Tee, hee, I just updated my profile.
Honestly, sometimes I just don't know what gets into me.
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Savin' plastic
Here's the thing.
I can't seem to stop saving all those little plastic containers that come along with your pizza orders. You know what I'm talking about. The ones with the sauces, and sugar icing for the cinnamon sticks. Yep, I stick those suckers in the dishwasher, containers AND lids, wash them up, then sticking them into the kitchen cupboard according to size and style.
As you can imagine after all these years, I've got a bunch of every size known to man. I also have a wide variety of plastic spoon, knives, sporks and forks, too. When the kids were growing up I literally forced them to save their utensils, I'd wrap them in napkins, throw them into my purse and brought them home. That is not a joke...just ask my embarrassed children. I did this even if any of their friends were along for any particular reason. I was a cheap little bugger, still am. Well, was until yesterday.
Yesterday my granddaughter, and great-grand-kids came to spend the afternoon. I ordered pizzas, bread-sticks and cinnamon sticks, too. Oh, those delightful little plastic containers; four of them to be exact. They are just...just...sooo cute. The good little angel on my right shoulder, was whispering..."Save them, you must save them."
Uh-oh...for the first time, ever, a cute little devil...was sitting on my left shoulder...and she was whispering ..."Really, really, you're going to save them, how the h--l old are you? And, how many more little plastic containers w/lids are you going to need and/or use before you kick the bucket and don't need nuttin' any more?
Golly, that was really a 'chew-out', what the heck? Although, She had a good point, you know.
However I took the licking, because I rather enjoyed watching good angel, and little devil duke it out. After a while, angel's halo was all askew, and devil's pitchfork, was bent as a weird angle, so I figured I had better make a decision before someone drew blood.
And, then...I did something I never, ever though I would do...I rinsed those little plastic containers out...and
threw them in the trash. I did, I really, truly, did.
Amazingly, I was not struck by lightening, no earth shaking event happened, nor did the finger of fate put a curse on me. Whew. Poor, little, good angel was very disappointed in me. I hope she gets over this in time. Though it was kind of cute, watching little devil do her little happy dance.
I think I'm at the beginning of a new era...no, I won't be getting rid of all the plastic goodies I've collected so far...Pizza Hut, Wendy's, McDonalds, Arby's, Alaska Airlines and many other fast food places would be extremely hurt, I'm sure if I did.
Now, the question is, should I stop scooping up a handful of those cute little ketchup, mustard, mayo, and extra cheeses packets, too? Na, to much change at once is not good, I'll work up to that.
I can't seem to stop saving all those little plastic containers that come along with your pizza orders. You know what I'm talking about. The ones with the sauces, and sugar icing for the cinnamon sticks. Yep, I stick those suckers in the dishwasher, containers AND lids, wash them up, then sticking them into the kitchen cupboard according to size and style.
As you can imagine after all these years, I've got a bunch of every size known to man. I also have a wide variety of plastic spoon, knives, sporks and forks, too. When the kids were growing up I literally forced them to save their utensils, I'd wrap them in napkins, throw them into my purse and brought them home. That is not a joke...just ask my embarrassed children. I did this even if any of their friends were along for any particular reason. I was a cheap little bugger, still am. Well, was until yesterday.
Yesterday my granddaughter, and great-grand-kids came to spend the afternoon. I ordered pizzas, bread-sticks and cinnamon sticks, too. Oh, those delightful little plastic containers; four of them to be exact. They are just...just...sooo cute. The good little angel on my right shoulder, was whispering..."Save them, you must save them."
Uh-oh...for the first time, ever, a cute little devil...was sitting on my left shoulder...and she was whispering ..."Really, really, you're going to save them, how the h--l old are you? And, how many more little plastic containers w/lids are you going to need and/or use before you kick the bucket and don't need nuttin' any more?
Golly, that was really a 'chew-out', what the heck? Although, She had a good point, you know.
However I took the licking, because I rather enjoyed watching good angel, and little devil duke it out. After a while, angel's halo was all askew, and devil's pitchfork, was bent as a weird angle, so I figured I had better make a decision before someone drew blood.
And, then...I did something I never, ever though I would do...I rinsed those little plastic containers out...and
threw them in the trash. I did, I really, truly, did.
Amazingly, I was not struck by lightening, no earth shaking event happened, nor did the finger of fate put a curse on me. Whew. Poor, little, good angel was very disappointed in me. I hope she gets over this in time. Though it was kind of cute, watching little devil do her little happy dance.
I think I'm at the beginning of a new era...no, I won't be getting rid of all the plastic goodies I've collected so far...Pizza Hut, Wendy's, McDonalds, Arby's, Alaska Airlines and many other fast food places would be extremely hurt, I'm sure if I did.
Now, the question is, should I stop scooping up a handful of those cute little ketchup, mustard, mayo, and extra cheeses packets, too? Na, to much change at once is not good, I'll work up to that.
Sunday, May 27, 2012
Spark or fire, part 2
I can't believe how my simple question of a few day ago still has Frankie in a tizzy.
It was philosophical and I explained there was no right answer, she wasn't going to fail anything, the question was mostly just for discussion purposes. She was free to change her mind at any time.
The question was would you rather be a fire or a spark?
That morning she said she wanted to be a fire, I chose a spark, she explained her decision, and I explained mine. However, THIS morning the question still hangs heavy in the air...who knew?
Me: "Frankie, honest, if you want to be a fire that's great. I simply want you to be happy with your choice. Roasting weeny's and toasting marshmallows for kids sitting around a campfire is a wonderful thing to be. Good childhood memories, good childhood memories."
Frankie: (Sighing) "I know, but I think I would rather dance off into the darkness...you know...like, like...Tinkerbell."
Me: "Ahhh, I see."
Insert a few minutes of silence here...I'm pondering.
I'm not wanting to confuse Frankie more than necessary so I want to choose my words wisely.
Me: "Ya know, Frankie, there are even more parts to a campfire, and they all have important parts to play. You can't roast hot-dogs, or toast marshmallows unless they all come together in perfect harmony."
Frankie: (Reacting badly, shocked look) "What????"
Me: "Don't freak out, let me 'splain'."
Me: "We're out camping, it's getting dusk. We want a campfire. First we look for some dried grass, a fire starter, if you will. Then, we find some twigs, not very big, and we place them around our little mound of grass, so that it all looks like a tee-pee before the hides are thrown over it. Next we need some good sized limbs that have fallen from neighboring trees. A few to start the fire, and some to throw on when the flames begin to die down. Finally, we need a match...none of the other stuff matters if you don't have something to start the fire. And, if you don't have all the parts the fire will never happen."
I've never seen Frankie so enraptured.
Frankie: "So, I have even more choices?"
Me: "You bet ya."
Frankie: "This philosophical stuff is givin' me a 'head-e-a-ache'."
Me: "Honest, Frankie, all this simply boils down to the fact I just want you to be happy with your life and the path you've chosen. Starter, kindling, limbs, match, fire, flame, spark...it's all up to you. And...I can guarantee your choice today may not be the one you want a year from now, that's okay, too. Our life's path is ever changing. It might even depend on age...I don't know, and don't even care."
Frankie: "Does that mean tomorrow you might want to be a match?"
Me: (Laughing) "No not tomorrow, and maybe never. All I know is at this time of my life I'm a spark, baby. And, I'm a dancin."
It was philosophical and I explained there was no right answer, she wasn't going to fail anything, the question was mostly just for discussion purposes. She was free to change her mind at any time.
The question was would you rather be a fire or a spark?
That morning she said she wanted to be a fire, I chose a spark, she explained her decision, and I explained mine. However, THIS morning the question still hangs heavy in the air...who knew?
Me: "Frankie, honest, if you want to be a fire that's great. I simply want you to be happy with your choice. Roasting weeny's and toasting marshmallows for kids sitting around a campfire is a wonderful thing to be. Good childhood memories, good childhood memories."
Frankie: (Sighing) "I know, but I think I would rather dance off into the darkness...you know...like, like...Tinkerbell."
Me: "Ahhh, I see."
Insert a few minutes of silence here...I'm pondering.
I'm not wanting to confuse Frankie more than necessary so I want to choose my words wisely.
Me: "Ya know, Frankie, there are even more parts to a campfire, and they all have important parts to play. You can't roast hot-dogs, or toast marshmallows unless they all come together in perfect harmony."
Frankie: (Reacting badly, shocked look) "What????"
Me: "Don't freak out, let me 'splain'."
Me: "We're out camping, it's getting dusk. We want a campfire. First we look for some dried grass, a fire starter, if you will. Then, we find some twigs, not very big, and we place them around our little mound of grass, so that it all looks like a tee-pee before the hides are thrown over it. Next we need some good sized limbs that have fallen from neighboring trees. A few to start the fire, and some to throw on when the flames begin to die down. Finally, we need a match...none of the other stuff matters if you don't have something to start the fire. And, if you don't have all the parts the fire will never happen."
I've never seen Frankie so enraptured.
Frankie: "So, I have even more choices?"
Me: "You bet ya."
Frankie: "This philosophical stuff is givin' me a 'head-e-a-ache'."
Me: "Honest, Frankie, all this simply boils down to the fact I just want you to be happy with your life and the path you've chosen. Starter, kindling, limbs, match, fire, flame, spark...it's all up to you. And...I can guarantee your choice today may not be the one you want a year from now, that's okay, too. Our life's path is ever changing. It might even depend on age...I don't know, and don't even care."
