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If you caught yesterday’s show, you heard me whine about how my mixer was dead, blah blah blah. My husband unhooked all the wires and shook it and that seemed to bring it back to life. So all is well, I hope!
Today we got a return check for a service we canceled, and oddly enough, it was made out to me, only not my last name, so I am probably going to have to call and get that company to issue a new check. The problem is, they used my first name and my husband Dwight’s last name. I have been married 27 years and didn’t change my name when it happened.
I think women should not change their names because it causes their identity from birth to disappear. It reminds me of slavery days, when the massa would give his slaves his own last name to show ownership. My father-in-law is big on geneology, and even he will admit that oftentimes, the woman’s line totally disappears because she is swallowed up into her husband’s family line.
Actually, I am discouraged about marriage anyway for heterosexuals–it isn’t fair if gays cannot marry. The state has no business meddling in religious institutions.
Suddenly, I am getting a strange radio signal bleedthrough in my mixer or maybe my headphones. So I play nice reggae music: “Move to the Sound” by The Undercover Hippy, which can be found on MusicAlley.
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