My nose is twitching.
My ears are wiggling.
My fur's been preened, it's shiny.
It's going to be a busy day,
and busy night.
But, wanted to wish you a wonderful tomorrow.
I've got to get hopping.
Love to all.
E. Bunny
Saturday, March 30, 2013
Friday, March 29, 2013
Privacy
I've been warned on numerous occasions, not to be to personal on the Internet.
For instance, I've been told not to post on facebook I am going to be 'out', as it lets the world know I am going to be away from home and I've put down the welcome mat for everyone and anyone to come and steal everything I own.
Baaaa, haaaaaa, haaaaa, haaaaa, Like I own anything worth more that twenty bucks.
Also, they say not to post personal information, such as home town, mother's maiden name, where you graduated, etc., etc., etc. And, common sense tells me this is true, so I have tried not to post too much information on the net. However, I also know this is a wasted effort because with a little time and energy, anybody can find out just about everything about me with simple clicks on their keyboard. And, for as little as thirty bucks, you can learn even more...trust me it is a jungle out there. Big brother is watching...and long before drones.
(But, I digress.)
Anyway, as a result, here on my blog I try to tell things only about myself and Frankie. Well, and Zorro and CC. Although I have mentioned a few other family names as well, I have tried not to include surnames, and the locations they live. And, in keeping with that policy today I'm going to slightly step over the personal boundary and mention two members of my wonderful family.
My two sisters. One a little older than myself, and one several years younger. We are not peas in a pod. Matter of fact we are so different, I believe that's what makes us such a tight little group. My older sister and I shared a room, in harmony, (I might add) until she married and began a family of her own. My younger sister and I have total opposite opinions of our growing up years. She insists she tormented me to the point of exasperation, while I tend to remember none of that. Therefore, she also insists "I'm in denial." Whatever. Regardless, we got through the growing up phases of our lives, pretty much unscathed.
Over the years, especially those we were busy raising our families, we were not in touch as we should have been...can't get those years back...so let's not dwell
on them. Besides, at that time, we had mom who keep us bonded, she was the
secure, big, hulking link in the family chain that held us all together.
Now, we're older, and the differences in our age don't mean much anymore, those years seem more like minutes. We've become close, still different, but close...and I love the camaraderie we now have. We laugh, we cry, we sigh, we share secrets.
And best of all, we have taken on the roll our mother used to have, we are three secure, big, hulking links in the family chain, the matriarchs, that hold it all together.
So, my dear sisters, this blogs for you. Thanks for being part of my life, and bringing me much joy. Here's to yesterday, here's to today, and here's to tomorrow.
XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX
For instance, I've been told not to post on facebook I am going to be 'out', as it lets the world know I am going to be away from home and I've put down the welcome mat for everyone and anyone to come and steal everything I own.
Baaaa, haaaaaa, haaaaa, haaaaa, Like I own anything worth more that twenty bucks.
Also, they say not to post personal information, such as home town, mother's maiden name, where you graduated, etc., etc., etc. And, common sense tells me this is true, so I have tried not to post too much information on the net. However, I also know this is a wasted effort because with a little time and energy, anybody can find out just about everything about me with simple clicks on their keyboard. And, for as little as thirty bucks, you can learn even more...trust me it is a jungle out there. Big brother is watching...and long before drones.
(But, I digress.)
Anyway, as a result, here on my blog I try to tell things only about myself and Frankie. Well, and Zorro and CC. Although I have mentioned a few other family names as well, I have tried not to include surnames, and the locations they live. And, in keeping with that policy today I'm going to slightly step over the personal boundary and mention two members of my wonderful family.
My two sisters. One a little older than myself, and one several years younger. We are not peas in a pod. Matter of fact we are so different, I believe that's what makes us such a tight little group. My older sister and I shared a room, in harmony, (I might add) until she married and began a family of her own. My younger sister and I have total opposite opinions of our growing up years. She insists she tormented me to the point of exasperation, while I tend to remember none of that. Therefore, she also insists "I'm in denial." Whatever. Regardless, we got through the growing up phases of our lives, pretty much unscathed.
Over the years, especially those we were busy raising our families, we were not in touch as we should have been...can't get those years back...so let's not dwell
on them. Besides, at that time, we had mom who keep us bonded, she was the
secure, big, hulking link in the family chain that held us all together.
Now, we're older, and the differences in our age don't mean much anymore, those years seem more like minutes. We've become close, still different, but close...and I love the camaraderie we now have. We laugh, we cry, we sigh, we share secrets.
And best of all, we have taken on the roll our mother used to have, we are three secure, big, hulking links in the family chain, the matriarchs, that hold it all together.
So, my dear sisters, this blogs for you. Thanks for being part of my life, and bringing me much joy. Here's to yesterday, here's to today, and here's to tomorrow.
XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX
Thursday, March 28, 2013
Sigh
Remember not long ago I mentioned I had shrunk a bit in size?
Well, yesterday, that little change in size made a painful difference my enjoyable afternoon outing. A group of friends and I went to lunch. Before our group grew in numbers we used to call ourselves the La La Ladies...yesterday's outing was just the original four of us. It was a lovely time.
Sadly, as the afternoon grew on, I became acutely aware, I had developed a 'hitch in my get along'. We had chosen a restaurant we had been to several times before, and normally get a table under their covered patio. However, we got there just at noon, and the patio was filled, so we had to choose a booth inside. The seat was wooden, no cushion, you sit on bare wood. The seat was high, and my feet were a good inch, two inches off the floor. At the time it didn't occur to me this might be a problem.
As time went on, I began to fear I was cutting off the circulation to my legs, and as in plane travel, I might develop a blood clot...I began to jiggle around in my seat to keep the blood flowing. I'd inch out to the end of the bench allowing my feet to rest on the floor, but that put my hip joint at the end of the bench, and that began to hurt...I would inch myself back. I dropped a fork and my napkin on the floor...well, I'm NOT going to try to retrieve those.
After lingering conversations, and finally ordering and eating fabulous desserts, we get up to leave. Oh my, not only had I schooched myself into the booth first, now I had to schooch myself out...uh-oh....ooooooohhhhhhh, the pain. On the scale of one to ten...honestly, it was probably a one and a half, but in my imagination it was a twelve. Should I make a scene and scream...or 'take it like a man'. I took it like a man.
Now, you have to realize, all the ladies went to the 'powder room' before we left the restaurant...except me. I figured I'd be home soon, there was only a stop at a book store left on our agenda. I would 'wait it out'.
Remember...I'm in pain here.
So, off to the book store we go. I love book stores. Ow, ow, ow. As normal as I could, I manage to hobble into the store. We browse. I'm looking for a chair, they are all occupied. The floor is starting to look pretty darn good.
One of my friends needs the Restroom. (I could go myself). So we inquire if there is one for public use. We are told there is, it is down stairs, she will show us the way.
She pulls open a door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY.
---
---
---
There, before us is a flight of steps, so rickety, so steep, so unsafe looking, it scared the -you know what-out of me. My friend backs out...she apparently decided she could 'hold it'. Me, on the other hand was waaaay beyond 'holding it'. "Follow me." Says the sweet young thing.
She is down those steps in a flash.
Me...I'm hanging on to the banisters as though my life depended on them...because they did. Young lady has disappeared from sight. Down, down, down to the catacombs. I eventually arrive there, too. Ow, ow, ow.
She points me in the direction of the restroom, and goes her merry way.
A cutout of Stephen Colbert is standing at a corner, holding a sign with an arrow on it pointing the way to where I need to go.
I do my duty, and exit the tiny enclosure, I expected to find the young lady who had escorted me here. She is gone, I'm alone, in a basement, office, storage area, made to face that rickety, steep, unsafe flight of stairs on my own.
I must confess, I was terrified. What if I was half way up them and some horrible demon grabbed me by the ankle and swallowed me whole...More practically thinking, what if I fell, broke something...how long would it be before someone found me...yelling and screaming would certainly not help...only the demon would hear me.
Somehow I found the courage to mount the steps. Going down was hard...going up...ow, ow, ow, ow. I was never, ever, so glad to hear peoples voices, and be back in touch with society. I found my friends in a nook. One said I sounded winded...she had no idea...I was, and I was also in pain. The floor looked damn inviting, and since the chair was taken...I slumped down to it, never giving a thought as to how I was going to get up. UH-OH.
We finally decide to go to another store, and I extricate myself from the comfort of the floor. Trying to look natural I hobble, hobble, hobble to the shop next door. Here, I not only look, I buy. Am I nuts or what?
Somebody mentions a dress shop, a yogurt cone, a coffee. I don't want to be the party pooper...but by now my hip and upper leg is screaming. I announce I don't need a dress, I'm full from the restaurant dessert, and I don't want coffee. Mercifully, we opt for home.
I arrive there a short time later. Good byes all around, and I try as natural looking as possible to walk up to my front door.
Frankie: "OMG, what's the matter with you?"
Me: (Explaining.)
Frankie: "Idiot."
Well, yesterday, that little change in size made a painful difference my enjoyable afternoon outing. A group of friends and I went to lunch. Before our group grew in numbers we used to call ourselves the La La Ladies...yesterday's outing was just the original four of us. It was a lovely time.
Sadly, as the afternoon grew on, I became acutely aware, I had developed a 'hitch in my get along'. We had chosen a restaurant we had been to several times before, and normally get a table under their covered patio. However, we got there just at noon, and the patio was filled, so we had to choose a booth inside. The seat was wooden, no cushion, you sit on bare wood. The seat was high, and my feet were a good inch, two inches off the floor. At the time it didn't occur to me this might be a problem.
As time went on, I began to fear I was cutting off the circulation to my legs, and as in plane travel, I might develop a blood clot...I began to jiggle around in my seat to keep the blood flowing. I'd inch out to the end of the bench allowing my feet to rest on the floor, but that put my hip joint at the end of the bench, and that began to hurt...I would inch myself back. I dropped a fork and my napkin on the floor...well, I'm NOT going to try to retrieve those.
