Happy New Year

Today is the first day of the rest of your...year. I'm not sure why we invest so much into the changing of the year. Things do not change over night just because we throw away the old calendar. Maybe if we spent more time wishing well to our fellow man other than holidays, we could indeed make a difference. Yes, I spent the night celebrating with friends...but that is not all the unusual. We ate and drank and played Rock Band. I somehow missed the ball drop in Times Square, but I'm sure it was there. There were hugs and kisses all around...and a few tears. But again, this is hardly unusual. Maybe this is why my friends have become so close...there are rifts and differences, but in the end there is a general feeling of support and caring. I wouldn't want it any other way. So I say to you, Happy New Year, happy January, happy Thursday. May your mind be free, your body healthy, your life full of love. May you have all that you need and offer the extra to those less fortunate. May you offer understanding and compassion to others and may they grant you the same. May you find what you seek. May you find a reason to celebrate and have those you love help you do it. Most of all, be happy.

Welcome 2009...be gentle with us.

Left hand/Right hand

I heard this morning that a gay man sued eHarmony for discrimination because their dating service did not have an option for people to meet same sex partners....and won. Let me rephrase...the government, stepped in because a gay person was being discriminated against...read that again slowly. I want you to get the full impact of my thinking process here. It may require you to take Tylenol later but it will be so worth it.

Our government, our legal system intervened...because gays were not allowed the same access to computer dating as heterosexual couples were on eHarmony.

But they still can't legally get married anywhere in this country. Because OUR government says so.

Left hand meet the right hand.

Want to chase that Tylenol with some tequila? Might kill the taste of hypocrisy.

Good luck Mr Obama

What a position to find yourself in...we're entrenched in a no win situation of a war without a graceful exit, the economy is in the toilet, we're 10 billion dollars in debt and everyone will expect you to fix it NOW. On top of that everyone is looking up to you, the first black American president, to either set a shining example or to fall flat on your face. No pressure there.

I do not envy you your position. But I will wish you the best of luck. I hope you can do it, I really do...for all our sakes. I do not know how you will deal with a war you didn't start, a budget shortfall not of your creation or the turmoil of Wall Street...or even Main Street, for that matter. But it will be expected, as it will soon be your job. The unfair part is the expectation that you can fix in quick form problems created over years, if not decades. If you fail it will be more than the failing of one human being to fix the ills of not only a nation, but of the world. Race doesn't matter, but it will...because you are first. If you fail your race will be judged. How could it not be? Afterall, the newsies are all talking about how America voted a black man for President...instead of saying America voted the BEST man for the job.

You made history. Now you have four years to determine how that story will be told. Will you be celebrated or become a footnote in the history books?

There are people out there that will wish you defeat, for their own hateful reasons. I hope you really can lift us up. I would like to see my sons working full time. I would like to see a health care system that is dependable and affordable for everyone. I would like to believe that no child goes hungry. I want a safe infrastructure. I want to be able to retire before I'm 80.

Good luck Mr Obama...you're going to need it.

It's been awhile

A lot has happened in the last few months...as tends to happen with life.

Mom was diagnosed with, and died from, lung cancer. All in the span of four months and just 25 months after Dad. I have not LOST my parents, I know exactly where they are...unless of course the crematorium screwed up. I hate that phrase.

A very dear friend is going through a divorce after 31 years of marriage. Fifty percent of marriages end in divorce, the rest end in death. There is no happily ever after. This, in turn, has caused us to change long awaited vacation plans...as no one wanted to travel with the soon to be ex-husband and his mistress, former friend to us all. What an ugly mess.

A former long time friend that decided she didn't want me anymore has tried several times to knock on the door. This is the second time she has discarded me like so much trash. The first time, I swung the door wide and greeted her with open arms. This time will be much more difficult...if at all possible. That actually happened awhile back...15 months. Yes, it still hurts. She came to Mom's funeral. She hadn't came to Dad's and we were talking then. Maybe I was supposed to embrace her in a moment of weakness...sorry, life isn't like the movies. She said she missed me and loved me. It hurt even more.

Wow...let the flood gates open.

