So, here’s what I learned from Facebook this week, in no particular order: I don’t love Jesus, because I just kept scrolling instead of sharing (really guys? How can this still be a thing?). The Patriots are still on trial for murder … or deflating their footballs or whatever. Shutterfly is offering something wonderful that I should be getting for my kids because I want to make memories and put them on magnets and coffee mugs. I love my kids more than anyone else in the world loves their kids because I homeschool.
Okay, so here’s an actual comment as close as I can remember it from someone’s Facebook post about school starting. “Parents in my community are throwing a Back to School party because their kids are going to be ‘out of their hair’ starting next week. Does anyone else find this heartbreaking?”
There were so many funny comments that I can’t even attempt to describe them all. Most were appalled that these horrific parents were excited to be “free” of their precious babies who are growing up unloved and unaccepted and blahdy blah. Some of them were a little more get-a-gripish in nature. The one that struck me as the most hilarious and disingenuous was the precious mom who wrote “I cherish every moment with my children. This breaks my heart.”
Wow. Cherish every moment.
I did not comment because I was being good. Trying to stay positive and not make enemies with a million strangers. Also my two and a half year old was hitting me on the leg with her sippy cup saying “Mo noke” (more milk) for the seven hundredth time and I had to stop and get her a refill. All these moments to cherish.
I really like homeschooling, and my children, and keeping house (sometimes) and all the things. My life is full of awesome. I want to puke when I hear the word cherish, but there is definitely a lot of love to go around in this household … and then there are those days that the school bus rolls down our street and I want to run after it screaming, “Wait! Wait! Take mine too!”
We are too hard on each other, parents.
There are parents who go to the park with their children and dog their every footstep. They hover over them, hold out nervous arms as children climb up and down high things, call out advice while they slide down slides … we’ve all seen them, some of us ARE them. And then there are the ones who go and sit at a picnic table and look at their iPhones as their kids climb, slide, jump and whatever else.
Some parents breastfeed. Some wrap their babies around their bodies and wear them everywhere, some opt for strollers. Some homeschool, some pay for private school, some send their kids to public school and then attend parties to celebrate their newfound freedom. Heathens.
So which of these truly loves their children? Um … all of them. I rarely meet a parent who doesn’t love their children. Also, I’ve NEVER met one who actually “cherishes every moment” with them. We feel like whatever path we’ve chosen is best for our kids, or we wouldn’t have chosen it, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t other paths.
Helicopter parenting would exhaust me. It makes me tired just to watch them at the park. I admit though, I have to shut my eyes and just breathe when my children climb higher than I want them to fall. I get up to push them on the swings for the last ten minutes of park time. If they beg me to, I’ll slide down the slide with one of them. Other than that, I usually stand to the side and observe. I don’t generally sit with my iPhone, but sometimes I do … because I’m fried, and I brought them to the park so I wouldn’t have to entertain them.
My kind of love is working so far, because they still kiss me goodnight, give me big hugs, want me to sing 20 songs to them before they’ll go to sleep. My kids love me, and they feel loved … also, if another person was going to get them all out of my hair for a big chunk of the day every day, I might throw a party. Because then I would have time to go to the post office, address Christmas cards, get a haircut for the second time this year, clean my kitchen. A clean kitchen would make anyone want to throw a party.
The term “pet peeve” has always bugged me. I mean, aside from the fact that “peeve” just sounds weird and sets my teeth on edge, the term itself is just an excuse. Someone is giving themselves permission to be negative because whatever just happened is their “pet peeve”. As my sister would say, well, bully for you.
My Dad had chronic pain when I was growing up. Rheumatoid arthritis. Dreadful. Anyway, in spite of this, he strove to raise us in an ultra positive atmosphere. The things normal people disliked were usually my favorites because I didn’t know we were supposed to hate them. I have crazy love for things like Mondays, broccoli, cats and rainy days. I was homeschooled, so I didn’t know until I got out into the “real world” that there was something inherently wrong with this. I learned how to keep this disturbing part of…
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My husband’s hiking journey across America!
I heard a quote the other day that I just love: “Anyone can love a rose, but it takes a great deal to love a leaf. It is ordinary to love the beautiful, but it is beautiful to love the ordinary.”
I have a conch shell on my bathroom windowsill that is impossible to dust. No one would think it was anything special, just at a glance. It is thickly coated in some sort of white crust, and into the crust is embedded all these tiny little shells that no doubt belonged to tiny sea creatures who wandered up looking for a spot to land. I’m guessing they finally just left their shells there after fruitlessly trying to disconnect from the muck. One can only hope they found a safe harbor before being eaten by something … probably the thing that lived in my conch shell. As unlovely as it is now, it was actually a slimy mossy green when I got it, and I bleached it and scrubbed it until it is now its white crusty, spiderweb catching self. I think it’s beautiful.
Just so you don’t get the wrong idea, I do not have an artistic eye, though I’m working on it. I usually last about 12 minutes in an art gallery. I look long and hard at sculptures that appear to have been dropped, then glued back together, and I see no deeper meaning.
