"Different" Customs…

So I had this teacher in high school who refused to let us use the word ‘weird’ in reference to other cultures. Mrs Prahba Sharma.
It didn’t matter how odd something seemed to us we were never allowed to say it was odd.
It was just different. 
Other cultures foods, ideas, religions – it didn’t matter what.
It was all just different.
To this day I find it nigh on impossible to call something weird.
¬†Actually I’m very grateful for that. And for lots of things she taught me.
Grateful until I see things like this:
What the ???
Hay bales dressed in lederhosen?
Thats weird.
I mean different.
Ya know what else is ‘different.’
People that feel the need to play outdoor sports in the winter.
That is different.
Have you heard of basketball?
You play it indoors.
It’s fun, too.
Moving along…
Also different:
Oversized furniture.
Every time I see a chair you need a ladder to climb on I hear the voice of the chair saying:
“Ooohh, look at me! I’m an oversized chair!”
A couple more different things I’ve seen lately:
Lace Foot Bands.
What are they for?
Lace foot bands,
I find you wei…different.
And how about this:
The new ketchup packs at Chick-fil-a.
Wait! Rabbit Trail!
For some reason in high school I thought that the way you ordered chicken sandwiches at Chick-fil-a was by asking for a “chick fil lay uh chicken sandwich.”
So I would go up to the counter and say:
“Hi. I’d like a chick fil lay uh chicken sandwich, please.”
I have no idea why.
But when I got to college I went through the drive through with my cousin Rusty and he asked what I wanted and I told him “I want a chick fil lay uh chicken sandwich.”
If you know Rusty you are probably laughing at this point because the thing about him is he doesn’t suffer fools lightly.
He pretty much mercilessly made fun of me for weeks afterward.
“What did you just call that chicken sandwich?”
Alright…back to things that are different.
This next thing I think we can all agree on.
It goes way beyond past Differenttown and moves to on to Weirdville.
I have no idea where I come up with this stuff.
I’m weird.

Protesters or as I like to call them…

Just over the hill from my house a group of people meet every Saturday morning. 
They are known around town simply as ‘the protestors.’
Or as I like to call them: people way more responsible than me.
For some reason the corner of Airport and Whitesburg has become the go to locale for protestors. 
Every Saturday morning – rain or shine – they meet at the four corners and protest or support various causes. 
And what are the issues they are concerned with?
Well, it started out with one corner being the pro-peace corner and one corner being the pro-troops corner. 
Now though it has branched out and people come to protest or support all kinds of things.
Its a veritable current events smorgasbord. 
This couple?
They’re supporting the teachers in Wisconsin. 
These gentlemen?
They are supporting the people in Libya. 
How cool is it that they bring kids?
What a great opportunity for that little guy to learn about free speech and democracy. 
Ya know what my kids did this morning?
They ate fruity pebbles and goofed off. 
However, this morning the five year old and I rolled down the hill around nine and there were no protestors. 
The corners looked so empty without them.
He immediately noticed and asked where they were. 
I told him maybe they just weren’t out yet. 
His lovely response: 
“Maybe the things they were upset about got better.”
Poor kid…such idealism can’t be good for him.
No worries, though.
 When we drove back by at ten it was packed. 
Lazy protestors. 
Don’t they know I need them there by nine?
So we got home and I asked each of the minions what they would protest if they could. 
I told them to write it on a piece of paper and I would photograph them with their protest signs.

“No more salad!”


And I took the liberty of answering for the baby:
I’ll make them socially responsible one day. 
Ya know I’ve never protested. 
My protest is against my own apathy. 
Protesting – its on my ‘things to do before I die list.’
Just not today…

Babies at Christmas

So Christmas is long over. 
And apparently so are my ideas on what to blog about. 
But I saw a picture of a baby at Christmas and it got me to thinking that…
Babies at Christmas are just cuter than babies any other time of the year.
“I like to smile
Maybe its because they wear pink leopard coats and Matilda Jane dresses.
Or maybe its because their parents dress them in ridiculous Santa outfits:
“Santa? Really, Mom?”
Maybe its because their parents are wearing such ridiculous get ups that they look even cuter:

“Why is Daddy wearing those things on his head?”

Maybe its because we make them take a million pictures ’til they just can’t take it anymore:
Get me outta here!”

*On a side note the blond haired baby starts stinkin’ Kindergarten this Fall.
Maybe they are so cute at Christmas because we wear them out:

“Double Zzzzzzz”
And there is nothing cuter than a sleeping baby.
Maybe its because Christmas makes your brothers excessively love on you:
Maybe its ‘cuz they look cute dressed up in their Christmas finery.
Be it formal:
or informal:
Maybe its because they get to go look at lights in the jammies:
Or because they get to spend lots of time with their Great Grandmommy:

Whatever it is….
Babies are just cuter at Christmas.