After lingering conversations, and finally ordering and eating fabulous desserts, we get up to leave. Oh my, not only had I schooched myself into the booth first, now I had to schooch myself out...uh-oh....ooooooohhhhhhh, the pain. On the scale of one to ten...honestly, it was probably a one and a half, but in my imagination it was a twelve. Should I make a scene and scream...or 'take it like a man'. I took it like a man.
Now, you have to realize, all the ladies went to the 'powder room' before we left the restaurant...except me. I figured I'd be home soon, there was only a stop at a book store left on our agenda. I would 'wait it out'.
Remember...I'm in pain here.
So, off to the book store we go. I love book stores. Ow, ow, ow. As normal as I could, I manage to hobble into the store. We browse. I'm looking for a chair, they are all occupied. The floor is starting to look pretty darn good.
One of my friends needs the Restroom. (I could go myself). So we inquire if there is one for public use. We are told there is, it is down stairs, she will show us the way.
She pulls open a door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY.
---
---
---
There, before us is a flight of steps, so rickety, so steep, so unsafe looking, it scared the -you know what-out of me. My friend backs out...she apparently decided she could 'hold it'. Me, on the other hand was waaaay beyond 'holding it'. "Follow me." Says the sweet young thing.
She is down those steps in a flash.
Me...I'm hanging on to the banisters as though my life depended on them...because they did. Young lady has disappeared from sight. Down, down, down to the catacombs. I eventually arrive there, too. Ow, ow, ow.
She points me in the direction of the restroom, and goes her merry way.
A cutout of Stephen Colbert is standing at a corner, holding a sign with an arrow on it pointing the way to where I need to go.
I do my duty, and exit the tiny enclosure, I expected to find the young lady who had escorted me here. She is gone, I'm alone, in a basement, office, storage area, made to face that rickety, steep, unsafe flight of stairs on my own.
I must confess, I was terrified. What if I was half way up them and some horrible demon grabbed me by the ankle and swallowed me whole...More practically thinking, what if I fell, broke something...how long would it be before someone found me...yelling and screaming would certainly not help...only the demon would hear me.
Somehow I found the courage to mount the steps. Going down was hard...going up...ow, ow, ow, ow. I was never, ever, so glad to hear peoples voices, and be back in touch with society. I found my friends in a nook. One said I sounded winded...she had no idea...I was, and I was also in pain. The floor looked damn inviting, and since the chair was taken...I slumped down to it, never giving a thought as to how I was going to get up. UH-OH.
We finally decide to go to another store, and I extricate myself from the comfort of the floor. Trying to look natural I hobble, hobble, hobble to the shop next door. Here, I not only look, I buy. Am I nuts or what?
Somebody mentions a dress shop, a yogurt cone, a coffee. I don't want to be the party pooper...but by now my hip and upper leg is screaming. I announce I don't need a dress, I'm full from the restaurant dessert, and I don't want coffee. Mercifully, we opt for home.
I arrive there a short time later. Good byes all around, and I try as natural looking as possible to walk up to my front door.
Frankie: "OMG, what's the matter with you?"
Me: (Explaining.)
Frankie: "Idiot."
Wednesday, March 27, 2013
Workin' on a chain....gang.
Last summer, I had a chat with my gardener about moving some decorative concrete blocks I have in my front yard. Vividly explaining with hand gestures and wild arm movements I depicted what I wanted to have done. He shook his head and said he could do it, but that it would take a while as he was running a little behind on jobs.
"No problem." Says I.
A few months later he said he would 'get to it soon', and he was glad I was patient.
Time went by.
I don't remember the last time we discussed the job, I know it was while the house was still on the market, because what he asked was if I still wanted the job done.
"Yes," I said, "I do."
Okay, I knew I was still on his schedule.
Two weeks ago my patience ----ran out----. I started to move the concrete blocks myself. Every time I had a few minutes, I would don my work shoes and tote a half dozen blocks to their new location. Honest, I thought once my gardener saw that his old, decrepit, feeble, hunchbacked, client had begun the job he would be at my door telling me he could finish the job in a month (at most).
Well..........that didn't happen.
So, little by little my old, decrepit, feeble, hunchbacked body moved those blocks...every single one of them. And, let me tell you those big ones were dang, dang, heavy. Slowly. Surely. I built myself a new retaining wall. And, I'm pretty proud of myself. True, it definitely does not look professional by any means. It's a bit crooked, if you looking for a straight line...and, it's a bit wavy, as far as the horizon of it goes, BUT I did it...I did it, old, decrepit, feeble, hunchbacked person that I am. Never tell an old person they can't do something.
My gardener comes today...Hmmmm???
"No problem." Says I.
A few months later he said he would 'get to it soon', and he was glad I was patient.
Time went by.
I don't remember the last time we discussed the job, I know it was while the house was still on the market, because what he asked was if I still wanted the job done.
"Yes," I said, "I do."
Okay, I knew I was still on his schedule.
Two weeks ago my patience ----ran out----. I started to move the concrete blocks myself. Every time I had a few minutes, I would don my work shoes and tote a half dozen blocks to their new location. Honest, I thought once my gardener saw that his old, decrepit, feeble, hunchbacked, client had begun the job he would be at my door telling me he could finish the job in a month (at most).
Well..........that didn't happen.
So, little by little my old, decrepit, feeble, hunchbacked body moved those blocks...every single one of them. And, let me tell you those big ones were dang, dang, heavy. Slowly. Surely. I built myself a new retaining wall. And, I'm pretty proud of myself. True, it definitely does not look professional by any means. It's a bit crooked, if you looking for a straight line...and, it's a bit wavy, as far as the horizon of it goes, BUT I did it...I did it, old, decrepit, feeble, hunchbacked person that I am. Never tell an old person they can't do something.
My gardener comes today...Hmmmm???
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
Optimists will like this one
I'm a very happy camper.
I learned over the weekend that the Smelt are running. Turns out at least one of the local TV channel's found that a news worthy event. Here's the thing.
When we first moved here in the early '70's the Smelt would run every year at this time. Families would gather nets and buckets, don rain gear and boots and head for the Sandy River where they would spend the day catching as many Smelt as law would allow. They knew a good meal was on the way. You will probably never taste a tastier fish fried up with potatoes and onion for breakfast. Oh my, my mouth is starting to water.
Anyway, what I didn't know is that since that time Smelt have become endangered, and that there has not been a Smelt run for 10 years. Sadly, I confess I have not given any thought to them and their plight for at least that long. So, when I saw the story over the weekend they are running I got excited, my ears 'perked' up and I stopped to see and listen to the story. There on a bridge was a lone figure, slowly walking toward the camera telling the Smelt story and showing pictures of happy families, and tiny silvery fish slithering through the crystal clear water. The in-studio anchor inquired if people had come out to enjoy the event and we were told a few families did, and they related stories from their childhoods and the joy the family outings brought them.
Way to go Smelt...I'm so happy and delighted you have grown in numbers and hope this once more will become an annual event, the run...not the breakfast.
Next, I can proudly say I have broken the 900 mark on Lumosity. My BPI (Brain Profile Index) has jumped two hundred points since I started playing the games in November. Sadly, there are no games for 'common sense' (giggle, giggle) so I suspect I will continue to do the nonsensical kinds of things I reported in yesterday's blog.
And finally...the moon...as I mentioned earlier in this blog I've lived here in the Pacific Northwest since the early '70's', and as you know the northwest is noted for its grey, gloomy, sullen skies and rain, by the bucket or the sprinkle. So, from November to March we do not have much opportunity to see the stars and the moon. This year was exceptional. I wish I had kept count, because I can't remember how many moons waxing, waning, and full I have seen over the last five months. Last night was outstanding! I stood mesmerized as the budding Mountain Ash tree silhouetted, turned the orb into a magical looking yellow crystal ball. Oh, the wonder. I love moments like that...silent, moon lit, the smell of daffodils on the chilly late night air. Breathe deeply friends, breathe deeply.
Okay, I guess I'm done. I think I had better sign off before Frankie sneaks into the room and reads this, since she thinks I'm a freaky optimist I'm sure she would have some great Frankie-isms to insert.
Have a great day folks. Spring has sprung!
I learned over the weekend that the Smelt are running. Turns out at least one of the local TV channel's found that a news worthy event. Here's the thing.
When we first moved here in the early '70's the Smelt would run every year at this time. Families would gather nets and buckets, don rain gear and boots and head for the Sandy River where they would spend the day catching as many Smelt as law would allow. They knew a good meal was on the way. You will probably never taste a tastier fish fried up with potatoes and onion for breakfast. Oh my, my mouth is starting to water.
Anyway, what I didn't know is that since that time Smelt have become endangered, and that there has not been a Smelt run for 10 years. Sadly, I confess I have not given any thought to them and their plight for at least that long. So, when I saw the story over the weekend they are running I got excited, my ears 'perked' up and I stopped to see and listen to the story. There on a bridge was a lone figure, slowly walking toward the camera telling the Smelt story and showing pictures of happy families, and tiny silvery fish slithering through the crystal clear water. The in-studio anchor inquired if people had come out to enjoy the event and we were told a few families did, and they related stories from their childhoods and the joy the family outings brought them.
Way to go Smelt...I'm so happy and delighted you have grown in numbers and hope this once more will become an annual event, the run...not the breakfast.
Next, I can proudly say I have broken the 900 mark on Lumosity. My BPI (Brain Profile Index) has jumped two hundred points since I started playing the games in November. Sadly, there are no games for 'common sense' (giggle, giggle) so I suspect I will continue to do the nonsensical kinds of things I reported in yesterday's blog.
And finally...the moon...as I mentioned earlier in this blog I've lived here in the Pacific Northwest since the early '70's', and as you know the northwest is noted for its grey, gloomy, sullen skies and rain, by the bucket or the sprinkle. So, from November to March we do not have much opportunity to see the stars and the moon. This year was exceptional. I wish I had kept count, because I can't remember how many moons waxing, waning, and full I have seen over the last five months. Last night was outstanding! I stood mesmerized as the budding Mountain Ash tree silhouetted, turned the orb into a magical looking yellow crystal ball. Oh, the wonder. I love moments like that...silent, moon lit, the smell of daffodils on the chilly late night air. Breathe deeply friends, breathe deeply.
