The Night Time is the Bright Time.

Being a grandmother gives me the opportunity to take care of my grandson a couple days a week.
This involves getting up before most of the world and driving in the dark.
Which here in the mountains involves darkness that is v e r y dark.
Except when I'm behind a school bus.
Don't know what they have in your area, but we have buses that have a white strobe light on the roof that is bright enough to send a signal Mars.
I can only assume that it is to prevent other vehicles from crashing into kids or the bus itself.
Makes sense.
But only a little, because it is a freaking blinking nightmare that makes me drive all angry and squinty eyed while trying not to have a brain spasm as the intermittent flash penetrates every cell in my body.
I thought bright blinking things were banned as a result of the 1997 Pokemon anime that gave children seizures.
Not banned in this part of the world apparently.
Well now school buses aren't the only ones with these death-ray laser strobes.
This morning I was behind an emergency vehicle for 5 eternally long miles and it had not 1 but 5, count 'em, 5 blinking lights flashing in my newly awakened face.
Let me tell you gentle readers that all I could think of was "Don't crash", "Don't crash", "Look at the road", "You can do this".
Well that's not all I could think of, but my 'don't swear in public' rule, is pretty imbedded in my psyche and I don't want to burden you with my potty mouth.
Are folks driving and behaving so well that emergency vehicles are out for late night/early morning drives trying to drum up business?
No, that can't be the reason for the 'Lights of Craziness'.
I have known several EMT's and firemen and they really are a caring bunch.
Do that many people mistake emergency vehicles for just a regular vehicle and therefore they can crash it if necessary?
Dadgumm.
What is the world coming to.
The end of the five mile stretch was now in sight and the strobing vehicle was turning left and I was going right.
Just in the nick of time too, my brain was starting to melt and my will to live wanted to drive off the side of the mountain.
So I look over to see if it was an ambulance or a fire truck.....
It was a garbage truck!?!?!?!
A what?
Yes a garbage truck.
For One thing...How can the workers see the garbage when it is pitch black outside.
For Two things...Garbage will still be there when the sun comes up. Most of my garbage is pretty stationary.
For Three things...We are now protecting our garbage?
Garbage collectors deserve many more accolades and dollars than they actually get and my family appreciates their work immensely, but I was almost turned into a veritable mental basket case driving down the road while trash was being protected in a strobing vehicle of immeasurable lumens.
I'm all about protecting our kids and folks in the service sector but is 'Pokemon Shock Syndrome' the way to go?
Do people really not see the other 14 red and yellow lights placed all over the back of these working vehicles.
Maybe it's just me.
Maybe nobody talks about this interstellar vehicle signaling, brain disrupting, cartoon inspired system because after a certain sequence of blinks your memory is wiped of everything that happened for the last hour.
I'm just guessing.

Thanks for being here.


Psychotic Alien Inspired Warning Technology

Slow Down Time but Shorten Your Life Expectancy.

If you are reading this and you want to know how to slow down time down a bit
then just sit outside...near the woods...in the dark...by yourself...watching for meteors to fly by.
Each minute is long and terrifying.
It's like watching the movie Alien for the first time.
You know that the main character(the Alien) is gonna suddenly appear at any second but you can't turn away or close your eyes because if you do then there was no point in paying money to endure the torture.
Meteor showers are free but it is still the same type of torture and suffering, when you have to be alone in the darkness.
The sounds occurring in the dark night are unnerving but you endure them because the main character(the meteors) could appear at any second and if you go in the house then what was the point of getting up so early.
Maybe I like space because Earth has things that are creepy, crawly and curious but I can't escape from them or even move because I'm tangled up in a freaking blanket that is wrapped around my feet making it impossible to make a fast getaway when and if an alien animal ventured out of the woods and scared the bejeebus out of me.
There is something attractive about space though that makes me endure this life sucking, nighttime, outdoor fear, possibly because the universe doesn't make menacing noises that could make a person soil herself.
So I wait.
Trying to be an adult.
Searching the skies for the next piece of burning space debris to fly by my little treeless viewing hole that lets me connect to the great beyond.
And I wait.
Noise.
Just a branch falling?
Noise.
Was that closer?
If I look around or turn on my flashlight then I might miss a shooting star because I will look away from space and blind myself.
Be very still and if it is a bear and I don't move then maybe he'll go right past me.
Two noises?
Should I go in the house?
Maybe this is the wrong day?
I have to go the bathroom.
Where are all these meteors they were talking about?
I've been out here forever.
Let me check my phone.
It's been 3 minutes.
What?
I can't see.
OK. Eyes in focus again.
Hey, There goes one!
Not too big, but I'll take it.
Waiting.
There goes a satellite!
This is awesome!
I'll wait another little bit.
Noise.
Dadgum, what was that.
Noise.
Bug in my face.
Noise.
Please God, can't I be invisible when I need to be.
Ooooo. There's another meteor!
Excitement makes me brave and I wait some more.
YES! There is another one.
Noise.
That was too close.
Ok. That's enough.
Go in the house and make coffee.
I'm alive!
I saw 3 meteors and a satellite!
I gave up my sleep and body warmth but it was worth it!

