We have bigger-sized problems

Author: natalie  //  Category: Issues, National

I don’t drink much soda pop, never have and I’m pretty certain I never will.

Most of it’s just too sweet for me, so when I do indulge it tends to be Diet 7-Up or Sprite Zero, but those supposedly have their perils, too.

But because New York’s Mayor Bloomberg banned “large” sodas—defined as featuring more than 16 ounces of the bubbly liquid—from restaurants, street cars and movie theaters, I want to walk the streets of New York sipping an entire jug of the most calorie-laden one I can find!

I get it. Obesity is a costly problem both economic and human. But research abounds that trying to rule and regulate such a thing is unlikely to have any substantive effect on public health or weight.

That aside, what’s more disturbing about the trend of Bloomberg, who has imposed other dietary regulations, is, well… I’ll let him tell it.

In speaking to the United Nations general assembly, he said that, “Governments at all levels must make healthy solutions the default social option.” Sigh.  He continued with, “That is ultimately government’s highest duty.” Really?

Again, I get it. Being too big for our collective britches is a big—pun intended—problem.  But this smacks —pun not intended—of government overreach. Allow me to Biggie-Size my sigh. SIGH.

Anyway, the more annoyed I got over the implications of sheeple accepting this drivel “for the public good”, I got to thinking: We have been hearing about our plus-sized, impending — and already here in many locales—epidemic for the better part of the last decade.

And while the problem started here, it’s no longer isolated to the United States. Worldwide waistlines are expanding. Scholarly folks who study such things are likening it to changes two centuries ago when Europeans shot up 30 centimeters or more in height.

Are we watching the human species go through an evolutionary change?

I’ll go off on a slight tangent and smooth some feathers: I’m not talking monkey-to-man evolution (although it could be well argued we’re devolving man-to-monkey, but they may insult primates . . . I can’t win) but rather changes in a species adapting to its environment.

And our environment is abundantly supplied with easily-accessible food . . . and couches to rest our tater-shaped selves on.  No one believes that’s going to be a positive for the human race.

Evolutionary changes are typically imperceptibly slow. But in modern fashion, it’s seemingly in fast forward. In a macabre way, it’s fascinating how in less than two generations we’re seeing changes that have previously taken hundreds or thousands of years.

Scientists say the increase in height 200 years ago stayed with us, and this expansion in girth will, too.  I suppose someone, somewhere has figured out how to keep supplying our seemingly insatiable appetites. I’m a little sad that I won’t live to see it all unfold.

Larger, hungrier minds will have to sort it all out. Because while I agonize over many Biggie-Sized problems, I’m quite happy to report that how much soda you drink never crosses my mind, nor should it.

© 2012 Natalie Whatley

Belaboring a point

Author: natalie  //  Category: Issues, National

In this 2012 election-year season all I can think about when the politicians get wound up is how ultimately it’s up to me . . . and you, too.

Of course I’m not talking about the major problems that plague our nation and even more broadly modern mankind, but rather our immediate day-in, day-out existence.

We have a lot of control and yet we’re all guilty at times of looking to others to improve our lot.

And as it turns out we all get this long end-of-summer weekend to celebrate and reflect on what it is that still keeps the majority of us in good standing with the universal law of hard work paying off.

Sophocles – one of the most influential ancient Greek writers who specialized in tragedy – got it right with a pretty basic comment: “Without labor nothing prospers.” Ain’t that the truth?

And I bet those of us gathered here are aware of how very tragic it is that some of our brethren don’t get it.

It’s a frustration that often makes smoke billow from my ears.

On the one hand I think too many have come to expect something for nothing, but if I scrape a little deeper it’s something even more sorrowful: Some folks have just plain never experienced the deep satisfaction that is independence and the ability to stand on one’s own two feet.

And I can’t imagine feeling that exhilaration not causing people to want another hit.

But anyway, tomorrow is a day set aside here in the good old U.S. of A to honor working people and celebrate the economic and social contributions as well as the achievements of American workers.

That American worker is seen the world over as a unique breed with polar opposites: We put in more work hours and spend less leisure time than our out-of-country counterparts, but yet I contend we also house some of the laziest on the planet.

Probably more of us fall in between than is realized.

And because I know so many of you reading are in the workforce (stay at home moms and caregivers count too!!) or have done your time and retired from it, I honor you today and celebrate your accomplishments and perseverance.

You are what makes the world go ‘round.