Frankie: "Does that mean tomorrow you might want to be a match?"
Me: (Laughing) "No not tomorrow, and maybe never. All I know is at this time of my life I'm a spark, baby. And, I'm a dancin."
Friday, May 25, 2012
Lucky you
Boy, gals and guys, are you ever lucky. Two blogs in one day.
This one is about a particular gripe I have. And, it is brought about as a result of the two peanut butter-jelly sandwiches I prepared for lunch. One for Frankie, one for me. Oh, and we're having crispy cheese puffs, too.
I was diligently spreading the peanut butter and the jelly all the way to the four edges and corners of the slices of bread and this brought to mind the following:
Restaurant sandwiches and/or toast. I hate the ones who bring toast, with a tiny, yet bread soaking blob of butter in the middle of it, while the rest of the toast is dry, butter-less, and hard to swallow. The truth now, don't you hate that too?
Next, I dislike paying seven to ten dollars for a sandwich (for example a bacon/tomato/lettuce) when; first, where is the mayo, or salad dressing? That's mostly like the butter on toast. Then, what reaches to all four sides and corners of the sandwich...the L. Oh yes, their efforts are put into the L. Look at the first half of your sandwich before you take the first bite. I bet it is build so high you can hardly get it in your mouth...look, see, it is piled high with...the L. Where is the B and T. I find most places will accommodate you with two slices of T, in the middle, overlapping each other. Next, they graciously supply the B. If you are lucky and the restaurant is kind of classy you will get three slices of B. However, they are usually thin, and bunched side by side leaving huge empty gaps on either side. Come on people, slide those sucker to the left or right an add another slice...how much more it the sandwich going to cost me?
I don't think it matters what kind of sandwich you buy, it could even be a burger, it's still mostly going to be lettuce. Oh, and heaven forbid you should happen to like onion on your sandwich/burger...one ring, and if you are lucky maybe two. And...you want cheese? That's always extra, and one slice costs a buck more. What the heck is up with that?
In my opinion the only sandwich they can't screw up is a grilled cheese...but that appears only in the children's part of the menu, and I've been in some restaurants where a grown-up is not allowed to order from that section. Bummer. Plus, try to order a grilled cheese while in the company of other grown-ups...you just might get laughed away from the table.
So it is, I prefer to make my own sandwiches right in my own kitchen. I guarantee the ketchup, mustard and dressing will go all around the bread until every part of the crust edge is covered. Then the innards will be the same, tomatoes, pickles, cheese, meat, and what ever else I choose to put in it will be falling over the edges. Oh, such a picture, it looks to pretty to eat...I do anyway...such a delicious meal. Add some chips, and a soda or cup of coffee and I'm in heaven.
Whew, thanks for letting me get this off my chest. Now, if you'll excuse my I'm going to go finish my PB & J on squishy white bread, and my crispy cheese puffs.
This one is about a particular gripe I have. And, it is brought about as a result of the two peanut butter-jelly sandwiches I prepared for lunch. One for Frankie, one for me. Oh, and we're having crispy cheese puffs, too.
I was diligently spreading the peanut butter and the jelly all the way to the four edges and corners of the slices of bread and this brought to mind the following:
Restaurant sandwiches and/or toast. I hate the ones who bring toast, with a tiny, yet bread soaking blob of butter in the middle of it, while the rest of the toast is dry, butter-less, and hard to swallow. The truth now, don't you hate that too?
Next, I dislike paying seven to ten dollars for a sandwich (for example a bacon/tomato/lettuce) when; first, where is the mayo, or salad dressing? That's mostly like the butter on toast. Then, what reaches to all four sides and corners of the sandwich...the L. Oh yes, their efforts are put into the L. Look at the first half of your sandwich before you take the first bite. I bet it is build so high you can hardly get it in your mouth...look, see, it is piled high with...the L. Where is the B and T. I find most places will accommodate you with two slices of T, in the middle, overlapping each other. Next, they graciously supply the B. If you are lucky and the restaurant is kind of classy you will get three slices of B. However, they are usually thin, and bunched side by side leaving huge empty gaps on either side. Come on people, slide those sucker to the left or right an add another slice...how much more it the sandwich going to cost me?
I don't think it matters what kind of sandwich you buy, it could even be a burger, it's still mostly going to be lettuce. Oh, and heaven forbid you should happen to like onion on your sandwich/burger...one ring, and if you are lucky maybe two. And...you want cheese? That's always extra, and one slice costs a buck more. What the heck is up with that?
In my opinion the only sandwich they can't screw up is a grilled cheese...but that appears only in the children's part of the menu, and I've been in some restaurants where a grown-up is not allowed to order from that section. Bummer. Plus, try to order a grilled cheese while in the company of other grown-ups...you just might get laughed away from the table.
So it is, I prefer to make my own sandwiches right in my own kitchen. I guarantee the ketchup, mustard and dressing will go all around the bread until every part of the crust edge is covered. Then the innards will be the same, tomatoes, pickles, cheese, meat, and what ever else I choose to put in it will be falling over the edges. Oh, such a picture, it looks to pretty to eat...I do anyway...such a delicious meal. Add some chips, and a soda or cup of coffee and I'm in heaven.
Whew, thanks for letting me get this off my chest. Now, if you'll excuse my I'm going to go finish my PB & J on squishy white bread, and my crispy cheese puffs.
Spark or fire
(Please remember, I do proof-read these entries, and spell-check, yet errors still continue to appear. I simply don't catch them...just over-look them, K?)
This morning after I-Ching, I asked Frankie, "Would you rather be a fire, or a spark?"
Frankie: "Neither, that's a stupid question."
Me: "No, really, let's be philosophical for a few minutes."
Frankie rolls her eyes, and sighs. "Is Muse going to join us?"
Me: "Oh, I suppose she'll be around somewhere."
Frankie: "Well, if I MUST. I guess I would choose to be the fire. Warm, friendly, accommodating, plus, I can roast hot-dogs and marshmallows for people."
Me: "Hmmmmm."
Frankie: "What???? That was the wrong answer?"
Me: "No, there's no right or wrong answer, you just surprised me, that's all. I thought for sure you would have said spark."
Frankie: "Which would you rather be?"
Me: "I've been giving this a lot of thought this morning, and..."
Frankie: "Poop...you roped me in...is there a sermon coming?"
I'm glad you asked.
Frankie is right you know, a controlled fire is indeed warm and friendly, and I think 99.9 % of people would choose to be the fire. And, at first I thought I would, too. Then, after more contemplation, my minds eye viewed a campfire, and I heard a 'pop', and saw hundreds of sparks come to life, briefly dance and disappear into the darkness. This happened over and over again. Pop, dance, disappear. Pop, dance, disappear.
A fire slowly dies, cools and eventually goes out, yet all the while the sparks dance to the very end. And, I decided I would rather be a spark than the fire. Here's my thinking. As a fire slowly dies, it is still constant, dependable, helpful, purposeful, and...dull.
However, the life of a spark though brief, is unexpected, exciting, lively, full of delight. True, it does not last long, but then human life does not last long either. I can live mine going by slowly, constantly, helpfully, purposefully...and dully. Or, I can live it unexpectedly, excitingly, lively and delightfully. After much soul searching I think I made the right choice.
Yep.
From here on out I'm going to do my damn-est to be a spark.
This morning after I-Ching, I asked Frankie, "Would you rather be a fire, or a spark?"
Frankie: "Neither, that's a stupid question."
Me: "No, really, let's be philosophical for a few minutes."
Frankie rolls her eyes, and sighs. "Is Muse going to join us?"
Me: "Oh, I suppose she'll be around somewhere."
Frankie: "Well, if I MUST. I guess I would choose to be the fire. Warm, friendly, accommodating, plus, I can roast hot-dogs and marshmallows for people."
Me: "Hmmmmm."
Frankie: "What???? That was the wrong answer?"
Me: "No, there's no right or wrong answer, you just surprised me, that's all. I thought for sure you would have said spark."
Frankie: "Which would you rather be?"
Me: "I've been giving this a lot of thought this morning, and..."
Frankie: "Poop...you roped me in...is there a sermon coming?"
I'm glad you asked.
Frankie is right you know, a controlled fire is indeed warm and friendly, and I think 99.9 % of people would choose to be the fire. And, at first I thought I would, too. Then, after more contemplation, my minds eye viewed a campfire, and I heard a 'pop', and saw hundreds of sparks come to life, briefly dance and disappear into the darkness. This happened over and over again. Pop, dance, disappear. Pop, dance, disappear.
A fire slowly dies, cools and eventually goes out, yet all the while the sparks dance to the very end. And, I decided I would rather be a spark than the fire. Here's my thinking. As a fire slowly dies, it is still constant, dependable, helpful, purposeful, and...dull.
However, the life of a spark though brief, is unexpected, exciting, lively, full of delight. True, it does not last long, but then human life does not last long either. I can live mine going by slowly, constantly, helpfully, purposefully...and dully. Or, I can live it unexpectedly, excitingly, lively and delightfully. After much soul searching I think I made the right choice.
Yep.
From here on out I'm going to do my damn-est to be a spark.