I always wind up thinking, “My five year old could make that, and then we’d really be banking!” Those kinds of things are worth a fortune. So I spend my obligatory 12 minutes working my way through the art I understand and then, once I’ve passed the Norman Rockwell and Grandma Moses stuff I’m all, “So, someone mentioned going for pizza after this? Is anyone else starving?”
America has a strange idea of beauty now. Have you noticed? Beauty is only attributed to young, smooth, perfect sorts of things. I mean, we seem to like weird artwork, don’t get me wrong, but when it comes to other stuff or people, we miss the boat a lot. Not all Americans, but mainstream folks, even Christians seem to place a higher value on that which is fun to look at. Just try finding a popular Christian musician that isn’t pretty. I’m telling you, IF they exist, they are super rare!
Not just Christians though, of course. Hollywood is kind of low on talent, but ridiculously high in the beauty category. It is full of gorgeous, young, smooth women who are twenty pounds underweight, and full of people of ordinary size who are all grocery store clerks in movies. I feel bad for Hollywood women. They only have a shelf life of approximately three months. Then they develop a wrinkle that can’t be airbrushed out and their career is shot, unless you’re Betty White who is adorable, or Meryl Streep who is just too fabulous to be shunted away. Still it’s pretty hard to get a job in Hollywood, even for a guy, if you don’t have just the perfect look. I guess if they feel you’re worth the trouble, they might also try to give you just the perfect look. Heaven forbid people just look normal. It might give people the impression that they are worthy of attention just like they are.
Anyone watching the night Susan Boyle debuted on “Britain’s Got Talent” knows exactly what I’m talking about. You should watch it on Youtube if you didn’t see it live. People’s reactions to her were incredible. The obvious, not just distaste, but utter lack of respect shown to her before she started singing will blow your mind. Also, everyone’s reaction AFTER she started singing will blow your minds. How could someone with slightly crooked teeth, who doesn’t fall in the 16-22 age range and isn’t a stick figure possibly be talented? An anomaly of the first order no doubt. Someone completely forgot to tell her that she was worthless because she wasn’t a super model. I think we should all use a little less plastic and paint.
Here is my thought about my conch shell, and unbeautiful people (I learned that word from a five-year-old. It’s so awesome that every word processor underlines it with a red squiggly line). I don’t think my conch shell is beautiful because I bought it at a shell shop somewhere in Missouri a thousand miles from an actual beach. You can find shells in places like that. It’s just weird. I guess they’re there for people who spend money to have perfectly polished and beautiful things to decorate their house. I am obviously not one of those people. If you added up everything I’ve spent on my home decor, it probably wouldn’t equal what one of those pretty conch shells would cost you.
But I ask you this: Was your pretty and polished conch shell fished out of the sea for you on a mission trip to Belize? Was it handed to you with love by one of the sweetest teenagers in existence? Was it smuggled, somewhat illegally, through customs wrapped artfully in dirty clothes in your luggage? I’m just sayin. My story is cooler. Just so you know, I have nothing against spending money on your house … but I have nothing against my way either.
Everything in my house is either a token of an experience that I loved, or given to me by someone I love. I hate those random psych questions that ask, “If your house was on fire and your family was safe and you knew you could save one thing, what would you save?” I usually sit for a moment and mentally run through every picture, book, bottle of sand (yes, sand is a decoration at my house) and then flee the room in tears. I would want to save all of it. It all has meaning to me. That query is even more bizarre when they tell you you can only save one family member. My husband refers to a Captain Kirkism as an answer. “I don’t believe in a no win scenario. I would save them all.” I refuse to answer altogether. I don’t think Jason or I would do very well on a psyche evaluation.
It is my personal opinion that people are more beautiful the longer they live and the less they botox. If you will sit and share your life story with a kid for an hour, or if you can describe what it was like to huddle in a foxhole, or fearlessly march onto a beach in Normandy under constant German fire, or you still knit, sew or crochet, you are a beautiful person. If you sag somewhere because you’ve had three children, or your skin is puckered from surgery, or your hands are calloused from years of using them for your livelihood, that’s all because life has happened to you. If you’re a single or foster parent, don’t even get me started on your level of amazingness.
The greatest beauty lies in reality: in the depth of our experiences. Smile lines are a mark of a life spent finding joy in trials. Not the mark of a perfect life.
So, we should expand our definition of beauty a little bit, right? At least enough to include ourselves, for pete’s sake! It isn’t because we’re humble that we don’t think we’re beautiful, it’s because we’ve been lied to, we’re insecure, we’re inundated with plastic figurines all painted to perfect specifications by toddlers in China. So forget the Walmart version of you, or the Dillards version if you happen to have more money. We are my conch shell. We have a story that is worth being a bit banged up for. We are real people, with real purpose in life. We are loved by God. Jesus would rather die than live without us. If nothing else in this entire world is beautiful, that is beautiful. End of story.
Maybe this is just me, but does it seem like a hilarious amount of complaining about “today’s generation” of children are emanating from Facebook, Twitter … wherever people go to complain publicly? My recent favorites are “When we were kids, video games were called ‘go play outside’.” and “When I was a kid, we respected our elders because we’d get smacked if we didn’t.” Mind you, these quotes are coming from people in their 30’s. Seriously. So we’re basically getting a 30 year head start on being the grumpy old man next door. Like, when we were kids there weren’t video games? Things weren’t violent in movies. I don’t remember children typically being required to be more respectful of their elders either. So, for fun, and for Throwback Thursday, I thought I’d make a list of things that are actually better since we were kids and a list of stuff I miss … this does, of course, depend on when you were a kid. Feel free to add your own reminiscences to the lists!
What’s better now?
1. Disney movie themes. Yes? I mean at least nowadays the “princesses” aren’t scantily clad and heavily endowed teenage girls who basically know everything about everything. I love “The Little Mermaid” and “Aladdin” but come on? Give me the teenage girls from “Frozen” and “Tangled” who are realistically built (mostly. They’re still SUPER skinny, but oh well) and a little insecure and still figuring out life. Like reality. Enough said.
2. Every movie made doesn’t feature ten year olds who swear every other word. I’m not stupid. I know kids say swear words, but that doesn’t mean I want to listen to them do it! I’d much rather watch “Ender’s Game” which was full of wonderful storyline, dialogue and action. And pretty much no curse words at all. Awesome!
3. Push towards less smoking. Does anyone really miss Jerry, from “Tom and Jerry” lighting up a cigar in the middle of a chase scene? I’m seriously excited about the lack of smoking in modern day tv and movies.
4. Parenting techniques are kind of trending positive. Don’t you think? I love that self control is being lauded as the thing to do with your kids now. Kind words and thoughtful discipline are being praised over screaming and smacking. Not that I never raise my voice to my children, but I at least read better alternatives in parenting magazines, blogs and other resources. I love it! I need it! I think this is better.
5. Technology is fabulous now! Smart phones are great, guys! I mean, I don’t think ten year olds should have them necessarily, (another rant I heard recently that I semi agree with,) but come on! How great is it to have your entire world at your fingertips! Yes, it creates a slew of problems that we have to combat, but still, as much as people gripe about them, sales of smart phones seem to be going up, not down.
6. Fashion. Yes. It’s just so much better. I get to look cute again and still be in style. Those of you who suffered through the “Grunge” faze of the 90’s know exactly what I’m talking about. Thank goodness for pretty dresses and cute hairstyles!
7. People caring about the environment – even conservatives. I’m pretty conservative and I love the trend toward not filling our landfills with stuff we don’t have to! Cloth diapering is easier than it’s ever been. Kids recycle now as a matter of habit. I compost and garden and have chickens. Big fun to think how conscientious kids are becoming about these things!
8. Motherhood is coming back in style. I don’t have to work outside my house now to be considered a contributing member of society. I love that! I never have people look funny at me when I say I’m a “stay at home mom”. Actually, that somewhat condescending and completely untrue term is even pretty muchly evaporating. Yay!
9. Coffee, eggs and chocolate are now good for you. Awesome! I’ll have another. In all seriousness, the growing awareness that real food is healthier than highly processed “sugar-free” and “light” foods makes me very happy! My mother always preached this, but very few people listened to her. I always thought she was brilliant. Turns out, she is … according to recent studies.
Okay, so here’s the list of things I miss.
1. Human interaction. I text a lot since I surrendered to texting. I fought it for a long time, but it’s just so convenient! But here’s the deal with texting that makes it both great and annoying. Now we don’t have to talk to people. We literally took a group of teenagers out to eat one time, and at one point, every single one of them was looking at their phone, texting someone else. I took all their phones. Talking to the person you’re with is so great. Ignoring them to text or take a phone call … not so much.
2. Old cartoons. I know I just kind of ragged on “Tom and Jerry” but I actually kind of miss those oldies. I still just want to see Wyle E. Coyote get the Roadrunner just once!
3. Comic strips. They were so awesome! Peanuts, Garfield, The Far Side and Calvin and Hobbes. No contest the best comic strips ever made! *Sigh*
4. The Disney Afternoon. I know, I know. It had terrible themes and cheesy dialogue. I still miss it. Tale Spin and Darkwing Duck were my faves. Don’t judge me
5. “The Neverending Story” and the good “Star Wars”. I’m sure I don’t have to elaborate here.
6. Video games that you could figure out in twelve seconds. Is it just me, or do you sort of have to be a genius just to figure out how to play xbox? I only play games to relax and I kind of like the old Nintendo games that you didn’t really have to think about too much. These days it takes me like a week just to figure out the controls. Now I feel old … sheesh!
7. All the time I had before social media was invented. Whew! I waste a lot of time finding out about people’s food choices and hair appointments and whether or not they’re still with their boyfriends. I don’t even care about this stuff! Still I check it All.The.Time.
So, here’s your chance. What’s better, or what do you miss? It seems like things always change for the better and for the worse, so we may as well focus on what we love about it!
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