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  1. I Hate Heart (but I Love Love)

    May 9, 2012 by Michelle O'Hagan

    A rant. Perhaps of interest to no one but me, but here we go:

    Why do grown women, intelligent women, women who have jobs, insist on writing–and actually saying out loud–things like this:

    I heart him!
    I heart ice cream!
    I heart shag carpet!

    What the hell? Seriously. What the hell? The first time I saw this phrase, it was on a gingham-covered tchotchke hanging in someone’s kitchen in Arkansas that read: “I (insert image of heart here) My Country Home.”

    Many years later, the phrase is embraced by grown women who use it all over social media. On Pinterest: “Things I Heart.” On Facebook: “I heart you, I really do.” And, regrettably, in person, spoken out loud in actual sentences: “I heart the empanada truck.”

    It looks stupid. It sounds stupid. It makes grown women seem like they’re trying to be teenagers or little girls. It reminds me of  pretty girls in school who acted dumb so that (really dumb) boys would like them and not be intimidated by them.

    And Heart is not even shorter than the word it’s replacing, which is Love.

    If you really do “Heart” someone or something, why not man-up and say the word “Love?” What’s wrong with love? It is a perfectly simple, understandable and lovely word that implies grown-up commitment and thought, even if it’s just the empanada truck that you love.

     


  2. How to Explain Sodom and Gomorrah, Circumcision and Other Stuff

    January 5, 2012 by Michelle O'Hagan

    The Destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah, John Martin, 1852. (Wikipedia)

    It’s always interesting to be reminded that society was pretty much always going to hell in a handbasket. It’s nothing new. People have been stupid, petty, immoral and misbehaving since the beginning of time.

    The boys received The Children’s Illustrated Bible for Christmas, and most nights I read a chapter or two before bedtime. Bible stories, especially in the Old Testament, have it all: sex, incest, murder, infanticide, adultery, floods, cities getting blown up, people getting eaten by lions, etc. Of course in the children’s version, all the sex and gore is toned down a bit, but it’s still intense enough to be thoroughly interesting to a four-year-old and six-year-old.

    Last night’s story was the tale of Sodom and Gomorrah. You’ll recall that God was pretty ticked off at the folks in Sodom and Gomorrah, so he decided to wipe them off the face of the earth. He was not screwing around.

    My aim in all this was to illustrate what can happen when one behaves badly and purposely disobeys directions. :-)

    Anyway, in the very beginning of the story, there was a reference to boy children being circumcised. (Didn’t see that one coming.) Immediately, Ruairi (6) asked me to explain circumcision. Sigh.

    Let’s see. I think I said something like: “It is something that Jewish people did to show God that they loved him. Some people still do it.”

    Ruairi: But what is it?

    Then, things got OUT OF CONTROL. Fast.

    Me: Well, sometimes, when a boy baby is a few days old, a doctor cuts off a small part of his penis. But don’t worry, that didn’t happen to you or your brother.

    Liam: Why don’t they do it to girls?

    Me: Because girls don’t have penises.

    I cannot accurately describe the look on Liam’s face, but let’s just say he was incredulous. He could not believe it.

    Liam: What?! How do they pee?

    Me: Well, girls have something different, called a vagina.

    Liam: And when does the vagina turn into a penis?

    I burst into laughter.

    First, I was SO unprepared for this conversation. Second, Liam totally hijacked the conversation from his brother. Third, I realized that it was inconceivable to him (Liam) that there was anyone who didn’t have a penis and never would have one. But it got even better:

    Me: Son, vaginas don’t turn into penises. Girls and boys are different in a lot of ways, and this is just one of the things that makes girls and boys different.

    <Pause>

    Liam: Do you have one?

    Me: Yes.

    Liam: Can I see it?

    Me: Uh, no. But we can find a picture of one in a book or maybe on Wikipedia and you can look at it there.

    I went on with the tale of Sodom and Gomorrah. They perked up a bit when Lot’s wife turned into a pillar of salt. But nothing matched the enthusiasm of the circumcision / penis / vagina convo. I kissed them goodnight and that was the end of it.

    Until this morning when Liam asked me:  “Mom, what is the name of that thing that girls pee out of?”

    I’m pretty sure I’ll receive a note from Liam’s teacher sometime soon …


  3. Tim Tebow, Mike Holmes and Tiger Woods

    December 5, 2011 by Michelle O'Hagan

     

    photo, Tim Tebow Mike Holmes Tiger Woods

    It really aggravates me when people say, or even think: “We don’t do it that way,” or “I’ve never done it that way.”

    Because what they really mean is: “If I did it another way, I’d have to think more or work harder,” or “I’m not going to take the time to consider another way to do this,” or the worst, “Even if I could make this situation better, it’s really not my job/responsibility.”

    Just ask Patrick, my husband. Whenever I am incredulous or exasperated with someone who just won’t take an extra step to make sure something is done right (or at least done completely), he tells me I’m expecting too much of people (Patrick is the most helpful and precise person I know). Because most people just aren’t going to take the initiative to try something new, even if it means missing out on something really good.

    I tell you this because after much self-analysis, I’ve concluded it is the reason why I’ve been pulling for Tim Tebow since the beginning of this football year. I am not an NFL fan. I’m not even a football fan in general except for Notre Dame on Saturdays (haters, pile on). In truth, I’d always rather watch an episode of Holmes Inspection (because Mr. Holmes would never not take the time to Make It Right).

