Cold, you say? Wind chills don’t scare me. (Unless I have to be outside shoveling the walks.) We live in the Great Lakes region, and it gets cold here; I know that. It’s not a big deal for temps to be in the single digits. But for two winters in a row, it’s been unusually cold. I mean, downright close-the-churches-and-schools, brain-freezing bitter cold, with great huge blowing winds that can frostbite a child waiting for the bus within seconds. Crazy, mayne.
Last night, I wanted to order a pizza for dinner, but couldn’t pull the trigger. I felt terrible for the person who would have to deliver it. Am I mental? I just couldn’t do it. So we ate leftover Dunkin’ Donuts for dinner. I am not making this up. Ask the Thriller. In fact, I joked with him that this was yet another reason why we’re so well-suited for one another: I don’t know any other man who would join me in eating nothing but donuts for an entire day. Granted, we don’t do it very often, but I had to admit it was fun. And yes, I was back on the treadmill at 7:00 this morning. Erk.
We won’t do anything like that today…because he finished off the last two donuts with his coffee this morning. Nuts. Back to the old grind. *sigh*
So, this 50 Shades of Grey craziness. May I share a confession here? When the book first came out, I noticed on my Facebook feed that the reactions were of the dreamy, can’t-stand-to-put-it-down variety, like it was a sweeping romance of the Nicholas Sparks ilk.
As the days went by, I began to notice a pattern. Many of the dreamy, can’t-put-it-down comments were from women around my age (let’s call it the 40-60 range). So I did some research on the plot. Um…a novel steaming with BDSM, and moms can’t stop posting about it? Isn’t that a little — I dunno — private? And isn’t it a bit too much info for kids to be reading about on social media?
There we go: my geezerism is showing. But even if I were “into” erotica (and it’s fine if you are; no aspersion casting here), would I want my sons and daughters-in-law to be reading my over-the-top, drooly posts about it? Eww, people! Keep it to your dang self! *shudder* Now I don’t paint myself as a prude, and I hope I don’t come across as such. I’d like to think I’m a pretty tolerant person with regard to how secks and noodity figure into art (although from the reviews I’m reading, it’s somewhat of a tempest in a teapot, and that by today’s “standards,” it’s not all that shocking). But for real: …and I LOVED the part where he got out the handcuffs and… OK shhh. Just…shhh.
Maybe it’s not even that. Maybe it’s the unbearably annoying theme song — a slowed-down, analog-overdriven, affected remix of seriously, Beyoncé? — that makes me mad. Please stop saying uh-oh all shecksy and pouty-mouth and chin down and eyes up at the camera. Please. We know it’s a naughty movie. Spare us the overlong exercise in glottal attacks.
All right, enough of that. What else this morning? Oh, yes. The anti-high-stakes-testing movement is really growing legs in this country. I like it. Interesting what can happen when regular folks decide enough is enough.
Have a great day, fiends, and if you’re in my neck of the woods: stay inside!