Play the hand you're dealt.

"Come what may, and love it" -Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin, Quorum of the Twelve Apostles

Truth.

Not on my Bucket List

  

Has everyone read about this incident at Marcy's Diner in Portland, Maine?  A couple came there to eat with their 2 year old, who proceeded to cry for half an hour.  The owner of Marcy's Diner, Darla Neugebauer, snapped and yelled at the kid.  When the parents complained about this woman screaming at their kid, they received a profanity-laced invective from her instead of an apology.

I had a lot of thoughts about this incident. Should the parents have taken their screaming child out of the restaurant when it was apparent the child was not going to calm down?  Yes.  We have a three year old.  We also have a child that is prone to verbal outbursts and we try to be extra-sensitive to people around us in public places who may be trying to enjoy a meal, or a church service, or what have you.  

Was Ms. Neugebauer's behavior appropriate?  No.  Everyone is applauding this woman.  Her diner is seeing more patronage now than it has in ages.  Everyone is congratulating this woman on the fact that she managed to yell at a two year old, because no one likes other people's annoying, screaming children.  And I'm standing here looking at all of them thinking, are you nuts?  Why are you happy that this woman, who can't seem to manage communicating without dropping a plethora of f-bombs, yelled at a child? Because you don't like screaming children either, and someone finally took a stand?  Well, congratulations.  This is certainly going to solve the problem of annoying children in restaurants.  By definition, a person who harasses or intimidates someone smaller or younger than themselves is a bully.

Of course, it IS her restaurant.  She can behave like that if she wants.  And she has sent the message loud and clear to families everywhere:  You are not welcome in this establishment.  If you have young children, beware.  The owner lacks the skills necessary to deal with situations like this that arise, and cannot communicate in a professional manner.  

Portland is a big city.  There are plenty of other places to grab a bite to eat.

Drastic Measures

Sometimes, in order to save your sanity and rescue your own poor, exhausted heart, you have to realize that there are certain things you cannot allow or accept anymore, and that there are certain other things that most definitely need to change for good.

Sunday Thought

There are words, and then there are actions.

And the latter always  tells the truth, even if the former sounds beautiful.

Quote of the Day

"You're supposed to be sitting on the potty.  Instead, you're rubbing conditioner on your butt."

Baby soft skin, man.  The secret's out.

Potty training.  What I did for my summer vacation.

We Interrupt This Program

Yeah, I know I wasn't going to write anything until September, but this is my blog and I can break the rules if I want.  You know it had to be something important, right, for me to come out of the cave where I'm hiding from the Texas sun and actually write here, right?

Well, here it is.  During the summer, I read a lot for fun, because it's nice to have a break from textbooks.  So, two of the books I've read have been of the horror/suspense genre.

And I'm so irritated.

Listen, I'll tell you a secret.  My favorite thing to write is the dark stuff.  I don't know why.  But I love writing spooky, suspenseful, turn your hair white kind of stories.  And I'm annoyed by the chum bucket of so-called "horror" that is gracing the shelves these days.

Now, lest you think I'm dissing Stephen King, or one of the other great horror heavyweights, I'm not. But, here's what's annoying:  cliches. Cliches are not scary, unless you're talented enough to pull it off. Here are some examples of some cliches:  scary, evil little ghost girl in a white dress.  Non verbal autistic savant with a psychic ability that manifests at just the right moment.  Chainsaws.  Hatchets. Clowns (unless they're hiding in a sewer or drain).  Young lovers who venture into a deserted campsite that's eerily silent.  That sort of thing.

What I've learned from reading is that really, really great horror writers play on our deepest fears.  A loss of control.  A phobia.  Losing a loved one.  Losing one's sanity.  Being tormented by someone or something that won't stop.  Things that seem right, but just aren't.  And the other thing I've learned is that in writing this type of fiction, less is more.  Using the reader's imagination to fill in gaps is one thing that Stephen King excels at...because what you can imagine is so much more horrifying than what anyone could put on paper.  One of my favorite scenes in his book "Salem's Lot" comes when a vampire carries a teenager into a graveyard.  He doesn't tell us what happens after that.  He just writes "It became unspeakable."  And chills went down my spine after that.  What?  What became unspeakable?  What happened?  What did he do?  Unanswered questions that spark all kinds of ghoulish nonsense in your brain.

One day I hope to successful in this genre...or one close to it.  Until then, I'm avoiding the chum bucket.