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We are members of one great body. Nature planted in us a mutual love, and fitted us for a social life. We must consider that we were born for the good of the whole.
Lucius Annaeus Seneca
When we last left our heroine, she was at an Irish pub in the awful land of Washington, D.C.: a land full of people with agendas and horribly arranged streets…
We’d moved to a larger room in the back of The Dubliner and our group was gaining people like crazy. By this time, many in the group were inebriated. I was drinking my Coca-Cola (yeah, yeah, I’m drinking caffeine again–I’ll pay for it later) and enjoying the show.
It’s not my job to tell you everything that they did or said. It’s really not fair to them. Truly. They desperately need to be tattled on, but they all have their own blogs and if they can remember, more power to them. What I remember most keenly was our waiter. In an Irish pub, anyone with any kind of European accent sounds Irish. This is particularly true when everyone in the room is inebriated. What happens is that everything is much funnier than it really is.
Because of this situation, when it came to conversing with the waiter, I thought that it was hysterical that he wasn’t really Irish (look, he SOUNDED IRISH–if it looks like a Lucky Charm and walks like a Lucky Charm–yep, I’m kidding and yep, someone is gonna take that personally and yep, someone is gonna call me names). If you’d like to call me sauerkraut, go ahead.
Anyway, I made it my mission to discover the heritage of our waiter. As such, I refused to give him my order until he would disclose. What? I was in Washington. Disclosure is the name of the game. You can’t live there and not carry around your birth certificate, right?
Eventually, he gave it up to me and my friend Sarah that he was English and French. Sarah is French so this was an incredibly delightful conversation that ended with us holding our waiter up for ten minutes while we compared family histories and had a new best friend who was now required to serve all of our food “with love” because it was inevitable that we were somehow related (me being 1/4 English and Sarah being French).
And yes, I required him to say that everything had love in it.
This was much better than the experience we had at a bar later in the week where they wouldn’t allow us in because Caleb’s license had expired and they refused to believe he was over 21 even though he was supporting a full logger beard and it was clearly him on the license. And then when the guy who refused to let us in mouthed off to Caleb and Ben and made the situation ten times worse… Oh, you want to hear about that, too?
It was a long weekend. And I met a girl named Beer.
As an introvert, I just don’t travel well. I need a lot of sleep and a lot of time to myself. By that, I mean I need copious amounts of quiet time or I turn into a raging witch who will poke your eyes out if she doesn’t eat on time or stay warm or get enough entertainment…you get the picture.
However, there are times that even the thought of travel isn’t so daunting that I feel like I need to avoid trips. This is especially true when I know that I will see many of my friends and that the people I’m spending time with are those that have similar belief systems to mine. Well, that and I LOVE a good hotel room. Don’t you? All the little soaps and clean towels and beds that are made and lions and tigers and bears, oh my!
Leon and I had been looking forward to our trip last weekend for months. We were heading to CPAC and it was our first real trip ever without AJ. The plan was to be gone for 5 days and to leave AJ with our friend Bryan. AJ was thrilled because for him this meant: No bedtime, all the soda he could drink, video games and hanging out with the coolest person he knows. For me this meant: coming home to a spoiled child, worrying about whether he was getting enough to eat and wondering if his eyes were going to rot out of his head from playing video games.
I got over it and we went to D.C. There are so many things to blog about and they overrun everything I truly want to say. What this means is that you are going to have to deal with me blogging about it in spurts, as it comes to me, instead of a nice block of cohesive posts.
Washington D.C., from the point of view of someone whose city has little traffic issue, is a beast. I have never had to pay so much money to go such a little distance in my life. I will never, ever live there. Luckily, both Leon and I decided that there will be no politicians in this family. For the first two nights, we stayed outside of the city in a complicated little place called Silver Spring, Maryland. It was full of older homes and streets that are similar to something a 12-year old Sims player might put together. The goal was to make it to the Dubliner in D.C. Even the Jesus phone that our friend Allen had was confused as to how to get there from where we were. The miles of snow piled upon the cars and on the sides of the street didn’t aid in getting us to food any faster.
Remember when I said I don’t travel well and I get angry like the Hulk if things aren’t perfect? I was hungry. And I’d just realized I left my phone charger at home. My driving companions were fearful, but Allen is very laid back and Leon was looking forward to seeing his friends at The Dubliner. I’m pretty certain both of them were ignoring me because I was in the back seat, too, but neither would cop to this.