So, kick back tomorrow and do something relaxing.

Take a break from your job, whatever it may be and for heaven’s sake don’t listen to any political punditry about how you need to vote.

We all know it’s a bunch of hot air, anyway because as my daddy likes to tell me, “there’s no such thing as a free lunch.”

And I get suspicious of anyone who tries to convince me otherwise.

Hard work works out just fine every time it’s tried.

Happy Labor Day, everyone!

© 2012 Natalie Whatley


The time traveler will get my vote

Author: natalie  //  Category: Issues

Roughly three more months. I’m not sure I can take it.

I know I’m among friends . . . No, I consider you folks family, so I’ll get right to it and let you know straight out I’ve had one of those weeks where I’ve suffered sensory overload. Thusly, (love that word often used by the great Jim Finley who I’m honored to share this page with) as I sat down to pen this column a big, whopping nothing came directly to mind.

Oh, there’s plenty to talk and/or commiserate about, but it’s as if my mental pipes are clogged and no one thing really wants to break loose.

The Olympics: Sure, stories of great human feats buoyed by raw determination. I don’t even feel qualified to comment as I can’t recall ever making or asking my family to make such huge sacrifices for any similar lofty-level goal. Not to mention, I don’t really care to watch it all. TV is a colossal time waster in my book.

The Colorado movie-theater shootings: The story grows more tragic each day. My heart and prayers go out to the families suffering over loss of life and a forever-changed existence. But I’ve also been pretty angered over the gun-control rhetoric I knew the tragedy would spawn. All I’m going to say is some people just don’t get it. And I know those folks will think the same about me. We’ll have to agree to disagree.

“Oprah shows off her natural hair: Winfrey ditches her usual sleek tresses for her magazine’s makeover issue”.  At first I thought this was totally undeserving of mention, but it speaks of what I was going through as I tried to distract myself from the influx of what today we call TMI . . . too much information.

Tuesday was a run-off election day and I can’t recall any other political contest that has annoyed me more. I have a sneaking suspicion the run-up to the Tuesday after the first Monday in November 2012 is going to tax my patience even further.

By this past week I was exhausted by hauling in the daily mailings that I swear were the same thing day after day. How much money was wasted and the landfill further filled by stuffing mailboxes for two months straight?

I would have incinerated it all myself, but my neighborhood — and the City of Baytown for that matter—frowns upon large bonfires in a residential area. Although, roasting the mailers over an open . . . uh, never mind. I’m probably about to get myself in trouble.

Did they honestly think I’d read all that? And even if I did, this Jane Q. Public has no way of knowing who to believe. It all sounded so elementary-playground childish. Sigh. If only the stakes weren’t so high.

And as if the above mail chore didn’t have my ire adequately stirred when all I wanted was some reprieve from the incessant whining, my phone rang constantly—even after my bedtime. Yeah, the guy or gal who annoys me the most is sure to win my vote. (Eye roll)

The most maddening part of all: I was “awarded” all that attention simply because I vote . . . every time, consistently, in the “off” years, and in primaries. It’s a sad state, but it’s almost enough to make me stop. That I feel that way angers me even more.

Roughly three more months.  I’m not sure I can take it.

But I’ll vote for the candidate who sends mail and calls promising to take me straight to the day after the November election.

Depending on independence

Author: natalie  //  Category: From me to you, Holidays

Being that I’m sitting down in the late evening of the Independence Day holiday to work on what I surely should have done before, I have independence on the brain. Not necessarily the red, white and blue variety even though I’m listening to the bombs bursting air as I type. Procrastination always makes for a few personal fireworks —requiring me to light a match so to speak—but I’ll get on with it.

Independence: The condition of being independent; freedom from control or influence of others; self-governing; self-reliant.

That brings up a whole swirl of thoughts for me on both the small and large scales of life here on this big rock.

When I think big and beyond my mostly petty grievances, I get pretty perturbed over where things currently stand given some folks labored hard to give birth to this nation, but my blood pressure can’t withstand even my own political rants, so I’ll not go there.

Pondering on the much smaller and what affects me directly, I wonder if true personal independence is even possible when considering the dictionary definition—especially the “freedom from control or influence of others”.

Freedom from control or influence?  Think about it. Even the most independent among us can’t claim it entirely.

Yeah, I know, it’s probably not what normal folks thought about while sitting at Baytown’s Bicentennial Park watching the Fourth of July parade. But as I waited for my youngest little cherub to make an appearance with her cheerleading team, that’s exactly what crossed my mind.