A friend called me stoic today. It hurt...maybe because he was too close to the truth. I don't show my emotions like other people. I'm not even sure I feel emotions like other people. Yes, I have pain, sadness, grief, joy, happiness...

It just seems easier to keep them all in a nice little contained bundle where I can keep an eye, and perhaps, and iron hand on them.

Guess what? That's what stoic means.

Damn.

Survival

The human psyche is pretty rugged. It is sometimes amazing what we are capable of enduring. That which does not kill you, the indomitable spirit and all that stuff.

I have had some rough times and my sense of humor has always seen me through. Even in my darkest hours I can hear the knocking at a distant door. And I can find some really bizarre things funny.

My sense of humor as been well nurtured over a great many years. It has been watered and cultivated by a great number of life experiences as well as a number of individuals. It is often dry and dark and full of twists. Like a run away car on a country road at 2AM. You never know what might pop up.

Today I am with my Mom at the hospital. She is rapidlly dying from cancer despite treatment. They are trying to wean her off the IV Morphine...it is not going well and she was in a lot of pain. She gets frustrated that she can't move and get comfortable...her legs are now paralyzed, then she gets upset. This is a nasty cycle as the more she gets upset the more pain she's in. So I thought I'd try something. Nurses call it visualization, you can do that when you have a degree...most people would call it going to their happy place.

So I lean down and hug her and start whispering in her ear. I start describing a beach, one of her favorite places, in great detail. The white sand, the ocean lapping at her feet, the smell of sea salt...I'm trying to remember each of the senses to include them in the picture. When I think of sound, I mention the cry of the seagulls. A distinct sound reminiscent of the beach. But then my mind wanders to another distinct thing about seagulls...and I whisper in her ear, "But these are special seagulls, they won't poop on you." Even with the pain, my Mom started laughing.

Humor hasn't failed me yet.

Broken

I think I'm broken.

My emotions don't seem to work like most peoples. I don't care when I should. Big things don't upset me...the little annoyances drive me crazy. It seems the emotions are walled away in some dark, mysterious place.

Sometimes I have to pretend.

I see people looking at me. I feel the accusation that I am not behaving normally. So I look to see what others are doing and I follow suit to blend in. I just don't want to feel the pain.

Maybe it's a defense mechanism from the abuse suffered at the hands of my Mother as a child. I felt more pain then. She says I'm a cold hearted bitch...and I think, the apple didn't fall far from the tree.

At least I protected my children. They never saw that rage. They didn't suffer at my hand. At least I wasn't that broken.

I still don't know how to fix me. I don't know if I can be fixed. I'm not sure I could deal with the pain.

Technology

Technology has changed a tremendous amount just in my life time. I did not have a microwave as a kid, or for that fact, a DVD player (or even VHS) or a computer. I remember Pong as the first video game I ever saw, then Space Invaders. They were not very advanced, but we wasted hours playing them. A new technology to me now is the satellite radio in my car. It came with six months free. I can't imagine paying for radio. I'd rather buy CD's. But it's been a great way to discover new music. Who knows, I may be addicted in 6 months.

It's not you, it's me

Helloooooo...contrary to your belief system the world does not revolve around you!

I realize you think you are the center of the universe, the axis on which everyone bases their lives. I hate to break this to you...but you're wrong.

People do not behave in a manner just to please or annoy you.

Every head does not turn as you walk by to admire or scorn you.

Yes, I believe being self centered can go both ways. It doesn't necessarily mean you are egotistical. It can also mean you think people are out to get you, to beat you, to one-up you. Why in the world would everyone notice you? Why are you so important that they have to be better than you? I hate to break this to you, but in the large scheme of things, you're pretty freaking invisible.

This brings me to another recent thought and someone that apparently can't be invisible...Mylie Cyrus.

I do not follow star news. But you can't eat or breathe in this country without hearing some tidbit or another about Mylie, Brittney or Paris...to name a few. Some of the crap they bring on themselves...but I would hate to be living in that fishbowl.

