New Boot Troopin'

This morning, I saw a woman in a large SUV type vehicle. She had a child in the front and possibly others in the back. I tried to imagine what this woman's schedule was like. Bring child number 1 to preschool. Bring child number 2 to kindergarten. Jack, you're doing it wrong! Bring baby to doctor to take a look at that cough. Cut over to Stop and Shop for the week's groceries. Herb, pick up on aisle 2! Call the plumber. Pick up child number 1. Make lunch. Are you crazy? You don't feed a baby chili! Clean stuff. Your Mom calls the vacuum cleaner JAWS? Pick up child number 2. Make dinner. Have quality time at dinner table. Bathe children. Collapse. I am leaving out a billion other things, I am sure.

Is this what the woman imagined her life was going to be like? Maybe her husband had dreams of stockbroking when he was a boy. And maybe he is realizing those dreams now.

This scares me a lot. I want to have a family. But I don't want to be that lady in the SUV. How can this be avoided? Alright, well, I won't marry a stockbroker, for starters, and I won't buy an SUV. How does a woman become a mother but maintain both her creativity and her individuality? How do these very important things not get swallowed up into some domestic abyss? I suppose if you marry the right person, you won't be left dealing with all of these things alone. You can make a team of it. And if your husband gives a damn about you, there's a chance that you won't be left with all the crap work, taking marching orders from the all-mighty breadwinner. This is one of my goals in life. To be a mom someday, without losing my soul. For now, I am trying to learn the guitar solo from Iron Maiden's, "The Trooper" on my flute. Do any of you have this sheet music?

(speaking of troopers) Later this morning, I saw a state trooper standing at the 128 exit on route 2. When I passed him, I rolled down my window and asked him if he was there to keep people from cutting in line. "Yes!" he replied. Finally. FINALLY. I gave him a huge thumbs up. I wanted to do more. I totally feel like Iron Maiden's "Eddie" when in line for the 128 exit. It's a battlefield. I am not kidding. I nearly got into it with a rude commuter last week who decided that she was too good to wait in line with the rest of us. I will spare you the details.

Feeling better today. I am at that stage where my nose isn't running constantly, but my taste buds are on hiatus. All I am able to get is this sort of mucous smell, with a little "stale air" aroma mixed in. You know that weird sick taste/smell? You know how old t-shirts smell? Or any cotton garment that's been sitting in a drawer, untouched, for many months? Am I the only one familiar with this smell? Anyway, that's the taste/smell my body decides to dole out to me during this phase of the cold.

My last rant, which has nothing to do with baseball: While eating my lunch this afternoon, I noticed that Yahoo! used a picture of a young African American couple next to the rotating headline, "Seven Tips to Beat the Bad Credit Blues." Casual racism? I was at the bank not long ago and they had a promo on the wall with a similar message, except the person with the bad credit was Latino. Ugh. Why isn't anyone else complaining?

P.S. Guess who I am thinking about going as for Halloween this year?