peevish mama

In college my housemates called me General Hasty because, well, I was prone to hasty generalizations.  Apparently I still am.  I realize that a couple blogs ago, I managed to potentially offend Edina moms and lesbians in one fell swoop.  Not an easy feat, but I managed to stay on topic and hit both demographics with a big fat hasty generalization.  

First of all, I apologize for implying that all Edina moms dress their daughters exclusively in Lilly Pulitzer and beribboned pigtails.  Surely not true.  I have met plenty of nice, mellow, edgy, crunchy moms on that side of France Avenue.  Well, a few anyway.  Scratch crunchy though – not a one of those.  It’s just that, blow for blow, you will find a hell of a lot more smocking, pink and green, and proper sandals on the mini chicks over there than you do over here.  No judgment.  I’m just saying . . .   Second of all, I apologize for insinuating that lesbians don’t like to shop.  Anyone who watches The L Word knows that all lesbians consistently knock it out of the park when they dress, as well as accessorize like nobody’s business.  Never have I coveted so many kick-ass necklaces.  I sort of aspire to dress like a chic lesbian myself.  In fact, when I became entrenched in watching The L Word, it dawned on me that I might have gotten a lot more play on the Isle of Lesbos, what, with my boyish figure, my quasi-mullet, my boot fetish and all.  Alas, not in the cards for me.

So lest the Edina mothers and the lesbians unite and form an angry mob and come after me – excuse me a moment while I savor that image – I preemptively offer my mea culpas, olive branches and all the rest.  

What I write, I write with love, because truth is, I gotta a little of both of you in me . . .