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Witless Wednesday in Spades

31 Jul

So, yesterday was Wil Wheaton’s birthday and he wanted to celebrate his birthday by declaring it ‘Don’t be a Dick’ Day. Apparently there were a few of you out there who didn’t get the memo.

Just sayin’.

“The whole of life is just like watching a film. Only it’s as though you always get in ten minutes after the big picture has started, and no-one will tell you the plot, so you have to work it out all yourself from the clues.”Terry Pratchett, Moving Pictures

Yes, I was late for the start and no I don’t have a plot clue in Hades. I’ve been trying to work it all out, but there’s a bit of confusion here at the end of the second act. It appears that husband number three and son number one have devised a plan to interfere with the machinations of wife number three and daughter number one. And everyone knows girls are right! Always.  Oh, and don’t forget the in-laws, out-laws, girlfriends, and co-workers.

And then there are all those crazy people who have no doubts. Wow. I’m impressed. I’ve had a doubt since before birth. It took 4 millennia for me to choose parents and even then I didn’t choose,  I just opted for the lottery. Got lucky there.

Anyway with the plans of those 4 and the crazy people with no doubt and the governor that’s so REpugnant, and the congress that’s still full of stupid,  old, white men, and all that hate and greed out there, this movie sucks.

I’m really hoping the third act is a miracle of dénouement.

Ah, in a perfect world…

Tangled Tuesday, Quirks, Quotes, and The Beginning of a Story

9 Jul

The price of anything is the amount of life you exchange for it.
Henry David Thoreau

The horror of it all, is that we exchange much of our lives for stuff. Just stuff. I’m guilty of shopping for instant gratification instead of searching out the beauty and peace there is to be found in my own back yard. Such a waste.

I’ve exchanged a bit of life the last couple of days on a story that is yet unfinished. But is really is becoming too lengthy to share in one post. I’m going to break it up. And I’m going to hope that someone will come back for the subsequent posts and see it through to the end.

I think I will begin each installment with the picture.

Desert Rose

Desert Rose

Desert Rose

She was named for the desert rose, the bloom so beautifully layered and constant in the most adverse of conditions. Her mother had seen one once in a hotel atrium and searched for its origins, fascinated.

She lived in adverse conditions much the same as her namesake. Poverty, the absence of family, the threat of simply living in a one room walk-up in the filthy neighborhood they called home shadowed their lives. She was sure Mama did her best. Their room was spotlessly clean.  She noticed her clothes were cleaner than the other kids around. Mama made her take a bath every night so she didn’t smell like the others.  She noticed.

The only place she felt safe in her pre[- school was in the office. No one coming or going would harm her, bully her.  Miz Jolly wouldn’t allow it. Miz Jolly liked to wink at her and give her small pieces of chocolate. Miz Jolly had a little girl too. She was in third grade and went to another school, somewhere uptown Miz Jolly said.

After school and when Mama worked she stayed with Janie. Janie was fat and smoked cigarettes and had lots of boyfriends. She didn’t like Janie. Janie was rude to her and never listened when there was a fight. She let the other kids bully and tease, not like Miz Jolly at all. But she learned ways of coping with good humor and steely resolve.

The other place she felt safe was the library. Mama had been bringing her here since before she could remember.  She loved the way it was so quiet in the corner Mama always chose. She loved the smell of the books, the feel of the covers. She specially liked Mr. Morris who always teased her when they checked out about being a little bookworm and then he would point to the picture of a green worm with glasses on the wall.

She giggled every time she spotted those glasses on that worm.

to be continued…

Tickled Pink Thursday

16 May

I’m not sure why pink is the color of choice for tickled. Perhaps it has something to do with the blush of happiness. Perhaps not.

At any rate, ‘tickled pink’ is one of my favorite expressions. It’s just so….cute. Who could resist using such a phrase to describe the feeling of joy one has when one is favored with a gift or an expression of love or a great joke or whatever.

It can also express a bit of sarcasm. Wheeeeeeeeee.