It's been 15, maybe 20 total minutes.

Sheesh

Thanks for being here.

The next show is the Leonid Meteor Shower.
Peak time is November 17-18th
No aliens please.


The woods near me has some terrifying wildlife.

A List to Add to Your Lists.

I was thinking about my next birthday and the fact that I will be almost, kinda, truly very old.
So during my long journey I have learned a few things that I wish someone had told me long ago that I wanted to share with younger folks, who I've also learned don't listen to the wisdom of the elderly any way...so my thoughts make perfect blogging material.
This list (and you know I always have a list) was written in the middle of the night and seemed fabulous at the time.
Plus I was typing on my phone with the display/brightness turned all the way down so my husband would not wake up and derail my train of thought and then wake up the dogs with his sleepy voice questions and then the whole point of laying quietly in bed is moot.
Here is a copy of my mostly unedited list of things I've learned....so far.

-Be nice to people. It's hard sometimes, but if you're a jerk to a jerk, it magnifies the jerkiness of everyone's day and everything in your orbit.
-Invest in the best mattress you can afford. Life is hard and at the end of a sucky day your bed should be your best friend and always there for you to come home to.
-Linens too.
-Invest in the best bra you can afford. You wear it every single dadgum day so don't skrimp and be uncomfortable or droopy.
-Eat the best food you can buy or cook. Food is a pleasure and a joy. No guilt.
-Don't live in the past and that means your memory is a memory. Thank goodness for photos.
-Don't take anything personally and that means anything. Most people: 1) like the sound of their own voice, 2) are parroting something they've heard or 3) they're just mean. If they're just mean it means that they hate themselves already so you don't have to waste your time hating them too or worrying yourself about their idiotic comments.
-Don't believe everything you hear, see or read. If your gut tells you it's questionable then it probably is.
-Which leads to.....
-Question everything. Yes it drives some people crazy, but it was a short drive for them anyway. People don't wanna think things through anymore so question every single gosh darn thing until it makes sense.
-Except chocolate. Just enjoy chocolate because life is short.

Thank-you for being here.



The best hot chocolate in the world.
It will make you feel young again!
It's that good.
Paul's French Cafe in London

I Can't Seem to Catch Up!

I can't seem to catch up.
Every little task seems like 7 big projects.
When I can't catch up then I can't seem to write because my mind is full of 10 million things I have crazily deemed more important than posting on my blog.
The gray matter goes into hurricane mode and not one idea will come into focus, bubble to the surface or even fly by in a wind gust.
I have been busy traveling, so playing catch up at home has consumed my thoughts, my naps and all available scrap paper for making lists.
I can't seem to think of or remember a blog idea long enough to get at the computer or find a piece of paper AND a pen to write on that paper because my house looks like a hurricane went through it and I have to practically machete my way across any given room to then begin the process of documenting information in any way, so a blog idea has to be filed away mentally in the 'where have I heard that before' file that is usually cryptic and rarely recallable.
(That sentence was so long that I need GPS to get back to the beginning. Sheesh.)
If I do get one thing done it leads to 15 other mind numbing things that now need done as a result of the first thing and all 16 things are probably already listed on another list that I can't locate.
I think my brain fried as I tried to prepare for all the traveling I did because I am NOT a good traveler.
I stress.
I stress about leaving.
I stress about forgetting to bring something.
I stress about something I might forget to unplug.
I stress about crashing.
I stress about my pillow and loosing my glasses.
Let me sum up my stress and how I am before a trip with this reference from the What About Bob movie (which you need to put on your list of things to do because it is fab-u-lous!):

Bob Wiley: Well, I get dizzy spells, nausea, cold sweats, hot sweats, fever blisters, difficulty breathing, difficulty swallowing, blurred vision, involuntary trembling, dead hands, numb lips, fingernail sensitivity, pelvic discomfort.
Dr. Leo Marvin: So the real question is, what is the crisis Bob? What is it you're truly afraid of?
Bob Wiley: What if my heart stops beating? What if I'm looking for a bathroom, I can't find it, and... my bladder explodes?

