I was home in California last week for my sister Phyllis's wedding (No, my parents are not really that cruel, her real name is Emily, but born of the love her siblings have for her was the name Phyllis...but that is a story for another day) which necessitated a lot of family togetherness both with our immediate and extended family and the family of the groom. Now I love my family, truly I do, but not long after we had converged upon the family home I had a bit of an "Ah-Ha" moment. My father was regaling us with entertaining and brilliantly enhanced family stories and it came to me: family stories are like a push-up bra.
Every woman knows that a bra is a bra, but as with just about everything these days you can get the basic model, or one with assorted bells and whistles. The push-up bra, for example, takes what is already there - I don't think I really need to elaborate on what I mean by that - and adds to it so it is more substantial and is shown off to its best advantage.
Family stories are exactly like that. While the essence of the original foundation is there the time passed, and the teller are factors that add to and enhance the original story until the finished product resembles the original tale in essence only.
No you might be wondering where I am going with this...and I am sad to say that I am not really sure, I just wanted to share my epiphany with you.
Kisses!
Showing posts with label Rants. This may seem a bit dramatic. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Rants. This may seem a bit dramatic. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Sunday, March 7, 2010
To schlep, or not to schlep: that is the question
Schlep
Function: verb
Inflected forms: schlepped, schlepping
Meaning: to proceed or move especially slowly, tediously, awkwardly, or carelessly.
Laundry is one of life's great jokes, or perhaps "joke" is to happy a word. We use the expression "do the laundry" like the action of doing it means something, like we wont have to do it again because it has already been done. Not so. The most cruel thing about laundry is that once it is washed, dried, pressed, folded, and hung, it invariably finds its way back to the "to be washed" pile and you have to start the whole process all over again!
The only bright light in this whole ordeal is that my present domicile boasts a room in the apartment in which to do laundry. Such a blessing! Before I moved out on my own I never really took time to appreciate what a luxury it was to be able to do this heinous chore from within the privacy, and warmth of your own home. Well I can assuredly tell you now that being able to do your laundry without having to schlep it to the laundry mat is a miracle. No more parading bags, baskets, duffels, and bins full of dirty laundry for all to see, and better yet no more dashing with the newly clean and dry garments through the rain and snow to get them back home.
So here I stand, decision firmly made: I choose not to schlep. I have seen the promised land and I am never going back to schlepping. If it must be that I am called upon to preform this thankless and never ending task so as to abide by my own hygienic standards, to say nothing of those of society at large, I hereby resolve to never schlep again.
As God is my witness, as God is my witness its not going to lick me. I'm going to live through this and when it's all over, I'll never have to schlep again. No, nor any of my folk. If I have to lie, steal, cheat or kill. As God is my witness, I'll never have to schlep laundry again.
(Insert swelling Gone with the Wind theme here)
Function: verb
Inflected forms: schlepped, schlepping
Meaning: to proceed or move especially slowly, tediously, awkwardly, or carelessly.
Laundry is one of life's great jokes, or perhaps "joke" is to happy a word. We use the expression "do the laundry" like the action of doing it means something, like we wont have to do it again because it has already been done. Not so. The most cruel thing about laundry is that once it is washed, dried, pressed, folded, and hung, it invariably finds its way back to the "to be washed" pile and you have to start the whole process all over again!
The only bright light in this whole ordeal is that my present domicile boasts a room in the apartment in which to do laundry. Such a blessing! Before I moved out on my own I never really took time to appreciate what a luxury it was to be able to do this heinous chore from within the privacy, and warmth of your own home. Well I can assuredly tell you now that being able to do your laundry without having to schlep it to the laundry mat is a miracle. No more parading bags, baskets, duffels, and bins full of dirty laundry for all to see, and better yet no more dashing with the newly clean and dry garments through the rain and snow to get them back home.
So here I stand, decision firmly made: I choose not to schlep. I have seen the promised land and I am never going back to schlepping. If it must be that I am called upon to preform this thankless and never ending task so as to abide by my own hygienic standards, to say nothing of those of society at large, I hereby resolve to never schlep again.
As God is my witness, as God is my witness its not going to lick me. I'm going to live through this and when it's all over, I'll never have to schlep again. No, nor any of my folk. If I have to lie, steal, cheat or kill. As God is my witness, I'll never have to schlep laundry again.
(Insert swelling Gone with the Wind theme here)
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