I’m externally controlled every day by a whole lot, some of it by choice, some if it not. (That was me channeling the great Theodore Seuss Geisel, otherwise known as Dr. Seuss.)

And as I held that thought I realized the red, white, and blue which surrounded me was pretty fitting: I’ve turned red in anger and embarrassment, white with fear, and have nursed my fair share of blue bruises while struggling to stake out my own ground.

That metaphor further begged the question: Is having so much choice really liberating or a grand invitation to step in what the parade horses dropped in the route?

Make no mistake: I’m not for the removal of any freedoms we presently enjoy, just wondering if this centaur would function any better with high, possibly electrified fences. Probably not.

I need to roam freely. And while that roaming may appear to have no particular purpose to a single other soul, it bears repeating words of the legendary J.R.R. Tolkien of Lord of the Rings fame: “Not all those who wander are lost.”

And so it all came full circle in my mind as I sat on the curb watching the parade come around the bend.

I’m dependent on independence.

Without it I’d surely wither and die. But to live in and celebrate a country that (mostly) allows it . . . it was enough to make this girl cry.

© 2012 Natalie Whatley

Take it to the bank, Dads

Author: admin  //  Category: Holidays, Life with children, National

While assisting my kiddos in finding the perfect Father’s Day greetings for the paternal figures in their lives I ran across a few that were quite funny. Others—with a giggle and grin—touched on the cold, hard truth that Dads often get second billing in the grand theatrics of getting offspring to adulthood.

Of course what now constitutes “adulthood” has Dad on the hook even longer than in times past, but we’ll not go there today. In my mind that’s no cause for celebration, and I’d be on my soapbox far too long.

Anyway, one card in particular hinted that the origin of June’s Father’s Day came about after menfolk caught on to the major celebration May’s Mother’s Day turned into. The card showed a disheveled man standing, arms out and palms facing upward exclaiming, “Hey!?”  He’s clearly thinking, “What about me?”

While clearly not of the male persuasion, I see his point.

We girls tend to get a lion’s share of the credit having to go through the whole pregnancy and birthing process.  It’s worth mentioning that mothers get a bit of a head start and a hefty helping of biology to bond them to their babies.

The following nifty little quote from www.menstuff.org illustrates my point: “Your child, at birth, already has a deeply complicated relationship with his mother, and, for the first year, you are only a curiosity. For a couple of years after that, an amusement-park ride. Then, a referee. And finally, a bank.”

I laughed at that truth, and I’m sure you guys are grinning, too. Although my own little cherubs’ dad swears the banking part pretty much runs start to way after finish. (Jeff and I are still operating under the potential illusion that there will be a “finish”. Please don’t burst our bubble.)

But as I look around at today’s fathers their job has become just as complex as mom’s.

Women bemoan having to juggle all of life’s demands, but as motherhood changed with en masse female entry into the workforce, the guys had to evolve, too.

All the dads I know work, take the kiddos to activities, help around the house . . . pretty much do it all. And they’re far calmer doing it.

When I consider how much they’ve had to change in such a short evolutionary period, I’m impressed beyond words.

For all the strides that have been made on the female side of life’s equation, it would have been impossible had they not stepped up to the plate . . . and hit it out of the park.

To all the Dads on your special day: I suspect you often feel unnoticed and unappreciated, but your massive contribution and continual hard work does not go unnoticed. You are first-rate and far more than a monetary institution. You can take that to the bank. Happy Father’s Day!

© 2012 Natalie Whatley

Remember our heroes

Author: natalie  //  Category: Holidays, National

Having been at this column-writing thing for some time now (Fifth year, can you believe it? Seems like a long time but I know it’s only a flash in the pan compared to my cohorts Finley and Orton), I feel like I’ve worn out certain topics.

What more could there possibly be to say as I move through the cycle of commemorative days on the calendar yet again? But there is one that I never feel I can speak enough on.

Tomorrow is not merely the last Monday in May.  But I know it would largely be forgotten if not for the long weekend that unofficially kicks off summer. I’d wager some folks don’t even know (or care) how this extended weekend came about.

Memorial Day—formerly Decoration Day—is day of remembrance for soldiers who have died in our nation’s service. I can’t think of another group deserving of any higher amount of gratitude.