Okay, I guess I'm done. I think I had better sign off before Frankie sneaks into the room and reads this, since she thinks I'm a freaky optimist I'm sure she would have some great Frankie-isms to insert.
Have a great day folks. Spring has sprung!
Monday, March 25, 2013
Life
Getting old is funny. I can't tell you how many times I have myself in stitches over the silly things I do.
A couple of days ago my phone rang, I picked up my cable remote and pointed it at the phone...Really?! Dumb, dumb, dumb.
And, of course there was the episode with the dog food. I gave that one to Frankie
...but we all know it was me that put that horrible hunk of meat in my mouth. It was awful. No wonder my dog drinks a lot of water, man that stuff was salty.
Oh, yesterday morning I had picked up the Peanut Butter toy and put it on the kitchen counter...then my mind wandered...somewhere...and a few minutes later I'm on my hands and knees in the living room looking for that darn toy. When I can't find it I decided to use the top of my poultry baster...I return to the kitchen and there on the counter I find the toy. Man, did I laugh. Not just because I had been hand and kneeing it, but because I had had this wonderful conversation with Zorro while I looked. He loves when I get down to his level.
I needed a new book of checks...I thought I had put a new one in the lock box so I would not have to open the safe, but it was not there. Of course I had to open the safe thinking my memory had played a trick on me and I would find the book there. Imagine my alarm, when the sequence of twenty-five numbers I needed was not there either. Was I going crazy? I don't know about you, but if anything financial is involved I tend to go a bit bonkers.
Imagine heavy breathing...and panic...where's my pills, where's my pills.
After spending quite a bit of time searching and re-searching places the checks might be, it finally occurs to me, maybe, just maybe I put the checks in my purse. Guess where they were? (Well, now that I think about it this was not so much funny.)
However, this morning's event was. I just about emptied the peanut butter jar, gave Zorro his morning dose and went to make the bed. My life is hum-de-dummmBing along, and I finally return to the kitchen. There in the sink sits the empty peanut butter jar. I take one last look inside to make sure I am not wasting one last smidgen. Yep, it looks like I might be able to scrape a little bit more on to a spoon.
So scrape I do. A thin layer of PB is stuck to the edge of the spoon. I bring that delightful morsel closer to my lips. Wait a minute, there's a kind of yellow film covering the peanut butter. WHAT THE HECK IS THAT?
Silly, silly, silly me...thank goodness I had my glasses on. Close inspection showed me I had totally forgotten I had squirted some liquid dish detergent into the jar to rinse it out to prepare it for recycle...how close was I to burping bubbles all morning? The thought of burping bubbles made me giggle and the giggles turned me into a cartoon character, and I envisioned myself walking through a park having conversations with furry creatures, all my words inside iridescent circles, popping hither any yon about a comic book page.
I'm telling you, old is funny. When you are in the process of reaching old, you are required to act and behave in a certain manner, otherwise they will haul you off to the loony-bin. But, when you're old, silly stuff happens...just about every day...it's best to get yourself an imaginary friend and blame the stuff on her, otherwise, you just might haul yourself off to a loony-bin. Picture that! TEE, Hee, hee.
A couple of days ago my phone rang, I picked up my cable remote and pointed it at the phone...Really?! Dumb, dumb, dumb.
And, of course there was the episode with the dog food. I gave that one to Frankie
...but we all know it was me that put that horrible hunk of meat in my mouth. It was awful. No wonder my dog drinks a lot of water, man that stuff was salty.
Oh, yesterday morning I had picked up the Peanut Butter toy and put it on the kitchen counter...then my mind wandered...somewhere...and a few minutes later I'm on my hands and knees in the living room looking for that darn toy. When I can't find it I decided to use the top of my poultry baster...I return to the kitchen and there on the counter I find the toy. Man, did I laugh. Not just because I had been hand and kneeing it, but because I had had this wonderful conversation with Zorro while I looked. He loves when I get down to his level.
I needed a new book of checks...I thought I had put a new one in the lock box so I would not have to open the safe, but it was not there. Of course I had to open the safe thinking my memory had played a trick on me and I would find the book there. Imagine my alarm, when the sequence of twenty-five numbers I needed was not there either. Was I going crazy? I don't know about you, but if anything financial is involved I tend to go a bit bonkers.
Imagine heavy breathing...and panic...where's my pills, where's my pills.
After spending quite a bit of time searching and re-searching places the checks might be, it finally occurs to me, maybe, just maybe I put the checks in my purse. Guess where they were? (Well, now that I think about it this was not so much funny.)
However, this morning's event was. I just about emptied the peanut butter jar, gave Zorro his morning dose and went to make the bed. My life is hum-de-dummmBing along, and I finally return to the kitchen. There in the sink sits the empty peanut butter jar. I take one last look inside to make sure I am not wasting one last smidgen. Yep, it looks like I might be able to scrape a little bit more on to a spoon.
So scrape I do. A thin layer of PB is stuck to the edge of the spoon. I bring that delightful morsel closer to my lips. Wait a minute, there's a kind of yellow film covering the peanut butter. WHAT THE HECK IS THAT?
Silly, silly, silly me...thank goodness I had my glasses on. Close inspection showed me I had totally forgotten I had squirted some liquid dish detergent into the jar to rinse it out to prepare it for recycle...how close was I to burping bubbles all morning? The thought of burping bubbles made me giggle and the giggles turned me into a cartoon character, and I envisioned myself walking through a park having conversations with furry creatures, all my words inside iridescent circles, popping hither any yon about a comic book page.
I'm telling you, old is funny. When you are in the process of reaching old, you are required to act and behave in a certain manner, otherwise they will haul you off to the loony-bin. But, when you're old, silly stuff happens...just about every day...it's best to get yourself an imaginary friend and blame the stuff on her, otherwise, you just might haul yourself off to a loony-bin. Picture that! TEE, Hee, hee.
Sunday, March 24, 2013
Life is what we make it.
How did you Die
Edmund Vance Cooke
June 5,1866, December 18, 1932
Did you tackle that trouble that came your way
With a resolute heart and cheerful?
Or hide your face from the light of day
With a craven soul and fearful?
Oh, a trouble's a ton, or a trouble's an ounce,
Or a trouble is what you make it,
And it isn't the fact that you're hurt that counts,
But only how did you take it?
You are beaten to earth? Well, well, what's that?
Come up with a smiling face.
It's nothing against you to fall down flat,
But to lie there -- that's disgrace.
The harder you're thrown, why the higher you bounce;
Be proud of your blackened eye!
It isn't the fact that you're licked that counts,
It's how did you fight -- and why?
And though you be done to the death, what then?
If you battled the best you could,
If you played your part in the world of men,
Why, the Critic will call it good.
Death comes with a crawl, or comes with a pounce,
And whether he's slow or spry,
It isn't the fact that you're dead that counts,
But only how did you die?
Half and half
As I walk into the kitchen Frankie 'clunks' one of our 'good' glass glasses onto the kitchen counter.
I glare at her, "Hey, be careful, that will break."
She waves my comment off, reaches into a drawer, extracts a pork chop...er...chop stick and proceeds to use it as a teacher would a pointer.
Frankie: "Is this glass half full or half empty?" The liquid in the glass is jiggling about.
Ah-ha, I see where this is going, she wants to play mind games. Okay, I'm up for this. I seriously, silently, study the liquid in the glass. I lean in really close. I wiggle the glass, the liquid again jiggles about. (Oh, I want to giggle sooo bad.) As soon as the liquid stops moving, I announce in my most serious voice: "Both."
I turn to leave the room. I hear Frankie's breath explode from her mouth in a rush of frustration.
(Don't laugh I tell myself...don't laugh.)
Frankie grabs my arm. "No, seriously, is it half full or half empty."
Again I reply, "Both."
She rushes to the sink and pours the liquid out. "What is the glass now?" She inquires.
Me: "Empty."
She returns to the sink and fills up the glass up to the rim. "What is the glass now?"
Me: "Full."
Next she dumps half the liquid out of the glass "... and, now?" She is waving the chop stick up and down the outside of the glass.
I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling. Calmly, studiously, I reply, "Both." I'm really bugging Frankie and I'm having the time of my life.
Her face is getting red, the veins becoming pronounced, I swear I see steam coming from her ears. I guess I better reply with one or the other answers.
"Okay," I reply, "the glass is half full. You happy now?"
She is totally deflated, I had spoiled her moment. However, in 'plucky' style, she forges ahead.
Frankie: "I knew it. I knew it. You are not just an optimist...you are the ultimate of optimists. You are the most disgusting ultimate of the ultimate optimists."
Me: "Wow, that's pretty harsh."
Frankie: "You have to admit, you always tend to find something good in every bad situation. How can you constantly do that?"
I have to admit I don't know how I do that. And, time and time again over the years I have had people say to me they think I live in a 'rose colored' world and that it is not a healthy place to live. They point out that people in a 'rose colored' world have no grasp on reality, are blind to the world 'ugly'...hunger, poverty, political unrest, gun violence, illegal aliens, me-ism, terminal illness, bully-ism.'
Oh, I'm aware, believe me, I'm aware. It isn't that I don't have every day annoyances, I do. I dislike 'spam' phone calls and the fact the 'no call' list does not work. I become annoyed when people pay more attention to their electronic devices than the conversation we are having, I dislike the way the media portrays stories to reflect their opinions of the news rather that present it. Yes, every day I could be on a soapbox, shouting about the ugly...hunger, poverty, political unrest, gun violence, illegal aliens, me-ism, terminal illness, bully-ism. I could kick and scream, even get arrested if I so desired. But, here's the thing. I KNOW I CANNOT SINGLE HANDED, MAKE WORLD UGLY GO AWAY. And, since most of the world is only too eager to publicly present their 'glass as half empty' views, and even more eager to grab an AK-47 and tell the world about it, I choose a different approach.