Earlier I was involved in a discussion of sarcasm. Apparently it’s something one can love. Yeah? Okay, right!

We grow smart asses in my family, so sarcasm is a way of life. Most of the time we’re joking. Occasionally, not so much.

We also grow lard asses. Please don’t bother to check mine out. It’s there for all to see anyway.

Zach has an interview this afternoon with a downtown bike touring business. That’s exciting considering it’s his only mode of transport at the moment and even then he will have to borrow mine. I just know he will shine.  He made my day with a B in his HOTEL class. That’s History of the English Language. Every time he mentioned the acronym, my brain kicked back to the eighties when I worked in a large hotel. Bartending, waiting, managing…I tried it all. Bartending was my favorite. Kept me seriuosly entertained. I loved the verbal bantering, the customer flirtation, the interaction with people from all over the world. And I was good at it.

Had nothing whatsoever to do with a life plan. It was a job. But we all know I haven’t decided what to be when I grow up.

I’m missing home. Especially on rainy days, like today. With the new career path, I’m not seeing hubby Monday through Wednesday. Some would say that is one way of not getting tired of him. Hmmmmm.

I miss Peanut.

And I really want to heat up the pool. I mean really, temperatures  this cool and it’s almost June are just unheard of in my neck of the woods. We really need to address thie global warming issue. Weather like this is scary! We haven’t come close to 90 yet!

Some moons ago, my daughter shared this with me and so I will share this quote for the week:

“It is often easier to ask forgiveness than to ask for permission.” – Grace Hopper.

Oh how right that is! I’ve kept it in mind on many a shopping expedition.  Try it. Really, it is so true. I haven’t tested it on a new car purchase, but I don’t see how it wouldn’t work. Or perhaps furnitured? A cleaning service? I certainly could use one of those. I’m still holding out for the vacuum that just sucks the whole house free of dirt, dust, and dog hair.  Anyone have one of those? Where can I get one? Please help!

This has been a pretty good week so far. I’ve made a bit of progress. I’m looking forward to the weekend, however. I desperately need a nap!


Wit and Wisdom(?) Wednesday

8 May

Wednesday should be a day for wit and wisdom. The alliteration works. Right?

So here I will quote a renowned wit and try to find some wisdom in his words. Willfully thinking wit and wisdom a universally appreciated topic whist whittling time, I’m beset by whims and wild wisecracks. Water would wet my whistle.

That was exhausting.

“The world was my oyster but I used the wrong fork.”
Oscar Wilde

And so I did. I believe it was the salad fork. I learned this a bit later in life after studying at the Advanced School of Utensils. That was a year-long endeavor to master the terminology and use of all common and uncommon flatware, silverware, cooking utensils, and a few of the more common household tools.

Yes, I do have letters after my name now. I am officially an MFSCU with an emphasis in BS.

Ahhhhhhh, you say?

Yes, Oscar did have a way with words. I suppose this is the intellectual equivalent of my ship coming in while I’m at the airport.  But, oh how I do understand the sentiment. I’m still trying to figure out what I’m going to be when I grow up!

And I despair that my son may follow in my path. He seems to have the same inability to focus on one thing long enough to make a real commitment to it. We fight so much. I’m told we’re too much alike. So be it.

I heard about a man who has worked temp jobs for 20 plus years. Perhaps he has a handle on that focus issue. What’s the difference in doing temp and changing jobs every few years? Boredom sets in…time to move on. Injustices occur…time to move on.  Stupidity happens…time to move on.

At least Oscar could focus on his writing.

I tried to explain to my daughter the good fortune she has in finding her niche in the world. She has focus. She has the ability to set goals and stay on track. I write mine down in the hopes that I can meet them and mark them off the list. The list just grows.

I offered her the explanation in hopes that she would understand her brother’s random nature for the burden it can be. I’m pretty sure she got it. She’s smart that way.

