Theological Musings and a Gentle Warning

Since last week, my week improved. I swallowed a couple of bitter pills made up of pride and indignant self righteousness, cleared the air, had a laugh or two or twenty, and just enjoyed being around people I really care for who helped me out of the whole disasterfest. Popcorn and cola-bottles while watching the train-wreck that is Breaking Dawn helped too... and stability is tentatively being restored :).

On the subject of cola-bottles, and other forbidden food, please allow me to digress to the topic of grocery shopping. My shopping cart is in general rather dismal. A rather alarming amount of yoghurt is the only sweet thing it carries within it, possibly because the 15 years of rigid Catholic education taught me that anything remotely pretty, tasty, colourful or sweet is essentially sinful (although the last 2 years at the Jesuits were meant to set off the previous 13 years at the nuns). Or else, it's just because I seem to have already found my life [round] form, and should thus not add on to my already spherical essence. Either way, my cart tends to be unhappy, and to covet the chocolates, crisps and wine gums that it passes through its journey round the supermarket as it is gently but firmly pushed by me.

So imagine, the feelings of my cart (if it were to have feelings, but then again, I'm pretty sure they would be similar to mine) upon seeing that just ahead of me at the paying line, a cart full of chocolates, crisps, beer, coke and "all that's nice!" was being pushed by this wispy, long-haired, female creature whose tall, thin legs reached up to her neck in degrees of perfection that made my blood simmer and boil with ill-concealed envy. Here comes the theological angle I feel I must give to my musings. If my own legs, which pretty much reach to my knees, were made by the same supernatural being (the one who loves playing chess with our lives) who made the legs of the chocolate binging size-4 model ... could someone please explain the reason behind such arbitrary choices of form and aesthetics??? Why give some people the shape of a long willowy forest flower, and others the shape of a halloween pumpkin?

My message to the world is that the more I think about it, the less impressed I am.

Supermarket parenthesis closed, I can now move on to other life experiences that really do not impress me - males behind wheels. And speaking of messages, I would like to send a message to those neanderthal men who honk their stupid sounding horn every time the lights of the traffic lights turn orange:

Dear Sir,

- whether you happen to be driving a delivery van with your tatooed, fleshy hand hanging out, or
- whether you happen to be wearing a suit and driving an enormous car bought upon reaching andropause and after realising that your secretary will NOT sleep with you

please note that if you happen to honk your bloody horn on the day when my menstrual cycle reaches the apocalyptic PMS epicentre, you will leave me no choice but to run out of my car, pounce at you through your window and pluck out your eyes with my bare hands to make sure you won't mix orange with green again.

You have been warned. And also, please note that Big Cars in general mean Small ...

Thank you and regards,


Gracie.