KNOWING that things can and probably will get much, much worse, I could buy myself a bunch of weapons, become a recluse, and hang a 'I hate the world' sign on my front door. But, (and here's what keeps me going) I also know and believe things could and hopefully will get much, much better, so it is I choose to spread a little compassion, love and joy in my own peculiar way. I will give you a smile, open a door for you, say hello as you walk by my house. I will rescue an insect, try to save an injured bird and other defenceless creatures too, for that matter. I will invite you in if you are cold and wet. I will make you tea or coffee...and a sandwich if you are hungry.
Oh, don't get me wrong, I will be cautious, intuition being what it is...so if the hair on the nape of my neck stands up, I might hand my phone out the door for you to use, or make that tea or coffee 'to go'. But, none the less, I will extend you a helping, loving hand. I think we could and would make the world a better place if we all did 'little acts of kindnesses', don't you?
I believe there's a lot to be said for optimism, if you don't look at a rose colored world, at least buy rose colored frames. By the way Frankie, your glass of liquid is not exactly at the half way mark...go fill it up a bit.
I glare at her, "Hey, be careful, that will break."
She waves my comment off, reaches into a drawer, extracts a pork chop...er...chop stick and proceeds to use it as a teacher would a pointer.
Frankie: "Is this glass half full or half empty?" The liquid in the glass is jiggling about.
Ah-ha, I see where this is going, she wants to play mind games. Okay, I'm up for this. I seriously, silently, study the liquid in the glass. I lean in really close. I wiggle the glass, the liquid again jiggles about. (Oh, I want to giggle sooo bad.) As soon as the liquid stops moving, I announce in my most serious voice: "Both."
I turn to leave the room. I hear Frankie's breath explode from her mouth in a rush of frustration.
(Don't laugh I tell myself...don't laugh.)
Frankie grabs my arm. "No, seriously, is it half full or half empty."
Again I reply, "Both."
She rushes to the sink and pours the liquid out. "What is the glass now?" She inquires.
Me: "Empty."
She returns to the sink and fills up the glass up to the rim. "What is the glass now?"
Me: "Full."
Next she dumps half the liquid out of the glass "... and, now?" She is waving the chop stick up and down the outside of the glass.
I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling. Calmly, studiously, I reply, "Both." I'm really bugging Frankie and I'm having the time of my life.
Her face is getting red, the veins becoming pronounced, I swear I see steam coming from her ears. I guess I better reply with one or the other answers.
"Okay," I reply, "the glass is half full. You happy now?"
She is totally deflated, I had spoiled her moment. However, in 'plucky' style, she forges ahead.
Frankie: "I knew it. I knew it. You are not just an optimist...you are the ultimate of optimists. You are the most disgusting ultimate of the ultimate optimists."
Me: "Wow, that's pretty harsh."
Frankie: "You have to admit, you always tend to find something good in every bad situation. How can you constantly do that?"
I have to admit I don't know how I do that. And, time and time again over the years I have had people say to me they think I live in a 'rose colored' world and that it is not a healthy place to live. They point out that people in a 'rose colored' world have no grasp on reality, are blind to the world 'ugly'...hunger, poverty, political unrest, gun violence, illegal aliens, me-ism, terminal illness, bully-ism.'
Oh, I'm aware, believe me, I'm aware. It isn't that I don't have every day annoyances, I do. I dislike 'spam' phone calls and the fact the 'no call' list does not work. I become annoyed when people pay more attention to their electronic devices than the conversation we are having, I dislike the way the media portrays stories to reflect their opinions of the news rather that present it. Yes, every day I could be on a soapbox, shouting about the ugly...hunger, poverty, political unrest, gun violence, illegal aliens, me-ism, terminal illness, bully-ism. I could kick and scream, even get arrested if I so desired. But, here's the thing. I KNOW I CANNOT SINGLE HANDED, MAKE WORLD UGLY GO AWAY. And, since most of the world is only too eager to publicly present their 'glass as half empty' views, and even more eager to grab an AK-47 and tell the world about it, I choose a different approach.
KNOWING that things can and probably will get much, much worse, I could buy myself a bunch of weapons, become a recluse, and hang a 'I hate the world' sign on my front door. But, (and here's what keeps me going) I also know and believe things could and hopefully will get much, much better, so it is I choose to spread a little compassion, love and joy in my own peculiar way. I will give you a smile, open a door for you, say hello as you walk by my house. I will rescue an insect, try to save an injured bird and other defenceless creatures too, for that matter. I will invite you in if you are cold and wet. I will make you tea or coffee...and a sandwich if you are hungry.
Oh, don't get me wrong, I will be cautious, intuition being what it is...so if the hair on the nape of my neck stands up, I might hand my phone out the door for you to use, or make that tea or coffee 'to go'. But, none the less, I will extend you a helping, loving hand. I think we could and would make the world a better place if we all did 'little acts of kindnesses', don't you?
I believe there's a lot to be said for optimism, if you don't look at a rose colored world, at least buy rose colored frames. By the way Frankie, your glass of liquid is not exactly at the half way mark...go fill it up a bit.
Thursday, March 21, 2013
Fate and destiny
I could tell there was something on Frankie’s mind this morning. She was walking around in a kind of 'trance' state. I asked her if there was anything she wanted to talk about, but she said ‘no’, so I came into the office and went to work. Some time later Frankie appeared at the office door.
She cleared her throat and asked, "What's destiny?
Me: "I don't know...maybe something that's meant to happen.?" My answer was more like a question.
Frankie: "Then, what's fate?"
Me: "I guess the way something happens.?" Again, my answer was more like a question.
Uh-oh, Frankie has that 'Bonnie look' on her face so I know this will not be resolved until we check out the Big Book. I flip the pages of the dictionary to the page with Destiny on it and read.
DESTINY:
Destiny suggests something that has been ordered in advance and often suggests a great or noble course, (the destiny of this great country). Fate suggests an unavoidable and unusually unfortunate ending, (his fate was to die unhappy).
1: Something to which a person or thing is destined: fortune (wants to control his own destiny)
DESTINY:
Destiny suggests something that has been ordered in advance and often suggests a great or noble course, (the destiny of this great country). Fate suggests an unavoidable and unusually unfortunate ending, (his fate was to die unhappy).
1: Something to which a person or thing is destined: fortune (wants to control his own destiny)
2: A predetermined course of events often held to be an irresistible power or agency
Synonyms: fate, circumstance, doom, fortunate, kismet, lot, portion
Synonyms: fate, circumstance, doom, fortunate, kismet, lot, portion
FATE:
1: The will or principle or determining cause by which things in general are believed to come to be as they are or events to happen as they do.
Her face almost dropped to the floor. Obviously these explanations did not please her.
Frankie: "Gosh, it sounds like destiny and fate are generally not good things.”
I whirl around in my office chair, and try to read her troubled face. "Come on 'Suzy Sunshine', think of the right thing to say."
Me: "No, no, no...destiny and fate can be very, very good. Look at it this way, destiny brought us together, it was fate that provided the medium in which that happened. In this case friends on Facebook. Or, fate knocked on my door (Facebook), and I opened it. You were there, I invited you in, and we are destined to be together. Kind of connected at the hip."
My little sermon worked. Her face brightened, she actually hugged me, and left the room.
A few minutes later she was back with a warm English muffin. "Destiny led me to the kitchen; fate wants you to have this."
I love Frankie, thank you so much Facebook friends, Greg Twila and their friend, Willie.
Wednesday, March 20, 2013
Whew
Man, I've been busy. If you asked me what I have been doing, I think it would take days to tell all about it. I get dizzy just contemplating everything.
Mostly it's been the taxes. Oh, mercy me, those dang taxes. I figured them out three ways from Sunday and eventually figured out the simple straight 1040 was the best way to go. No matter what way I did them they all came out with the same answer, I don't owe, but I don't get a refund either. Frankly, I'm not sure I even did them correctly this year, but to the best of my knowledge I think I got all the figures in the right places. I'm going to put the returns in the mail today. Good riddance to bad rubbish.
I still have a lot of filing to do, but once that is done I think things will slow down a bit and I can get back into a normal routine.
Then I had a doctor's appointment on Monday morning. I hate doctoring, but after I got a message from her stating there was a new policy that she could not renew my prescriptions until I came to see her...necessity over took, and I paid her a visit. Of course, my blood pressure was up...not 'badly' up, but up. So, after I had been sitting for a while the nurse came in and took it again...by now it had returned to normal. By the way, did you know, or were you ever told not to cross your legs while you are having your pressure taken? I learned that Monday...how come nobody ever told me that before. I always sit cross legged, mostly because my feet don't touch the floor in most chairs.
Oh, and I've shrunk 3/4 of an inch...Dang...no wonder I look like a turkey in my new suit...Baaa, haaa, haa, tee, hee. hee. Yep, it's official...I'm under five feet tall. Shoot.
Also, I've been spending tons of hours working as well, I've made several new items for my Zazzle site, expanding into decorator pillows, wall hangings, and a few days ago a water bottle. Often I'm still at the computer at 3 A of M, after I promised you and myself I was not going to do that any more.
Plus, In November I joined a web site called Lumosity, it is a site dedicated to increasing your brain function by playing games. I have to say it has been helpful, and my Brain Profile Index (BPI) has increased from the low seven hundreds to a little over nine hundred. As you move through the process the games become more difficult. Each day the site gives you a set of five games to play, I diligently play them...whether I like them or not. They know the ones that give a person trouble so of course those are the ones a person gets. Every day, I shudder what games will be there, and moan once I see what they are. I especially hate the math games...so far they have been games I can handle, but oh my, some of the ones to come?????
There are two that cause me particular trouble. One has to do with jigsaw puzzle pieces, colors, shapes, horizontal and vertical activity all at once. the other is kind of like playing a pinball machine. The screen shows where the bumpers are, then they disappear and you have to remember where they were and shoot the ball the direction you 'think' the bumpers were so you can make the correct shot. I always get a little message that says (in effect)...'well, that was a little hard old woman...let's go back a bit'...how embarrassing.
Then, there is Bible study, and a front yard project going on that requires I move about a hundred concrete blocks. I asked my gardener to do it, and he said he would, but after the third request, without any action from him, I've decided to tackle the project myself. I think I'm doing a pretty good job, working between rain drops, and free time I think the job should be done by September. LOL. LOL. LOL.
