Sometimes I worry a little about where our country is headed. I find the political divisiveness to be disconcerting, the pop culture to be bewildering, and my own black-and white-certainties to be increasing in grayness at roughly the same rate as my hair.
I'm not young enough to know everything.
That's when I like to get out some old magazines and reassure myself
that people were a bit unbalanced back in the good ol' days, as well.
I have concerns about this baby, for instance.
Not to mention this mother.
And if Russ or I looked like this getting dressed in the morning, I'd be a little suspicious.
If this was before they invented anti-depressants,
then what were they doing with their laundry products?
Because it was obviously working.
I'd certainly need to take SOMETHING if I had to wear the kind of contraption
it would require for me to look like this Barbie doll . . . er . . . housewife.
And what's in this zombie jello?
(What isn't in it might be a better question. It looks loaded and dangerous.)
I saw a kid at the convenience store
chug two 5 hour energy shots this morning,
and it worried me.
But after this 1953 housewife opened her bottle of "Joy"
("Joy in a Bottle" -- that was the questionable caption)
She looked like she'd perhaps found something stronger than dish soap.
I feel much better now.
I'm not going to worry so much about us . . . for a few days.