When we arrived, around 8pm on a Wednesday night, the place was packed. Luckily, a friend of ours thinks ahead and had reserved a whole area for our large group. Unfortunately, the staff at the Dubliner didn’t take us seriously because we had about 5 stools for 20 or so people. This led to copious time at the bar.
Which means no one remembers what happened the rest of the night.
As you know, smoking is a harmful activity to both the smoker, who inhales about 50% of the carcinogens and toxins within the cigarette he or she is smoking, as well as a harmful activity to the innocent people who are forced to deal with the other 50% of the carcinogens/toxins that float around the air after those people.
Risks of secondhand smoke for children include asthma, an increased risk of SIDS for infants of mothers who smoked during pregnancy, low birth rate as well as chronic issues that crop up for the remainder of the life of the child (dental cavities, eye and nasal irritation and mood swings.
Secondhand smoke is also a cardiovascular risk for those who do not smoke, but who inhale the secondhand carcinogens. It is also a known cause of cancer. (http://www.lungusa.org/site/pp.asp?c=dvLUK9O0E&b=35422)
Representative Blackburn, I know that I am not telling you anything you do not already know. Clearly, you are aware of these issues and I am sure you get emails like these all the time from advocates. Honestly, I don’t have time to join any kind of association or be an advocate. I’m a wife, mom, doctoral student and work in a private practice. However, because I’m a mom, I have to take the time to write to you and ask that you consider what I’m saying, no matter how ludicrous you might believe it to be, because, as a mom, I have the need to fight back in whatever capacity I can.
The Tennessee Smoking Ban has been amazing. What I am writing to you has no bearing on the unbelievable changes that law has produced in our communities. Unfortunately, the minute I walk outside the door of an establishment, I am assaulted with cigarette smoke. There is no “15-foot rule” or anything that is clearly enforced in which I can safely get around the smokers to get to my vehicle without breathing in the smoke or having it forced upon my child. Yes, I can choose to not take my son anywhere. That is a completely fair assessment. I am a fan of do the least harm, however, and it seems that those that are doing the least harm should be protected.
This is my proposal Representative Blackburn. Remember, I told you upfront that it will sound ludicrous, but I think it’s fair. I know a bit about psychology and what I think may be needed here is some good old fashioned conditioning. I’m not sure what you knowledge is, but a scientist studying digestion, named Pavlov, had some dogs and he conditioned them to salivate to the sound of a bell. He did this by convincing them that the bell and the meat were connected. My idea is similar.
I believe we should condition smokers that if they wish to harm my lungs, then they will have to face a consequence. For those of us that are forced to walk through a wall of smoke to get to our vehicles, we should be allowed to take a clear watergun and take one clear shot at the offender. My idea is that, much in the same way a cat will stop when hit with the water, that the smokers will move away and I will be able to get to my car without issue. This would also encourage smokers to remain in their designated areas. It seems like a win-win situation. I can keep my lungs healthy, as well as those of my child, and they can keep their carcinogens.
Water isn’t harmful unless you are the Witch in the Wizard of Oz. It would dry. No face shots would be allowed or it could be considered assault. All waterguns must be of small size and clear so as not to be confused with true firearms and only one shot would be allowed per person per smoker.
I am aware that there are people who would be furious and see this as taking away their civil rights. I view this as re-establishing mine, Representative. I have the right to walk from the post office door to my car without inhaling toxins. If a factory was emitting the toxins, they would be fined. Because we are not fining private citizens for what they place in the air, there is no way for me to protect myself from the damage they are doing to myself and my family.
I urge you to seriously consider my somewhat eccentric idea. Thank you for everything you do to keep us safe and for your time and consideration in this matter.
Sincerely,
Jillian
*While this letter is slightly tongue in cheek, because I’m aware of the way my request will be taken, I’m also aware that SOMETHING needs to be done and I’m down for non-harmful vigilante justice. It’s an oxymoron. I know that. I’m cool with it. And I emailed her this letter this weekend. Mama didn’t raise a wimp.
Today, I want to welcome my first guest blogger, my husband, Leon! Thanks for stepping up to the plate, honey. — Jillian
This Sunday, my loving wife took me to see my first live comedy show, which was Ralphie May at Zanies in Nashville. She has graciously allowed me to write a guest post here about the experience, which I must say easily exceeded my expectations.
