Peacemonger Mom

My son just enlisted in the military. I'm a peace activist. Why couldn't he have rebelled in some other way, like being republican?

Saturday, April 21, 2007

So I Wasn't Last!

I just got back from a 5K run (my first one) and totally was NOT the last person to cross the finish line. There was a lady with a stroller and an infant that I beat. Who was walking. With a cane. And a limp. Actually, I didn't do too badly - my time was about what it usually is, and the water was very tasty after, and so were the smoothies. I'm sure that had I not been suffering from crushing cramps and a blister on my foot, I might would have even beaten the old lady right in front of me wearing a fanny pack and a visor.

I take back what I said about this town not having anyplace pretty in it - the greenway park where we ran was beautiful. It ran along a little river, and reminded me of the greenway I walked on when we lived in Nicer State a Little Ways Up North, and to be honest, this park was even nicer.

My thesis has been stalled out as of late - all that prepping for the presentation took over my brain. I can't do more than one panic-inducing thing at a time, apparently. But I revisited my Chapter 3, and I'm pretty happy with it. I am reading The Anti-Cindy Sheehan book, (American Mourning, most heinous, for the love of god and all that's holy, do NOT read it) and it is absolutely unbelievable the way that they twist the argument of the right against Cindy Sheehan. The authors are seemingly so compassionate, so caring, so sympathetic of her plight, then BAM!!! Out of nowhere, and truly apropos of nothing, there's a passage about how filthy her house was. Then more kind words about her grief, and then WHAMOO! Boy, it's horrible that she was an ORGANIZED activist, instead of flopping about, grieving in public but without cameras and media attention. Interesting that they don't really start criticizing her until they reach the point of discussing the way she actually was successful as an activist. Apparently a mother's grief is just fine and dandy, ma'am, so long as you keep it behind closed doors and do it in private, and don't allow it to have any effect on us. Just keep it away from us, thank you, along with all those scary immigrants, frightening gays and heavens to betsy, those freakish libruls!

Sigh.

Yesterday was not such a good day - I had had a number of not exactly nightmares, but not particularly pleasant dreams either, and woke up feeling rather out of sorts. This continued through the day and I thought, why waste a perfect mood? So I delved into the right wingnuttery that is "American Mourning." I can't really resell the book after I get done with it, as it has "BULLSHIT!!!" inscribed on so many pages. What can I say? I'm nothing if not mature.

1 Comments:

Blogger Ballpoint Wren said...

Good for you, PM. That lady with the cane was me. The infant was Mojo.

Heh!

By the way, April featured you in her Delicioso Domingo!

8:11 PM  

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