Earlier in the week, I wrote a really long post about the government bailout of Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac and how it is ridiculous that no one bats an eye over the government assuming control of these private financial institutions but that the minute you point out that the government should step in and do something about healthcare – like, oh, I don’t know, maybe some sort of healthcare reform? Create a national, single-payer system like many other countries in the civilized world? – people start shrieking about socialism.
I feel that we are in a healthcare crisis just as much as we are in a housing crisis, and I want somebody to do something about it. So I wrote this long post and then it just seemed to me, on reading it over, that there was a bit too much ranting in it. Yeah, I’m angry about it, and that translated into me not writing very well. I ventured over into Indignance, and I couldn’t find my way back.
So. I’m not expecting you to tune in here expecting sunshine and rainbows, but I also don’t want to raise your blood pressure. I could write a follow-up about work, but I’m trying not to raise my own blood pressure (right now, a healthy 90/62). I could write about my pregnancy, but that’s what this is for. What to do, what to do?
Ah, well, I give you this:
Viva: I had the funniest dream last night.
Mama: Oh yeah? What was it about?
Viva: We were having a marching band parade! [following me around the kitchen as I am trying to pull together both lunch and breakfast] Me? And my cousins? We were all in a marching band!
Mama: Wow, that does sound pretty funny.
Viva: Yeah! M was playing the trombone, and T was playing the drums! And – what else do you play in a marching band?
Mama: Um, there are lots of horns, like – the tuba? And cymbals, and different kinds of drums...
Viva: What about the flute?
Mama: Yeah, yeah, you’re right, they do have flutes.
Viva: Well, I was playing the flute. And Auntie Lola was there! And Grandma too! She was in the parade? And you know what she said?
Mama: What, sweetie?
Viva: She said, “I never got to be the leader of the band.” So I said, “Grandma, you can be the leader of the band!”
Mama [laughing snidely]: Oh my God, that totally sounds like something Grandma would say. It’s like a metaphor for her life.
Viva: And I made her the leader of the band! And she even had the swirly stick! What is that swirly stick called?
Mama: The baton.
Viva: Why is it called that?
Mama: I don’t know. I think it’s French. French for stick.
And, end scene. I’m just a living legacy to the leader of the band.
P.S. And can I also say how much I love this? I want to eat Marge’s hair. It looks like it must be made out of something yummy.