So, there you have it the reasons I have not been able to blog as frequently as I would like. I'm hoping I can get back on track soon. Thanks for hanging in there with me.
I love you guys.
Mostly it's been the taxes. Oh, mercy me, those dang taxes. I figured them out three ways from Sunday and eventually figured out the simple straight 1040 was the best way to go. No matter what way I did them they all came out with the same answer, I don't owe, but I don't get a refund either. Frankly, I'm not sure I even did them correctly this year, but to the best of my knowledge I think I got all the figures in the right places. I'm going to put the returns in the mail today. Good riddance to bad rubbish.
I still have a lot of filing to do, but once that is done I think things will slow down a bit and I can get back into a normal routine.
Then I had a doctor's appointment on Monday morning. I hate doctoring, but after I got a message from her stating there was a new policy that she could not renew my prescriptions until I came to see her...necessity over took, and I paid her a visit. Of course, my blood pressure was up...not 'badly' up, but up. So, after I had been sitting for a while the nurse came in and took it again...by now it had returned to normal. By the way, did you know, or were you ever told not to cross your legs while you are having your pressure taken? I learned that Monday...how come nobody ever told me that before. I always sit cross legged, mostly because my feet don't touch the floor in most chairs.
Oh, and I've shrunk 3/4 of an inch...Dang...no wonder I look like a turkey in my new suit...Baaa, haaa, haa, tee, hee. hee. Yep, it's official...I'm under five feet tall. Shoot.
Also, I've been spending tons of hours working as well, I've made several new items for my Zazzle site, expanding into decorator pillows, wall hangings, and a few days ago a water bottle. Often I'm still at the computer at 3 A of M, after I promised you and myself I was not going to do that any more.
Plus, In November I joined a web site called Lumosity, it is a site dedicated to increasing your brain function by playing games. I have to say it has been helpful, and my Brain Profile Index (BPI) has increased from the low seven hundreds to a little over nine hundred. As you move through the process the games become more difficult. Each day the site gives you a set of five games to play, I diligently play them...whether I like them or not. They know the ones that give a person trouble so of course those are the ones a person gets. Every day, I shudder what games will be there, and moan once I see what they are. I especially hate the math games...so far they have been games I can handle, but oh my, some of the ones to come?????
There are two that cause me particular trouble. One has to do with jigsaw puzzle pieces, colors, shapes, horizontal and vertical activity all at once. the other is kind of like playing a pinball machine. The screen shows where the bumpers are, then they disappear and you have to remember where they were and shoot the ball the direction you 'think' the bumpers were so you can make the correct shot. I always get a little message that says (in effect)...'well, that was a little hard old woman...let's go back a bit'...how embarrassing.
Then, there is Bible study, and a front yard project going on that requires I move about a hundred concrete blocks. I asked my gardener to do it, and he said he would, but after the third request, without any action from him, I've decided to tackle the project myself. I think I'm doing a pretty good job, working between rain drops, and free time I think the job should be done by September. LOL. LOL. LOL.
So, there you have it the reasons I have not been able to blog as frequently as I would like. I'm hoping I can get back on track soon. Thanks for hanging in there with me.
I love you guys.
Sunday, March 17, 2013
It happened again.
This morning I awoke with a song stuck in my head.
I truly do hate when that happens, and in the days before I got my computer sometimes it would take me all day to figure out all the lyrics that were missing either from the verse or the chorus....oh...I guess songs today don't have chorus'. Anyway...this morning a short children's song was stuck in my head, slowly rolling along like a bowling ball going down the gutter...thump, thump, thump...thump, thump, thump.
The song is called, Soft Kitty. I heard it for the first time in my life a short time ago when I started watching the show "The Big Bang Theory". Sheldon was sick with a cold and he asked Penny to sing it to him because it is what his mommy did when he got sick as a child. Penny reluctantly agreed to sing the song...while...by the way...rubbing his chest with a well known 'rub'.
She did not know the words so he sang it first to her. Her first attempt did not go well, and making a very uncomfortable situation even worse, she had to 'start from the top'.
This morning, I happened to recall that episode, and that charming little ditty came into my mind.
Soft Kitty
Soft kitty,
Warm kitty,
Little ball of fur.
???????????
????????
Da Da kitty,
Da Da kitty,
Purr, purr, purr.
Damn it!
Over and over again I tried to recall the rest of that song. I have since heard it a few more times on the show...it's a simple little rhyme, why can't I recall the words.
I fed my furry friends, Soft kitty...
I fixed myself a cup of coffee, Warm kitty...
I let the dog out, Little ball of fur....
I let the dog in, Da, da, kitty...
Damn it!
I proceeded with other chores, trying desperately to push this song out of my head, nothing worked.
Finally, I sat down at the computer, went on the Web, and there it was...Soft kitty...word for word. I learned the original title is 'Warm Kitty' and it was written by Edith Newlin. You have no idea how delighted I was. I sang the entire song note for note, word for word in my head...then I sang it out loud...then I found the scene from the show on You Tube and watched that. DE-lightful.
Now I can go on with my day and sing this little melody anytime I want. Funny, though, it is already slipping away.
Soft kitty,
Warm kitty,
Little ball of fur.....
.......
.......
Oh, no, you're going to have to finish this one for yourself.
I truly do hate when that happens, and in the days before I got my computer sometimes it would take me all day to figure out all the lyrics that were missing either from the verse or the chorus....oh...I guess songs today don't have chorus'. Anyway...this morning a short children's song was stuck in my head, slowly rolling along like a bowling ball going down the gutter...thump, thump, thump...thump, thump, thump.
The song is called, Soft Kitty. I heard it for the first time in my life a short time ago when I started watching the show "The Big Bang Theory". Sheldon was sick with a cold and he asked Penny to sing it to him because it is what his mommy did when he got sick as a child. Penny reluctantly agreed to sing the song...while...by the way...rubbing his chest with a well known 'rub'.
She did not know the words so he sang it first to her. Her first attempt did not go well, and making a very uncomfortable situation even worse, she had to 'start from the top'.
This morning, I happened to recall that episode, and that charming little ditty came into my mind.
Soft Kitty
Soft kitty,
Warm kitty,
Little ball of fur.
???????????
????????
Da Da kitty,
Da Da kitty,
Purr, purr, purr.
Damn it!
Over and over again I tried to recall the rest of that song. I have since heard it a few more times on the show...it's a simple little rhyme, why can't I recall the words.
I fed my furry friends, Soft kitty...
I fixed myself a cup of coffee, Warm kitty...
I let the dog out, Little ball of fur....
I let the dog in, Da, da, kitty...
Damn it!
I proceeded with other chores, trying desperately to push this song out of my head, nothing worked.
Finally, I sat down at the computer, went on the Web, and there it was...Soft kitty...word for word. I learned the original title is 'Warm Kitty' and it was written by Edith Newlin. You have no idea how delighted I was. I sang the entire song note for note, word for word in my head...then I sang it out loud...then I found the scene from the show on You Tube and watched that. DE-lightful.
Now I can go on with my day and sing this little melody anytime I want. Funny, though, it is already slipping away.
Soft kitty,
Warm kitty,
Little ball of fur.....
.......
.......
Oh, no, you're going to have to finish this one for yourself.
Thursday, March 14, 2013
It's like that itch...
you can't reach to scratch.
Yesterday afternoon during Bible Study, the phone rang. I have a practice of not answering the phone if I have company, or if I am on the phone long distance with someone, so I let the call go to voice mail. Besides, my phone tells me who's calling and I certainly didn't recognize the garbled name the computer generated voice said so I knew it was probably not an important call.
Then, of course, I totally forgot about the call all together.
Later that afternoon I had a moment of recall and I checked the phone message list. The last call was from...of all people...Birdlady...my itch I can't reach to scratch. But, no message was left, so of course that got me to fretting over what in the world I could have done now to warrant her wanting to contact me.
I mean, I stewed and stewed about this until Frankie was about to throw me out of the house. She suggested I simply call her back and ask what she wanted. Oh, I don't think so, if she has a problem with me, I'm not going to just answer the door...no, she's going to have to keep knocking for a while.
Well, let me tell you I went to bed pondering and pondering. I woke up pondering and pondering. Mostly over the fact that since she called, she now knows from my message I have a company, and that I work from home. Does she so dislike me she is going to check with the city to see if I'm licenced to operate a business out of my home? I would not be surprised. Especially since a few years back she reported me to the health department because I was feeding the birds, and thereby encouraging the rat population.
And, although the guy from the health department said he could see no indication I was responsible for the rats in the neighborhood, and that I was not breaking any laws feeding the birds. He suggested I might want to move my bird feeding activity to the back yard. Of course I have no 'back yard' to speak of, so...and although it broke my heart...I stopped feeding the birds all together. Birdlady and I have not spoken since.
So, when I discovered she called yesterday, I was truly in 'a dither', that itch I can't reach to scratch was really itching.
Finally this morning I figured out why there was no message connected with her
call. Birdlady and husband are in charge of the neighborhood watch, and believe me...they watch. Anyway, they produced a 'telephone tree', so everybody on the street knows every body's number, and we are easy to contact. Here's the thing...my neighbor across the street has the same first name as me...different spelling but the same. And on the 'phone tree' we are right next to each other, so I suspect Birdlady was actually trying to reach her, not me. Imagine, Birdlady actually making a mistake.
I'm breathing a lot easier this morning, although, in the back of my mind I have to wonder if she has in the back of hers the thought of wanting to check out my business status. I guess time will tell. However, I will not be surprised at all if someday the city shows up on my door step with a clipboard and a badge.
Yesterday afternoon during Bible Study, the phone rang. I have a practice of not answering the phone if I have company, or if I am on the phone long distance with someone, so I let the call go to voice mail. Besides, my phone tells me who's calling and I certainly didn't recognize the garbled name the computer generated voice said so I knew it was probably not an important call.
Then, of course, I totally forgot about the call all together.
