November 12, 2009
Proof That God Is Not A Woman (part 1 by Margaret Ullrich)
Whenever I wonder if God is a man - which I admit isn't often - all I have to do is remember the ho-ho-ho good time we women have during holidays.
Yep . . . God's a man.
He sits and expects a holiday to happen. It happened last year, right? No problem. He just sat and wallah! A holiday complete with a big dinner, a fancy dessert and gifts.
Okay, ladies, we know holidays take a ton of work. Remember the commercial in which we heard Nat King Cole singing about Mrs. Santa Claus? We saw a woman throwing toys into a cart with one hand, keeping a toddler from jumping out of the cart with another hand and clutching a preschooler with another hand.
Of course she had three hands. She was a Mom.
Admit it. We don't have holidays because we like 'em. They're part of our culture, our civilization. Yeah... So is cleaning the toilet.
But women are tradition keepers, so we keep responding like Pavlov's dogs when we read stuff like:
"While winds howled, we gathered around the fire
and sorted recipes. At the oak table the children chopped
fruit and raisins, while Papa happily crushed nuts and
spices in the grinder."
Let's think about that little scene...
Sorting recipes? We now have mixes.
Children chopping raisins? Sure. Yank a gameboy out of a kid's hands, give him a big sharp knife and some raisins and you'll both end up on the 6 o'clock news.
Papa crushing his nuts in a what? No, thank you.
Remember how we thought technology would give us loads of leisure?
Technology means that in a public washroom, you and a dozen other women can hear your cellphone playing 'Up a Lazy River'. Oh, for the days when we could pee in peace.
Think you can rest when you're retired? Surprise! You've unloaded your youngest, just to be begged by your oldest - the one with the Masters degree you worked to pay for - to babysit her kids while she and her partner hold down a couple of macjobs apiece.
Oh, and your Mom could now use some help.
And now the holidays are back.