My remaining grandmother is ill and in the hospital. I am thankful that she is not as sick as she was when she was admitted. (!!Here is when the post takes a turn for the bizarre. It happened quickly!!) When I see her at Xmas, I would like to tell her** there is a moratorium on sadness until 2009*, so she’d better hold on tight. As my grandpa in Arkansas says, We’d better not have to make a trip up north!
*(Here’s how I figured this out: In ’06, Blanche died, so that’s our fill of sorrow. I want a clean slate of happiness for 2007, and 2008 is the Year of Plan B, so absolutely no sorrow then for sure).
**(But I won’t, because it’s loony).
(Don’t you love the word “moratorium”? It sounds like a mix of “moron” and “auditorium”. Also, the best part of Atlas Shrugged is the chapter titled “The Moratorium on Brains”).
…and it just gets weirder. Anyone who still respects me should probably just skip this…
(Actually, the best part of A.S. is when Dagny Taggart finally gets it on with John Galt. And then there was the part where she got it on with Hank Rearden. And the flashback to when she got it on with Francisco d’Anconia. But the moratorium stuff was good, too. For a woman obsessed with making over the world with capitalism, Ayn Rand was pretty obsessed with strong women getting it on with stronger men***).
***Sorry for overusing the phrase “get it on with” – I’ve been doing a writing exercise where I write in a man’s voice and there’s only so many euphemisms for having sex. I mean, surely they don’t seriously call it ‘making love’.
(Wow, this post went to hell pretty quickly. I should consider marking it private so I don’t weird anyone out).
(Ehh, never mind. You wouldn’t read it if you didn’t want to).