Later that afternoon I had a moment of recall and I checked the phone message list. The last call was from...of all people...Birdlady...my itch I can't reach to scratch. But, no message was left, so of course that got me to fretting over what in the world I could have done now to warrant her wanting to contact me.
I mean, I stewed and stewed about this until Frankie was about to throw me out of the house. She suggested I simply call her back and ask what she wanted. Oh, I don't think so, if she has a problem with me, I'm not going to just answer the door...no, she's going to have to keep knocking for a while.
Well, let me tell you I went to bed pondering and pondering. I woke up pondering and pondering. Mostly over the fact that since she called, she now knows from my message I have a company, and that I work from home. Does she so dislike me she is going to check with the city to see if I'm licenced to operate a business out of my home? I would not be surprised. Especially since a few years back she reported me to the health department because I was feeding the birds, and thereby encouraging the rat population.
And, although the guy from the health department said he could see no indication I was responsible for the rats in the neighborhood, and that I was not breaking any laws feeding the birds. He suggested I might want to move my bird feeding activity to the back yard. Of course I have no 'back yard' to speak of, so...and although it broke my heart...I stopped feeding the birds all together. Birdlady and I have not spoken since.
So, when I discovered she called yesterday, I was truly in 'a dither', that itch I can't reach to scratch was really itching.
Finally this morning I figured out why there was no message connected with her
call. Birdlady and husband are in charge of the neighborhood watch, and believe me...they watch. Anyway, they produced a 'telephone tree', so everybody on the street knows every body's number, and we are easy to contact. Here's the thing...my neighbor across the street has the same first name as me...different spelling but the same. And on the 'phone tree' we are right next to each other, so I suspect Birdlady was actually trying to reach her, not me. Imagine, Birdlady actually making a mistake.
I'm breathing a lot easier this morning, although, in the back of my mind I have to wonder if she has in the back of hers the thought of wanting to check out my business status. I guess time will tell. However, I will not be surprised at all if someday the city shows up on my door step with a clipboard and a badge.
Monday, March 11, 2013
Ask anybody...
...and they will tell you I am a huge fan of Broadway productions. And for years I had season tickets for the Broadway Across America series. I stopped going when the plays began to repeat, or were ones in which I did not have a particular interest.
Then, a friend of mine started taking drama in middle school and she invited me to attend some of the plays her class was producing. I excitedly accepted. I was blown away to discover great amateur talent in my community. These kids were fantastic. One of the plays was the musical Oklahoma...really...middle school students presenting a musical...it was great...ambitious, you bet, in over their heads, not a bit. Their production was every bit as good as if it had been presented by a Broadway Across America cast.
Guess what? New School, New amateur actors, New musical, I got to see another production yesterday. This one presented by the Regis High School Student Center in Stayton, Oregon. Oh my goodness, once more I was totally blown away. The name of the production was "Back to the 80's...The Totally Awesome Musical." These kids sang their hearts out, while the plot delightfully, whimsically, light-heartedly, led us through a senior class year from the decade of the eighties. I laughed, and...I cried...I was overjoyed to see the youth of today pour their hearts and souls into a project simply to delight their audience and community. It was an amazing afternoon.
Sadly, not many people, except for families of the cast, school students, and perhaps anyone who might have heard 'word of mouth'; these exceptional productions come and go without notice. What a terrible injustice...what a terrible loss. I'm certainly not a critic by any means, but if I were I would say.
If you every get the opportunity support your local school drama department, by all means go watch a group of very talented young people preform a professional grade production on a minimal budget, limited costume department, and stage crew that will scamper around with the ease of any I have seen work with a Broadway Across America crew.
I guarantee, a School Amateur Production will present any audience with the opportunity to see budding thespians at the beginning of their careers, for it is obvious any one of them could easily become a star of tomorrow shining brightly on Broadway NYC. Nowhere will you find a more impassioned group of young people eager to please a group of strangers, silhouettes, just beyond the spotlights of the stage. Even though stage fright probably is an affliction they all possess, they preform with great aplomb through perhaps a mistake in dialogue, or a missed cue here and there; trust me, you will not care, for you will be caught up in the mystery that is theater.
Finally, here's the best part of local productions...chances are you will know at least one person in the cast or crew, as in my friend at the local middle school. So it was yesterday, when I got to watch my granddaughter in her deput as an actress. She danced, she sang, and even had a speaking part. I was so, so, so proud.
Well done, Hannah Koellmann, well done. And for the next performances...break a leg, kiddo.
The Regis High School will have performances during the rest of this week. March 14, 15, 16...if you have the chance to see this production, I guarantee you will not be disappointed.
Then, a friend of mine started taking drama in middle school and she invited me to attend some of the plays her class was producing. I excitedly accepted. I was blown away to discover great amateur talent in my community. These kids were fantastic. One of the plays was the musical Oklahoma...really...middle school students presenting a musical...it was great...ambitious, you bet, in over their heads, not a bit. Their production was every bit as good as if it had been presented by a Broadway Across America cast.
Guess what? New School, New amateur actors, New musical, I got to see another production yesterday. This one presented by the Regis High School Student Center in Stayton, Oregon. Oh my goodness, once more I was totally blown away. The name of the production was "Back to the 80's...The Totally Awesome Musical." These kids sang their hearts out, while the plot delightfully, whimsically, light-heartedly, led us through a senior class year from the decade of the eighties. I laughed, and...I cried...I was overjoyed to see the youth of today pour their hearts and souls into a project simply to delight their audience and community. It was an amazing afternoon.
Sadly, not many people, except for families of the cast, school students, and perhaps anyone who might have heard 'word of mouth'; these exceptional productions come and go without notice. What a terrible injustice...what a terrible loss. I'm certainly not a critic by any means, but if I were I would say.
If you every get the opportunity support your local school drama department, by all means go watch a group of very talented young people preform a professional grade production on a minimal budget, limited costume department, and stage crew that will scamper around with the ease of any I have seen work with a Broadway Across America crew.
I guarantee, a School Amateur Production will present any audience with the opportunity to see budding thespians at the beginning of their careers, for it is obvious any one of them could easily become a star of tomorrow shining brightly on Broadway NYC. Nowhere will you find a more impassioned group of young people eager to please a group of strangers, silhouettes, just beyond the spotlights of the stage. Even though stage fright probably is an affliction they all possess, they preform with great aplomb through perhaps a mistake in dialogue, or a missed cue here and there; trust me, you will not care, for you will be caught up in the mystery that is theater.
Finally, here's the best part of local productions...chances are you will know at least one person in the cast or crew, as in my friend at the local middle school. So it was yesterday, when I got to watch my granddaughter in her deput as an actress. She danced, she sang, and even had a speaking part. I was so, so, so proud.
Well done, Hannah Koellmann, well done. And for the next performances...break a leg, kiddo.
The Regis High School will have performances during the rest of this week. March 14, 15, 16...if you have the chance to see this production, I guarantee you will not be disappointed.
Saturday, March 9, 2013
Woof, woof
I'm in the bedroom sorting clothes, laundry day...what fun.
Suddenly there is a screeching sound and sputtering from the kitchen. More screeching.
I dash to the ear shattering sounds yelling, "What's the matter, what's wrong?"
I hear a drawer open, drawer close, water rushing...what the heck?
As I turn the corner I find Frankie standing at the sink pulling a clean, unfolded dish cloth across her tongue. She has a look of horror on her face, her eyes are bulging.
Me: "Oh, Frankie, what happened? I'm looking for blood, perhaps she has bitten through her tongue and it is hanging by thread. Should I call 911?"
Frankie: (Still wiping) "...ooww,bup, u mipe kall the poisum compol centa."
Me: "What?"
Frankie: (Taking time to refresh her wash cloth.) "Call the poison control center."
Me: "What on earth for?"
Frankie: "I just ate dog food."
Me: (Trying very hard not to laugh) "How on earth did you do that?"
Frankie: "Well, I knew you had just given Zorro his peanut butter, and there was this brownish blob on the kitchen counter, so I scooped it up and put it in my mouth. In that brief second of understanding...my taste buds told me this was not peanut butter, it was too salty and very beefy. My brain finally caught up and said...'red alert, red alert...that's dog food...that's dog food...do not swallow'. But, it was too late, I already had."
Me: "Frankie, you're not going to die, you won't even get sick."
I fixed us both a cup of 'Java', and we retired to the hearth to 'sit a spell'. I explain to her that I've heard that some Seniors on very limited incomes and the homeless
sometimes dine on canned dog (and I suppose) cat food. I tell her I don't know this to be fact, but that I believe it could be a true so...not to worry, she will be alright.
After a few swigs of vanilla flavored coffee Frankie is relaxed.
Me: "You okay now?"
Frankie nods and takes a long draw on her coffee.
I tell her I'm going to go finish sorting the laundry. As I get ready to start down the hall, I call back...
"By the way...you have 'doggie breath' "
...then run like crazy. I love doing stuff that to Frankie.
Suddenly there is a screeching sound and sputtering from the kitchen. More screeching.
I dash to the ear shattering sounds yelling, "What's the matter, what's wrong?"
I hear a drawer open, drawer close, water rushing...what the heck?
As I turn the corner I find Frankie standing at the sink pulling a clean, unfolded dish cloth across her tongue. She has a look of horror on her face, her eyes are bulging.
Me: "Oh, Frankie, what happened? I'm looking for blood, perhaps she has bitten through her tongue and it is hanging by thread. Should I call 911?"
Frankie: (Still wiping) "...ooww,bup, u mipe kall the poisum compol centa."
Me: "What?"
Frankie: (Taking time to refresh her wash cloth.) "Call the poison control center."
Me: "What on earth for?"
Frankie: "I just ate dog food."
Me: (Trying very hard not to laugh) "How on earth did you do that?"
Frankie: "Well, I knew you had just given Zorro his peanut butter, and there was this brownish blob on the kitchen counter, so I scooped it up and put it in my mouth. In that brief second of understanding...my taste buds told me this was not peanut butter, it was too salty and very beefy. My brain finally caught up and said...'red alert, red alert...that's dog food...that's dog food...do not swallow'. But, it was too late, I already had."
