Tuesday Juxtaposition

On Tuesdays I pick up the boys at their school. We drive to a nearby town to select our weekly allotment of locally, sustainably, organically vegetables. Then, after other errands, we pick up cheap Happy Meals from McDonalds.

I remember my Senior AP English class, with the teacher who taught us the meaning of juxtaposition: the fact of two things being seen or placed close together with contrasting effect. She also told me I’d soon have an ulcer, like her, because of my desire to achieve.

Tuesday guilt and bliss, combined. Guilt: dinner provided by a corporation, one that’s not keeping our best interests in mind. Veggies; obtained, by burning fossil fuels. Today the boys and I spent our drive discussing the idea of a franchise: if one element of the franchise goes down, do they all? If the Fred Meyer in Newberg was gone, that wouldn’t be right: because we couldn’t buy all the things we need?! Isn’t that an inalienable right?!

Bliss: dinner purchased, not created. No messy dishes, happy consuming noises, no complaints, no cleanup.

I don’t want to believe a life of ulcers is my destiny; but how does the juxtaposition resolve itself? I wish I could take time to discern it, but I have to pack for my daughter’s second school birthday celebration, having skimmed the school guidelines book and provided one birthday celebration ahead of time. Slacker, juxtapositioning mom. 🙂

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