Sunday, November 11, 2007
I Hate People
Well, not all people of course, but it would be fair to say that on some days, I could send at least half of them into some kind of extra-planetary exile and not give it a second thought.
Today's lucky winner of the trip to the far reaches of the galaxy was the completely clueless mom who was seated behind Chris and me at Jack's piano recital today. Her husband had set up his tri-pod and video camera on the end of the second row and she had seated her big fat stupid butt on the last seat in said row, directly behind not only Chris and me but two quite elderly people who can ill afford to catch the upper respiratory disease the clueless mother was providing for anyone in proximity. How so, you ask? I'll tell you. The clueless mom had brought her toddler, who, though well dressed - always reason for your BloomingtonGirl to give a benefit of the doubt - coughed continuously as if she was trying to, well, you know, HACK UP A FREAKING LUNG! The mother sat there with the consumptive babe for the entire hour, no matter that her (completely lacking talent) son played fourth in a line up of approximately twenty kids. For some reason, she felt compelled to remain in order to spread more of her daughter's germs hither and yon while other kids, complete strangers to her, no doubt, played their little hearts out. Not only was this child spewing virus on every surface within ten feet of her wet infected mouth, she was making continual noise, which, was very distracting to anyone who was trying to at least feign interest in the musical pieces played by the sweet, albeit not so gifted, students.
And, to add insult to injury, this pour little kid made a rather odoriferous mess in her diaper about fifteen minutes before the conclusion of the recital. The mom either didn't know or didn't care and the result was that the many people right next to them were treated to the unpleasant eau de poop that resulted.
By the end of the recital, I had decided to speak to the clueless mother and point out the errors of her ways to her. Alas, however, my husband beat me to the punch, mumbling something to her (in medical-speak) about her daughter spewing micro-droplets all over and how it would be a miracle if we didn't all get sick.
Part of me felt a little bad about things getting unpleasant, but the larger part of me thought that this woman deserved more than that even. I wanted to shake her and tell her to get clue, that when attending a music recital of any kind (or an event at which people were in close proximity) she should dedicate herself to the greater public health and leave her consumptive child at home.
In other news, I have had several inquiries about what I have been up to since I have not been fulfilling my blogging duties over the past period of time. Well, Loyal Readers who asked where in the Sam Hill I have been, I thank you for noticing my absence. I want to reassure you that I am not going away forever. I have just been extremely busy with two things that take up most of my time when Jack's in school: Cardinal Stage and obsessing about the many many pounds that have found their way to my midsection.
I had planned to write more, but, to be completely honest, my eyelids are getting heavy and I think that it is time I hit the hay. We had a little bonfire on our patio this evening (we have a fabulous fire pit that we don't use nearly enough) and sipped wine and roasted marshmallows with another family. Between the wine and the delicious fresh cold air and the relaxing flames hopping around, I am, in a word...pooped.
So, I am off to read The Omnivore's Dilemma, the content of which is worth an entire post, believe me.
Good Night, Oh Loyal Ones. Thanks for not giving up on your BloomingtonGirl.