That kind of stuff.

The endless stress has taken a toll on my brain cells by killing them outright or making them non-functional.
So I am trying to unwind, de-stress and get back into 'stay at home' mode.
I want to blog and write and compose a few thoughts, but my brain won't let me.
Neither will my lists.
So what is this post?
This post is me and my blogging self telling my brain, "You're not the boss of me!"
'Maybe you can catch up on everything before your next travel excursion', my brain tells me.
Hahahahahahaha!!
Good one!
Silly brain.

Thanks for being here.


This is me right now.

Nature Happens.

Going outside everyday like I do affords some extraordinary viewing of nature on many occasions.
Most of the time though 'nature' smells my predatory human stink and stays hidden till all of me and my personal 'un-dangerous' danger is past.
I am a looker/watcher/"sorry, I didn't see you there" outdoor lover, but nature is not taking any chances.
Mostly.
Recently I came across a curious looking cavern in the creek bed.


Curious Looking Cavern in the Creek Bed.

I got the bright idea to stick my hand in the creek hole to find out if it was a current created crevice or a critter created crevice (say either one of those illiterations 3 times fast), but it was unusually deep (about 6 inches) and headed up stream so I knew it was not a creation of the current.
Realizing how stupid it was to stick a body part in an unknown and hidden mother nature hole, not to mention the pervy overtones, I decided that locating a stick might be a better idea.
But in the fashion of Jane Goodall, I changed my stick poking mind and chose to patiently watch and see if something might show itself while searching around to see what nightmare was messing with this particular creek hole.
Being down stream and unable to sense my now barely breathing presence, sure enough, a single, thin, red antennae comes flicking it's way out of its recently disturbed home.
Then another antennae appears.
Sure enough, after his cautious feelers falsely give him the all clear, the fearless tiny river lobster shows himself and his mighty pinchers to see whatever the heidi-ho just happened to all his hard work and whether or not he had eluded being on a dinner menu.


Curious but Annoyed Crawdad.

Now you're probably thinking that this is the weirdest blog post you've seen in a while (and our burrowing crustacean would agree with you if he could read or because he thinks everything we do is weird or because it seems I know what river creatures are thinking) and you would be right, but I thought it was interesting and unusual enough to share with my nature loving readers, especially since I remembered to take a picture and not drop my phone in the water!
There you go!
Nature Happens!

Thanks for being here!

A Dull Day

Guest Post by Dr. Frank Crane.
Even if your day is dull one, this post will make you smile.
Or at least smirk for a second.

The sun may be shining when you read this, but it was a dull day when it was written.
The sky is an ugly, drab smudge. There is no sun, no rain, no wind, nothing.
Across the street is a house. It is a stupid house, full of stupid people. I know them. I wish I didn't. There are many people you are sorry to have met.
It's too close to have a fire and too cold to do without one. Is there anything hollower and drearier than a fireless fireplace?
A bird is on a tree outdoors. He is not singing. His head is all drawn down into his shoulders. He is just sitting there hating himself.
A number of people have passed by the window. They are the dullest, homeliest bunch of human creatures I ever saw. I hate them all.
A crash--the hired girl has just smashed one of our best plates, an extra fine Sunday plate with gold on it. The only reason I don't go out and give her a dressing-down is because I hate to move.
Why Move? Such a day as this you are no happier anywhere than where you are. If you must be miserable why spread it around?
Old Mrs. Grumpet has just called. She has told the missus for the nth time about her troubles. She has all the diseases she has ever heard of. As soon as she hears of a new one she goes and has it. She has more symptoms than a patient-medicine almanac. And it's all along of that blue mass she took just before Austey was born. She's a dreadful vast, steamy creature.
She has left an aroma of added wretchedness in the house. We opened the window to admit some fresh air and the flies came in. I loathe flies.
I chased them with a fly-swatter and broke an expensive vase. All vases must some day be shattered, as all men must die.
All women must die too, and all children, also all dogs, cats, horses, cows, and grizzly bears. A hundred years from now everybody and everything will be dead. There will be a new crop. After awhile they, too, will die. What's the use?
The gas-stove is out of fix this morning. So am I. So is the universe.
There is no news in the paper. Newspapers are all poor. Why read? Aren't you miserable enough as you are?
I am trying to have a vacation and enjoy myself. This morning I played a game of tennis and was beaten by a poor boob that played worse than I. Then I played two games of solitaire. Lost both.
I went to the cupboard to see----. Nothing there but grape juice.
The weather is thickening. It is going to rain. It is hours and hours till bedtime.


