Let us begin this with a little grammar lesson, just in case. Note the difference between these two sentences:

“Liore went to the Lower City market for some plums, eggs and a hula girl doll.”
“Liore went to the Lower City market for some plums, eggs, and a hula girl doll.”

The latter sentence contains an example of a serial comma, which is used before ‘and’ or ‘or’ or ‘nor’ in a list. There are two schools of thought on the serial comma. Some people feel it is grammatically correct. Some people feel it is unnecessary and confusing. These last people are dumb and wrong and full of rocks. (To use a quotation from Eats, Shoots & Leaves, “There are people who embrace the serial comma, and people who don’t, and I’ll just say this, never get between these people when drink has been taken.”)

I spent the last three work days editing a 200+ page document on how to become a professional sales person (be perky! badger your friends!). I have seen many grammar atrocities. Semicolons scattered randomly around paragraphs like flower seeds, I assume with the hope that intelligent phrasing will sprout up in Spring. Capitalization schizophrenia. The fundamental eternal battle between “its” and “it’s”. Poor sentence victims with their subjects and objects hopelessly cut to pieces and then fragments sucked into black holes. I have seen them all, I have stared them down, and I have marked them with my very sharp pencil. But nothing, my friend, nothing yanks my chain like a lack of serial commas.

Why? Why must otherwise intelligent people persist in their flagrantly missing commas? I don’t understand, and I am highly suspicious of people who disagree. Although I should admit that I also don’t trust people who don’t drink coffee in the morning. I’ll make an exception for people who instead drink caffeinated soda and who are related to me (hi, Dad), but otherwise it’s fairly inexcusable. Why don’t you need coffee? Are you weird? Are you.. sensitive? The whole damned western world runs on getting a cup of coffee every morning — stop being a unique snowflake and just DRINK THE DAMN CO– um. Sorry. Anyway. Where was I?

Oh right. Serial commas. Frankly I know I’m a little neurotically detail-oriented, but use the damn things now so I don’t have to go back and compulsively edit them in later. Thank you, and good day.

The girl who works in the cubicle next to mine is wearing formal shorts. Formal shorts, y’all.

I think I’ve said enough.

So after the last debacle of a US election, not to mention the most recent Canadian one, along with afore-mentioned events in my personal life, I kind of lost my zest for politics. I figured if a majority wanted to act like mean, irrational, id-driven lizard people that was fine, but I didn’t have to waste my time thinking about it too much.

With elections in both countries rapidly approaching, though, I’ve started to care again despite my best efforts of apathy. I still read the news peeping between my fingers, much like I watch a really scary movie, but I’m reading it. I’ll leave the pontificating about how fast our handbasket is moving towards its final destination for another day, but for tonight I’ll just close out with two amusing links: McCains for Obama and PalinBingo! Combine the latter with the alcohol of your choice for the best damn time you’ve ever had watching a VP debate.

(PS: Again, I’m just catching up now on all my polls and details, but I got a sense today that the GOP campaign was in trouble when I overheard the Marketing Blondes down the hall decide that Palin “is, like, a nice person and stuff but maybe not ready to totally run a country, you know?”, while McCain was decried as “Eww, old. Like, my grandfather old”.)

I was talking with a friend today about politics, and political blogs, and it made me miss Mom terribly. The first year I thought about her every day, usually in the morning while walking to the Skytrain. Just little things like, “It’s sunny, I bet Mom would have sat outside in the garden today”. Now in the second year it shames me to admit that it’s no longer a daily thing, although I suppose that’s natural. I work in a place she never saw, doing a job she never knew about, living in a place she’ll never see. It helps with moving on, but it’s horrible at the same time. It’s just more sporadic now. I’ll come across a photo I didn’t expect, or sometimes I’ll laugh or say something and it sounds exactly like her.

Or sometimes, like now, I’m reminded of her reading Atrios or Salon or Talking Points Memo (I don’t know if those are still around, but that’s what she read back then), calling me, and shouting about the latest outrage and nonsense. I’d shout back in agreement — I am nothing if not my Mother’s daughter — and then we’d both end up laughing because sometimes if you don’t laugh about stuff you have to cry.

I’m sort of laughing now, but not really. Some things just will never be the same without her. I love you, Mom.