Commenting on Comments

As I said previously, if controversy upsets you, I accept your resignation from this post with no ill feelings. My soapbox is safely in the corner keeping the peace. I'm just here sorting through the logic.

To follow-up on yesterday's post, I gather an obvious conclusion from the comments. I'm not sure this conclusion helps me figure out the logic behind when "the right to choose" is inalienable and when it is not. As "the right to choose" abortion was relatively untouched, it leads me to believe that either the topic is so charged, people prefer not to address it, or that a fetus and its fate are regarded as less consequential to humanity and the preservation of it than are plastic bags, light bulbs and super-sized soft drinks.

That subject aside, however, this is what I garnered:
 It is okay to usurp "the right to choose" when the people making the choices are seen as not making the right ones for themselves personally or for the environment. There seems to be a personal distancing of the self from those people who are making those bad choices that must be regulated. No one said, "I'm glad the government is taking action, because I am too weak to make the right choice." Likewise, the assumption was automatically made, for example, that people who buy 32 ounce sodas are drinking themselves into obesity rather than cutting costs by purchasing the extra large beverage and sharing it amongst a group.

So today, I'm rather perplexed again, because I'm wondering where we draw he line in the sand. If it's okay to decide other people aren't competent to make decisions about very basic things, what happens when someone claiming to know better than me decides that I am not competent to make a good choice and tells me that for my own good or the good of my fellow man I will no longer have a choice.

Let's consider the example of the flat iron. I use mine nearly every day. It makes me, in my opinion, more attractive by smoothing out my otherwise curly to kinky hair.

But the flat iron has its "dangers" for me and for the wider world. It gets very hot and can cause a ferocious burn that in some cases can lead to medical treatment. If dropped in a tub of water, it can cause electrocution. Small, unsupervised children have come to harm by its scorching metal plates. The cord can cause strangulation. It uses a great amount of energy to heat to these high temps and sustain them, and my excessive use of energy impacts the planet. Eventually, every flat iron dies, so I throw each away into a landfill and purchase yet another one.

Weighing the superficial benefit of beauty against the flat iron's inherent dangers, a rally-cry could go up to ban flat irons. That would hit pretty close to home for me. I would be the person judged to not be making wise decisions for myself. Would the government be justified in eliminating my "right to choose"?

I wager that when the suspension of choice hits close to home, we're more likely to move to the protection-of-personal-freedoms camp. Which may explain why we're skirting "the right to choose" life or death for a fetus, instead of directly responding.

Wherever people stand, whether on the side of personal freedoms or on the side of taking them away for the good of the individual and/or the collective population, they are passionate in their marriage to that stance. Of course, there are those among us who believe it is okay to extend "the right to choose" in some cases and withdraw it or never offer it in others. The gray areas have the least light shed in them.

"The right to choose" is a big, sticky-sided, dark spiral to say the least.

Choosing Among the Choices

I rarely get on a political soapbox and I'm not getting on one today. It's collecting dust in the corner and keeping the peace.

But I do have a conundrum of logic I'd like to throw out for consumption; one that will inevitably make some people very angry at me and come as a surprise to others. I don't blame you either way. And if you're one of those people who prefers not to think a great deal about the convoluted issues that cannot be easily rectified, I accept your resignation from this post.

But here is the issue, as I understand it (I recognize that my personal understanding of it may be skewed by my own cultural background, childhood traumas, and biases, yaddah, yaddah, yaddah. I make no excuses for my line of thought, however, and I stand by it to a fault.):

1) The mayor of New York City, Michael Bloomberg, is pushing a law that would ban the sale of soft drinks bigger than 16 fluid ounces by restaurants, sports arenas and movie theaters. Consumers will no longer have "the right to choose" between S, M, L or Super Size.

2) The Federal Government is seeking to enact a law banning incandescent light bulbs. Consumers will no longer have "the right to choose" between less expensive incandescent bulbs and more expensive energy efficient bulbs.

3) The city of Manhattan Beach, CA is, by law, banning stores from packing customer's purchased goods in plastic bags. Consumers will no longer have "the right to choose" between paper or plastic.