Can you imagine being 15 (I think Mylie is 15) and living your life under the scrutiny of the world? Growing up is hard. The teen years are awkward, a time of discovering who you are. I sure the hell wasn't a role model for anybody, nor did I want to be. It was all I could do to keep my head above water.

There is no way to be grounded in that environment. Paris appears to be a good example of egotistical, while Brittany may have fallen to the other end of the spectrum. Of course they have public support in their beliefs that the world actually does revolve around them...they just need look out their windows.

So, unless you got up this morning and found paparazzi on your lawn...get over it. Most everyone is just going about living their lives the best way they know how.

It really isn't about you.

And a shoe drops

You ever have one of those things in life that just sideswipes you out of nowhere?

OK...I guess it really wasn't out of nowhere. I'd heard the crash and a careening sound from far off. I guess I just thought it wasn't real. Now that I look back there was an honest to God flashing sign. How the hell did we all ignore that? OK, have to be honest with myself again. After all, that's what writing is all about for me...honesty with myself. There were whispers and conjecture...hell there were downright accusations. There was also denials and plausible excuses.

In the near future there will be pain, crying and blame.

Some day there will be healing.

And hopefully a new beginning.

I'm still a bit in denial...hoping it's really just a bad dream.

A few truths discovered on the road of life

Say I love you, if you mean it.

Crow is no easier to eat after it gets cold.

Smell the roses. Watch the sunrise or set. Sing in the rain.

Play. It's not just for kids.

The grass is rarely as green as it looks on the other side.

There are consequences for your actions. They may be minuscule but they may be life changing...and sometimes it's hard to know from where you are standing.

Contrary to popular belief, there isn't necessarily two sides to every story. But every story is colored by the story teller.

Excitement and beauty are overrated. They're best appreciated in small doses.

It is rare to find absolute truth.

Happiness is something you have to work for...and it isn't guaranteed.

Easy isn't always best.

Life isn't fair...deal with it.

People do not always forgive and forget. And even if the forgive, they never, ever, forget.

If you are willing to complain when things are bad...be sure to compliment when things are good.

Look for the silver lining. It isn't always easy, but then the best things usually aren't.

Looking back and making wishes never works, but sometimes if you look forward it might. The same is true with asking, "What if?"

Anger and frustration rarely accomplish anything positive.

Occasionally, do something unexpected.

Hold the pain

Have you ever held on to something BECAUSE it caused you pain?

I'm holding onto a couple of letters that I find extremely emotionally painful. They were written to me during the ending of a long term relationship. I don't think they were meant to be the end, but more of a turning point. But as many times happens with humans, I didn't react as the other person anticipated. I think I was supposed to cry and say how sorry I was. Promise to never, ever do the infraction again...and go on as if nothing ever happened.

This is the way it had worked before.

But instead, I took a long look at those words.

This is where the advice that says never put anything into writing that you might regret comes into play...advice from someone that writes in a public forum every day.

I looked at those words, words chosen very carefully I'm sure. I looked at them. I read them. I absorbed them. And came to the conclusion that the relationship had become one of convenience. I also realized that even though I knew them intimately, they knew absolutely nothing about me.

So the relationship ceased. I moved forward. Time has passed.

So occasionally I still pull out those letters to be reminded. Reminded not to take people or life for granted. Reminded that everything changes. Reminded that from pain, good can come. Reminded to appreciate the people in my life. Reminded that I am very lucky. Reminded to say, thank you.

Maybe one day I'll burn those letters.

But not yet.

I still need to be reminded.

Caught up

OK...I've finally moved as much from my previous blog to this one as a plan to. That blog is nearly two years old with 456 entries. Kind of shows what's important.

So all the "old" entries will be in July 2008 only...with a few newer introductory ones. So if you've discovered my dark little corner and have made it through the first month of disjointed entries...welcome.

Playing hero

Yesterday afternoon I rescued four people from an elevator.

I'm sure they would have gotten out without me…eventually. But they were damned happy to see me.

The elevator door was opening about a foot then closing. I reached in and hit the safety mechanism to see if the door would retract from my hand. It didn't. The second time I pressed my hand against the door and was able to hold it and push it further open. This is when I discovered the elevator car was still moving. It would rise up about a foot above the floor then drop back down about two feet. So I'm holding the door open with one hand and pulling people out with the other. This all took a matter of seconds, I'm sure. I knew three of the people in the elevator, they were pretty shook up. I've been stuck in the elevators at work a few times, but nothing like this.

+1 to the bizarre list.

The bizarre list

Some friends and I were recently discussing the bizarre things that sometimes happen...and the absolutely stupid stuff we've done. It brought back some "fond" memories.


A few...


I have broken my arm in 4 places...at one time...playing kickball. If anybody out there knows an Anthony Willoughby, I still owe him an apology.


I have been in two hurricanes.


I have been in Florida when the entire state was trying to go up in flames...fire on 3 sides, ocean on the fourth.


I left a casino in the Bahamas moments before armed, masked, gunmen robbed the place. Tell me...wouldn't you notice men in ski masks on a tropical island? And where do you go on an island after a robbery?(Going on vacation with me might prove hazardous)


I have driven the wrong way down a one way street...on purpose. In that same line of thought, I have helped repossess cars. I worked several years with a private investigator. This allows for several other bizarre stories...including the transvestite hooker with an automatic weapon in her/his bra. Applying for a job as a stripper and repeatedly being made to look like a hooker.


I've been in a car that backed through the drive-thru at McDonald's...more than once.


I've passed a bottle opener to someone in another car...while they were both speeding down the freeway.


I used to paddle out into the Ohio River to ride the waves from the barges as they passed. I'm still amazed as much time as I spent in that river that I don't glow in the dark.


I grew up in a haunted house. People tend to be fascinated and/or dubious when I talk it. It wasn't anything special...built in the mid to late 60's in Valley Station. As far as we know not on any type of burial ground nor had anything violent occurred there. People ask. The thing about it, no one that ever entered that house would deny that it was haunted. From one particularly cold bedroom to whispers and footsteps in the hall. There was frequently the feeling of being watched. Mom blamed Dad for messing the bed up in the guest room...until it continued even when Dad was in the hospital. Most of it was benign. I only remember a few times that I felt frightened by it. Not the case with our neighbor who refused to enter the house after dark when we weren't home. We also had a poodle that would suddenly come running down the hall trembling all over.


I've gotten lost hiking...fortunately I do my hiking locally. It only took an hour or so to find something recognizable. I've also gotten lost in a cornfield, something my husband finds utterly amazing for the stupidity of it.


I've been chased by a bull...and subsequently jumped an electric fence. In the same summer, while in the "country"...I tried to ride a cow, something I don't recommend. And my cousins convinced me that mama pigs like it when you pick up the babies...go ahead, try it sometime.


I've been thrown by a horse. Actually thrown may not be the right term since the horse didn't throw me. It was more like he flipped over backwards with me still on. We ended up on the ground with me on the bottom, trapped between him, the ground and a chain link fence. I still ride every chance I get.


I've had two black eyes...both of them from toddlers.


I've been shot in the back with a staple gun....and shot in the butt with a BB gun. I've been hit the head with a mallet at a haunted house during one of the Ghost Runs...I still hate haunted houses. I've been shot with a sling shot from 150 feet with a fist sized clump of frozen jello...come on admit it, can anybody else say that?

How about a tequila float?

I've heard it said that getting old isn't for wimps. It just sneaks up on you. You start noticing little things...then all those little things become a big thing. I'm hardly a senior citizen and I'm frequently told to act my age. I'm not sure what that means, but I don't think I want to do it. I am active and perhaps just a shade crazy, I'll admit it...it keeps life interesting. But it seems over the last few years I'm slowing down a bit. I'm not staying up all night...but maybe that's because I don't have good enough of a reason to stay up all night. Hey, this is my story and I'm sticking to it.

My hair color and texture has changed...so has my skin. I have more lotions, potions and notions than I know what to do with...and have a suspicion that none of them, outside of possibly my hair color, are doing much more than separating my money from my wallet.

My hormones are playing hide and seek. My emotions have gone berserk. My metabolism is AWOL, meaning I can gain weight on bread and water. Which leaves me a hot, angry, hungry woman. If you're laughing now, I'll guess you're female and over 40. If you're crying, I'm sorry...go eat ice cream, you'll feel better.

Licking the wounds

You can imagine if you get 30+ people running around trying to cover each other in Jello, that there might be a few injuries. I was honestly surprised last year, when all we walked away with was only a few scrapes and bruises...especially after a gigantic hole was "found" in the playing field.

This year, again, there were some bumps. I've got a vicious bruise on my thigh about 4 inches across. But we also had a hospital run this year. The amazing thing was, it had nothing to do with Jello Wars. It was between events when an unstoppable force hit the immovable object...that would be 5'9" 150 lbs of pure determination vs 6'7" 300 lbs of youthful mass. The unstoppable force ended up with a separated shoulder and a fractured collar bone. Hearing him tell how he was trying to explain in the ER how he came to be injured and no the red stuff all over him was not blood, but Jello was hilarious.

At least having his arm in a sling and bound to his body prevented him from being thrown into the wrestling Jello face first...again.

Despite our injuries the day still provided a great deal of fun with friends. I hope he can say the same thing.

A Tale of Battle

Gather around children as I tell you a tale of great bravery. There was once a group of geeks...I mean warriors, that sought out a new way to do battle. A way that would honor the bravest, the toughest, the smartest, without all the mess of blood, guts and death. Their idea...splat each other with Jello, while wearing white T-shirts of course. On 07-07-07 their vision came to a field in Oldham County, where four groups of contestants withstood the challenge...and over 80 gallons of Jello. The contenders were smart, often professionals in their fields...now they were standing in a field and the ammunition proved challenging. Do you know how hard it is to fling Jello...and keep it intact until impact with your target?

It is extremely difficult if not damn near impossible. This took intelligence, creativity, and dare I say...weapons of mass propulsion.

The day was hot. The battle was long. And the ammunition was sticky. But alas, a victor was declared. Something that is disputed to this very day! So......I give you the rematch.Today on that same field in Oldham County the warriors will step forward once more. The sun shining off brilliant white T-shirts, shields and wiggly giggly Jello...and a few smiling faces.The rules have changed, the battle field has taken on the shape of a triangle with a team gracing each point. But the object is the same....take home the glory that is Jello!!!

Screamin' Sea-men? A Thunder Tale

I experienced my first Thunder Over Louisville in May (remember I'm still catching up).

Hmmm, where do I start?

The obvious....the fireworks were spectacular. The air show was pretty interesting as well. I'd never been to one of those either. I have been so deprived. The day...We headed up to Floyd's Knob to join the friends that had invited us. A 45 minute drive for us, so we had plenty of time to look at the sky and worry about rain. We had already discussed our layers for warmth at home. We arrived at Ginny and John's just before 1...then the fun began. After a trip down the knob along hair pin curves with a hair raising driver, we stopped at the gas station for ice. Ginny comments this is the point they got to last year when they realized they'd forgotten the tickets.

John says, "Tickets?" Back the way we came.

Eventually, after threats of car sickness, we make it to Derby Dinner Playhouse. We park and meet up with another couple and begin the long trek to the river...until an entrepreneurial soul comes along with a tractor and flat bed with hay bales, no less, and offers to take us to the flood wall...got to love the American spirit.

At the flood wall I discover my wallet is missing. I try not to freak when freaking is not going to do any good. I do a quick mental inventory of my wallets contents...bank card, Visa, Priscilla's gift card with $14 remaining on it, insurance card, my driver's license that has a good picture (Those are hard to come by) and about $6. I'm hoping my host's German Shepherd, who I'd been running around the house with, was having the time of her life with a new chew toy...look green stuffing!

While doing this mental calculation of my possible financial ruination at the hands of an unscrupulous person, we weave through the throngs of people, vendors and infamous Thunder pots.

At King Fish we are shown to our tables, directly across from where one of the barges will be and under cover. Damn, it's cold on the river. Zach, our server, brings coffee.

So we spend the day talking, gawking at air crafts, taking pictures of each other...and taking a walking tour of the flood wall. It's cold, but it isn't raining...yet, and the company is good.