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
Things they never tell you
Things They Never Tell you
Chapter One
Bathroom mishaps
I think we are all creatures of habit...we had a dog once that liked to drink out of the toilet, and since I could not train him to stop...I trained my husband and kiddos' to put the toilet lid down. This event is about putting the lid down, and what happened to me 'awhile back'. Why it popped into my head this morning I've no idea, but thought this would be a good start to my book.
No matter how hard an old person tries, at least once a night a trip to the bathroom is required. I hate admitting that, but it is a fact of life, winter, summer, spring or fall, off we go to visit the throne room.
REMEMBER! This is important...
I CAN NO LONGER MULTI-TASK.
So, on this particular night at bedtime I must have been thinking about something else, and forgot to put the lid down, when I toddled off to bed.
It's early morning...maybe 2:30/3:00 AM. Uh-oh, it's time for my nightly trek. My bedroom is pretty dark, but so far I've refused to put a 'night-light' in because I don't want to have to admit I need one plus, I have several 'guiding lights' to lead me to where I need to go...the phone has a tiny light, the cable box has an itty-bitty light, and my digital clock is illuminating as well. So, when I need to 'go' I have a pretty good idea where to aim my body.
Off I go.
Naturally, the first thing I do is lift the lid. Turn around and sit.
It all happened sooo quickly. Damn...cold porcelain...I had lifted the seat...I start to lose my balance and fall backward. I grab the edge of the sink to stop gravity from taking over and manage to save my 'butt'. I mutter under my breath and probably would have blamed Frankie, but she had not moved in yet.
So, I say to myself: "Self, how many times have you mentally said..."Put the lid down."? Thirty be-jillion, give or take? Old people...you can not rely on instinct or habit to do things as usual. Life does take some one mindedness. THINK ABOUT WHAT YOU ARE DOING.
Honestly, do you want to spend the rest of your night stuck IN your throne, waiting for the neighbors to awake in the morning so you can shout for them to come and hall your sorryass, butt out of it. Even worse...what if they can't and THEY have to call the fire department to come do the job. Oh dear, that is indeed an ugly thought.
So, this chapter is all about a few ways to handle these nightly jaunts. One...simply don't go to the bathroom (yeah, right). Two.. if you do go, while walking to the throne try to remember if you put the lid down and imagine that you didn't...Or, C, put your ego aside, buy yourself a night light and solve the problem all together.
Chapter One
Bathroom mishaps
I think we are all creatures of habit...we had a dog once that liked to drink out of the toilet, and since I could not train him to stop...I trained my husband and kiddos' to put the toilet lid down. This event is about putting the lid down, and what happened to me 'awhile back'. Why it popped into my head this morning I've no idea, but thought this would be a good start to my book.
No matter how hard an old person tries, at least once a night a trip to the bathroom is required. I hate admitting that, but it is a fact of life, winter, summer, spring or fall, off we go to visit the throne room.
REMEMBER! This is important...
I CAN NO LONGER MULTI-TASK.
So, on this particular night at bedtime I must have been thinking about something else, and forgot to put the lid down, when I toddled off to bed.
It's early morning...maybe 2:30/3:00 AM. Uh-oh, it's time for my nightly trek. My bedroom is pretty dark, but so far I've refused to put a 'night-light' in because I don't want to have to admit I need one plus, I have several 'guiding lights' to lead me to where I need to go...the phone has a tiny light, the cable box has an itty-bitty light, and my digital clock is illuminating as well. So, when I need to 'go' I have a pretty good idea where to aim my body.
Off I go.
Naturally, the first thing I do is lift the lid. Turn around and sit.
It all happened sooo quickly. Damn...cold porcelain...I had lifted the seat...I start to lose my balance and fall backward. I grab the edge of the sink to stop gravity from taking over and manage to save my 'butt'. I mutter under my breath and probably would have blamed Frankie, but she had not moved in yet.
So, I say to myself: "Self, how many times have you mentally said..."Put the lid down."? Thirty be-jillion, give or take? Old people...you can not rely on instinct or habit to do things as usual. Life does take some one mindedness. THINK ABOUT WHAT YOU ARE DOING.
Honestly, do you want to spend the rest of your night stuck IN your throne, waiting for the neighbors to awake in the morning so you can shout for them to come and hall your sorry
So, this chapter is all about a few ways to handle these nightly jaunts. One...simply don't go to the bathroom (yeah, right). Two.. if you do go, while walking to the throne try to remember if you put the lid down and imagine that you didn't...Or, C, put your ego aside, buy yourself a night light and solve the problem all together.
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Gonna' laugh my way through the day
I know you must be getting pretty tired of my I-Ching-ing it, but I love this stuff, and want to share one more time, okay?
Your moods seem to be changing quickly now and it's difficult to know how you're going to feel next. (No kidding, especially if today is going to be like yesterday, I was riding high...moving at the speed of light...until around 11:30PM when I crashed and burned. That was when I realized I had no mood left at all...I seemed to be stuck to the sofa unable to have the strength to get up.) Lately I've been accused of burning my candle at both ends. Na, that can't be true.
Keep reading.
One minute you seem to have superpowers (That's true, I've been accomplishing amazing feats...possibly because I've given up the mundane...like cleaning house, hand washing dishes, and even getting dressed till noon.)
And, then just a few moments later you'll be back to being a mere mortal. (What? I'm mortal...no, that can't be right. I'm on a roll, baby, a roll.)
Even if you can leap tall thoughts in a single bound, (you've no idea) you still need to follow through with sensible action (You mean like remembering to eat, and getting to bed an a decent hour?).
There's nothing wrong with having your head in the clouds as long as you can keep your feet on the ground at the same time. (Now...THAT'S funny, we all know I can't multitask anymore, its got to be one or the other and I'm leaning towards keeping my head in the clouds even though that's not the practical thing to do. On the other hand, I know that keeping my feet on the ground is the easy and sensible thing to do...it's boring...but safe. What to do? What to do?)
I kind of feel like Mrs. Thurston Howell the III when she said. "We're doomed I tell you, doomed."
Of course, you all know me well enough to know it won't be the last time, I can't help myself... I like that I-Ching is practical and it doesn't tell me I'm going on a long trip, love is just around the corner, or that a bag full of gold is going to land on my doorstep this afternoon. This is down to earth stuff, and sometimes very humbling. Anyway, here is part of today's posting...(picture me smiling).
Your moods seem to be changing quickly now and it's difficult to know how you're going to feel next. (No kidding, especially if today is going to be like yesterday, I was riding high...moving at the speed of light...until around 11:30PM when I crashed and burned. That was when I realized I had no mood left at all...I seemed to be stuck to the sofa unable to have the strength to get up.) Lately I've been accused of burning my candle at both ends. Na, that can't be true.
Keep reading.
One minute you seem to have superpowers (That's true, I've been accomplishing amazing feats...possibly because I've given up the mundane...like cleaning house, hand washing dishes, and even getting dressed till noon.)
And, then just a few moments later you'll be back to being a mere mortal. (What? I'm mortal...no, that can't be right. I'm on a roll, baby, a roll.)
Even if you can leap tall thoughts in a single bound, (you've no idea) you still need to follow through with sensible action (You mean like remembering to eat, and getting to bed an a decent hour?).
There's nothing wrong with having your head in the clouds as long as you can keep your feet on the ground at the same time. (Now...THAT'S funny, we all know I can't multitask anymore, its got to be one or the other and I'm leaning towards keeping my head in the clouds even though that's not the practical thing to do. On the other hand, I know that keeping my feet on the ground is the easy and sensible thing to do...it's boring...but safe. What to do? What to do?)
I kind of feel like Mrs. Thurston Howell the III when she said. "We're doomed I tell you, doomed."
So, I think I'm just going to laugh my way through the day, pretending to be immortal, standing on the ledge, hoping Frankie will pull me back should I lose my balance... ... ... ... ...
(What am I thinking? Frankie? Pull me back? I'm doomed I tell ya, doomed.)
Monday, May 21, 2012
Grace and Beauty
My I-Ching message for today is all about grace and beauty...mostly grace.
According to my big book grace is elegance, beauty, smoothness of form, politeness and generosity of spirit.
The message continued to tell me how to maintain grace and how it can affect my life's path. I think I want to laugh, but at the same time this was pitiful, hurtful, and kind of threw me into despair. Grace has not been a long suit for me. When I think of grace I think of refinement, the likes of which the rich seem to have in their genes at birth. I, on the other hand have had to pull myself up by the boot-straps just to be able to walk the street without making a fool of myself. (Oh dear, here come the giggles.)
As for the elegance...yeah, right, I buy my jewelry in those tiny little shops in the malls where I can buy six pairs of earrings for a couple of bucks, with a second six-pack for half price...while my clothes come from mail order catalogs....reeeeeaaaaal elegance. (Picture sweat suits, with kittens and puppies on the shirts.) There's elegance for you. However, in my own defense I do ''clean up, pretty good" at times, but...trust me, that takes a lot of time.
Moving on to the beauty part. You've got to be kidding me, that flew the coop decades ago, and has been replaced with a sagging chin, wrinkles, falling boobies, and nearly no-existent lips...where the h--l are they going? Come back beauty, such as you were, I could really, really use you.
Now I'm going to tackle the smoothness of form. Have you been following this blog??????? Trust me I have NO SMOOTHNESS OF FORM, what...so...ever. Remember my mishap in the hallway last week?
The musical I preformed at bedtime? Yeah, right...smooth moves...smooth moves.
