Monday, August 29, 2005

Dooce Is Hilarious And A Fine Writer

I read the funniest post on her site this weekend. I have to confess, ... weirdly ... I never read her before getting her on my radar at BlogHer. God knows why. She and I have a lot in common ... baby raising ... smart-ass tone ... not overly impressed with the Mormon religion.

Actually that may be a reason I didn't read her. I got the TOTALLY WRONG idea that she was very pro-Mormon and it's one organized religion I don't get at all. I actually know some lovely Mormons personally, but that polygamy bit has always left a bad taste in my mouth.

Maybe she and I should get together and start a new religion featuring polyandry and see how that takes off. She definately needs could use a few new husbands who don't mind if she loses her keys.

This is the piece I read and since I am a reformed house-key-loser of the highest order, and used to argue with my (now ex) husband about it non-stop, I sure understand this state-of-mind.

She's got to get with the program that you can only give your keys two places to live. My keys live on the chain latch on my door -- like when I come in I put the chain through their ring and then latch the door. I can't leave without them and they are NOT ALLOWED ANYWHERE ELSE in my house (easy for me to say now that I don't have an infant or toddler.) Or they are in my purse in one particular pocket ... no where else.

The reality is, with a little kid (under 5 or so), you are always juggling 800 things and a screaming kid when you come into the house so if you can take the never available 10 seconds it takes to put your keys on a hook or latch, good luck, it's usually next to impossible to have the presence of mind to do that. No one with a kid under 5 should be blamed for losing keys. It's simply par for the course.

I took a stand-up comedy class in Hollywood when we lived in LA and performed a routine in a club on Sunset Strip. The whole routine was about losing my keys and then escalated into a riff on how my husband was always giving me hell about it and that he should appreciate me only losing my keys -- what if I had lost my kid -- and various solutions were offered like velcroing my son to the wall next to the hook my husband had put there for my keys to keep from losing him. Also, I assured my husband if I lost my kid, we could look in the milk carton which seemed to feature many lost children for some reason, and thanks to swimming lessons, I was sure he could tread water or milk and wouldn't mind splashing around in the milk until his clueless parents found him there.