Me: "Frankie, you're not going to die, you won't even get sick."
I fixed us both a cup of 'Java', and we retired to the hearth to 'sit a spell'. I explain to her that I've heard that some Seniors on very limited incomes and the homeless
sometimes dine on canned dog (and I suppose) cat food. I tell her I don't know this to be fact, but that I believe it could be a true so...not to worry, she will be alright.
After a few swigs of vanilla flavored coffee Frankie is relaxed.
Me: "You okay now?"
Frankie nods and takes a long draw on her coffee.
I tell her I'm going to go finish sorting the laundry. As I get ready to start down the hall, I call back...
"By the way...you have 'doggie breath' "
...then run like crazy. I love doing stuff that to Frankie.
Friday, March 8, 2013
Spit tacks
Have you ever been so angry with yourself you want to, to, to...well, spit tacks.
That would have been me last night.
Generally I can get a lot of Gues Who stuff done between 10-11 PM. and 2-3 AM.
So, I was humming along nicely last night, collating illustration files in an effort to publish a new catalog. Cut, paste, delete old file; cut, paste, delete old file; cut, paste, delete old file. I mean to tell you my fingers were on fire.
To bad my brain had ceased to keep up. I just got done with a five page transfer, that involved 45 illustrations, and I thought I was deleting the last old file, when 'poof', my brand new file vanished. No sweat, it probably went into the recycle bin I can retrieve it from there. I go to the recycle bin, there is no sign of the file, uh-oh. I had not given this file a name. I don't know what the heck I'm looking for. Plus, I was so cocky, when I was putting the old files in the bin, they were empty, I did not save the illustrations in the file when I deleted them.
S--t! S--t! S--t!
I was seeing red, it has been a loooong time since I have been so mad at myself. I wanted to vent, but it was almost 3:00, and I didn't want to wake Frankie, because I knew she would not be sympathetic to my plight. Eventually I gave up looking for the file, and sadly, dejectedly, miserably, defeated and angered I went to bed.
This morning I sit here, sad, dejected, miserable, defeated, but not so much angry any more. You can only nurse anger for so long, and then 'stupid' sets in. So, the lesson I learned is don't get cocky...that just makes you a 'Dumb A--. (I guess there is a little anger left.)
I'm not sure how I am going to retrieve the missing files, and more importantly all those illustrations. I know they are on my computer somewhere, funny thing is, I was back-upping my files on a flash drive for Karen, and that was going to be the very next thing to do when the 'poof' thing happened. That makes me even a "dumber-a--".
Grrrrrrr.
Frankie: "Morning, what's ya doin'?"
Me: "Contemplating."
Frankie: "I probably shouldn't ask, but, contemplating what?"
I proceed to tell her what had happened. I can see her eyes glaze over...she does not give a crap.
Me: "You do know I love you, don't you?"
Frankie: "Sure."
Me: (In a loud, cranky, unkind voice.) ''GET OUT OF HERE....GRRRRR.....OR I'M GOING TO SPIT TACKS. BUST A GUSSET, POP A VEIN. You want to be responsible for that?"
Silence.
Frankie: "Spit tacks, baaa,haaa,haaa, bust a gusset...tee, hee, hee.. pop a vein ha, ha ha...can I watch.
She tousles my hair, and leaves the room.
Silence.
Okay, maybe I have over reacted. It isn't like I can't eventually replace the file. I do have hard copies, pictures downloaded from my camera on the computer, and hundreds of other illustrations I can use. I guess losing one file is not the end of the world...
And, reality is, it isn't really about the loss of the file, it's about me, I had allowed myself to become what I thought was so computer savvy I was beyond making such a 'rooky mistake'. So, as a reminder, I'm going to put a sign on my computer.
That would have been me last night.
Generally I can get a lot of Gues Who stuff done between 10-11 PM. and 2-3 AM.
So, I was humming along nicely last night, collating illustration files in an effort to publish a new catalog. Cut, paste, delete old file; cut, paste, delete old file; cut, paste, delete old file. I mean to tell you my fingers were on fire.
To bad my brain had ceased to keep up. I just got done with a five page transfer, that involved 45 illustrations, and I thought I was deleting the last old file, when 'poof', my brand new file vanished. No sweat, it probably went into the recycle bin I can retrieve it from there. I go to the recycle bin, there is no sign of the file, uh-oh. I had not given this file a name. I don't know what the heck I'm looking for. Plus, I was so cocky, when I was putting the old files in the bin, they were empty, I did not save the illustrations in the file when I deleted them.
S--t! S--t! S--t!
I was seeing red, it has been a loooong time since I have been so mad at myself. I wanted to vent, but it was almost 3:00, and I didn't want to wake Frankie, because I knew she would not be sympathetic to my plight. Eventually I gave up looking for the file, and sadly, dejectedly, miserably, defeated and angered I went to bed.
This morning I sit here, sad, dejected, miserable, defeated, but not so much angry any more. You can only nurse anger for so long, and then 'stupid' sets in. So, the lesson I learned is don't get cocky...that just makes you a 'Dumb A--. (I guess there is a little anger left.)
I'm not sure how I am going to retrieve the missing files, and more importantly all those illustrations. I know they are on my computer somewhere, funny thing is, I was back-upping my files on a flash drive for Karen, and that was going to be the very next thing to do when the 'poof' thing happened. That makes me even a "dumber-a--".
Grrrrrrr.
Frankie: "Morning, what's ya doin'?"
Me: "Contemplating."
Frankie: "I probably shouldn't ask, but, contemplating what?"
I proceed to tell her what had happened. I can see her eyes glaze over...she does not give a crap.
Me: "You do know I love you, don't you?"
Frankie: "Sure."
Me: (In a loud, cranky, unkind voice.) ''GET OUT OF HERE....GRRRRR.....OR I'M GOING TO SPIT TACKS. BUST A GUSSET, POP A VEIN. You want to be responsible for that?"
Silence.
Frankie: "Spit tacks, baaa,haaa,haaa, bust a gusset...tee, hee, hee.. pop a vein ha, ha ha...can I watch.
She tousles my hair, and leaves the room.
Silence.
Okay, maybe I have over reacted. It isn't like I can't eventually replace the file. I do have hard copies, pictures downloaded from my camera on the computer, and hundreds of other illustrations I can use. I guess losing one file is not the end of the world...
And, reality is, it isn't really about the loss of the file, it's about me, I had allowed myself to become what I thought was so computer savvy I was beyond making such a 'rooky mistake'. So, as a reminder, I'm going to put a sign on my computer.
Pride goeth before a fall.
Idiot!!!!!!
Yep, that would be me, that would be me.
Wednesday, March 6, 2013
The faster I go, the behinder I gets
Clocks, they come in all sizes, all shapes, all colors, most are digital that cast eerie light during the darkest hours and simply show the time numerically. I personally like the ones you have to wind, that softly talk, tick, tick, tick, or sometimes tick-tock, tick-tock. Each tick or tick-tock erasing another moment of your life.
Where, oh where does time go? Not only is this year moving at warp speed, can you believe spring starts in a couple of weeks?, so are the days, hours, minutes and seconds. Tick, tick, tick.
I know I'm trying to cram too much into my days, hours, minutes and seconds, I'm old and can't do warp speed, still, my little legs and moving as fast as they can. I remember the days when I would spend weekday afternoons curled up under an afghan, fighting to stay awake, watching ID, learning how to commit the perfect murder, time was so...so, dull, boring, dragging.
Now, I have no time for dull, boring, dragging. Every minute I'm busy as those tiny ants that zip along my kitchen counter top. About the only time I have now for TV is in the evening, when I find I have dozed off, missed the end of one show and have not a clue what show I am watching when I wake up. At this point I turn off the TV and go to work until about two or three of the A of M.
I'm telling you, there are not enough hours...not near enough.
For instance, for the last two weeks I have been trying to find time to assemble the paper work to prepare my taxes. I've been interrupted so many times, the task so taxing and time consuming, that finally yesterday Frankie had to tie me to the sofa and make-shift desk to force me to get the job done. I told her if she did not allow me to watch TV at the same time, I could not vouch for her safety, and would take away the last of her pudding cake and never, ever, buy her another. She loosened the chain, and lengthened it so I could get as far as the bathroom. She's a gem, isn't she?
So, set to work I did. I cleared all the files from last years boxes, separated them into piles, one for tax purposes, one for filing in the credenza, (where I store them for the suggested time frame...seven years, I believe); then started to fill the just emptied boxes with this years files. Along the way the floor got cluttered (ankle deep) with all sorts of riff-raff who's next phase of life is the recycle bin. Jobs done, done, done and done.
However, along yesterday's hours, I also took some pictures for future Zazzle projects, made my Zazzle page more user friendly, prepared pizza for dinner, vacuumed the carpet, and made frequent trips to the door to allow Zorro out and in, plus... I marvelled at how dull, boring, and uninteresting a murder case can be. If they let her off with a slap on the wrist, I'm moving to a mysterious island...somewhere...I don't really care where.
And, because I have trouble multi-tasking, some of yesterday's things didn't get done. I won't elaborate...'cause I don't want to admit...'I forgot' to do them and will simply say I didn't have enough time for them. They will get done today...I hope.
Oh, you nasty, sneaky, miserable, unrelenting, unforgiving tick-tocking time. I hate you...the only good thing about you, the alternative....no time at all.
Tick, tick, tick...tick-tock, tick-tock.
Where, oh where does time go? Not only is this year moving at warp speed, can you believe spring starts in a couple of weeks?, so are the days, hours, minutes and seconds. Tick, tick, tick.
I know I'm trying to cram too much into my days, hours, minutes and seconds, I'm old and can't do warp speed, still, my little legs and moving as fast as they can. I remember the days when I would spend weekday afternoons curled up under an afghan, fighting to stay awake, watching ID, learning how to commit the perfect murder, time was so...so, dull, boring, dragging.