    But the fact that a young man who, by all accounts, is 1) a decent human being 2)  a winning college quarterback and 3) a first-round draft pick, has confounded the majority of the professional football world just because he wins games while doing things differently, well, it makes him a JOY for me to watch and root for.

    Completely discounting the Tebow-haters, even former athletes who want to like him make all kinds of excuses about why his style of play just won’t work in the NFL. Most of them sound something like this:

    “You can’t build an offense around him. Even if  his style works for him, and the team wins games, what happens if he gets injured? The backup quarterback can’t play like that and then the offense will have to adjust all over again.”

    I say–emphatically–so what? Everything in that argument is speculative, and you’re now assuming some sort of big problem as a result of success on the field. There’s a big difference between risk-management (a good thing) and just being too scared or lazy to adapt or pursue unconventional success because it will require extra work. If everyone thought that way, nothing new would ever happen.

    This is the best article I’ve read about Tim Tebow and his style. The upshot is: Why isn’t there room for more than one style of play in the NFL? God forbid things should get interesting as a result of on-field changes (as opposed to off-the-field misbehavior).

    On another note completely: There aren’t many things on TV more boring than golf. And I never was a Tiger Woods fan. After his shenanigans a few years ago, you couldn’t pay me to walk across the street to see him. However, I love redemption as much as anyone, and I was happy to see him win yesterday. Enough time has passed and, as with Michael Vick, I’d like to think he’s used that time to pull himself together, pay his dues, and proceed with caution. (And no, I’m not comparing organized dog fighting to cheating multiple times on one’s wife. Though I’m not sure which one of those is supposed to be worse).

    This sometimes-sports-fan thinks it was a pretty good outcome to the weekend.


  4. Cold Feet, Hot Water

    November 7, 2011 by Michelle O'Hagan

    Winter Snow

    Chicago in Winter

    Winter in Chicago would be a lot better if it weren’t so cold and so long. I love snow and eggnog and Christmas carols as much as anyone. But the extreme cold–and the months-long duration of the extreme cold–stinks.

    It’s November, and I’m already cold. It’s pretty easy to deal with during the day by just wearing more clothes and turning on the space heater in my office. But at night, especially when I’m in bed for the first 10-15 minutes before Patrick gets in with me, I am freezing to the point that my digits start to turn blue. When I get that cold, it takes a really long time–like, hours–to warm up again.

    That said, I’m not a big fan of the furnace either. If I set the thermostat above 68°F or so, our bedroom quickly resembles a dry sauna and my sinuses are shot. My dream home-improvement project would be to have someone come into my house and remove the furnace, and replace it with a boiler and radiators.

    Today, I settle for the next best thing: About 10 minutes before I go to bed, I throw a couple of fleece-covered hot water bottles in-between the sheets.

    My Fashy hot water bottle.

    One of my Fashy hot water bottles.

    They make the sheets nice and warm. Hot, actually, since I fill them with boiling water. They are German imports made by Fashy, and they seem sturdy enough to last for years.

    A couple of nights ago, it was super-cold and I put one down by my feet and a another right in the middle of the bed to warm the top half of me as well. When Patrick came to bed, I warned him not to burn himself by flopping down on a German, fleece-covered, scalding, hot-water bottle. He hates that. :-)

    He asked if he could just put me in a Sleep Sack and zip me up, so he wouldn’t have to endure bottles of 212°F water in bed with him.

    I wouldn't look good in a Sleep Sack.

    I wouldn't look good in a Sleep Sack.

    That’s just crazy-talk. First, I have confinement issues. Second, it would be a problem if I had to get up in the middle of the night for any reason. Third, Sleep Sacks are for babies.

    I’m keeping the hot water bottles. And here’s one for the person who has everything:

    For the person who has everything: a fur-covered hot water bottle.

    For the person who has everything: a fur-covered hot water bottle.

     

     

     


  5. The Midnight Sun

    July 20, 2011 by Michelle O'Hagan

    Chicago Is Hot Today!

    Every few summers, Chicago experiences a heatwave that includes a stretch of more than a few days in which the high temps reach 90°F or above. For the last few days, it’s felt like a sauna around here with oppressive heat and humidity the likes of which I haven’t seen since … well, since I left Arkansas.

    Not to “one-up” anyone, but this weather is completely normal in Little Rock, Arkansas. And by normal, I mean an entire summer–yes, about three straight months–of high temps in the mid- to upper-90s with high humidity.

    It IS hot in Chicago right now: the air conditioner in my 85-year-old house has been running nonstop for the last few days, yet the inside temp never gets below 74°F. And people around here are acting like we’re all in that Twilight Zone episode: The Midnight Sun.

    I chuckle when I hear/read comments like, “This must be what Hell is like.” Actually, this is exactly like what living in the South is like. I can’t get too upset over the outside temp of 97°F, especially when the temp inside the building in which I work seems to be about 65°F (as I write this, there is a space heater humming away at my feet).

    And really: by mid-September, I’ll be wearing fleece and hoodies. By mid-October, the down jacket will come out of hiding and won’t be put away until May 2012.

    And then it will be Chicago’s turn to chuckle at the folks in Arkansas when 1″ of precipitation causes a run on milk and bread at the local Kroger. :-)