I do not presume to argue the politics of these laws or how they impact basic human freedoms, but rather the logic. The logic proves a great stumbling block for me. If "the right to choose" to abort a fetus or to carry it to term is protected and regarded as inalienable, then why not "the right to choose" what size soft drink I would like to order, or "the right to choose" what kind of light bulb with which I want to illuminate the night, or "the right to choose" to bag my groceries in paper or plastic? Is a fetus in the womb less of a concern to humanity and the preservation of it than a co-cola, a bulb or a bag?

And since "the right to choose" between life or death for a fetus only applies to women, i.e., a man may not make the choice, then do women also retain "the right to choose" paper or plastic? Incandescent or energy efficient? Large or super size? Do these laws that eliminate freedom of choice apply only to men?

Baffling.

Typical Male

My 14 year-old son, I've determined, is normal. He's a typical male specimen, unafraid of consuming a container of peas and a dreamsicle in the same sitting, at the same time, in the same mouthful. He possesses courage beyond logic.

He prides himself on the array of sounds that spontaneously and forcefully emit from his body. B.O. doesn't bother him. And he's constantly complaining, "We don't have anything to eat," (probably because he already ate everything).

Last night when he lodged those words through a belch, I snapped. "We have food, you just don't look for it. Your problem is you don't know how to find food. You expect it to put itself on a plate and come find you."

A 14 year-old cannot be shut-up or shut down so easily, though. There's always a last word and it's always his. He said that oh yes he does know how to find food. These are the steps in his method, as described by him in his own last words:

1. Open the refrigerator.
2. Stand and stare until Mama yells to close the refrigerator.
3. Lower your standards.
4. Open the refrigerator.
5. Repeat process until Mama bonks or you find a shriveled piece of sausage in a zip-lock bag, or, preferably, both.
6. Put the sausage back and eat a bowl of cereal. Leave the milk on the table.
7. Go do something until you're hungry again.

Lovely Blogs and Broken Rules

Jo at Jo on Food, My Travels and A Scent of Chocolate awarded me the One Lovely Blog Award which means that I have to a) thank her for the award and then b) follow the rules:

1. Name the blogger who awarded you this fantastic award.
2. List 7 random facts about yourself
3. Award 15 other bloggers this award (Here's the deal, though, rules in my unlimited opinion are general guidelines. In the essence of time, I have awarded it to 5 other bloggers. I may get struck by lightening, but I doubt it will have anything to do with me bending a rule here and there.)
4. Enjoy!

 Seven Random Facts About Me
 1) I have an unfinished novel in my beach bag. I'm carrying it around with me this summer. It's some kind of wishful thinking thing I've got going.
2) I enjoy a light breeze, but I detest wind.
3) Repetitive noises drive me over the wall, into the ditch and out of my mind.
4) Every time I finish writing something I panic that I will never think of anything creative ever again. And then I do.
5) I think I'm having a mid-life crisis. To add to that stress, I'm concerned that the two halves of my life aren't adding up to my ideal life expectancy.
6) A favorite way to treat myself is with smoked salmon, cream cheese and capers on crackers.
7) When I was in second grade, I was running across the playground one day at recess and I ran smack-dab into a bumblebee. It stung me. Maybe that's why I don't like surprises.

Not One, But Five More Lovely Blogs
{just had} A Bright Idea
1 Funky Woman
Daily Dodo
Buttered Toast Rocks
Idea City

Seductive Dance of the Eggplant

They're great in the garden and so easy to grow. What could be more rewarding than a plant that pops up leafy and green as the valley of Paradise? And it's hardy, withstanding drought and beetles and weeds.

The fruit of its stalk beautifies the ordinary garden with a flash of color unlike that of the other ordinary vegetables gathered in the dirt. None compares to the full purple hue of its rounded curves. A painting of temptation in the Garden cannot convince without its inclusion. Aye, it is the essence of temptation itself.