It did eventually rain...just a little, but enough to win my $5 bet that it would because of my presence. I also got a dollar on a dare...so I had recouped the $6 in my wallet.

King Fish did a wonderful job, we were served appetizers, dinner and dessert...and the drinks never stopped coming. Hint for future reference, oatmeal raisin cookies and coconut rum...not a good combination.

It's moving along to 9:30 so we pull our chairs up, maybe 12 feet from the river, for an unobstructed view of the fireworks, bridge and downtown Louisville (until the smoke completely obscured the view at one point. I kept hearing Smoke on the Water in my head. Yes, I'm telling my age). The city looks beautiful at night.

There we sit, bundled and huddled, watching the fireworks with the occasional and mandatory ohhhhs and ahhhhs. There were planets, hearts and stars and a rainbow of colors. At some point, there is an explosion of white fireworks, not very high with small squiggly tails, that are erupting with high pitched whistles from the barges and bridge and from two different voices on two different sides of me, I hear, "Screaming sperms." I think they look more like movie special effects for ghosts...but now I can't get the thought Screaming Semen out of my head...and they repeated these loud, blinding white pyrotechnics repeatedly.

We spent a short time in traffic, there was apparently an injury accident somewhere, but I think generally things moved well. We headed back up to the knobs and spent time in a hot tub being defrosted while everyone else fought traffic. About 14 hours after the adventure began we were on our way home...warm, content and tired. Or as Ginny put it...frozen, defrosted and cooked.

My son found my wallet at home. I'd apparently dropped it rushing around to get ready. So I guess this story has a happy ending.

Unknowing

No matter how hard you try...you can not unknow something. Or for that fact unknow someone. You can disassociate yourself with them, but you still have a history with that person. Sometimes that history will haunt you forever...ask most divorced people.

Over the years I have been unfortunate to gain knowledge of things I didn't want to know. Usually, these are personal things. I'm not sure why people want to share these things...maybe it lessens their burden. I can guess why they chose me to share with...I keep a confidence. I do not tell tales, especially if it isn't my story to tell. I often feel this way even when I've not been sworn to silence.

There was one time...it involved an attorney, and the possibility of a judge and an oath to tell the truth, the whole truth...

If I'd liked the girl, I may have kept her secret a little longer.

Attention restaurants

I generally do not like cheese. That is why I order my food, without cheese. This concept seems to perplex people, especially those that work in restaurants. Tonight I had a salad...no cheese, at least not once I picked it out. I had chili...no cheese, so what's the stringy yellow stuff in my chili? They aren't putting it on, it's just kind of mixed up with everything in the kitchen...it is omnipotent cheese! Oh wait...wrong big word. It is ubiquitous cheese!That was pretty good. I spell check. I spelled omnipotent and ubiquitous correctly but misspelled cheese twice.

I digress.

My point is this...I don't like cheese, but I'm not going to suffer horrible consequences, but what if I were allergic?There are a lot of allergies out there and they can be pretty serious. The people in the kitchen need to be more responsible for the way food is handled.

good vs evil

I often fear I am repeating myself, as similar subjects frequently haunt my thoughts. If I become redundant please forgive me...mark it up to bad genes and family tradition.

Not to mention that after sitting here typing for an eternity, I somehow managed to lose the entire entry and am starting over. Why is it, it never seems as good the second time?

Friday as I was trying to leave work, I was paged. I walked away from the elevator to return the call. I was sitting at a table in the lobby, trying to resolve the problem by phone, when a particularly obstinate surgeon walked over. I am in no way ashamed of my tattoos, but I do try to keep them covered at work. My lab coat had been shed on my way out the door and my tattoo was visible along the bottom edge of my short sleeve shirt. He pushed up my sleeve, to see my gargoyle. Still on the phone, I turned my body and pushed up the other sleeve, showing off my angel. He walked away shaking his head...but he was smiling too.