Sunday was a miserable day, weather-wise, but when we were actually driving up Franklin Road to get to Zanies, the skies cleared and it appeared that the weather would clear up. We were advised to show up by 6:45 in order to get good seats for the 7:30 show, and we arrived more or less right on time. The parking situation at Zanies was atrocious, however, and we had to park a couple blocks away (as we had been warned that parking at any of the nearby businesses would result in our car being promptly towed). Nonetheless, we were still in the door at or near 6:45. We found out that this was not nearly early enough, as we were seated at a couple of bar stools near the back of the first floor, and near the door. Our seating was, however, literally the only complaint I had about Zanies as a venue. Although my back got sore from not having anything to support it while we sat there for three hours, the sight lines were still good, the food was delicious and reasonably priced, and the service was shockingly prompt and attentive (especially given that our server appeared to be waiting on at least 9 or 10 tables). The warm-up acts were some guy from the Bob & Tom show (apparently neither Bob nor Tom), and Ralphie May’s wife. Both were good for a few chuckles, but neither had the talent to be a successful television comedian.
Ralphie took the stage at around 7:50. I was prepared, to some extent, for some recycled material, especially since I have been a fan of Ralphie’s since Last Comic Standing, and I was worried that I might have heard most of the jokes before, but I needn’t have worried. I didn’t hear a single recylced joke from any of his 4 DVDs or from any of his Last Comic Standing material. It was all new and fresh and quite a bit of it was obviously pulled from the events of the last few weeks and months. Ralphie had clearly put a lot of effort into keeping his material fresh for an audience that had doubtless heard him before (Ralphie is a relatively frequent guest at Zanies). During the middle of the show, the weather apparently turned inclement and we eventually briefly lost power. Ralphie picked up without a beat and continued the show. In fact, due to the weather, Ralphie extended his show an extra full hour, nearly doubling the length of his show, and did so without recycling anything I had ever heard before. At the end, he stayed around and took free pictures and gave free autographs to all who had stayed. I was truly impressed with his generosity with his time, especially given the fact that his wife delivered a baby less than 3 weeks ago and by his own admission, he is recently recovered from the flu and sleep deprivation. He furthermore displayed a remarkable knowledge of Nashville and surrounding localities, perhaps because he may have actually moved here (I think he said at the end that he and his wife had moved here, but I can’t be sure. It could just be that he visits frequently enough to have been briefed on these things).
Ralphie as a comedian is of course not for everyone. His jokes are not appropriate fare for the faint of heart, nor the politically correct. His show suffered somewhat from a needless and extended jag into pro-Obama politics. I more or less expect this from a comedian of Ralphie’s variety, so the problem in this case was not the politics, it’s that the jokes were not especially funny. Ralphie sounded more during these jokes like a talking head, less like a comedian attempting to entertain his audience. Thankfully, given the overall length of the show, this portion more or less faded into the background of an otherwise hilarious experience, especially since he quickly redeemed himself with a bit about Chick Fil-A that was… well, look for it to come to a special on Comedy Central soon. I don’t want to ruin the surprise. When he was finished, a grateful audience gave him a standing “O” and we waited in line for less than five minutes to meet Ralphie. I got a copy of “Austin-Tatious” (the only one I didn’t already have) and Ralphie signed it (as pictured here), although he was clear that he would have signed a picture for free as well. We then headed back home, late but satisfied with our first comedy experience. Whenever we get the chance, we’ll be seeing Ralphie again soon.
Life is like a game. We all have challenges, thoughts, opinions and beliefs. Often, it feels like something out there, life, karma, catty people, or blue shells (for the Kart lovers), seeks to bring us down. Luckily, we always get up. This is where I wear my heart on my sleeve and my foot in my mouth.
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When we last left our heroine, she was at an Irish pub in the awful land of Washington, D.C.: a land full of people with agendas and horribly arranged streets…
Life is like a game. We all have challenges, thoughts, opinions and beliefs. Often, it feels like something out there, life, karma, catty people, or blue shells (for the Kart lovers), seeks to bring us down. Luckily, we always get up. This is where I wear my heart on my sleeve and my foot in my mouth.