While any one of us could easily become ensnared in all the hoopla that has been bestowed upon the day to the point of losing its intent, not one of us can deny being inextricably linked to the past lives and deaths of so many who were unknown to us personally.

But those soldiers belonged to real families, who felt real pain and maybe even genuine pride for having contributed to a greater cause.

And let’s pause and reflect:  Would you march into danger and lay down your life for the benefit of unknown people from an unknown time?

Many have. Many still do.

How does one adequately appreciate the gift of freedom and protection?

We can start by understanding that for all the “injustices” we think we suffer . . . life is pretty darn good here in the U.S. of A.

Sure, I get discouraged, too, when I clearly see the principles this country was founded upon threatened by political posturing, power plays or just plain steering the country away from  what was bought and paid for with the blood of our ancestors.

 And in this current election season (vote Tuesday if you haven’t already), I’m weary of wading through the deception and egos to exercise my fought-for-and-won right, honor, and privilege of casting a ballot.

 I’m ashamed to feel that way, but know I must pay attention in honor of those who afforded me the opportunity.

By the grace of God I’ve never walked a single step in a battle-weary soldier’s boots – only stood under the umbrella of their and their families’ sacrifices.

While out enjoying whatever the extended weekend brings, please take a few moments to remember those who made the ultimate sacrifice so that we all might enjoy the freedom to pursue life, liberty, and happiness.

To all that have been lost and those who lost loved ones: Thank you. Anything I can give back seems inadequate, but you are not forgotten.  What you gave lives on.

“We cherish too the Poppy red that grows on fields where valor led. It seems to signal to the skies that blood of heroes never dies.” ~Moina Michael

© 2012 Natalie Whatley

It’s hard to be soft

Author: natalie  //  Category: Holidays, Life with children, National

Happy Mother’s Day to all my cohorts in the grand adventure that is motherhood.

I sat down at my computer and pondered on what it means to be a mother while hoping some profound words would emerge from my fingertips as they danced across the keyboard.

Just so you have the perfect visual, please know that somehow I got through a whole bunch of formal schooling without ever learning the proper typing technique that is now called keyboarding. So, my typing and dancing fingers can be likened to the chicken dance. I’m chuckling because I know that song will be stuck in your head the rest of the live-long day, but I digress.

It all came to me and I typed it up as quickly as my fingers would move: Motherhood is hard. That’s it. That’s all she wrote.

Then I stared at my literary masterpiece in all its splendor. It was a beautiful moment up until I realized I had come up with three whole words and needed roughly 550 more to pass muster with one Mr. Adam Yanelli, high-ranking official at The Sun. Talk about pressure. The things I do for you people.

I pondered and chicken danced some more.

Author Elizabeth Stone summed it all up far better than I could: “Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body.”  Wearing one’s heart on one’s sleeve has got nothing on mommas!

And at least in my experience, it’s easy when children are young to be all squishy as we learn to yield to the demands.  They’re so cute when they’re sleeping . . . shoot, when they’re awake, too. The innocence and the dependence are intoxicating . . . most of the time.

It’s rewarding and exhausting work. I’ve been on top of the world and back down to the hole I dug in the ground when things didn’t go according to plan. It takes a strong breed to withstand the extremes that punctuate the monotony of the daily grind.

Then those cute little puppies turn into dogs. Weird things start happening. They (and their demands) get bigger.  Oh, and they learn to negotiate like the finest of litigators.

The role changes and I think we all strive to be that soft place to fall, but let’s face it: There’s a hard outer shell that forms.  That’s what happens when we feel the sting of being tenderized and having someone or something come along and pour salt in that open, exposed heart.

It’s a difficult, but necessary balance to strike while trying to prepare those precious babies for the rigors of real, life-isn’t-always-fair life.

And it’s out of a great deal of love we put on the armor and head into battle. Even harder is having to switch back and forth between fighting for and then against. I lay awake at night strategizing—choosing my battles and weapons carefully while weighing the consequences of the various options.

A lot of times I don’t want to be the hardened warrior, but when your heart walks around outside your body you learn all to quickly it’s just plain hard to be soft.

© 2012 Natalie Whatley

The Miss Astor disaster

Author: natalie  //  Category: It's all about me, National

Today marks the one hundredth anniversary of the sinking of the British passenger liner Titanic in the North Atlantic Ocean after a collision with an iceberg.

Billed as one of the deadliest peacetime maritime accidents, its maiden voyage from Southampton, England to New York City claimed the lives of 1,514 people.

