Tuesday, November 14, 2006

The Woe of an Eight-Year Old

Poor, Poor, Pitiful Me -- Linda Ronstadt

Remember how I said I didn't like Country music? Please note this exception. I like a handful of Linda Ronstadt songs.

Haley is eight---going on eighty. She is weary from a year or so of having to take on chores in the home, help her sisters with the odd task here and there, occassionally feed the dog(s). Really; there is just so much to wear down a young girl in a home with plenty of income and only two parents and one grandmother. And don't forget the long walk, five houses down the street, to the bus stop--BOTH WAYS every weekday. It makes you wonder at the hubris of Frank McCourt going on and on about his impoverished Irish beginnings...

Anyway, what I wanted to say was that tonight after her private knitting lesson at the chi-chi knitting salon as we were driving home in the brand new luxury sedan, this song came on the satellite radio. Well, you couldn't help but make the connection. It was poignant, I tell you. We came home and scraped the 15 cents it cost to buy the mp3 from my favorite rogue site so I could put it on her iPod nano---see---if this were a proper home she'd have way more than 1 gB for music storage. It just chokes me up. Its a good thing she's learned to cope with stomping, eye-rolling and door slamming. That makes it better for all of us. I can hardly wait till she's 13. I hear that's a real blast between Moms and their daughters.

Well, so much for channeling my mother and Donna. I can't help it really; you are who you are; I was raised by wolves, I must be a wolf myself.

I don't smoke; I don't have to leave my desk to have a cup of coffee. That means I have to find something to do for respite from the tasks at hand as I work. GoogleBreaks. Today I decided I would try to understand fully the veracity and purpose of the oft-whispered about.... Mormon Underwear.

I came to this curiosity after my Mom (who else?) said something about having some LDS patient at work (she is a nurse) who didn't remove his "garments". What I was told was that upon attaining a certain level of --what?-- in the church, all Mormons have this special underwear that they wear ALL THE TIME. Being the epidemiologist I am, I needed the specifications for ALL THE TIME. What about bathing? What about (gasp) sex?

You've got to love a GoogleBreak. I learned in 30 seconds more than I wanted to know. Its not that exciting. Kinda' weird, but hey---we're talking about a faith based upon virgins having babies and resurrections---I guess ritualized underwear isn't such a huge deal... In case you, too, share the curiosity about Mormon Underwear, allow me to point you in the direction . Unfortunately, there was no explicit answer to my question. Looking at the picture I'm guessing they have to take off "the garments" for cleaning and marital fun. It was more fun speculating than it is knowing.

Now I feel bad for being so childishly curious about religious people's underwear.


Donna said...

Poor little Haley she may want to move to Muncie and live with that wolf pack where she can be treated like the little diva she is. Four brothers, all trouble all the time, that show no mercy to sisters. How fun would life be with out the dramatics of a put upon child whose whole world revolves are them. Funny stuff, I loved it.

I'll have to check out the underwear. I've never heard of such a thing. LYFE

Anonymous said...

HEEHEEHEEHEE................they look comfy/cosy! Happy Birthday, Haley.
love, Cousin Carol