A man, my man, is known to give into it every summer; planting it, harvesting much too much of it, despite my opposition. He is weak to its illusory promises. He thinks he can change it or that it will change of its own voluntary notion. But temptation remains temptation and its richly aubergine skin remains just a pretty cover-up for what lies within.

Bring it into the kitchen light, and it is nothing more than a burden to bear. Beneath that cloak of color is spongy, anemic flesh devoid of flavor. The more determined cook who dares prepare it by battering and dipping and dripping in cheese and sauce only achieves creating a disguise that slides off, revealing its true nature, as fork seeks mouth.

Summer after endless summer, by beloved and I choreograph the seductive dance of the eggplant. He plants and pulls weeds and picks and admires and allows the vile vegetable in its cheap disguise to capture his fascination. I endure the early summer dabbles, flashes in the pan, knowing that he too will eventually recoil from the tasteless fancy.

Everything trickles to an unspoken arrangement of my husband hiding his forbidden fruit in the crisper. Then I, when he is out, transfer the unwanted wages back to the mulch pile, where it has an opportunity to better itself and make a real impact on earth. All things have value - I'm determined to believe that - but not all things feed the summer soul the way a tomato or an ear of corn or a cucumber does.

The tiller feels the same way I do. Either that, or the seductive pull of the eggplants overcame its faculties. Not an hour ago, that tiller suddenly and without warning lit upon the obligatory row of eggplant, cutting it down in a moment of impulsive violent turbulence. When I finally managed to pull the willful tines from the soil, it was too late. The plants had been returned to dust and weeping foliage scraps. Nothing could be saved.

Nothing but me, and my husband, that is. And our summer, of course.

Where's My T-Shirt?

I survived the 2012 April A to Z Blog Challenge. Where's my t-shirt?

Oh, I'm only kidding . . . sort of . . . kind of . . . not really. I think those of us who finished all deserve an

I SURVIVED 

t-shirt. It was a thrilling month of highs and lows and pressure and fear that we might not make it past the elem-n-opey portion of the alphabet (for those whose minds are still addling, that's L, M, N, O, P).

The best part for me was reconnecting with bloggers I met during last year's challenge, such as Brianna and The Golden Eagle. If you didn't visit their blogs during April, you must go there right away.

And meeting new people from around the blogosphere: Jo, Dana, Wendy, and Delores, to name a quick few. Every blog I visited reflected the personality and interests of its host. And I learned, learned, learned without much effort at all. I mean, just think, without Grover, I would have never known what zorbing is or that I might like to do it sometime on a dare.

For me these A to Z challenges are more than just a way to socialize or get more followers. They make me stretch as writer and a reader. They force me to organize my thoughts.

It took me several months, but I worked my posts from the 2011 challenge into a book, ABC Book of Literary Devices, available from Amazon in print and and Kindle versions. If all goes well, the ABC Book of Writing Conventions will be the second in the series and include simple, brief explanations of common grammar, usage, and punctuation errors/misunderstandings.

You might call me obsessive when I tell you that I've already planned out the next four years' worth of themes and posts. But really it's because I want my t-shirt, dog-gone-it.

Zero Article

Zero Article

Zero article refers to when a noun is NOT preceded by a, an or the (which are all three known as articles). This, however, is not a random omission. Like everything else in grammar, the zero article, or absence of one of the three articles before a noun, is governed by rules:

1) Use a zero article when the exact one or ones is not known.
     For example: People should understand how their government functions. (We do not know which people should understand. Which is not specified. If we did know, we might write, The people of France should understand how their government functions.)
     Lodeche's economy is in trouble. Monies are needed for the survival of the republic. (We do not know the exact monies, but we do know the exact republic.)

2) Use a zero article (no article at all) with proper nouns.
     For example: Sally Jane skips down Langston Street, turns the corner at Hughes Department Store, and spits into Calloway Creek. (Without proper nouns, we would use articles and the sentence would read, A girl skips down the street, turns the corner at the department store, and spits into the creek.)


Tomorrow: We breathe a sigh of relief and rest.

This post is brought to you by the April A to Z Blog Challenge. Check back all through April for daily discussions of writing conventions.