Another Indian would-be groom has bitten the dust.
Last time, the bride walked away because of an undeclared seizure disorder – this time, subpar arithmetic was to blame:
An Indian bride walked out of her wedding ceremony after the groom failed to solve a simple math problem, police said Friday.
The bride tested the groom on his math skills and when he got the sum wrong, she walked out.
The question she asked: How much is 15 plus six?
His reply: 17.
In the would-be-groom’s defense, “carry the one” can be tricky. Plus, it’s supposed to be a wedding, not a grade-school oral exam.
But at the same time, I admire the yeah-maybe-no-bride’s willingness to kick his mental tires. It’s not something that’s commonly done here in North America, or at least not in so dramatic a form.
1. I am not a fact-checker.
2. I am not a journalist.
3. I am not a writer with a column in Esquire.
BUT WE’RE GONNA DO THIS THING ANYWAY.
Earlier today, Cpl. Nathan Cirillo, a 24-year-old reservist, was killed – gunned down while standing guard at the National War Memorial, steps away from Parliament Hill.
Cue shock. Horror. Incredulity. Tears.
Followed by reflection. Commentary. Punditry. Partisanship.
The latter was worst on Twitter. It always is.
But the pièce de résistance – the cake-taker, if you will – was this piece by Esquire’s Stephen Marche: Canada, The Idea, Is In Pieces
Let’s read it together, shall we?
Check out my op-ed in the Ottawa Citizen, Taking on the transit trolls.
Yesterday, my son decided that he wanted to write a letter to his bear, Walter … so he did. As I described it on Facebook:
“The letter included Walter’s name, my kid’s name, a drawing of each, a drawing of a house and a drawing of a cave. Oh, and a drawing of some hydro wires. Then he made a bracelet for Walter, and included a set of keys (not ones we actually use). Then we weighed it (52 g), so we had to put five stamps (stickers) on it. Very productive afternoon.”
Inside the letter, he traced the letters I’d written. On the envelope, he printed them all by himself. I posted pictures of both, and his grandma (my mom) made a sweet and benign comment about how he is a “budding writer.”
Two things came together in the past week that have had me thinking about what I wear, and what it says, and if I care.
First, there was the news out of — where else — Florida, that a school board was considering a dress code for parents. As of last night that idea was (s)quashed like a palmetto bug, and rightly so.
Aaaaand … we’re back.
Took a brief hiatus to focus more on paid writing but you all were never far from mind. No fair blaming me for that — if you all paid me, these last three sentences would have added about $50 to my bank account. Insert unironic smilie here.
We’re back, with this: the host of a local current affairs program took to the show’s blog to say some mind-bogglingly obtuse comments about why it’s hard to book women for his show.
What can I say that hasn’t been said a thousand times before? By people with a more vested interest (that is to say, gay-actual, not just gay-allied)? By people who can actually (not) eat the dang chicken (no outlets here in Canada)?
I never thought I’d see the day that I’d be quoting an article by David Plotz, being the staunch Dickersonian that I am, but damned if I don’t want to just share the whole damn thing: Yes, I Ignore My Kids To Text and Email.
His piece, in response to a blog that showcases photos of parents neglecting their children in favour of electronic interaction, took on the “better parents” that would have us believe that such diverted attention is the equivalent of abandonment.
Remember that time I came to your house for dinner, and when we were done, I stood up, put my toddler on my chair and whipped out my boob for his digestif?
No, me neither.
So. There’s a movement afoot to put the kaibosh on Mother’s Day.
I saw this crop up a few times, notably in my online mama groups, but I dismissed it as another “I’m wearing a PINK bra!” meme-in-the-ass.
Jaimie brought it to my attention again when she posted about it over at Bad Mommy, No Cookie, and asked if any of us were planning on uncelebrating Mother’s Day. Here’s what I said there: