Sugar and spice and everything nice, that’s what girls are made of. At least that was the propaganda I heard when I was indoctrinated into the crepe paper crazies. That’s what my friend Patty’s father called us girls. Patty lived a few blocks down and a couple of blocks over. A straight route from my house to hers would have been almost diagonal, but of course scaling fences wasn’t something little girls did. So, I walked to her house by way of the sidewalk, alone at any time of day or evening without fear of anything. We could do that back then.
Patty was a girl who knew how to have fun. Until I met her, I was a barefoot wild child with tangled hair, accustomed to making mud pies and throwing rocks at ant hills for fun. I reverted back to that type of playtime for a while after my brothers were born. Somebody had to teach the boys what to do. Anyway, for a short time in my little girlhood, decorating with crepe paper chains for Kool Aid tea parties and entertaining a crowd of stuffed animals was – fun. Crepe paper crazy fun.
That was then.
Through the years, I have witnessed all kinds of craziness. The kind you want to join in on and the kind best left to the professionals. I’m noticing now my own craziness and in some ways it is funny. The “I finally got it all together, but I don’t know where I put it” kind of funny. Then there’s also the, “Due to recent cutbacks, the light at the end of the tunnel has been turned off,” which is less funny. My husband and I were talking about that light at the end of the tunnel recently and how Social Security supposedly will be unfunded just three years after he turns 65. We currently pay into Social Security until our tax obligation is met around August each year. So much for not tying your dingy to a sinking ship. I don’t resent this one bit. I believe in paying my fair share, serving my country, my community and my family all day long. As Alfred P. Doolittle said in My Fair Lady, “….it’s that damn middle class morality what’s done it.”
We are NOT in the 1%, but we do drive vehicles that have been manufactured to the highest emissions standards. Just today I had to take my car to be inspected as required by law. It costs around $40 and must be inspected every year. It only took 15 minutes. BUT my car is two years old with less than 20,000 miles AND….no kidding, I was driving home behind a POS with no back bumper and no catalytic converter. I pressed the recycle air button and moved into the left lane. As I was trying to pass this vehicle, the guy wearing a blue tooth device AND holding his cell phone sped up to keep me from passing.
This kind of craziness makes me cranky.
I don’t want to become an old battle-axe. If you are unfamiliar with the term, I doubt you could Google it and get the meaning of the name sometimes used to describe women who say what’s on their minds with confidence, and just enough forcefulness to get their point across. Oh yeah, and they do it often. The male equivalent of this cranky communication style is curmudgeon; which sounds so much nicer and is usually accompanied by a smile or an eye roll.
I do think one reason why women seem cranky, aside from forces of nature out of our un-medicated control, is because we have a keen sense of the craziness going on in the world, but we are expected to control our response to it. That’s hard to do. We would be all sugar and spice and everything nice if we could show our enthusiasm or say what we think without being ridiculed for merely being female. Let’s make a deal, you stop using girl as an insult and we’ll stop telling you to man up. Deal?
Oh, but someone really should man up and do something about that whole Social Security thing and maybe stop fake caring about auto emissions. XOXO