No Direction [al]

In the words of Joan Rivers (before she became a caricature of herself), "Can we talk?" I know this isn't a matter of prime importance and it certainly won't solve the problems of the world but it remains a constant source of aggravation to me. What in the world has happened to our driving etiquette? Before I start this mini-rant, let me just say that I worry about myself turning into a female version of Andy Rooney. It's scary getting older and sounding more and more like our parents and grandparents. But it's terrifying to imagine myself in a rumpled suit with errant eyebrows hunched over a desk sputtering about the old days.  I'll just have to take the risk and hope that my ramblings -- and my eyebrows -- stay under control.  My main complaint is the utter absence of directionals. Have we discovered that blinkers have calories? Have they become environmentally unfriendly? Is it just not cool to blink?  More and more I realize that less and less of us are using our directionals when we change lanes or make turns.  I've had more people cuss me out on the highway because I didn't intrinsically know that they were trying to change lanes and, when they cut me off within an inch of both of our lives, give me the one finger salute while shaking their heads at my ignorance. Really?  Or how about the people who are ahead of you in traffic and wait for the light to turn green to finally put on their left turn directional?  In this case, better late than never doesn't really apply. I'm still stuck behind you until traffic eases or until someone stops taking my blinker as a challenge and allows me to move over and get around you.  Every night on my way home from work I have to move over two lanes as soon as I get on the highway to avoid an exit-only-split that will take me to the traffic laden nightmare known as I-480.  And every night my blinker is either ignored or misconstrued as a signal for drivers to my left to speed up and block my path to merge.  The really annoying thing is that if my fellow travelers would just let me get over, I'd be one less car in their orbit, one less object to jockey around in their quest to be first and fastest, one less bozo all up in their business.   But instead, my little flashing light is perceived as a challenge,  thrown down like a gauntlet in front of aggressive, overly-competitive drivers.  People! This is not Mad Max!  Blinkers are a courtesy....a way to signal my direction intention.....a symbol of civilized society!  Okay....maybe that last one is a stretch.  But, c'mon. It's what sets us apart from other animals.  What?  Have you ever seen an ape use a blinker?  Exactly.

Raising Children

I have a refrigerator magnet that a friend gave me that says, 'Raising children is like being pecked to death by chickens'.  I might add, by chickens with dull beaks. This is especially true when our children reach deep into their teenage years and early 20s.  They seem to get the idea that if they persist long enough and ask the same question with different phraseology that the answer will change.  For example, our daughter Chelsea has been asking -- in various ways for about 3 years now -- if she can get a tattoo.  Can someone tell me what the great fascination is with body ink?  I've seen too many 60-somethings with faded, saggy body art (to go along with their body parts!) to say yes.  To be honest, I know that I am fortunate that she even bothers to ask.  She is, after all, nearly 21.  She recognizes, however, that even though she is *of age* -- she is also living under her parents' roof (rent free) and that we feed her and provide her with internet access and a cell phone.  More proof that there is no free lunch. Anyway, back to the tattoo.  I know I should let her make her own mistakes -- let her do the stupid things we all did (disco, white lipstick, tube tops).  But the difference is white lipstick wipes off, tube tops become dust rags and disco....well -- there are no videos, thankfully, of me on a checkerboard-lit dance floor.  A tattoo is permanent.  There is no painless way to remove it when you get tired of it. And if you get it where no one else can see it, why bother?  So far, I've convinced her that the human brain doesn't fully "ripen" until the age of 23.  I read somewhere that up to that age, our decision making abilities are still rather primitive. She'll be 21 in January of 2013......I have 2.5 more years to come up with another excuse.