ranting and its songs

Rant – verb.   To speak loudly or shout at length in a wild, impassioned way.

I’m about to rant.     But it’s not your momma’s ordinary rant.

Song – noun.   A short poem or words set to music.

There are songs floating like a butterfly in my head.


As much as I promised myself that I would not allow the opinion of others to affect my own worldly view, this past week my promise was broken.   I’m not exactly sure how the conversation even began.  But one thing I do know is there were several topics floating around the pool deck while those who were doing exactly what I should have been doing – that’s right – floating inside the pool ignoring the words that have become like toxin.

Instead of floating around the pool on Apple’s pink striped noodle [I so appreciate her reminding me to take the noodle as she heads to school and I head to the pool] I sat desperately trying to focus on my summer read – Just Beyond the Clouds – when a mom decided to openly discuss the gorilla incident and after fifteen minutes of listening it turned to Donald Trump which then turned to free health care which then turned to ordering lunch from Delhi 6.  My head was spinning. And I’m not sure if it was due to the direct sunlight without my sunglasses [forgot them, but got the noodle] or the conversations taking place while truly, honestly, sincerely spoken here – we were to be organizing end of year events.   I was volunteered by an acquaintance, whom will remain nameless.

I’m sure most of you – no make that all of you have been listening to the news, reading your news feed, finding it posted on Facebook or like me….sitting poolside having several different topics spewed out in one direction within 22 minutes.   Exactly 22 minutes.

So my rant if you will, became more like a recording studio in my brain that just couldn’t turn off the topics being discussed.  Or argued whined about.

*Harambe. The massive silverback gorilla who was shot by a zookeeper after a child fell-climbed-slithered down-slipped-somehow this young child ended up in the gorilla outdoor exhibit at the Cincinnati Zoo.    I was not there.   I’m not exactly sure CNN found the most reliable sources for interviewing.   I was not there.  I’m not going to blame anyone because I am not a zoo official, I’m not a key witness to the incident.  I am not the parent of this young boy.   I’m thankful I wasn’t placed in the situation as the zoo officials were when making the life or death decision to save this childs life.   We were not there.               I was not there.   I wouldn’t want to be in this child’s mothers shoes.   Because all over the world we’ve placed the child second.

The song “Take a Walk in Someone Else’s Shoes” by swingsetmomma’s came to my mind.  Okay, okay…so maybe it’s not the best song to describe this horrible situation – but the verse “just imagine walking in someone else’s shoes” pretty much summed it up.

I’m just thankful the little boy is fine.  And this is coming from someone who followed PETA for many years.  I’ve matured some since those days….some.

*Donald Trump.   OhMyGosh!   I’m SO over hearing about his nastiness, his wealth and his private jet.  His wives and his children.   I don’t like him.  I don’t like his long ties either.  They are ugly.    But as the moms were discussing the latest on Hilary and the Trumpster, the song “Born in the USA” came to my mind.  I had a silent giggle.   I’ve seen Bruce too many times back in the day – and I’ve seen him in Atlantic City directly where the Trumpster built his empire in NJ.    Sorry Bruce, you’re getting a little old and rusty, as is the Trumpster.   America is great.   I’m happy.   Sorry you’re not.

*footnote:  Bono isn’t walking around shouting at either party.  Take note entertainers who are all talk and rusty.

*Muhammad Ali.   I grew up hearing his name in our home.    My father enjoyed boxing, only because my uncle was a boxer.  Mr. Ali didn’t really mean anything to me….I just knew about him.  He was a great athlete.  He worked on making changes.   He had a soft adoring voice.   And there was a song about him with lyrics “float like a butterfly, sting like a bee“.   That’s exactly what floated through my head as conversations swirled like the crystal blue water in the pool.    Another private giggle.

I did not order from Delhi 6.  I decided at that moment…it was a perfect time for me to slither off of the noodle like a slippery eel, and return to my pink polka-dot beach towel to finally pick up my good summer read and do just that.   That was my “momma daisy time to myself day” and I wasn’t going to waste my time planning a meeting to have another meeting

I read and in my mind I heard Ruth B singing “Lost Boy“.   “usually hanging out with Peter Pan, and when we’re bored we play in the woods, always on the run from Captain Hook….”

America is great!










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