However, all is not lost, I do have a slight salvation coming up. The last two definitions of grace. Politeness and generosity of spirit. I try very hard to be polite, say please, excuse me and thank you, hold doors open for women with young children, and even gentlemen who appear to be in a hurry. I allow customers to go ahead of me in line when they have just one item while my shopping cart is filled to the brim with food and goodies. I smile at strangers passing by, even say hello and pat their doggies on their heads. That's good, right?
And, finally I think I score on the generosity of spirit, too. I don't have a lot financially or physically to share, but I think I do give generously from my spirit, being a good listener, a kind friend and neighbor, an understanding and caring being of other's pain and sorrow, a giver of time, and a lender of hand when needed. That has to count for something, doesn't it?
So, I've decided I'm going to try to grow in grace, even though there are some areas of it that will probably continue to elude me. However, the physical beauty thing is pretty much a thing of the past so I'm going to work on my inner beauty from here on out. I'm going to pick myself up, dust myself off, put on a party dress, maybe even high heels shoes, and show the world what THAT kind of beauty is all about.
According to my big book grace is elegance, beauty, smoothness of form, politeness and generosity of spirit.
The message continued to tell me how to maintain grace and how it can affect my life's path. I think I want to laugh, but at the same time this was pitiful, hurtful, and kind of threw me into despair. Grace has not been a long suit for me. When I think of grace I think of refinement, the likes of which the rich seem to have in their genes at birth. I, on the other hand have had to pull myself up by the boot-straps just to be able to walk the street without making a fool of myself. (Oh dear, here come the giggles.)
As for the elegance...yeah, right, I buy my jewelry in those tiny little shops in the malls where I can buy six pairs of earrings for a couple of bucks, with a second six-pack for half price...while my clothes come from mail order catalogs....reeeeeaaaaal elegance. (Picture sweat suits, with kittens and puppies on the shirts.) There's elegance for you. However, in my own defense I do ''clean up, pretty good" at times, but...trust me, that takes a lot of time.
Moving on to the beauty part. You've got to be kidding me, that flew the coop decades ago, and has been replaced with a sagging chin, wrinkles, falling boobies, and nearly no-existent lips...where the h--l are they going? Come back beauty, such as you were, I could really, really use you.
Now I'm going to tackle the smoothness of form. Have you been following this blog??????? Trust me I have NO SMOOTHNESS OF FORM, what...so...ever. Remember my mishap in the hallway last week?
The musical I preformed at bedtime? Yeah, right...smooth moves...smooth moves.
However, all is not lost, I do have a slight salvation coming up. The last two definitions of grace. Politeness and generosity of spirit. I try very hard to be polite, say please, excuse me and thank you, hold doors open for women with young children, and even gentlemen who appear to be in a hurry. I allow customers to go ahead of me in line when they have just one item while my shopping cart is filled to the brim with food and goodies. I smile at strangers passing by, even say hello and pat their doggies on their heads. That's good, right?
And, finally I think I score on the generosity of spirit, too. I don't have a lot financially or physically to share, but I think I do give generously from my spirit, being a good listener, a kind friend and neighbor, an understanding and caring being of other's pain and sorrow, a giver of time, and a lender of hand when needed. That has to count for something, doesn't it?
So, I've decided I'm going to try to grow in grace, even though there are some areas of it that will probably continue to elude me. However, the physical beauty thing is pretty much a thing of the past so I'm going to work on my inner beauty from here on out. I'm going to pick myself up, dust myself off, put on a party dress, maybe even high heels shoes, and show the world what THAT kind of beauty is all about.
Sunday, May 20, 2012
Bad Sandra, bad Sandra
I'm coming to believe I'm a menace at the computer any time after, oh, I don't know, maybe 10PM. Stuff happens...weird, crazy stuff. I somehow press wrong keys, that takes me to places I don't want to be.
As a result, I'm forced to change passwords, find home pages that have mysteriously disappeared from my bookmarks list, and put up with messages that say 'this site is not longer available'...yes, it was, I was just there two minutes ago.
I'm ready to scream. Didn't I go through this just a few weeks ago? Why yes, yes I did.
I've rebuilt my bookmarks page from scratch, but can't remember what all was on it, and I know some favorites are missing. I guess I will have to wait until the next time I want to use the missing ones and add them to my new list at that time. What a bummer.
This morning it was my e-mail that gave me fits. Last night my provider told me my 'old password' had expired and I needed to set up a new one. Really? The old one worked just fine a minute ago. But, I thought, okay, it's been a couple of years since I changed the password so I suppose it is time for a new one. I went through the rig-a-ramole of setting one up and went to bed thinking all was right in my world.
I was sooo wrong. I could not get into my e-mail provider this morning to save my soul. Somehow my computer worked overtime (after I went to bed, and the computer was off) to tell me this morning my provider was now Yahoo.com. But not to worry, my address book was the same, I had one new message and to view it all I had to do was provide them with my password. OMG, Yahoo is not my e-mail provider, and I do not, I repeat, I do not have, or want a password.
Should I laugh? Should I cry? Or, should I start to pull my hair out?
I decide to laugh, what a comedy of errors. Come on! With a tremendous amount of patience...I set about clicking this, Googling that, trying to find the 'new site' and 'new password' for my regular e-mail provider I had set up last night. I finally found it, and hurriedly clicked it to my bookmarks list, and prayed for the best. It took me a while to get brave enough to close out my e-mail so I could check to see if my 'new' bookmarks list actually had my provider there. Whew...it did.
So, (with very little patience left, and my sanity pretty much gone) I think I'm back to where I want to be on the Internet again...I just wish I would no longer be inspired to work on the computer after 10PM... ...unfortunately I know that's not going to happen.
Stay tuned, folks, knowing me as well as I do things can only get worse.
As a result, I'm forced to change passwords, find home pages that have mysteriously disappeared from my bookmarks list, and put up with messages that say 'this site is not longer available'...yes, it was, I was just there two minutes ago.
I'm ready to scream. Didn't I go through this just a few weeks ago? Why yes, yes I did.
I've rebuilt my bookmarks page from scratch, but can't remember what all was on it, and I know some favorites are missing. I guess I will have to wait until the next time I want to use the missing ones and add them to my new list at that time. What a bummer.
This morning it was my e-mail that gave me fits. Last night my provider told me my 'old password' had expired and I needed to set up a new one. Really? The old one worked just fine a minute ago. But, I thought, okay, it's been a couple of years since I changed the password so I suppose it is time for a new one. I went through the rig-a-ramole of setting one up and went to bed thinking all was right in my world.
I was sooo wrong. I could not get into my e-mail provider this morning to save my soul. Somehow my computer worked overtime (after I went to bed, and the computer was off) to tell me this morning my provider was now Yahoo.com. But not to worry, my address book was the same, I had one new message and to view it all I had to do was provide them with my password. OMG, Yahoo is not my e-mail provider, and I do not, I repeat, I do not have, or want a password.
Should I laugh? Should I cry? Or, should I start to pull my hair out?
I decide to laugh, what a comedy of errors. Come on! With a tremendous amount of patience...I set about clicking this, Googling that, trying to find the 'new site' and 'new password' for my regular e-mail provider I had set up last night. I finally found it, and hurriedly clicked it to my bookmarks list, and prayed for the best. It took me a while to get brave enough to close out my e-mail so I could check to see if my 'new' bookmarks list actually had my provider there. Whew...it did.
So, (with very little patience left, and my sanity pretty much gone) I think I'm back to where I want to be on the Internet again...I just wish I would no longer be inspired to work on the computer after 10PM... ...unfortunately I know that's not going to happen.
Stay tuned, folks, knowing me as well as I do things can only get worse.
Saturday, May 19, 2012
It's the little things
When I got my new computer and printer/scanner, not long before I got Zorro. There was a problem. He was frightened of the sound of the printer. The scanner noises didn't bother him at all, but every time I used the printer (which I do a lot) it would send him scampering from the office.
Since I'm considerably 'slow on the switch' it took my until a few weeks ago that I might be able to bribe him with kibble to come to understand the printer would not attack him. As a result he has put on a few pounds and I realized he was going to waste away to a ton if I could not come up with another plan.
So...again, slow on the switch, it occurred to me I had never done maintenance on my printer/scanner and decided yesterday was the day to do that. I'm going down the check list, cleaning, clearing, etc, etc. I come across a statement that says (How to put your printer on silent mode). What? What? WHAT? 'Silent mode for work you need to have printed at night'. You have got to be kidding me!!!!!! This can't be right.
I click the little square box to turn on 'quite mode' deciding to give it shot. I never heard of such a thing and I'm convinced it isn't going to work, much less keep Zorro from going bonkers. (Now when he hears the printer he comes zooming into the room for a treat. Bad Sandra, bad Sandra.)
Ready, set, go! CLICK. The printer starts to do its thing.
No Zorro.
The printing job ends.
No Zorro.
Ohhhh, my...gosh!
All I have to do now is try a print job with him in the room when I start. That happened a short time later.
He's napping in his office bed. I click print. He is aware the printer has started and gets up looking for kibble. I don't give him any, he's confused. I pat his little head while the printer completed its job. I print some more, no kibble, no disturbing noise and he loses interest.
Un-be-lieve-a-bull!!!!!
We will see how it goes today, but I think I've solved the printer problem. See what I mean about being slow on the switch? Sure wish technical stuff came with hard copy instructions like they used to I could have saved myself months, and months of pondering, and Zorro pounds, and pounds of weight.