Hubby doesn’t get it. And he may never understand. His focus has never strayed from one goal: work until you can retire. He thinks I’m constantly defending Zach’s often erratic behavior. Perhaps I am. Perhaps I just understand better than most how much of a challenge it can be to constantly be distracted from the  latest and most pressing goal.
The son differs from me in that I would do just about anything for a time just to pay the bills and put gas in my car. Zach is more selective. That frustrates me.

There is such a banquet of life. Whether we’re looking at oysters or green beans, it’s there for the taking.  With so many utensils to choose, experience and education appear to be chief among the instrument choices we make.

That vast array, that feast. is overwhelming to many of us. There simply isn’t enough time to read all the books, listen to all the music, see all the plays and movies, take all the classes, play all the instruments, learn all there is to learn on that variety of topics that teases and taunts us to figure it out, to understand, be, do, it all.

I’m all tuckered out now. Time to read another book….or make another hat…or bracelet…or finish one of the multitude of projects just waiting for attention.

Have a great Thursday.

Manic Monday III or IV, I Forget

6 May

Manic Monday approached with a fearsome case of philosophic postulating. A co-worker applied the term ‘existential crisis’ to my mind set. Well…..maybe.

Personally I think it may be a case of senior moment gone wild. Having spent the weekend pondering the machinations of bi-polar disorder and ADHD, I may have been slightly influenced by my age and the relationships that stand out from the crowd through the years.

The question that arose this morning had to do with the sort of people I tend to attract. I have jokingly referred to this collection of souls as ‘dirty old men, drunks, homeless dogs, stray cats, and children’. In other words, they all seem to have an affliction of the mind and/or spirit.

I know you’re laughing. Here I am, far from sane and certainly the most dysfunctional in a long line of dysfunctional and yet the lost ones seem to zoom in on me like I have an implanted weirdo-homing device. I thought by this time in my life I would be surrounded by peace and prosperity and ‘normal’.

Hehehehehehe…maniacal laughter spews forth.

Seriously? What the hell is normal? Peace…only within you say? Within is still a jumble of confusion, although tempered by age and experience, still a jumble of confusion.

Yesterday I was waiting with Falon in a Moe’s line, ready to order nachos and doing a bit of people watching which I am wont to do in public places. So many families looking freshly churched wandered about. One family in particular caught my attention. I posed a question. Would I have ever been attracted to and formed a relationship with a man of religion?

She contends that neither of us would be involved in such a relationship. Having grown up in the center of Southern Baptist propaganda where the woman is always behind the man, the answer to that question is a no-brainer. What about finding oneself in a relationship with someone who gets hisself born again?

I fear the resolution to that one would require one of three things to occur: 1-We would never, ever speak of it. 2-We would go our separate ways. 3-I’d shoot him.

It would definitely be a hard row to hoe. (That’s one of them there Southern sayings, difficult task.)

I really don’t have issue with the church-going believers in the world. Whatever gets you through the night….but please don’t expect me to embrace your beliefs. Give me the same respect I do you, let me have my own.

So between the two questions posed over the past 24 hours, my philosophical positing has taken a turn around the block a few times. And I’ve come to the conclusion that there is no conclusion.

It IS what it IS.

And still I wonder why….

Sometimes I imagine that we are all just lost souls looking for that answer and the hell of it all is that there is no answer.

It simply IS.

Quirky Quotes and Tangled Tales

23 Apr

“It is a mistake to think you can solve any major problems just with potatoes.”

Douglas Adams

Well maybe not any major problems, but surely a plethora of minor ones. Although there was that famine…

Potatoes, though not a perfect combination of the three major food groups (fat, flour, and sugar) like donuts, are pretty damned awesome.

There are an abundance of serving suggestions available for potatoes:






Au Gratined

French Fried


Hash Browned

Twice Baked

With Peel

Without Peel




Potato Cakes


Potato Salad


All you really need is butter, salt, and pepper. But add some bacon or ham, onions, peppers, cheese, squash, cabbage…and the variations are endless.


