Wednesday, January 19, 2011

La vache qui rit... the bear who weeps...

I gave up cheese for New Years, so of course my mind immediately went to cheese when I formulated this phrase in my head: "the bear who weeps". I don't recall how to say "weep" in French or I surely would've treated you to a story of Le Ours qui did something Francais.

No no. THIS bear weeps. I do. I'm leaky, like all through the eyes. I cry when my congregation's cantor sings Oseh Shalom in her amazing voice. I tear up when I watch a sappy Hallmark commercial. I wept a little driving home last night, because I was just SO BUMMED OUT. And I wept just now, reading this blog from Mom on a Wire:

I worry, occassionally, that I'm TOO sensitive. Lord knows, I'd like to turn it off from time to time. Usually once a month, actually. (checks calendar...) And then I think, "No... someone needs to feel all this." Someone needs to feel the depth of the despair, so that she can pull those despairing up.


Or at least describe the despiration to the local media, so someone can, like, send a truck. With a rope.

1 comment:

  1. I'm a weeper. Can't help myself. Also, I try to avoid the news in general because it makes me sad. Yes, I'm practicing head in the sand as coping skill.