Sigh.
Since I'm considerably 'slow on the switch' it took my until a few weeks ago that I might be able to bribe him with kibble to come to understand the printer would not attack him. As a result he has put on a few pounds and I realized he was going to waste away to a ton if I could not come up with another plan.
So...again, slow on the switch, it occurred to me I had never done maintenance on my printer/scanner and decided yesterday was the day to do that. I'm going down the check list, cleaning, clearing, etc, etc. I come across a statement that says (How to put your printer on silent mode). What? What? WHAT? 'Silent mode for work you need to have printed at night'. You have got to be kidding me!!!!!! This can't be right.
I click the little square box to turn on 'quite mode' deciding to give it shot. I never heard of such a thing and I'm convinced it isn't going to work, much less keep Zorro from going bonkers. (Now when he hears the printer he comes zooming into the room for a treat. Bad Sandra, bad Sandra.)
Ready, set, go! CLICK. The printer starts to do its thing.
No Zorro.
The printing job ends.
No Zorro.
Ohhhh, my...gosh!
All I have to do now is try a print job with him in the room when I start. That happened a short time later.
He's napping in his office bed. I click print. He is aware the printer has started and gets up looking for kibble. I don't give him any, he's confused. I pat his little head while the printer completed its job. I print some more, no kibble, no disturbing noise and he loses interest.
Un-be-lieve-a-bull!!!!!
We will see how it goes today, but I think I've solved the printer problem. See what I mean about being slow on the switch? Sure wish technical stuff came with hard copy instructions like they used to I could have saved myself months, and months of pondering, and Zorro pounds, and pounds of weight.
Sigh.
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
Mugging it up
I bet you all have an interesting group of 'mugs', I do too. For a while just about every charity I sponsor would send me a new 'mug'. As a result I have a pretty interesting collection. Some 'mugs' came with birthday floral arrangements, and some I got as Christmas gifts as well. I must have about fifteen in all, and I did not pay for a single one.
However, I also remember the world without 'mugs'. (Yes, folks, I'm that old.)
We used to have sets of china, they had dinner plates, salad plates, (sometimes soup bowls) and cups with matching saucers. The patterns were always beautiful, maybe pretty pink roses, gold edging, or perhaps a garden scene. The sets were delicate, and had an air of royalty; especially the cups and saucers. It was joyful to drink your coffee or tea from them, your pinky finger slightly crooked outward. I think afternoon tea in England, must continue to be a refined occurrence.
We La La Ladies went to a tea parlor one afternoon, it was such a delightful time. The parlor had a section with clothing you could wear. We didn't, I can still imagine a mother or father bringing their daughter there, and see her in an elegant hat, with white gloves covering her delicate fingers. There was a gift counter there, and I bought myself a bracelet, it has ornate silvery looking beads, and tucked in is a tiny Bible charm.
We drank our tea from cups, with matching saucers, had sandwiches, and a delicious dessert as well. It was all so demure, old fashioned. Time slowed down. I think we all deserve an afternoon of slowing down, sipping tea from a beautiful cup with matching saucer; don't you?
We have a formal Chinese Garden here, they have a wonderful little tea garden, I love going there. In fact, I think it is my favorite place to take people. However, they serve their tea in their traditional way, in tiny, handle-less cups...so...it's...just not the same as drinking it from a cup that sits in a matching saucer.
I'd like to use my cups and saucers, I really would, but I'm such a klutz, I know I'd have them all broken in a year, month...(let's face it)...a week. My mom bought me this china after I lost mine in an earthquake, so this set means a great deal to me, as a result, I never use it 'cause I don't want to lose it. However, if you are even in my neck of the woods, and would like a spot of tea, I would be happy to rinse off the cups...and...
the matching saucers, and have some with you.
However, I also remember the world without 'mugs'. (Yes, folks, I'm that old.)
We used to have sets of china, they had dinner plates, salad plates, (sometimes soup bowls) and cups with matching saucers. The patterns were always beautiful, maybe pretty pink roses, gold edging, or perhaps a garden scene. The sets were delicate, and had an air of royalty; especially the cups and saucers. It was joyful to drink your coffee or tea from them, your pinky finger slightly crooked outward. I think afternoon tea in England, must continue to be a refined occurrence.
We La La Ladies went to a tea parlor one afternoon, it was such a delightful time. The parlor had a section with clothing you could wear. We didn't, I can still imagine a mother or father bringing their daughter there, and see her in an elegant hat, with white gloves covering her delicate fingers. There was a gift counter there, and I bought myself a bracelet, it has ornate silvery looking beads, and tucked in is a tiny Bible charm.
We drank our tea from cups, with matching saucers, had sandwiches, and a delicious dessert as well. It was all so demure, old fashioned. Time slowed down. I think we all deserve an afternoon of slowing down, sipping tea from a beautiful cup with matching saucer; don't you?
We have a formal Chinese Garden here, they have a wonderful little tea garden, I love going there. In fact, I think it is my favorite place to take people. However, they serve their tea in their traditional way, in tiny, handle-less cups...so...it's...just not the same as drinking it from a cup that sits in a matching saucer.
I'd like to use my cups and saucers, I really would, but I'm such a klutz, I know I'd have them all broken in a year, month...(let's face it)...a week. My mom bought me this china after I lost mine in an earthquake, so this set means a great deal to me, as a result, I never use it 'cause I don't want to lose it. However, if you are even in my neck of the woods, and would like a spot of tea, I would be happy to rinse off the cups...and...
the matching saucers, and have some with you.
Monday, May 14, 2012
I'm Going to Write a Book
Now, before you tell me, I know, I KNOW, I write about getting old, being old and getting older way too much. But, old is so dang funny I can't help myself. Just the other night I took a tumble that scared Zorro half to death, and caused Frankie and I to get into a state of uncontrolled laughter.
Bear with me, here comes another story. This is truly funny but some of you might be offended, and disgusted, so, please stop reading here. However, for you braver of heart, I have to tell this little story.
As Sargent Friday would say, It was Sunday, I was working night watch, crocheting on the sofa. My boss is Frankie, and my partner is Rat Terrier Zorro. 1:30 AM.
I had fallen asleep, and awoke to find my hook work on the floor and decided if I was going to sleep I might as well go to bed.
I started to rise. Toot. Oh my gosh, my body had become a musical instrument. I take a few steps. Toot. What the heck? I make my way to the kitchen, tooting all the way. I try to stop, really I do, but I don't have any control over this whole situation. Toot, toot, toot.
By now Frankie is in a STATE, the likes of which I have never seen before. She is waving her hand back and forth in front of her nose, laughing hysterically. Toot, toot.
Zorro now has a keen interest, and is closely following my back side, not only because of the sound, but I'm pretty sure the odor has something to do with it, too.
My little orchestral masterpiece continued for about five minutes. Much to everyone's delight...except me. Toot.
Toot. Laughter
Toot. Laughter.
Toot.
Is this another old person trick being played on me by my Guardian Angel? Toot. I know it can't be Frankie, she has power, but not THAT kind of power. And, this is waaay beyond Zorro's expertise.
Why has the learned medical community not warned the us older generation these things are going to happen? It would have been so nice to know, so that I could have prepared myself so at the very least I would have known this was a possibility. Toot.
Toot.
I'm please to say, my little instrumental eventually subsided, and life went back to normal, but I'm beginning to wonder, should I start to stock up on those adult diapers I see advertised on TV? OMG, please tell me that isn't going to be next.
So, this morning I got to thinking, maybe I should write a book about all the subtle little things that can happen as we try to ???gracefully??? go through our declining years. I wish Erma Bombeck was still around...I know she would warn us, and do it in such a delightful way we would all accept these little mishaps with great aplomb.
Bear with me, here comes another story. This is truly funny but some of you might be offended, and disgusted, so, please stop reading here. However, for you braver of heart, I have to tell this little story.
As Sargent Friday would say, It was Sunday, I was working night watch, crocheting on the sofa. My boss is Frankie, and my partner is Rat Terrier Zorro. 1:30 AM.
I had fallen asleep, and awoke to find my hook work on the floor and decided if I was going to sleep I might as well go to bed.
I started to rise. Toot. Oh my gosh, my body had become a musical instrument. I take a few steps. Toot. What the heck? I make my way to the kitchen, tooting all the way. I try to stop, really I do, but I don't have any control over this whole situation. Toot, toot, toot.
By now Frankie is in a STATE, the likes of which I have never seen before. She is waving her hand back and forth in front of her nose, laughing hysterically. Toot, toot.
Zorro now has a keen interest, and is closely following my back side, not only because of the sound, but I'm pretty sure the odor has something to do with it, too.
My little orchestral masterpiece continued for about five minutes. Much to everyone's delight...except me. Toot.
Toot. Laughter
Toot. Laughter.
Toot.
Is this another old person trick being played on me by my Guardian Angel? Toot. I know it can't be Frankie, she has power, but not THAT kind of power. And, this is waaay beyond Zorro's expertise.
Why has the learned medical community not warned the us older generation these things are going to happen? It would have been so nice to know, so that I could have prepared myself so at the very least I would have known this was a possibility. Toot.
Toot.
I'm please to say, my little instrumental eventually subsided, and life went back to normal, but I'm beginning to wonder, should I start to stock up on those adult diapers I see advertised on TV? OMG, please tell me that isn't going to be next.