Passengers included some of the wealthiest people in the world, as well as over a thousand emigrants from Great Britain, Scandinavia, Ireland and elsewhere seeking a new life in North America.

While I knew of Titanic and its sinking, it was never much an interest to me until I got verbally sassy one day and a gentleman jokingly told me to “watch your tone young lady”.

His tone reminded me of my mother calling me Miss Astor as a young girl when I let my, shall I say “spirited”, attitude surface.

So I took off on a little research voyage of my own.

 I learned that my grandmother and great-grandmother called their daughters that, too. See, I can’t help my “spunkiness”; it’s apparently engrained in my DNA. Shame on the stunning Linda Rowe for trying to temper that; who did she think she was?  Miss Astor?

 Then I found that my supposed namesake, Madeleine Force Astor, was a Titanic survivor. There were many Astor women from which to choose, but the consensus among some internet material was that Madeleine was the source of calling women “Miss Astor”.  

Oh goodie, I thought. Knowing the one hundredth anniversary was coming up, I tucked it all away in a first-class cabin in the Whatley passenger liner Natanic. Your sense of foreboding at this point is probably not off the mark.

Nineteen-year-old, American citizen, and five-months-pregnant Madeleine boarded Titanic in France with her millionaire husband John Jacob Astor IV. They were headed home to New York from a lengthy honeymoon abroad.

John, 47, and Madeleine, 19, had married the previous September amid scandal. He was one of the wealthiest men in the world and recently divorced. She was a young socialite who caught his eye.

To make a long story short, as a woman she was afforded a spot on a lifeboat while John had to stay behind. She became a wealthy young widow.

Following her life to her death in 1940, I didn’t find anything that was really deserving of what being called a Miss Astor actually turned out to be: snobbish and uppity . . . mainly because of being born and bred into more money than any of us could imagine.  And even more Astor women who could’ve potentially worn those labels surfaced. My ship was a-sinking. My idea didn’t hold water, either.

Then by sheer accident —no iceberg involved—I ran across Caroline Schermerhorn Astor, who would have been Madeleine’s mother in law had she not passed away in 1908.

This woman took the cake. She was THE New York socialite of her era. Wealthy beyond anything I can comprehend which is fine, really, but she came up with a list simply titled, “The Four Hundred”.

To be included in the list, one had to be basically as well off as her, and here’s the kicker: One could not be from “earned” money; one had to be from “old” or inherited money. If you weren’t on “the list”, why you were nothing and not fit to breathe the same air.

And, while there were other Astor ladies of distinction, she demanded to be called and/or referred to as, “The Mrs. Astor”.  As I took in more of her, I could think of a few other names, but since I’m in polite company . . .

So you see my column-ship sank.  Like a good captain though, I went down with it. And that, my friends, is something a Miss Astor would never do!

 © 2012 Natalie Whatley


My tulips are sealed

Author: natalie  //  Category: Holidays

I had it in my mind leading up to today that I’d write something profound for Easter. Who doesn’t get excited and enticed into deep thinking over all the symbolism of new beginnings?

But as my week progressed, the heat of life here in present-day 2012 stood in the way and I became a puddle of goo.

 Picture a chocolate bunny left in a hot car: My eyes are where my tail used to be and I think my tail is sliding into my feet. Somewhere between the two big ears lies a brain. It’s overheated and I’m sorry to report not quite functional.

Thankfully, I had a Plan B before the meltdown.

With spring in full bloom I have been enjoying all the beautiful, vibrant colors blossoming all about the land. And during some internet travels I landed on www.blogthings.com where I learned that my preference in flowers may actually point to some personality traits.  (That site has all sorts of fun little quizzes if you’re inclined to waste time on the addiction it becomes.)

The major floral players are listed below for your enjoyment and perusal. 

Tulips say you’re very positive, popular, and universally admired. You are often hopelessly in love, and connect to others easily. You are a naturally cheerful and upbeat person with an amazing smile. You have a fresh perspective and a different way of looking at the world.

Carnations:  You’re very likeable and have a distinct style—one that many people find fascinating. You are charming and alluring. People are drawn to you. You never forget a name or a face. And the people you love are always on your mind. Some may accuse you of being out of touch, but you’re truly a classic.

If daisies are your favorites you’re very resilient with a spirit of pure optimism. Your view of the world is eternally cheerful. You are bold, vibrant, incredibly striking and always stand out in a crowd. You are adaptable and flexible. You can thrive in almost any situation and you’re often underestimated. Your critics and enemies are in for a surprise.