Now, I have no time for dull, boring, dragging. Every minute I'm busy as those tiny ants that zip along my kitchen counter top. About the only time I have now for TV is in the evening, when I find I have dozed off, missed the end of one show and have not a clue what show I am watching when I wake up. At this point I turn off the TV and go to work until about two or three of the A of M.
I'm telling you, there are not enough hours...not near enough.
For instance, for the last two weeks I have been trying to find time to assemble the paper work to prepare my taxes. I've been interrupted so many times, the task so taxing and time consuming, that finally yesterday Frankie had to tie me to the sofa and make-shift desk to force me to get the job done. I told her if she did not allow me to watch TV at the same time, I could not vouch for her safety, and would take away the last of her pudding cake and never, ever, buy her another. She loosened the chain, and lengthened it so I could get as far as the bathroom. She's a gem, isn't she?
So, set to work I did. I cleared all the files from last years boxes, separated them into piles, one for tax purposes, one for filing in the credenza, (where I store them for the suggested time frame...seven years, I believe); then started to fill the just emptied boxes with this years files. Along the way the floor got cluttered (ankle deep) with all sorts of riff-raff who's next phase of life is the recycle bin. Jobs done, done, done and done.
However, along yesterday's hours, I also took some pictures for future Zazzle projects, made my Zazzle page more user friendly, prepared pizza for dinner, vacuumed the carpet, and made frequent trips to the door to allow Zorro out and in, plus... I marvelled at how dull, boring, and uninteresting a murder case can be. If they let her off with a slap on the wrist, I'm moving to a mysterious island...somewhere...I don't really care where.
And, because I have trouble multi-tasking, some of yesterday's things didn't get done. I won't elaborate...'cause I don't want to admit...'I forgot' to do them and will simply say I didn't have enough time for them. They will get done today...I hope.
Oh, you nasty, sneaky, miserable, unrelenting, unforgiving tick-tocking time. I hate you...the only good thing about you, the alternative....no time at all.
Tick, tick, tick...tick-tock, tick-tock.
Monday, March 4, 2013
Busy, busy, bumble bee.
I've been a very busy girl over the weekend. Working on items for my web page on Zazzle. With spring just around the proverbial corner, and Easter coming shortly there after I have been trying to get some merchandise ready for both.
Karen tells me that (at least in California) girls have taken up skateboarding, and guess what? Zazzle actually has skateboards. So, that is what I have been working on so diligently over the last 48 hours. Karen actually designed the first one, and it turned out great, so I decided to 'give it a go' myself.
If you would like to check it out, there are two ready for purchase at Zazzle:
gueswhopubs.att.net
There you'll see the patterns on the boards are designed strictly for girls. One is pink with the word Spring sprawled across it, while the other has a picture of a foxglove with the words "You go girl! overlaid on it. I think they are both quite spiffy.
The two I am working on are equally feminine, with lovely pictures, overlaid on one are the words "Yes you can" while the other states "Girls just want to have fun". As you can see, I find this project intriguing, and think there might be a huge market out there especially among the college crowd. No more having to lock down your bicycle and worrying about it being stolen, you simply take the board with you to the class. Plus, the board can be leaned against the wall behind the dorm door, eagerly awaiting the next run to a favorite coffee shop or pizza place. Most students carry everything in a backpack, so toting a skateboard should not be terribly inconvenient. I'm telling you...I think this is a good idea, I just need someone to market this. Creativity is my long suit...dealing with the public, not so much.
What I would like to do is have some prototypes, and a salesperson, who could go to skateboard stores and show them what can be done to include girls in the skateboard sport, hobby...or whatever skateboarding is called. I will design the boards, Zazzle will make the boards...the store owners will buy the boards through Zazzle who will ship the boards to the stores, and I get a percentage of the sales through Zazzle. Oh, the possibilities.
Also, what I like about the Zazzle skateboard is, a person can buy just the board, and purchase wheels at a skateboard store, or you can purchase the board and the wheels as a complete package from Zazzle. Oh, there are times I wish I was rich...so I could really make a run for even more money...I think this could be my real shot at a million dollar idea.
Hmmmm, maybe I should delete this entry...with the luck I've had all my life, now I've written this, somebody else is going to come along and steal my idea and make the million...Damn you, Sandy, Damn you!
P.S. Girls, if you already have a bicycle, you will not need to purchase extra equipment, you probably already own a helmet, knee and elbow pads.
Karen tells me that (at least in California) girls have taken up skateboarding, and guess what? Zazzle actually has skateboards. So, that is what I have been working on so diligently over the last 48 hours. Karen actually designed the first one, and it turned out great, so I decided to 'give it a go' myself.
If you would like to check it out, there are two ready for purchase at Zazzle:
gueswhopubs.att.net
There you'll see the patterns on the boards are designed strictly for girls. One is pink with the word Spring sprawled across it, while the other has a picture of a foxglove with the words "You go girl! overlaid on it. I think they are both quite spiffy.
The two I am working on are equally feminine, with lovely pictures, overlaid on one are the words "Yes you can" while the other states "Girls just want to have fun". As you can see, I find this project intriguing, and think there might be a huge market out there especially among the college crowd. No more having to lock down your bicycle and worrying about it being stolen, you simply take the board with you to the class. Plus, the board can be leaned against the wall behind the dorm door, eagerly awaiting the next run to a favorite coffee shop or pizza place. Most students carry everything in a backpack, so toting a skateboard should not be terribly inconvenient. I'm telling you...I think this is a good idea, I just need someone to market this. Creativity is my long suit...dealing with the public, not so much.
What I would like to do is have some prototypes, and a salesperson, who could go to skateboard stores and show them what can be done to include girls in the skateboard sport, hobby...or whatever skateboarding is called. I will design the boards, Zazzle will make the boards...the store owners will buy the boards through Zazzle who will ship the boards to the stores, and I get a percentage of the sales through Zazzle. Oh, the possibilities.
Also, what I like about the Zazzle skateboard is, a person can buy just the board, and purchase wheels at a skateboard store, or you can purchase the board and the wheels as a complete package from Zazzle. Oh, there are times I wish I was rich...so I could really make a run for even more money...I think this could be my real shot at a million dollar idea.
Hmmmm, maybe I should delete this entry...with the luck I've had all my life, now I've written this, somebody else is going to come along and steal my idea and make the million...Damn you, Sandy, Damn you!
P.S. Girls, if you already have a bicycle, you will not need to purchase extra equipment, you probably already own a helmet, knee and elbow pads.
Saturday, March 2, 2013
Here's to the boys in blue.
It was just about a week ago that I wrote about my Uncle Sonny. And how he has been on my mind quite a bit. Even more so when my daughter Bonnie said she is taking a class about WWll and she couldn't find her copy of his service record, and could I make her a new copy. So it was I spent two days, scanning in the file, printing out the file, and putting it into the mail for her yesterday. I am so happy he is in someone else's memory as well. I'm sure we have made him very happy, too.
This morning, again, he was in my mind, and a song, slowly made it's way through the clouds of my mind, and there he was, in his plane soaring into 'the wild blue yonder'.
I want you all to see him too. So, my blog today is about the infancy of military flight, and all the brave men who have given their lives over the years. This is for all of you guys....ALL of you.
Words and Music by Captain Robert Crawford ©1939 as the "Army Air Corps Song," reportedly renewed 1977 by the USAF.
Off we go into the wild blue yonder,
Climbing high into the sun;
Here they come zooming to meet our thunder,
At 'em boys, Give 'er the gun! (Give 'er the gun now!)
Down we dive, spouting our flame from under,
Off with one helluva roar!
We live in fame or go down in flame. Hey!
Nothing'll stop the U.S. Air Force!
Minds of men fashioned a crate of thunder,
Sent it high into the blue;
Hands of men blasted the world asunder;
How they lived God only knew! (God only knew then!)
Souls of men dreaming of skies to conquer
Gave us wings, ever to soar!
With scouts before And bombers galore. Hey!
Nothing'll stop the U.S. Air Force!
Here's a toast to the host
Of those who love the vastness of the sky,
To a friend we send a message of his brother men who fly.
We drink to those who gave their all of old,
Then down we roar to score the rainbow's pot of gold.
A toast to the host of men we boast, the U.S. Air Force!
Zoom!
Off we go into the wild sky yonder,
Keep the wings level and true;
If you'd live to be a grey-haired wonder
Keep the nose out of the blue! (Out of the blue, boy!)
Flying men, guarding the nation's border,
We'll be there, followed by more!
In echelon we carry on. Hey!
Nothing'll stop the U.S. Air Force!
This morning, again, he was in my mind, and a song, slowly made it's way through the clouds of my mind, and there he was, in his plane soaring into 'the wild blue yonder'.
I want you all to see him too. So, my blog today is about the infancy of military flight, and all the brave men who have given their lives over the years. This is for all of you guys....ALL of you.
The Air Force Song
Words and Music by Captain Robert Crawford ©1939 as the "Army Air Corps Song," reportedly renewed 1977 by the USAF.
Off we go into the wild blue yonder,
Climbing high into the sun;
Here they come zooming to meet our thunder,
At 'em boys, Give 'er the gun! (Give 'er the gun now!)
Down we dive, spouting our flame from under,
Off with one helluva roar!
We live in fame or go down in flame. Hey!
Nothing'll stop the U.S. Air Force!
Minds of men fashioned a crate of thunder,
Sent it high into the blue;
Hands of men blasted the world asunder;
How they lived God only knew! (God only knew then!)
Souls of men dreaming of skies to conquer
Gave us wings, ever to soar!
With scouts before And bombers galore. Hey!
Nothing'll stop the U.S. Air Force!
Here's a toast to the host
Of those who love the vastness of the sky,
To a friend we send a message of his brother men who fly.
We drink to those who gave their all of old,
Then down we roar to score the rainbow's pot of gold.
A toast to the host of men we boast, the U.S. Air Force!
Zoom!
Off we go into the wild sky yonder,
Keep the wings level and true;
If you'd live to be a grey-haired wonder
Keep the nose out of the blue! (Out of the blue, boy!)
Flying men, guarding the nation's border,
We'll be there, followed by more!
In echelon we carry on. Hey!
Nothing'll stop the U.S. Air Force!
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