So, this morning I got to thinking, maybe I should write a book about all the subtle little things that can happen as we try to ???gracefully??? go through our declining years. I wish Erma Bombeck was still around...I know she would warn us, and do it in such a delightful way we would all accept these little mishaps with great aplomb.
Saturday, May 12, 2012
Dang it!
Remember when I said some time ago I can no longer 'multitask'? Apparently I'm going to have to add walking to that list.
Last night I was watching Storage Wars and decided it was time to clean up the living room and was in the process of taking my box filled with crafty stuff to my office. I'm walking to the hall, listening to the TV, balancing the box, turning the corner, and...walking into my little curio cabinet.
Uh-oh! Oh my gosh! I'm going to fall!
Splat.
This was not like the tumble I took last year, when the root jumped out from under a cover of leaves on the nature trail and grabbed me by the ankle, throwing me to the ground---kind of fall...that was really, really, funny No, this was a stupid, old lady, think about what you're doing kind of fall. Con-sent-rate old woman. Concentrate.
Annn-eee-way.
Sp-lat.
Frankie: (Me on hands and knees, butt end her direction.) "Are you okay?"
Me: (Terribly embarrassed.) "Yes."
Frankie: "Are you sure?"
She can't help because my big rear end and the curio cabinet block her from getting around to my front end to do so.
Me: "Yes, I'm okay." I look around. The box is a little bent out of shape, but not one single thing has fallen out of it. I'm reasonably sure I've not broken anything, and feel (like an idiot) as though I can stand up.
I see poor Zorro, he is in a tizzy, doing his 'I think I'm going to get hysterical', round and round in a circle dance. Once I'm on my feet he calms down.
I can also see the look on Frankie's face turn from honest concern, to 'oh dear, that was really funny, I think I'm going to laugh, but I don't want to hurt your feelings' outburst. We both do. Mostly from relief that I had not broken anything, and from the fact we did not have a bunch of little plastic bags to pick up.
Frankie: "Did we learn anything for this?"
Me: "Absolutely; I learned I have to:
Slow down,
Think about what I'm doing,
NOT multitask,
Look where I'm going,
Thank God (profusely) I did not break anything,
write this on the blackboard a hundred times so I never to do the above again, lesson.
I'm a little 'stove-up', and the hip I hurt some time ago is a bit cranky this morning, but other than that I'm going to be okay. It's nothing one of those hot-cold creams can't fix up in a few days. However, I guess I HAVE to learn to be more careful, as even a 'trip' (snicker, snicker) down the hall can be a dangerous 'trek'
(snicker, snicker).
Have a good day.
Last night I was watching Storage Wars and decided it was time to clean up the living room and was in the process of taking my box filled with crafty stuff to my office. I'm walking to the hall, listening to the TV, balancing the box, turning the corner, and...walking into my little curio cabinet.
Uh-oh! Oh my gosh! I'm going to fall!
Splat.
This was not like the tumble I took last year, when the root jumped out from under a cover of leaves on the nature trail and grabbed me by the ankle, throwing me to the ground---kind of fall...that was really, really, funny No, this was a stupid, old lady, think about what you're doing kind of fall. Con-sent-rate old woman. Concentrate.
Annn-eee-way.
Sp-lat.
Frankie: (Me on hands and knees, butt end her direction.) "Are you okay?"
Me: (Terribly embarrassed.) "Yes."
Frankie: "Are you sure?"
She can't help because my big rear end and the curio cabinet block her from getting around to my front end to do so.
Me: "Yes, I'm okay." I look around. The box is a little bent out of shape, but not one single thing has fallen out of it. I'm reasonably sure I've not broken anything, and feel (like an idiot) as though I can stand up.
I see poor Zorro, he is in a tizzy, doing his 'I think I'm going to get hysterical', round and round in a circle dance. Once I'm on my feet he calms down.
I can also see the look on Frankie's face turn from honest concern, to 'oh dear, that was really funny, I think I'm going to laugh, but I don't want to hurt your feelings' outburst. We both do. Mostly from relief that I had not broken anything, and from the fact we did not have a bunch of little plastic bags to pick up.
Frankie: "Did we learn anything for this?"
Me: "Absolutely; I learned I have to:
Slow down,
Think about what I'm doing,
NOT multitask,
Look where I'm going,
Thank God (profusely) I did not break anything,
write this on the blackboard a hundred times so I never to do the above again, lesson.
I'm a little 'stove-up', and the hip I hurt some time ago is a bit cranky this morning, but other than that I'm going to be okay. It's nothing one of those hot-cold creams can't fix up in a few days. However, I guess I HAVE to learn to be more careful, as even a 'trip' (snicker, snicker) down the hall can be a dangerous 'trek'
(snicker, snicker).
Have a good day.
Friday, May 11, 2012
Sigh
I'm very melancholy today.
Last night I had a dream about my first love. It was very vivid, we were both young, (Don't you love those kinds of dreams.) and happy, and obvious looking forward to a future together. Why is it first loves sometimes tend not to work out?
I never forgot about him, and he was the only man I loved, really, really, really loved. I had different kinds of love as I went through my life, but they were never like the love I had for him. I thought of him, and think of him frequently, his memory is in a pretty little box sitting on a shelf in my office. Sometimes I open it, and smell the smoke of his favorite cigarette, his aftershave, see his pink and grey car, his slightly crooked smile, and his beautiful red hair. There are times I shed tears.
But, he married, somebody else, I moved to California, and time passed. I can see now it passed very, very quickly, too quickly.
We lost touched, until my mom passed away, when at that time he sent me a beautiful sympathy card, it is now in my scrapbook. I wrote him a lengthy letter back. In it I said I was not trying to re-enter his life, thanked him for the card, and then told him about my life over the past years. I explained he did not have to reply, that I was simply glad to have heard from him.
Therefore, I was quite surprised when a few weeks later I got a call from a mutual friend that he would like to call me, and did she think I would be agreeable to that. I guess the phone line didn't even have a chance to cool before she was on the phone with me. I told her I would be delighted to hear from him. She called him back, and he called me.
My heart leaped into my throat...
We had a delightful, long talk. Caught up on much, and he said he would call again from time to time if that would be okay. Would I have said it was not okay? I think not.
I told Paul about the call, he was fine with that, and didn't even care if he would call back. After all, how much bad can happen when the two parties are three thousand miles apart.
And so it was that every couple of months I would get a call from my first love, we talked about the past, the present, and even about 'what might have been'. It was a lovely time...just the two of us. This went on for a couple of years, I so looked forward to our calls.
Then...one day...our mutual friend called...she told me he had died of a massive heart attack. I wept. I had not lost him once...I had lost him twice.
So, I love when I have a dream of him, and love going to my little orange covered, empty box on my office shelf. I open it and there he is...the memories, smells and sights leap out at me in wild abandon.
I'm coming someday, Ronnie, wait for me. I refuse to lose you a third time.
Last night I had a dream about my first love. It was very vivid, we were both young, (Don't you love those kinds of dreams.) and happy, and obvious looking forward to a future together. Why is it first loves sometimes tend not to work out?
I never forgot about him, and he was the only man I loved, really, really, really loved. I had different kinds of love as I went through my life, but they were never like the love I had for him. I thought of him, and think of him frequently, his memory is in a pretty little box sitting on a shelf in my office. Sometimes I open it, and smell the smoke of his favorite cigarette, his aftershave, see his pink and grey car, his slightly crooked smile, and his beautiful red hair. There are times I shed tears.
But, he married, somebody else, I moved to California, and time passed. I can see now it passed very, very quickly, too quickly.
We lost touched, until my mom passed away, when at that time he sent me a beautiful sympathy card, it is now in my scrapbook. I wrote him a lengthy letter back. In it I said I was not trying to re-enter his life, thanked him for the card, and then told him about my life over the past years. I explained he did not have to reply, that I was simply glad to have heard from him.
Therefore, I was quite surprised when a few weeks later I got a call from a mutual friend that he would like to call me, and did she think I would be agreeable to that. I guess the phone line didn't even have a chance to cool before she was on the phone with me. I told her I would be delighted to hear from him. She called him back, and he called me.
My heart leaped into my throat...
We had a delightful, long talk. Caught up on much, and he said he would call again from time to time if that would be okay. Would I have said it was not okay? I think not.
I told Paul about the call, he was fine with that, and didn't even care if he would call back. After all, how much bad can happen when the two parties are three thousand miles apart.
And so it was that every couple of months I would get a call from my first love, we talked about the past, the present, and even about 'what might have been'. It was a lovely time...just the two of us. This went on for a couple of years, I so looked forward to our calls.
Then...one day...our mutual friend called...she told me he had died of a massive heart attack. I wept. I had not lost him once...I had lost him twice.
So, I love when I have a dream of him, and love going to my little orange covered, empty box on my office shelf. I open it and there he is...the memories, smells and sights leap out at me in wild abandon.
I'm coming someday, Ronnie, wait for me. I refuse to lose you a third time.
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
Something's afoot
Hummm, I wish I knew what the heck is going on. Something is afoot.
Frankie has been unusually, quite for about a week now, there's been no 'put downs', harassing, or nagging. Let's face it, that is NOT Frankie. She has always, always, ALWAYS had something to say about EVERYTHING. Instead, she has been going around 'humming (can you believe that?), not complaining about peanut butter crackers, and even stays out of the office from eight til noon. Ladies and gentlemen...this has me in a tizzy, what IS she up to.
