My upstairs TV futilely tried to tell me, on a morning news talk show, "I can make you hot."

"No, you can't," I retorted, feeling instantly dumb because one should only verbally respond to the umpires when disagreeing with a call on MLB TV.  Other TV characters can't hear you.  Umps can, if you holler loud enough, though they rarely reverse their calls.  I guess they're just stubborn like that.

I never heard the hotness spiel, instead I immediately turned my TV off in disgust because even if she could make me hot, I was too disturbed as the mother of daughters to allow her to continue teaching such nonsense.

That's what we want for our daughters?

I'd prefer a book telling them, "I Can Get You Through High School," which is my minimal expectation that's occasionally been tossed back in my face, more so by sons than by daughters, but still I know it's paralytic upon their future earning potential.

Don't we have enough skanky pants?  Can't we see some strong females succeeding instead of being portrayed as a B word because they're ambitious and motivated?

I become more and more reclusive, more outright disgusted with The Real World, preferring to weed, to ruminate, to mind to my own business out here where it's pretty and it smells good with the honeysuckle rampantly blooming everywhere.

My only pair of work shoes started disintegrating on me.  Dang, I love these shoes. Bet I can hot glue the sole back on tight.

Lily and I ambled through the gardens last night after supper eating strawberries and wondering how that big ole turtle had gotten into the chicken moat.  I'd made a very large three cheese mushroom lasagna from scratch, something that takes a long time, only to hear the Oppositional Ones complain, but I've slowly learned that they always complain so I mentally discount it.

One of 'em had a soccer game later.  I debated complaining - hoping that'd show him how it feels, but I knew that'd be as childish as it 'd be pointless.  It was a good game, the U19 games are action packed, Boss from church came down to watch and support my sons which I appreciate here as they flounder between youth pastors.

I kinda doubt if my older sons will allow themselves to even listen to, much less attach to, a third youth pastor in hardly as many years.  I'm not looking forward to having to remind them again that everyone's human and deserves basic respect.

So back to that lady.  No, you can't make me hot.  It's a physical impossibility at a certain age, size, or mindset. And I don't like you using that term to young ladies anywhere.  We need smart women, we need capable women, ambitious and satisfied with their work, be it housework or corporate work, we need the freedom to choose our paths that aren't based on looks, hotness or fashion.  Have women not gotten anywhere?

No wonder parents everywhere are having a tough go of trying to instill, "It's what's inside that counts."

The gorgeous sunset reminded me that it's only the eternal things that count anyway.