Name: Mórag
Location: USA
100 Things: Coming soon.
Contact: Via Email
Mantra: It's not having what you want. It's wanting what you've got.
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Ranting Again?
We grilled a turkey breast. It was the juiciest turkey I’ve ever eaten. It was stupendous.
That is all.
You know what pisses me off? Many things.
You know what’s pissing me off right now? The number of frugal living blogs that I stumble across that are very Christian-centered, as if being frugal and conscious of money somehow equates to a Christian value and the moral superiority comes flowing off the page and slaps me in my cranky, JEWISH, frugal face.
I’m usually utterly blithe about Christian references and they bug Hubby much more than they bug me, but lately, this equation really pisses me the fuck off. Do I need to email all these people? “Frugal values are not exclusively Christian. But thanks for ascribing morality to what for you is a choice. Please excuse me for making different choices, from my religion to the coupons I use and the priorities I have for frugality.”
Also: NOT EVERYONE IS CHRISTIAN! Please, if anyone co-opted frugality, it’s US JEWS!
I really, really hate it when overtly even hissy-fitting people assign a Christian superiority to their personal values, as if aligning them with a faith gives their choices more weight.
In my eyes, it makes them look like sanctimonious douchebags and I don’t want to listen to what they say.
It takes an hour to an hour and ten minutes to go 14 miles from my house to New York for work. My commute this week has just sucked donkey kong. Tuesday: my bus hit a Porsche, and we sat on the side of the road waiting for the police to finish up for about an hour.
Yesterday: traffic.
Today? On my way to work: I left the house a little before 7am, which is running late for me. Traffic on the main highway the bus follows into the Lincoln Tunnel was so backed up from an accident, I didn’t get to work until 8:40. That’s an hour and forty minutes… to go 14 miles.
I will be so happy to wake up tomorrow and stay. home.
Because the Dow is up and down like a Jack Russell terrior on methamphetamine, my daily schedule is consistently up by 400 percentage points of nonstop holy fuckshit busy. So hi. Busy, I am it.
1. Both Baba and Freebird are obsessed with playing with the Wiggles guitar, which plays songs at the press of a button. So - time for eBay to deliver unto us another Wiggles guitar.
2. Because Freebird was a first boy, we have crap piles of personalized items with his name on them. Baba, not so much. So I’m slowly making progress in figuring out what all to acquire so that the personalization scales are more balanced.
3. Hubby and I had our first monthly Family Budget Committee meeting. The macro: not bad. The micro: annoying. But The State of Money is forcing me to reconsider how and what I cook, and now that our 6’ freezer is defrosted, I plan to buy any and all meat products that are on sale, and make dinner in the crock pot at least twice a month.**
**aside: due to the nature of my other site, my fingers automatically typed “cock pot” just now. Snerk!
This week: pot roast. I plan to serve it over egg noodles, which will make Freebird happy because he’ll eat anything so long as it’s a pasta. Baba, however, will literally eat anything. If it’s a solid matter item, it’s in his mouth. Bonus if it’s nom-able.
4. This weekend, the family descends to eat dinner on Saturday night in what Freebird calls the So-ca. Not Sook-Ah, like Hubby says, but Sew-Ka. It’s adorable. Just like when he used to call the sofa the “fo-sa.” I hope we can find time to go hiking again because that was awesome.
5. I’m tired. We didn’t go to bed until after 11:30, because of the debates and our powerful powers of mad inertia. If I hadn’t already voted, that would have influenced my vote. Not. The debates made me so angry I screeched at the tv. Poor hubby. He was probably entertaining some complicated analysis and I blew it away by shrieking that both men should stay the fuck out of my uterus.
6. I want a constitutional amendment that forbids men from even talking about women’s health issues. No man should ever, EVER have the power over abortion or any other process affecting women.
7. And while I’m ranting, in all this bullshit rammering about abortion, how come no one talks about the right of a child to come into the world greeted by PARENTS WHO WANT THAT CHILD?! Honestly, I try very hard to maintain an attitude of compassion and empathy, especially with people who feel differently than I do, but when it comes to that topic, I cannot extend any compassion to anyone who says that my desire to have the right to choose any and all available options for my own body, from abortion to the right to a painless death with dignity, offends them and their god. My response is like Dan Savage’s, and is immediate: fuck you, and fuck your God.
8. I’m going back to my happy place now. Pass the vicodin.
I blogged about my hellish commute on Friday afternoon. Turns out it was because someone glued two liquid filled bottles on to the median strip and despite a few hundred thousand commuters in and out of the tunnel and cameras up the yin yang, NO ONE SAW A GODDAM THING.
Great.
Jimminy Flapjack.
Also: mother fucker.
1. Last night our wireless router bit the big one. RIGHT BEFORE THE DEBATE. I thought poor Hubby’s head was going to explode. He found an older router but it didn’t work, and when I tried to plug directly into the wall port, my computer froze solid.
So I am without internet at home.
Wow.
It’s going to be a long night.
It’s Halloween everywhere around here, which is fine because on Nov. 1 it’ll be all Christmas all the time, so by the time the actual holiday itself rolls around I’ll be so overexposed I’ll be wishing for it to be over.
Halloween comes with its own collection of annoyances, not the least of which is the increase in available small sized candy bars for miniscule amounts of money. But candy is the rule, because who lets their kid eat the stuff that’s easy to open? I mean, consider this ad for raisins. Who in their right mind would allow their child to eat a box of raisins?
Let alone one that came from this wackass lady.