I'd love to ask...but I'm afraid of what she might say...or...do. I know she's contemplating something, and the anticipation of what it might be has me at the point of wanting to jump out of my skin. It's gotten to the point I'm afraid of my own shadow...(Which, by the way, I have been fortunate to see on a regular and frequent basis these days.) I think I can handle anything she can throw at me, I hope...just get it over with...ahhhhhh.
But there is one thing I, with absolute certainty, could not handle, and that is that she would leave me and our little family. She has brought joy, excitement, fun, and pleasure to us, and her going would leave a void that we would have a difficult time filling. So, I've got to find out what's going on in thecomplicated wiring of her unique brain...even though that's a scary thought.
I'm remembering when Kabooa left, Bonnie's imaginary monster, he never said he was going, left no note, and didn't even say good bye. When I asked where he was, Bonnie simply said, "Oh, he went home." We never spoke of his leaving again. After years of setting a place for him at the table, giving he bowls of noodle soup, telling him good night he simply, wordlessly left. I don't want Frankie to do that. I'll DO whatever it TAKES to make her stay.
Shhhhh. She just walked by the doorway...I don't want her coming in the office and reading this.
Wish me luck...that what ever it is, I have to get to the bottom of it. What is it they say...'face your fears'? (insert sigh here.) I'm hoping this is nothing worse than her jumping out of a closet, causing me to pee my pants a little. I'm gonna' do it...face the fear...as soon...as I get the courage.
I'll keep you posted.
Frankie has been unusually, quite for about a week now, there's been no 'put downs', harassing, or nagging. Let's face it, that is NOT Frankie. She has always, always, ALWAYS had something to say about EVERYTHING. Instead, she has been going around 'humming (can you believe that?), not complaining about peanut butter crackers, and even stays out of the office from eight til noon. Ladies and gentlemen...this has me in a tizzy, what IS she up to.
I'd love to ask...but I'm afraid of what she might say...or...do. I know she's contemplating something, and the anticipation of what it might be has me at the point of wanting to jump out of my skin. It's gotten to the point I'm afraid of my own shadow...(Which, by the way, I have been fortunate to see on a regular and frequent basis these days.) I think I can handle anything she can throw at me, I hope...just get it over with...ahhhhhh.
But there is one thing I, with absolute certainty, could not handle, and that is that she would leave me and our little family. She has brought joy, excitement, fun, and pleasure to us, and her going would leave a void that we would have a difficult time filling. So, I've got to find out what's going on in thecomplicated wiring of her unique brain...even though that's a scary thought.
I'm remembering when Kabooa left, Bonnie's imaginary monster, he never said he was going, left no note, and didn't even say good bye. When I asked where he was, Bonnie simply said, "Oh, he went home." We never spoke of his leaving again. After years of setting a place for him at the table, giving he bowls of noodle soup, telling him good night he simply, wordlessly left. I don't want Frankie to do that. I'll DO whatever it TAKES to make her stay.
Shhhhh. She just walked by the doorway...I don't want her coming in the office and reading this.
Wish me luck...that what ever it is, I have to get to the bottom of it. What is it they say...'face your fears'? (insert sigh here.) I'm hoping this is nothing worse than her jumping out of a closet, causing me to pee my pants a little. I'm gonna' do it...face the fear...as soon...as I get the courage.
I'll keep you posted.
Sunday, May 6, 2012
Take, get, go and have
Well, missy is in rare form this morning. Frankie has been busy catching up on magazines that I in a moment of weakness I subscribed to, and have no time to read, thank you Frankie for your interest. Her reading gave me time to finish up some work I didn't get done yesterday without interruption..
When I was through I went to the living-room and announced, "I'm going to take a shower."
Frankie: (Be-mused, looking up from her magazine) "Where are you going to 'take' it?"
Me: "Oh, I guess, I mean I'm going to get a shower."
Frankie: "Where are you going to 'get' it? Is it on sale at the mall?"
Me: "Geeze, Frankie. I'm going to go shower."
Frankie: "Exactly how far are you going to go? Salem, Pennsylvania, Europe?"
Me: "What is your problem?" "I'm going to have a shower."
Frankie: "What kind?" "Bridal?" Baby?"
Me: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. What the heck do you want from me?"
Frankie: "I'm teaching you a lesson." This chick is in her glory, smug littleass lass that she is.
Me: "Yeah, what kind?"
Frankie: (Deep sigh---with resignation) "I think you and your stupid Muse are rubbing off on me. Remember your conversation with her the other day, about writers using 'unnecessary' words, and how to 'tighten up' sentences? Well, you have no idea how much YOU do that when you talk. So, I'm teaching you a lesson. Tighten up sister, sister, tighten up. You do not take, get, go or have a shower. You are simply, going to shower.
Me: "Ouch!" (That hurt.)
When I was through I went to the living-room and announced, "I'm going to take a shower."
Frankie: (Be-mused, looking up from her magazine) "Where are you going to 'take' it?"
Me: "Oh, I guess, I mean I'm going to get a shower."
Frankie: "Where are you going to 'get' it? Is it on sale at the mall?"
Me: "Geeze, Frankie. I'm going to go shower."
Frankie: "Exactly how far are you going to go? Salem, Pennsylvania, Europe?"
Me: "What is your problem?" "I'm going to have a shower."
Frankie: "What kind?" "Bridal?" Baby?"
Me: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. What the heck do you want from me?"
Frankie: "I'm teaching you a lesson." This chick is in her glory, smug little
Me: "Yeah, what kind?"
Frankie: (Deep sigh---with resignation) "I think you and your stupid Muse are rubbing off on me. Remember your conversation with her the other day, about writers using 'unnecessary' words, and how to 'tighten up' sentences? Well, you have no idea how much YOU do that when you talk. So, I'm teaching you a lesson. Tighten up sister, sister, tighten up. You do not take, get, go or have a shower. You are simply, going to shower.
Me: "Ouch!" (That hurt.)
Saturday, May 5, 2012
Out of whack
It's funny how one tiny thing done out of order can screw up your whole morning.
I have to confess my mind has been filled with ladybugs, and bumble bees. Sadly, I guess I'm finally at the age when 'multi-tasking' is no longer something I can do with ease. The 'back story' is I spent yesterday working on cards of bumble bees and lady bugs, and want to finish that up today...but realize there are also other things that must be taken care of (like laundry)...so, my normal morning routine is second in my mind.
Therefore I'm forgetting things, like, giving Zorro his peanut butter so I could make my bed in peace. Then, I got the peanut butter jar out, forgot I had done that, and looked in the fridge only to find it was not there. What the heck?
Out, out, damn butterflies and bumble bees...I have things to tend to.
But, they are buzzing around, worse than a ringing in your ear, and refuse to leave the muddle of my brain.
There is no sense in dwelling on mundane chores...I need more bumble bees, I must have bumble bees, and can't wait to go on line to find stores that sell crafting bumble bees. Apparently, they are not very popular. I found a few to purchase, but for the most part I was very disappointed with the selection available. I think perhaps they are not popular because they hurt badly when you are stung. However, the crafty, cartoony, ones are rather cute, and I think they will make adorable cards, so I will persist in my quest to find some.
Everything else...GO AWAY, since multi-tasking has apparently become a 'chore', I fear I am a danger to myself, CC, Zorro, and Frankie. Heaven only know what they will have to endure until I can finally release butterflies and bumble bees from my muddle.
I have to confess my mind has been filled with ladybugs, and bumble bees. Sadly, I guess I'm finally at the age when 'multi-tasking' is no longer something I can do with ease. The 'back story' is I spent yesterday working on cards of bumble bees and lady bugs, and want to finish that up today...but realize there are also other things that must be taken care of (like laundry)...so, my normal morning routine is second in my mind.
Therefore I'm forgetting things, like, giving Zorro his peanut butter so I could make my bed in peace. Then, I got the peanut butter jar out, forgot I had done that, and looked in the fridge only to find it was not there. What the heck?
Out, out, damn butterflies and bumble bees...I have things to tend to.
But, they are buzzing around, worse than a ringing in your ear, and refuse to leave the muddle of my brain.
There is no sense in dwelling on mundane chores...I need more bumble bees, I must have bumble bees, and can't wait to go on line to find stores that sell crafting bumble bees. Apparently, they are not very popular. I found a few to purchase, but for the most part I was very disappointed with the selection available. I think perhaps they are not popular because they hurt badly when you are stung. However, the crafty, cartoony, ones are rather cute, and I think they will make adorable cards, so I will persist in my quest to find some.
Everything else...GO AWAY, since multi-tasking has apparently become a 'chore', I fear I am a danger to myself, CC, Zorro, and Frankie. Heaven only know what they will have to endure until I can finally release butterflies and bumble bees from my muddle.
Friday, May 4, 2012
Priorities
So,
coffee in hand I arrive at work, turn on my computer, check I-Ching, e-mail and
am in the process of deciding what to tackle next when Zorro enters the room.
He gives me that 'Oh, crap' look and leaves the room.
Next,
Frankie enters. She leans against the storage chest and announces,
"Ya, know, I could write the preamble to the Constitution in the dust of
this room."
Me:
"And, so?"
Frankie:
"Well, don't you think someone should do that? Dust I mean, not write
the preamble?"
