Ugh, sorry. I’m distracted. Something strange is going on with me. The past two days I’ve been feeling terrible after lunch, I mean, crazy depressed and down. Emotionally terrible, not physically.  And then right about 3:30 it starts to clear up and I feel like myself again.  I’m trying to decide if it’s the beef. I haven’t been eating a lot of it and then I had for lunch yesterday and today and I don’t know if it’s doing something funky or what, but god damn.  I think it’s got to be something I can do something about, though because it seems to be triggered by lunch (I feel fine before I eat) and then seems to clear up as lunch digests.

I’m going to try to go vegetarian for lunch tomorrow and see if there’s a difference.

And I’ve been giving a lot of thought to what I want to blog about over at Feministe. The guest bloggers they’ve had so far have been so damn good and I just don’t want to get on there and not rise to the occassion.

We have a tiny watermelon in our garden, though, so that’s happy. It’s like the size of a jawbreaker.  I know I’m thinking too far ahead, but how will I know when it’s ripe?

And the Butcher was all alarmed because he thought our pumpkins were growning a giant zucchini and so I went out there and realized he didn’t know pumpkins were green before they ripen.  Ha, poor Butcher. We’re going to have a shit-ton of pumpkins, though, I think. I hope the neighbors feel like celebrating Halloween this year, because we will have plenty to share.

I’m always taken aback by how quickly stuff appears. The Professor and I were just out there on Friday, weeding and examining things and moving them around and there were no watermelons and certainly not as many pumpkins.  And we are so close to having a shit-ton of tomatoes.

I don’t know.  The thing I was thinking about today when I was feeling all depressed is that most of the stuff I do every day doesn’t matter. It’s not important to anyone. I love blogging, but really, that’s a very small portion of my day.  But it makes me feel good, and connected.

But I also like growing things and being outside in the dirt. And I’m not sure you could get any more mundane or non-matter-y than that.  We don’t need the garden to live. It doesn’t have to feed us.  Anything that comes out of it is just a bonus.  And yet, it’s something I love.

I keep thinking my problem is that things I do don’t matter, but maybe the truth is that I enjoy frivilous pursuits. It’s actually the stuff that doesn’t matter that makes life worth living.

Lunch Things

1. I think I’m making this cat the unoffical mascot of Tiny Cat Pants.

2.  Great post about Jimmie Rodgers by Nathan Rabin over at the Onion A.V. Club. which mentions Barry Mazor’s book and reminds me I need to ask Mazor if he’d submit to another interview now that I’ve finished the book.

3.  Sorry to subject you all to this, but I’m trying to see how it works on a website.  Let me know if you can see and use it and I will owe you one.

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One More on McNair

Shoot, I guess I’m going to have to write about Steve McNair one more time, because Kleinheider keeps writing about him. Here’s the thing, as far as I’m concerned. People do stupid shit. It was stupid of McNair to mess around with a twenty-year old girl.  It was stupid of Jenny Kazemi to believe that a married father of four who was almost twice her age was actually going to leave his wife for her.

But such stupidity shouldn’t end in death. No one deserves to die because they’re stupid.

It also seems to me that some folks want to see people publicly denounce McNair because he was immoral and drawing a line between him and Sanford or him and Goforth.

But this is ridiculous. Steve McNair was just a public figure. He was just some guy who you knew who he was. He wasn’t in a position to make public policy based on his belief that his moral foundation gave him the right to deny some people in love basic human rights, like Sanford (for whom being exposed as a cheater should cause him to never speak against anyone in love again).  He wasn’t really in a position to make people who didn’t agree with what he was doing feel unsafe or unwelcome having their jobs, as with Goforth.

He was just a guy royally fucking up.

And here’s the thing. Most grownups know that.  Sure, there may be a lot of immature jackasses out there who think that McNair was living the dream–with a loyal wife and kids at home and a hot young girlfriend to play with in town–but the vast majority of us know he was royally fucking up, that a person at the very least owes his loved ones honesty about what he’s doing so that they can make decisions for their own lives based on the truth and should feel obligated to them to keep his vows.  I don’t need his friends, who are grieving at the loss of their friend, to have to recite all the ways that a man they miss was a shitty person in order to escape criticism, to appease some public need to make sure everyone knows McNair was really a bad man.

And I think there’s something gross about demands that they do.

We can know he did shitty things and still allow the people who loved him to grieve.

Passing judgement on why or how people grieve is troubling to me, to say the least.

(Also, don’t miss GoldnI’s take.)