You never know when your own fossilization is going to fall on you like a piano from above. 

For me, that moment came when a friend’s nine-year-old flipped open her brand-new cell phone to show me all the features. It was way better than her “old one” she informed me, which was “lame and did nothing.” For the record, she had her “old one” for approximately one year. 

Now, I’m a tad older than nine and my old cel phone weighed about four hundred pounds and the only time it “flipped” was if I dropped it. My “new” cell phone is a few years old, is not pink, and has no abilities beyond making and taking telephone calls. I guess that counts as “lame” don’t you? Fabulous. My accessories are being outpaced by a nine-year-old’s. 

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Well, it’s been almost a year since I wrote my first critical post on Jon and Kate Gosselin. Of course I had no idea what I was getting into. Never could I have imagined that a reality TV show would be met with such ardent opinions, with Kate Gosselin turning out to be quite a polarizing figure. The very mention of Kate Gosselin to those who have caught the show conjures up resentment on one side and admiration, and even sympathy (dare I say “pity”), on the other.

I have mentally divided the “pro” Kate crowd and the “anti” Kate crowd and even though I don’t watch the show on a regular basis (I lost a lot of interest after the first few seasons), I do happen to catch it once in a while. I was never a super-fan, but found some redeeming values in Jon and Kate and can now admit after catching a few reruns that I really can’t stand Kate Gosselin. There, I said it. Now, lest I be associated with the obsessive-stalking-loathing-Kate camp, I wouldn’t waste anymore bandwidth on the subject matter than this post is taking up. Subscribing to the KIA philosophy (Kate is an a-hole), is priority number 16,232, after plucking a stray eyelash out of my eyelid. And even though I have come to terms with the disgust for this woman, I’m not as prepared to run with the KIA crowd. In no way do I want it to be part of my identity. First of all, I have many internet friends who happen to like her, and I have been known to reach across party lines to embrace those with differing opinions [Ed. note: You're such a maverick]. Second of all, I kinda like having my very own villain. Even if it doesn’t make a lot of sense, I kept on watching the reruns while cursing at the television. In fact, the more angry I got, the more I stayed glued.

So, either Kate Gosselin is an a-hole and doesn’t care, or she’s an a-hole who knows how to keep viewers entranced or enraged. After all, Howard Stern gained his popularity by listeners that hated him more so than from listeners that loved him. Something tells me that she isn’t that smart though.

Or is she?

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I am not a pioneer. I have been heard to say (often and loudly) that it would pay Mr. Wonderful to remember that he did not marry Ma Walton or any one of those insufferably plucky Ingalls girls. I was raised a city kid. I turned a spigot and water came out. I flipped a switch and lights came on. I turned a thermostat to 80 and my mother had a coronary. This is how I roll.  

Then we moved to the country. Overnight I went from a wholly reliant on public utilities type of person to someone with the equivalent of her own water treatment plant in the basement. This is to treat our well water which is hard as iron and will cut you if left untamed. We run it through our own little answer to a municipal treatment plant just to beat it into potable submission. We also heat with wood in order to stay abreast of heating bills running slightly less than the national debt. While a money saver, the wood stove and all the resultant stacking and chopping (and swearing) does have a distinct air of the pioneer about it.  

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So, I’m in the market for some black pumps. But like a lot of working moms out there, finding time to sneak off on my own for an extensive bout of shoe shopping can be somewhat… challenging. I made the mistake of trying to take a peek at a few shoes today while shopping for gym shoes for my oldest son — which I’m sure anyone who has taken two kids under 10 along shopping already knows that was a completely pointless exercise.

Well, I’m an online shopping kind of gal, anyway, so I decided to go that route instead. I’ve bought from Zappos before, pretty painless. They have “free” shipping — free for anyone who is dumb enough to never have comparison shopped and noticed that the shipping is built into the price. But more importantly, they have free shipping back to them if it doesn’t work out.

So, I’m browsing through the pumps, trying to figure out which ones won’t hurt my toes, and I came across the most beautiful, practical, and mom friendly shoes I have ever found in my life, especially for a “working girl” like me. In fact, they impressed me so much, next time a family member or friend is about to birth their next baby, I know exactly what to get them for their trip home from the hospital…

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So, the saga of our severely fucked-up neighbor family continues. A couple of days ago, they knock on our door, grubby two-year-old in tow. The kids say he was scratched by our cat, and they’re taking him to the doctor for it.

Yeah. It gets better.

After they get home from their pediatrician’s office, they come over asking for our cat’s vaccination records. To see if the kid needs rabies shots, you understand.

For a cat scratch.

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