Department Of Things That Make Me Want To Alternatively Weep For And Scream At Humanity And/Or Get A Lobotomy And Join A Polygamous Cult
Because There Is No Hope For Humanity If People Think This Is Cute
Background info: IMHO, pink baby headbands should be outlawed as child abuse.
MH wrote this about her “vitals,” on the announcement we sent to friends and family after the birth of our daughter, Belle:
…weighing 7 lbs 1 ½ ounces
stretching 20 inches from head to heel
Known allergies: pastels and headbands
When those baby headbands became a thing, I can’t remember. I just know that it wasn’t always like that – people either let their babies go bare-headed, or put a knit cap on them when the weather was chilly. When I began to see infants with the headbands  I would ask the parent(s) variations on, What’s up with that? And the parental unit(s) would inevitably spew variations on the following justification  :
Babies are so androgynous-looking; this way, people know she’s a girl!
To which moiself would reply:
And it is important for strangers to know a three month old baby’s gender because….?
Are you shocked to hear that I didn’t get invited to many Mommy-Baby groups?
Once again, I digress.
The cause of my most recent early a.m. rage against the machine ( aka yet-another-reason-not-to-check-Facebook-while-getting-dressed) was something I saw on a friend-of-a-friend’s post: a picture of a baby girl, with the caption, “If I had a daughter I would want to do this picture.
Yeah, well, I *have* a daughter, and I left skidmarks deleting the picture, which I found nauseating…and now, of course, I can’t find it to share with y’all. Basic description: it is of a female infant, dressed in a billowy satiny prom dress-type-gown-thingy (which is composed of four times as much fabric as the baby has skin). The baby, whose forehead is wrapped with one of those frilly bow headbands, is sitting partially atop a mirror. The shot is taken at such an angle that you see the picture of the baby looking at her reflection in the mirror, and also the reflection itself. It looked something like this:
Note the choking hazard, knotted several times around her neck. Welcome to the feminine noose, babe.
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Department Of And Then, There Is That Which Makes Everything Worthwhile….
Sub-Department Of Random Moments Of Petty Defiance
When I go for morning constitutionals at the coast I love walking up a cul-de-sac which has this sign at its entrance. I walk to the end of the street…and…can you guess what I do, boys and girls?
Yep. I turn around.
Cosmic chaos ensues.
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Department Of Saved By The Spirit Of America
I am a notorious parade-loather. I find parades, at both the conceptual and practical levels, to be…absurd, at best. Thus, unless a parade’s entrants and/or organizers acknowledge the inanity of it all  and try to be deliberately silly – anyone seen Pasadena’s Doo Dah Parade?  – you can count me out, as either a spectator or participant.
The Oregon beach town of my dreams and my heart, Manzanita, has a yearly July 4th parade, which, I have been told, is just so low tech and small-towny cutesy that even a parade-hater such as moiself would find it adorable (or at least tolerable). So, I had an idea for my participation in this year’s parade I had a banner made, and began gathering the beginnings of my parade “uniform, much to the consternation of MH, who wondered aloud if he would attend the parade (or would need to leave town afterward), should I be a participant, wearing and doing…whatever it was I was going to wear and do.
I checked the Manzanita City hall website where, I was told, parade entry info would be posted the first week in June. And it was, and…
Damn you, Foul Crushers of Aspirations!
Manzanita’s parade apparently has a theme, which varies from year to year. This year’s theme is, The Spirit of America. My planned getup could be – very, very, verrrrrrrrry loosely – attributed to a certain, uh, independence of spirit, but it definitely ain’t yer red white and blue/flag-waving, lovin’ that good ole country of mine. What I have in mind holds no disparagement toward my country nor toward the concept of patriotism, but it would be a non sequitur, given the theme, as per this description from the parade’s participant registration form (which has a picture of a very serious-looking bald eagle, ready to pluck the eyes out of anyone who would mock its usage as a symbol of American Greatness ® ) :
Decorations required: All entries including autos must be decorated in a patriotic theme and/or in the theme of the parade. The theme is “The Spirit of America”.
Last week I visited the city hall, to try and clarify the parade registration form information. The clerk told me she thought that the requirement to dress as per the parade’s theme might be only for entrants “who want to be judged.”
“Trust me,” I told her, “I’m judged all the time, whether or not I’m an official entrant of anything.”
She flashed me that I-have-no-idea-what-you’re-talking-about smile, and we bid each other a good afternoon.
Later that day, when I returned home (to Hillsboro), I reassured MH that he’d been saved by the (Liberty) bell, so to speak. My parade accoutrements will remain in my closet, in a bag protected by a sentiment dear to the heart of every perennial loser underdog sports team’s fans:
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Department Of I Can Guarantee You Will Win A Double Nobel Prize
– For Both Peace And Medicine – If You Can Cure This
The mystery of why a person‘s immune system decides to treat a benign substance as a toxic invader…It’s just not right.
Yep, I’m talking Pollen. Or as I refer to it during the months of February through August here, in the Willamette Valley, aka the Grass Seed growing Capital of the USA:
#!?&*% flora sperm.
Life as we know it would be impossible without the powdery, wind-and-insect borne gametes that fertilize vegetation ovules; I get that. But why do plants think it’s okay to try to get it on in my nose?
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Department Of How Long Will I Be Able To Get Away With This? 
I found this magnetic bumper sticker, a relic of when K and Belle were student drivers, in the garage, and put it on the back of MH’s car.
* * *
May you never be too old or indifferent to enjoy pranking your spouse’s car;
May you win many Nobel Prizes for your cure for seasonal allergies;
May you realize that society will put enough pressure on the female members of your family to be ornamental beings without you forcing it upon them when they are infants;
…and may the hijinks ensue.
Thanks for stopping by. Au Vendredi!
* * *
 Which were always pink…ah…is there a pattern, Sherlock?
 After the tenth time receiving the same answer, I stopped asking the question.
 As bunch of people sitting on street curbs, watching another bunch of people walk past them, or watching cars drive by slowly and horses poop while they are walking and then other people following behind scooping the poop.
 How could I not love a parade which introduced the world to the following Drill Teams:
* Synchronized Precision Marching Briefcase Drill Team
* Lawn Mower Drill Team
* The BBQ & Hibachi Marching Grill Team
* The Shopping Cart Drill Team
* The Men of Leisure Synchronized Nap Team
* The Marching Lumberjacks
* Claude Rains & the 20-Man Memorial Invisible Man Marching Drill Team
* The Committee for the Right to Bear Arms, which marches while carrying mannequin arms.
 The answer was, a little over 24 hours…but it was a glorious 24 house, including him driving to work, not knowing it was there, heh heh heh.