Blog Fart Friday

Friday is the not working day, which means I have way more to do than hours in the day. And so, gentle readers, I am blogging and working on my Facebook Farm. How sad is that?

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I have three tomatoes that will be ready by the end of today. I have a few from the garden at my country accounting office. I'm thinking I need to get some fresh mozzarella, pick the basil and make a salad.

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My aunts Ann & Patty came by to visit at my Dad's house yesterday. It was a fun visit, and made me realize that I need to get out more. My niece the fair Roslyn & my son the merciful Mark gave us the U.S. citizenship test. Roslyn's father is applying for citizenship. I am proud to say that between the five of us, we got all of the questions right. Ann even know the number of members of the House of Representatives (435) although we accepted Paul's answer (too many) as correct as well.

Dad & Patty were on one team and Ann & I were on the other. Mark counted ties more often than not (thus the "merciful" title.) Dad & Patty had a disadvantage because Patty had to repeat the question to Dad. Since Dad's doctor (Dr. Quack) told him he doesn't have a hearing problem, we decided that all Duffys mumble and that is why none of us can hear each other.

The writers of the test used the clever trick of rewording the questions to trick you, sort of like on the Myers-Briggs assessment, but completely different. For instance, one question was "what document is the supreme law of the United States?" while another was "what is the Constitution?" And then, "How many branches of government are there?" followed by "Name the three branches of government."

We are a little concerned because we found out that the immigration officer can pick questions randomly to ask Paul. This reminds me of the old literacy requirement for voting. An illiterate white farmer would be asked to read & explain something simple while a black farmer would be asked to explain complicated arcane language that even James Madison didn't really understand. I just hope the officer doesn't decide she doesn't like Paul. Which is a possibility because, God love him, he's the orneriest Irishman that ever walked the face of this earth. Fortunately, he knows U. S. history and civics extremely well, so he probably could explain the arcane and complicated parts of the Constitution. It might take awhile...

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In other news, what's with the rich white people in Philadelphia? When I was six, I was not invited to swim at a neighbors house because her mother was afraid I'd bring my friend the maid's daughter, and (as she actual TOLD my mother) she couldn't bear to look out and see her children in the pool with little colored children. Of course, this was 1966, and even then we knew she was white trash. (Sorry Mom, I know I shouldn't call names.)

Things have improved and it would be disrespectful to those who sacrificed to make the changes to say otherwise, but don't sit down yet. We've got a long way to go. It's time for people of different colors and cultures to sit down and tell each other the truth as we know it. Then laugh it off, work it out, and pass the sweet ice tea (make mine Budweiser.)

Yeah, yeah, I know that's simplistic. It's blog-fart Friday. I'll work on a more reasoned post for the Matriarch's Corner. Maybe.

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OK, my to-do list is calling me. Off I go... don't try to stop me... I'm going now...