Body art always seems to elicit a strong response...everyone is entitled to an opinion. But I'm frequently surprised by it. An "older" conservatively dressed lady approached me at the mall Saturday. She could see the bottom half of my angel and asked if she could see the rest. She admired her and told me how beautiful she was. Anyone that appreciates body art, admires the work. Travis (King/Body Art Emporium) did an amazing job. The angel, bright and colorful is perceived as a symbol of hope and faith...good. My gargoyle, rendered in gray scale, often gets the opposite reaction. He is often mistaken for a demon. I frequently explain, in an architectural sense, what a gargoyle does. I have seen women wrinkle their nose, asking why I wanted something so ugly. But not everyone. I once had a Hispanic boy of 4 or 5 look up at me with bright shining eyes and proclaim, "Bonita gargoyle!"

That is the purpose...it's about perception. They are opposites in appearance...light/dark, male/female, but the same in character. Both are legendary protectors...and perceived totally different. Imagine the surprise I get when I propose that the angel is indeed the evil of the two...perhaps the angel of death. With this she often gets a closer inspection. No, there is nothing there to suggest such a morose occupation. But it makes people think.

Sometimes you get little messages, perhaps warning you of things to come. This morning as I was leaving the house...had not even gotten far enough out to close the door, I felt something hit my chest.

Damn bird!

I guess I should be grateful that at least I could turn around, go inside and change my shirt.

I was a little more cautious as I headed out the second time...just in case Mother Nature was gunning for me.

An argument to allow torture

This evening we were going into Border's on Hurstbourne, the third book store of the evening, when we noticed a car parked near the front door blocking traffic. What a fucktard, I think. What makes you so special that you can't pull into a parking place like everyone else? So we park and approach the store...car still there. What is their issue? As we get to the doors, an employee is coming out headed for the offending car. Presumably someone has complained. I reach out to pull the door open when I notice a gigantic glob of...something, Vaseline like, all over the handle. Another man, watching from inside, tells us the person in the car was taking pictures of people as they stuck their hands into the goo. Was there a purpose to this? Is this what some people find funny? And for future reference, pick a place where you aren't blocking traffic and drawing attention to yourself.

Moron.

I'm a mutant

My doctor thinks I may be some weird genetic hybrid unknown to man or science...he can't explain me any other way. That or I've contracted a mutant strain of a disease that I've not been exposed to or doesn't exists. There was some mention of me being a case study in Boston. Why would they want to study me in Boston? I am living proof, for the time being, that they don't always know everything.

I'm falling apart at the seams...or more accurately, the joints.

Un-munch-kin

Once upon a time when you entered an eating establishment they inquired about your seating preference. Then a law was passed...and you no longer had options. I want options damn it!!! Most restaurants were built to cater to options, so why can't we have them? If I can't select between smoking and non-smoking, how about family and non-family.

I would like to enjoy my meal without the screeching, whining and crying of the adorable little bastards. This particularly annoys me at 9 PM when Momma's little pumpkin should be tucked into bed. Nooooo, I don't hate kids. I just don't want to spend time with most of them.

Especially if their parents lack the ability to control the little rug rats. I have had my conversations continually interrupted, I've been spilled on, I came very close one time to having two butter covered hands ran through my hair...and it wasn't a sexual escapade. And none were at Chuck E Cheese.

I raised my kids. They didn't run around in restaurants, they didn't stand in the seats, they didn't talk to people at neighboring tables. They knew how to behave. I also knew better than to take them to places that were not kid friendly. ALL kids have a limit on how long they can sit still. We spent a lot of years doing take out.Table in the kid free zone please.

There she blows

I'm feeling much better...it is amazing what a bubble bath can do for a tired body.

God help the world I've discovered videos again.

I revisited the Jello Wars videos we posted to You Tube last year. Funny thing is, when we were planning this last year, 07-07-07, you couldn't hardly find a video...now there are more than a few. Just good clean...mmmm, sticky, fun among friends.

I didn't fight in this years Jello War, 06-07-08. I didn't think the Physical Therapist would approve...OK, honestly, it's just because it would hurt, a LOT! I'm what's known in medical circles as non-compliant.

I was recruited as a judge. But I am FAR from impartial. So I ended up videotaping.