Serve them warm and creamy to a recalcitrant male child and you might just solve a big problem.

A full belly of warm potato-y goodness has been known to render unto the eater/victim loose lips, resulting in the dissemination of information otherwise guarded. Now wouldn’t every mother benefit from that?

Yes, potatoes are a miracle. You can grow a vine in a jar of water. You can pluck its eye, throw that eye in the dirt, and soon potatoes will manifest.

Got a potato? Got dinner!

Got a potato? You can dress him up as a little man and amuse yourself.

Got a potato? You can make a stamp. You can’t use it unless you have ink, but still there’s real potential here.

This is tangled. It’s a tale of BS, uh potatoes.

Tangled Tale Tuesday?

Perhaps it will catch on.

Religion, The High Ground, and Fantasy

3 Apr

I’m revisiting an issue today. This stays on my mind. It monopolizes my thoughts as I watch corporate ‘news’ and listen to the bullshit that spews forth from so many politicians and pundits. It sears through my brain as I scroll through the news feeds on my Facebook page. It is an old issue. It is an issue of man’s invention.

Yesterday a friend posted this:

Douglas Adams on Religion

I’ve quoted Douglas Adams often. His humor and fantasy was nothing less than genius. From what I’ve read, his worldview was brilliantly captured in his fiction. Pearls of wisdom seem evident in all of his writings. He has amused me, entertained me, and educated me. What more could one ask from an author? Of course I may be way off in my assessment. I am human.

Today I ask myself again; what is the need we humans have to look outside ourselves for some confirmation that we are of value and worth, for some belief that we exist for a purpose, for some indication that there is more beyond this life?

Belief is not equal to knowledge. Belief is a state that cannot be proven by any scientific method. Belief, or faith if you will, is usually immutable to the one who holds the belief.

Knowledge grows and changes as time passes. It evolves as new discoveries are made. Knowledge. I think we can all agree that knowing a thing is much different from believing a thing.

Here, on this Earth, we find everything we need to create a beautiful life. We have sustenance. We have medicines should we need them. We have beauty. We have the resources to make our spiritual lives sing. How lovely to know that we can transform wood and create a string that becomes a musical instrument and then create sounds that speak to the soul. Most importantly we have the intelligence to use that which is in abundance.

Yet humans are not content with what is. We fear that which is not known. And so we have religion. Men created explanations for that which cannot be explained. Religion,  in particular the two dominating our world today, was created to explain with limited knowledge the Earth, its origins, man, his origins, and the evolution of the whole, and to explain the most feared of unknowns, the status of humans after life.

These ancient texts, of both major religions in practice today, written by men under divine influence are suspect in my opinion. Men lie. Men manipulate.  Men fantasize. Perhaps the original intention of the texts was benign, but has since been rendered by others as a vehicle used to acquire power and wealth, and to frighten masses of people into obedience.

Is this my belief? Or is it my knowing?

Perhaps both.

Am I a skeptic? Most definitely.

Religious dogma, in my opinion, is not flexible, does not seem to be evolving to meet the needs of a civilization that is becoming more and more technologically advanced. Our knowledge increases daily and yet religious leaders decry the heresy of it. More and more, science answers our questions reasonably and rationally without the need for emotional bias. Yet emotional bias drives our politics, influences our government, our laws, and our human rights.

This really has to stop. There was a reason the framers of the constitution included a separation of church and state. Standing on moral high ground is not a good place for our lawmakers. A vast number of people are left without access to the same rights and privileges as those who presume their morality is the only one. I find this stand to be particular reprehensible as it speaks of arrogance, egotism, and self-proclaimed superiority.

What if we chose to enjoy the beauty and perfection of the planet made so perfectly for us? What if we chose to take care of it, to take care of each other? What if we chose to ignore centuries old dogma and embrace what IS?

I imagine that life would truly be amazing.

If you made it this far and haven’t fallen over in a dead faint from sheer boredom,  thank you for humoring me.

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