Me:
What do you suggest?"
Frankie"
"I happen to know your cleaning supplies have taken up a lease in your
supplies closet, they might enjoy a day out."
Me:
"Really?...and...? Again,
what do you suggest?"
Frankie:
(With great emphasis, disgust, and aplomb.) "Get you dang self
out of that dang chair and fling a rag around."
Me:
(Unaffected by this rant.) "Uh-huh." (I’m loving this;
Frankie is sooo easy to get riled up. The calmer I stay, the
riled-er she becomes.)
Frankie:
"You, you, you..."
Me:
(In my head...Uh-oh, here it comes.)
Frankie:
"One of these days...one of these days." She waves her
arms around like a lunatic, sputtering something about THAT being my job and I
really need to do something about it...
Me:
(More calm than ever.) "...and, you don't know how to fling a
rag?"
Frankie,
sputters in defeat, harrumphs from the room, heaven forbid she should 'work'.
Ah, peace and quiet. I won and doubt I'll see her again till noon.
She and Zorro can console each other watching TV while I enjoy the
pleasures of my creativity.
In
the meantime, the dust will continue to gather, I think until it's thick enough
to write the next great American Novel in it...it will continue to do so.
Thursday, May 3, 2012
Pondering
Something very unusual happened a couple of days ago. I got the first of many packages I ordered from many different places, and since this particular place requires that I sign for the order, I had to open the door to receive the packages.
Zorro went bonkers, I mean I thought he was going to attack this guy. The fur from his neck to the tip of his tail was standing straight, tall, and angry looking. I could not believe my eyes. He would not stop growling, and if were not for the fact that two good sized boxes was on the floor between him and the delivery guy I think he just might have attacked. I tried to calm him down, but he would have none of it.
His action really had me on edge, what was it about this man that Zorro was reacting so aggressively? I've had a lot of dogs over the years, and I've always been aware they have not been particularly friendly toward some people, but never, like Zorro was with this gentleman.
True, I don't know Zorro's entire background and he has always had a problem warming up to people, though I must say he has come along way when it comes to accepting people coming into the house. But, as for the delivery guy of a few days ago I don't think Zorro would ever, ever warm up to him and frankly, I hope he and I never see this particular fellow again.
What was even more funny was the guy did not react to Zorro at all. I think most people would have backed away, maybe even have put their hand on the door in an attempt to close it. Not this guy, he just stood there steely faced saying absolutely nothing, not one comment about Zorro's actions. We completed business and he simply turned on his heel and left.
Let me tell you, Zorro, examined those boxes, as thought they might have contained explosives or some other deadly materials, another first. Usually a quick sniff, and he's done...I'm sure thinking "old lady's been shopping AGAIN".
Some wise scholar, sometime said, if your dog does not like somebody it is best you don't like them either.
I now think that is very sage advice, whatever it was that Zorro was reacting to, made me think of all the mystery shows I watch where women get attacked in their own homes.
Like I said, I hope we never see that guy again.
Zorro went bonkers, I mean I thought he was going to attack this guy. The fur from his neck to the tip of his tail was standing straight, tall, and angry looking. I could not believe my eyes. He would not stop growling, and if were not for the fact that two good sized boxes was on the floor between him and the delivery guy I think he just might have attacked. I tried to calm him down, but he would have none of it.
His action really had me on edge, what was it about this man that Zorro was reacting so aggressively? I've had a lot of dogs over the years, and I've always been aware they have not been particularly friendly toward some people, but never, like Zorro was with this gentleman.
True, I don't know Zorro's entire background and he has always had a problem warming up to people, though I must say he has come along way when it comes to accepting people coming into the house. But, as for the delivery guy of a few days ago I don't think Zorro would ever, ever warm up to him and frankly, I hope he and I never see this particular fellow again.
What was even more funny was the guy did not react to Zorro at all. I think most people would have backed away, maybe even have put their hand on the door in an attempt to close it. Not this guy, he just stood there steely faced saying absolutely nothing, not one comment about Zorro's actions. We completed business and he simply turned on his heel and left.
Let me tell you, Zorro, examined those boxes, as thought they might have contained explosives or some other deadly materials, another first. Usually a quick sniff, and he's done...I'm sure thinking "old lady's been shopping AGAIN".
Some wise scholar, sometime said, if your dog does not like somebody it is best you don't like them either.
I now think that is very sage advice, whatever it was that Zorro was reacting to, made me think of all the mystery shows I watch where women get attacked in their own homes.
Like I said, I hope we never see that guy again.
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
Scream 3
A couple of weeks ago I had a nightmare. I don't like nightmares, how are we supposed to know what to be afraid of if we can't remember the dream...I'd really like to know the monster.
Anyway, there have now been three times in my life that (in my dream) I scream loud enough to wake myself up. I hate when that happens. It is very disconcerting. And, my reaction to each of these nightmares is...I start to giggle. I try to stop it before it starts, but I have no control over this, and I roll from side to side in uncontrollable laughter.
I get myself to stop, for a second, but the absurdity of this whole thing makes me laugh even harder. Oh no, I'm starting to giggle now...not good.
I mean, it's usually every early morning when these events happen, and I sleep with a window slightly ajar, I start to imagine the neighbors sending for the men in white coats. Stop, I tell myself, I do, but this is followed by another fit of laughter.
This was the first time Frankie and Zorro witnessed my 'fit', and both are greatly concerned. Zorro, emerged from under the blankets, and had his tiny face (literally) right next to mine, his eyes imploring I gain control. Of course, this only throws me into another round of laughter.
Frankie, who had come into the room robe in hand, is concerned and tells me if I don't stop she's going to throw cold water on me...more laughter.
Eventually, I do gain control, and while I reassure Zorro with lots of loving, Frankie sits on the edge of the bed while I try to explain what happened. I'm not sure she believed me.
Frankie: Well, just don't ever do that again, you scared me.
Me: Imagine how I felt, something scared me, too.
Frankie: Does this happen often?
Me: No, thank goodness.
Frankie: ...I don't think I can go back to sleep.
Me: "Once upon a time, there were three bears...
Anyway, there have now been three times in my life that (in my dream) I scream loud enough to wake myself up. I hate when that happens. It is very disconcerting. And, my reaction to each of these nightmares is...I start to giggle. I try to stop it before it starts, but I have no control over this, and I roll from side to side in uncontrollable laughter.
I get myself to stop, for a second, but the absurdity of this whole thing makes me laugh even harder. Oh no, I'm starting to giggle now...not good.
I mean, it's usually every early morning when these events happen, and I sleep with a window slightly ajar, I start to imagine the neighbors sending for the men in white coats. Stop, I tell myself, I do, but this is followed by another fit of laughter.
This was the first time Frankie and Zorro witnessed my 'fit', and both are greatly concerned. Zorro, emerged from under the blankets, and had his tiny face (literally) right next to mine, his eyes imploring I gain control. Of course, this only throws me into another round of laughter.
Frankie, who had come into the room robe in hand, is concerned and tells me if I don't stop she's going to throw cold water on me...more laughter.
Eventually, I do gain control, and while I reassure Zorro with lots of loving, Frankie sits on the edge of the bed while I try to explain what happened. I'm not sure she believed me.
Frankie: Well, just don't ever do that again, you scared me.
Me: Imagine how I felt, something scared me, too.
Frankie: Does this happen often?
Me: No, thank goodness.
Frankie: ...I don't think I can go back to sleep.
Me: "Once upon a time, there were three bears...
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
The peak
I recently discovered the philosophy of I-Ching, thanks to a dear friend. I've always been skeptical of such things and, to be honest, avoided them. So when this friend wrote about it, I inquired, checked out the web-site she used, and that is how I, then, came to I-Ching. Thank you, Kathryn.
You may have little information and no experience of what it's like descending the other side of the mountain. All your attention may have been focused on the route up. The coming cycle may seem very strange to you, unlike anything that you have experienced before. The backside of the mountain is where all of the true mysteries reside. Proceed carefully, cautiously and alertly — then you will reach your goal."
I love how practical I-Ching is, how it is not afraid to take me away from my pompous place, does not always say "life is going to be a 'bed of roses'" yet frequently offers good sound advise. Like this morning.
It talked about reaching the peak of a mountain, and how the closer you get to the top, the more clear the way becomes. But, that once you've reached the top, you can not only see where you've been, how hard the trek, you can also see where you need to go.
The view is beautiful and inspiring, somehow the dangerous snags you encountered on the way up have minimized, and you don't even think of the ones that lie ahead, simply because from this viewpoint you cannot see them.
I know I'm getting ever closer to my current peak...I'm excited to get there. Today,I-Ching pulled me back into reality, reminding me that although I'm getting close to my peak, it will not be the end of my journey, so, if you don't mind I would like to end this blog entry with a snippet of my message for today....
"...however, when you do reach the peak, which has been in sight for quite a long
period of sustained effort, you will have done only that. You will have reached
the top — achieving your initial goal — but you must still descend the other
side. This last critical segment is what remains before completion.
You may have little information and no experience of what it's like descending the other side of the mountain. All your attention may have been focused on the route up. The coming cycle may seem very strange to you, unlike anything that you have experienced before. The backside of the mountain is where all of the true mysteries reside. Proceed carefully, cautiously and alertly — then you will reach your goal."
This, friends and family is why I enjoy visiting my I-Ching every day.
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