I apologize in advance for the extremely rant-y nature of this post

I have a lot to say these days, but very little motivation to actually, well, say any of it. Mostly I compose extremely rant-y blog posts in my head, take a deep breath and then move on with my life. But today, since the Spouse is still at work, Little Man is happily playing with an empty container of oats (What? You don't give your kid trash to play with? What's wrong with you?) and a wooden spoon (Ditto above but with kitchen implements) and the laundry is (mostly) done, I thought "What the heck? Let's rant in public for a bit, shall we" and so, we shall.


Rant #1: I am just so unendingly tired of people talking about the NBA "labor" dispute. Does anyone, anywhere care even the slightest little bit that a whole bunch of multi-millionaires are not getting their "fair" share from a bunch of multi-billionaires? No? Then let's move on, news media. There are starving children in Africa. Heck, there are starving children in Iowa. Let the poor little rich kids handle their playground dispute in private. MOVE ON.


Rant #2: I love the People of the South. Really, I do. I love that they are friendly and funny and, mostly, not scary. But, BUT, can I just say that I do not love it when People of the South touch Levi? I have to bite lips and sit on hands to stop myself from swatting people. Seriously. I get that he's pretty much the most adorable little person ever. I know that he's extremely social and will chat with you in his little baby voice and reach out his little hand as if to invite touching but PLEASE, dear People of the South, do not share your germs with my baby. I may have to make a little shirt that says "NO TOUCHY" and only let him out of the house when he wears it.


Rant #3: The ice cream currently sold by several major manufacturers is no longer ice cream, but is instead a mysterious concotion they are calling "Frozen Dairy Dessert". I am just so disappointed. I recognize that the reason for the name change is because their "ice cream", in reality, contains little or no cream and how sad is that? I say that it is indicative of pretty much everything that's wrong with industrialized food production in this country. That's right people. The lack of cream in our ice cream is merely a symptom of a larger problem and you can just take that to the park and protest it. Furthermore, I'd just like to go on record and say that I'd happily pay more to have some cream in my ice cream. I'm pretty sure most people would. I look forward to pumpkin pie ice cream all year but now that I've made this unfortunate discovery, I can't bring myself to purchase and consume Pumpkin Frozen Dairy Dessert. There are, I know, several brands of ice cream that are actually ice cream and/or I could, theoretically, make my own but 1. None of the true ice creams have a pumpkin flavor and 2. I am super lazy. Sad panda. (side note: in the grand scheme of things-like starving children in Iowa-I realize that this is a small problem, but this is my party and I'll rant if I want to)


Rant #4: Could some please explain to me the laws of the universe that have dictated that no matter how carefully I set the timer and no matter how watchful I am over them, I inevitably burn at least 1 tray of cookies each and everytime I bake cookies? There has to be some sort of rule that I am breaking or some sort of universal vendetta against my cookie making. Perhaps both? Help me out here, surely this is not just me? Is there some sort of support group? Remedial cookie baking education? Something?


Rant #5: I would like to find the person who decided landscaping with rocks was a good idea and beat him (of course it was a him) with a few rocks of my own. This past weekend, in a haze of joy at having my "own" yard (which is really not mine at all, but is instead owned by a rather large and mysterious government contractor and which is technically shared between myself and the residents of the other half of the twin home in which I currently reside but which I call my "own" because, really, typing out what it actually is everytime is time consuming and disheartening), I purchased, with the intent to plant, many bulbs. Many, many bulbs. There were tulips and irises and fresias OH MY!
I thought (silly me) that this would be a simple process-clear pine needle mulch (ick), dig holes, plant bulbs, water and trust the fates of the universe. But, alas. This plan hit a snafu when, upon moving the pine needle mulch, it was discovered that some idiot, erm, person, had previously filled the entire flower bed with decorative rock. Let me reiterate: someone, somewhere had filled a flower bed with ROCKS. Then, someone else decided it would be a good idea to completely cover those rocks with PINE NEEDLES. I'll just let you mull that one over for a bit.........................................................................................................
Anyway. After sitting about the house sighing deeply and morosely lamenting my fate, the intrepid husband devised a plan whereby the rocks would be moved and the bulbs planted. This plan involved the husband moving buckets full of rocks to the backyard flowerbeds, which are so overrun with rocks (EVIL DECORATIVE ROCKS) and weeds that even I don't want to try and do anything with them, while I scraped the rocks out of the dirt so as to fill his buckets and loudly cursed the person who thought rocks and gardens were a good match. Eventually, most of the rocks were gone, all the bulbs were planted and Levi had only eaten a little dirt. But STILL. Rocks. Pine Needles. For the love.


And that is all. Carry on.