Nutcase Ladybug Helmets and Gratitudes

Nutcase Brand Bicycle Helmet

Please hold RantWoman in the Light.

RantWoman is observing #BlackFriday. RantWoman wishes she were more direstly preaching the gospel of Seattle's $15 / hour minimum wage. RantWoman instead will start with  something she is NOT buying, a Nutcase brand bicycle helmet!

The ladybug imagery is more than cute enough to dedicate this post to Little Sister. The ladybug is Little Sister's childhood avatar. RantWoman does concede,   Nutcase sounds to RantWoman like weird branding for a helmet and RantWoman concedes Little Sister may NOT be amused.

Dedication or no, RantWoman will NOT be making wild #cyberMonday purchase of said helmet, een if it is on sale. It will be ore than enough for RantWoman to handle flashbacks to the 1999 WTO ministerial in Seattle. This post is also in honor of the family psychodrama part of RantWoman's flashbacks. During WTO, while RantWoman and Ferrener Husband were coping with our flavor of family dramas, Little Sister was still needing to recover from emergency surgery. By recover, RantWoman means recount her tale about 900 million billion times in English and an equal number of times in Spanish. RantWoman just wants a giant medal for putting up with this. The closest she is likely to get is a Nutcase brand bicycle helmet which come to think of it  might not be any help to Little Sister because she does not ride bikes.


RantWoman has a number of gratitudes here:

--In recent years, Little Sister has cut WAY back on holiday trips from family gatherings to the ER. True, there is the occasional fall fixable so far by the men in her life and moments of circulatory and respiratory distress when she overindulges. Okay, so this year's round of RantSisters not interacting saves RantWoman having to deal either with the endless crises or with irritation about all the occasions when Little Sister has been  completely out to lunch about something in RantWoman's life...

--RantWoman has a mental health professional whose sense of humor is twisted enough to laugh at a RantWoman crack about a whole special addendum to the DSM for the diagnosis "Bat shit nuts" and a parallel addendum to ICD codes related to getting paid for treating... RantWoman knows perfectly well, her own head is really the only one she has any sayso over but RantWoman's inner data geek sometimes gets frustrated trying to fit realities into the boxes created by other data geeks, Even if RantWoman neer gets to create data based on these options, RantWoman finds them delicious to contemplate.

--RantWoman humbly acknowledges that if Irrepressible Nephew were RantWoman's kid he undoubtedly would chave a completely different set of complexes.