Speaking of judges...you know, I have never been called for jury duty. I find that kind of odd. I qualify by all the ways I've heard they select jurors. Not that any righteous self-respecting lawyer would ever allow me to sit on one of their cases. I am the perfect Devil's Advocate...and a trial lawyers worst nightmare. I CAN see how it could have happened that way...and there is always room (just like Jello) for reasonable doubt.

Besides what is a jury of your peers? Do I have peers? Middle aged, Caucasian females with idiosyncrasies to drive the sane mad and the insane to distraction, that refuses all efforts to label her...except perhaps evil and freak, but makes a damn good drink and a pretty decent friend to man and beast...and not in the kinky, twisted, perverted way your mind just went...or maybe that was just my sick, demented, filthy mind. I bet they're out there and we could have one hell of a party.

Why do I keep thinking about the joke...

How do you know if a man is well hung?




You can only get two fingers between his neck and the noose.


Guilty as charged. Got handcuffs?

Trashed

You want to know what's wrong with this country...at least the one that is annoying me at the moment? What's wrong with this country is the fact that you can't just throw away your trash! NO...you have to worry that somebody might steal your identity or at the very least use your credit card information. I am really fed up with this. I am not guilty of anything (illegal) and yet I have to shred documents.

Silence is..

safe.

There are days when I should remain silent. Just nod my head agreeably and go along to get along. Because ever now and then, I just get in this mood. I don't know where it comes from...or for that fact, where it goes. One of the things I do at work is answer questions. Questions from everyone about everything. I supposedly see all, know all...or if I don't know, I know who does. This can grate of your nerves...depending on how often you're interupted.

Enter the mood. Today a doctor says he wants to ask me a question. Without hesitation or thought, I respond, "Not taking questions today, but thank you for playing." Stunned would be an understatement.

I did, however, relent and answer his question.

What is your potential?

I am good at a lot of things...no modesty lost there. But I am lacking in the talent department. I have nightmares about a spotlight shining on me and the announcer saying, "And for the talent part of the evening..." I have no talent...can't sing, dance or play an instrument. And since I'm tone deaf, I'm thinking I can't learn. I like to draw...it isn't good, but I do it anyway. My art teacher in high school once looked at my drawing, then the still life and asked, "Is that what you really see?" Of course, I could be an expressionist.

I could do that.

I like to write, some people tell me I'm good. But I never get very far with it. Besides, I would never be one of those people that would read poetry, not even original work, and call it talent. Not that I don't think writers are talented...I'm envious, but it's not THAT kind of talent.

I often wonder if there is something maybe I'd be really good at if I'd been given the opportunity. What if...Maybe I could have been a great guitar player, if I'd ever taken lessons. It's unlikely, but what if? Maybe I am an artist...if I found the right medium. Maybe I should play in clay. I've always wanted to do that.

I wonder how many people have hidden talent that was never nurtured?

How sad.

Nice guys don't care where they finish

I have never been one for introducing friends, trying to make a love match. Now that I think about it, I think I've done it twice...in high school. I introduced two of my friends to my ex-boyfriend...one of them ended up marrying him. That success however, has not led me to make a habit of making introductions. That slope is just too slippery and fraught with dangers.

I frequently hear women say they can't find a nice single guy. I don't understand, as I know a number of nice single men. Maybe it's because I'm not looking for Mr. Right and I'm getting to know these guys as friends. I think that may be the problem, they say they're looking for a nice single guy when what they want is someone that looks like they could grace the cover of GQ magazine. When what they should be looking for is a guy that will treat them well.

The qualifications:

1. a job...a stable, reliable job with a living wage
2. single...not married, engaged or involved
3. straight...for these particular purposes
4. lacking baggage...this can involve a lot of things depending on your preferences. Anything from crazy ex-wives, not having kids or prison records.
5. intelligence...this may be a personal preference, but I think he should be able to hold a conversation.
6. etc...this is where all the real preferences come in.

Forget GQ...look for what's really important to you. Sense of humor or adventure. Religious or political affiliations. Non-drinker. Ask yourself what is essential for your happiness.