Suburban Goddess

I truly enjoy conversations with people who have a strong opinion about something. Even more delightful than that, is when they can argue me into an intellectual corner until I can’t possibly argue back. When they make a valid point that makes me simply stop and think about what it is that they’re trying to get me to believe.

I am a classic fence-sitter. I can see both sides of almost any issue. That makes it awfully hard to believe in anything, or feel passionate about something. About the only thing I get seriously worked up about is the choice of typefaces in advertising, and even I know that it is all relative to the eye of the beholder. So, to be around someone who truly believes in something with the depth of their being fascinates me. How do people get like that? Why don’t I?

I had an discussion (I call it that, the person I was talking to might call it an argument) with a die-hard Republican about the war in Iraq. Now, I don’t go into these situations intending to upset anyone; I usually take a neutral stance and let everyone else around me fight about it. It’s a good way to assess the argument and hear relative facts about both sides before I make a decision. However, there was no one else around during this particular conversation, so that left me to play devil’s advocate.

“Do you think we should be there, or are you a stupid liberal, too?”
With a lead-in like that, where are you supposed to go? Where’s a die-hard Democrat when I need one? I told this man that I had many Marine friends, and I would be very upset if they went over there and ended up dead, and I wondered aloud why it is so difficult for our troops to stabilize the situation over there. I honestly wonder that; I’m not there, I don’t see what they see, I have no idea what they are facing. Apparently, this is the wrong thing to wonder aloud, because I received a thirty-minute tirade about how Saddam was going to kill us all with weapons of mass destruction.

How does this man get so fired up about these things when the only information he is getting is from the 10:00 Houston news? I know he hasn’t researched the issue; he’s just not smart enough to pick up a newspaper or figure out how to get on the Internet. I’m not saying his opinion is wrong or right, I’m just saying that it seems to be UNRESEARCHED.

I guess what I’m getting at is this: if you’re going to try to ram your ideas down my throat, at least have a few facts to back you up, quote a few reputable sources, and make me think something besides “My God, not another blind idiot following the herd…”

Chances are, you’ll just be wasting your breath anyway, because I still haven’t found anything to believe in.

It is with great surprise that I looked up at the date on my calendar this morning and realized October passed without a second thought.

So begins the frantic November Oh-My-God-Christmas-Will-Be-Here-Tomorrow dance. Of course, in typical me fashion, I will continue to tell myself, “You still have time!” That is, until I’m standing in a crush of other last-minute shoppers sifting through the picked-over gift rejects (Mom would use a pair of fuzzy suede slippers, REALLY).

So now I face the same dilemma that I face ever year. What do I get my parents? They are so hard to shop for. Considering I forgot my father’s birthday this year (I am truly a worthless daughter), I really don’t want to drop the ball this time. But what do you get people who have everything they want? I could follow my husband’s example, and buy him car parts, but I have no idea what parts he needs and I don’t want to spoil the surprise by asking. And my mother, EEK. Last year they received a Dremel tool and a washing machine. Being the creative person that I am, you would think I could come up with something better than THAT.

I want October back.

I feel the need, as a woman often does, to change my mind about yesterday’s post. I do NOT need Prozac, or Zoloft, or Lithium. What I need is to stop taking things so personally.

One of the first comments my husband made when I first moved in was that he didn’t like a cluttered house. It was an offhand remark, without much thought behind it, more of a passing observation, if you will. So, in an effort to make my new husband happy, I tried to keep the house decluttered.

As time passed, we would visit other people’s homes and he would comment on how nice & uncluttered their homes were. Of course, I took this extremely personally.

“What the hell? Why do I bother cleaning up after you? If you didn’t leave a trail, blah, blah, blah, blah….” And so goes the inner tirade, which I try to keep to myself because I, too, am messy and I never wanted to be a nagging wife. You know, one of THOSE wives. Occasionally it slips out, and I see his eyes glaze over in typical male-I’m-not-listening-anymore fashion. So I keep it quiet.

It does pay off, I think, in the long run. My husband thinks he has a cool wife (at least, that’s what he tells me), even though he has a messy house. And a messy house never killed anyone, at least, not that I know of yet.