Iris:  You are very spiritual and incredibly hopeful and courageous. Even when you’ve been challenged in life, you have faith that everything will work out. Your feelings run deep, and you are a very grateful person. You are very affected by the world around you and thankful for the life you lead.

Orchids say you’re very elegant. You are exotic and intricately beautiful while possessing a unique grace that’s both delicate and strong. You are thoughtful and refined—the definition of class.
Some people may find you unapproachable, but it’s only their lack of confidence speaking.

A lily says you’re very enticing: playful, flirty, and friendly. You easily light up a room or someone’s heart. Your unique personality attracts a lot of attention, but your cute ways get you in trouble. People can’t help but be a little jealous of you.

Roses: You’re very affectionate— a classic romantic who believes in true love. You often experience deep emotions and feel warmth towards almost everyone. You are a bundle of positive feelings and sweetness, but easily hurt. People should be careful with your heart.

Sunflowers say you’re very buoyant. You are a truly warm person with amazing bursts of energy who brings happiness to everyone around you. You are bright, bold, cheery, and adored by many. Friends are nourished by your optimism as you rise to the occasion whenever needed. You have boundless enthusiasm.

Which one am I? Even a blooming idiot knows to keep some things secret. I can’t have you folks digging around in my inner-most psyche. Even if I could find my tulips in the puddle, I bet they’re melted shut.

© 2012 Natalie Whatley

Eggo wafflers are syrupy sweet

Author: natalie  //  Category: National

Recall that last week Tide detergent thieves possessed me to take on quite the snotty persona. So much so that Granny Adcox of Highlands felt the need to send me a pretty, feminine handkerchief to deal with my problem fashionably. Thanks, Granny.

To make up for subjecting you all to such unladylike posturing, this will drip syrupy, pure, sweetness and light. Sugar, spice and everything nice.

But know I’m suffering a bit of performance anxiety as Sun Managing Editor went and called me a real columnist who skillfully and consistently plies my craft. Thanks, Adam, for giving my now inflated ego the jitters. 

I forgive you because you held all of us Sun columnists up discussing a great cause—Baytown’s ultra-successful Relay for Life—and your winning the battle. We’re glad you’re here and healthy.

Deep breath, some sort of pharmaceutical tranquilizer, and on with the show!

Like I knew would be the case this being a national election year, politicking is in full swing. There are no escapes.

And by the time my days have been inundated with national radio and television programming making sure the national candidates —and the issues said programming aims to push—are front and center in my thought process, I’m done. Finished. Cooked, and near burning mad.

Then the local candidates come out and visit my personal home.

 Of what they speak, I have a better handle on because I live here and see it all up close and personal-like. Most of them don’t realize I know who they are and what they’re about before introductions are made.

I sit back rather demurely in my little corner of the world and observe. And my appearance must scream, or maybe giggle, “Like, I don’t have a clue whatsoever!”

You will never know the delight I take in opening up a diatribe about the bees flying about in my political bonnet.  The look of utter shock is priceless and well worth what I paid for admission: paying attention to real life . . . not the fabricated “issues” and non-“solutions” politicians and pundits pose as THE only options available. It’s laughable and disheartening.

Political candidates have agendas: some good, some bad, and others downright ugly. The real feat is ferreting out that agenda when a voting record clearly shows one thing, while a voice speaking states another. 

Many bank on the fact that it’s all so mired in contradiction that folks don’t have the time, patience, or intestinal fortitude to wade through it all. For this, newcomers have an edge with me as I don’t always have as much to consider. But often, they too take their place in having to bend to the will of someone or something big enough.

Yes, I know I reneged on my vow at the beginning of this to exude sweetness. Gotcha.

Today is International Waffle Day. I kid you not. (Originated in Sweden and coincides with the start of spring and the Feast of the Annunciation which celebrates the Archangel Gabriel telling Mary she was pregnant. Yes, breakfast waffles are the celebratory food of choice.)

In the sprit being a smart aleck I usurped and twisted its innocent meaning in honor of all the wafflers.  I wanted to promise one thing and deliver another all while speaking words that ultimately say nothing.

Go ahead politickers, butter me up. Pour sappy sweetness all over me before you eat me alive. But don’t for one second think I don’t know what you’re up to . . . I see the Eggo on your faces!

© 2012 Natalie Whatley