This post was so perfect for the day I was having and was written in 1919.
Since computers weren't around then, I can only assume his published sentiments and essays were as close to a blog as they had back then.
I loved it.
Thanks Frank.

Thank-you for being here.




Perspective Pic:

"What is this Dull Day you speak of?"

Yes, It hurts!

I am wondering how many of my readers have tattoos?
......That many?........Hmmmmmm......
And how many of you with tattoos have said to someone else, "It doesn't hurt, you should get one!"
If you have said these words or something even remotely similar, then you my lovely reader are a liar.
If I don't know you personally, then I feel bad for calling you names without giving you the benefit of the doubt.
If I do know you personally, then I just feel bad for you.
You should have listened to your mother and made wiser decisions when you picked your friends.
But if you are NOT a liar, then you have super powers with a pain tolerance that is off the scale and I am going to watch you very closely because you are not an earthling.
So many people say to me, "Oh it doesn't hurt that bad".
Well, yes... yes, it does.
It is a grit your teeth, close your eyes, scrunch your hiney up, pray to Jesus, kind of hurtiness.
Maybe it has to do with my age
I didn't get my first tattoo till I was 55.
Why did I wait so long?
-I was thinking that my skin would be older and tougher and could handle the needle?
-I was waiting for my middle daughter to grow up and be my personal tattoo artist?
-I was thinking that I had no idea what to have tattooed on my skin?
-I was waiting for tattoos to be socially acceptable?
-I was thinking that I was thinking of other things and tattoos were not one of those things?
Hhhhmmmmmmmmmm......................
I think I waited so long because I avoid pain whenever possible and I knew, despite what many people said, that it would be painful.
In case you don't know it yet, tattoos hurt like the ever loving dickens.
Lets talk about pain...........
I've had:
3 surgeries,
28 stitches,
1 broken bone,
sunburned my eyes,
yes, my eyeballs,
3 cracked ribs,
birthed 4 babies,
a cockatiel bit all the way THROUGH my pointer finger,
I pulled 55 ticks off my body in one weekend and
cut the end off my pinky finger with a kitchen knife.
I know pain!
But I also know that the listed painful events above were NOT MY CHOICE.
I HAD to endure those events because their was no other option.
I chose to be in pain for tattooing though and I actually have no regrets.

It all started out with a simple Latin phrase,

First Tattoo
Latin for 'Freaking Hurts'
Not really.
It means Time Flies
My son found it on an old Boston graveyard tombstone.

Then a dandelion was added to the Latin phrase,

Second Tattoo
Dandelion: to signify constipation remedies.
Not really.
To show how easily and literally Time Flies

Then had my earlobes done,

Third Tattoo
Star on each ear so I could use up the space on my Buddha-like earlobes.
Well that, and I now always have earrings on.

Then added swirly stuff to the Latin Phrase Dandelion tattoo,

Fourth Tattoo
Done last week.
Swirly Stuff with pearls of color to represent each of my children and my grand baby and to help frame up tattoos 1 & 2.

All my tattoos were done freehand by my fabulous daughter who makes a very good living as a tattoo artist.
For someone trying to avoid pain, it would seem that there should be zero tattoos on my person.
But my daughters art now goes with me wherever I go and that's pretty awesome......and worth the pain.
Conclusion?....
Pain is relative.
Literally.


Thanks for being here.

Technology Dress-up.

Loving technology like iDo would make it seem like iWould snap up the latest gizmo and add it to my stash of cool gadgets.
But loving money like iDo prevents me from forking over the necessary cash to own them unnecessarily.
Case in point: iHave an iPhone 4s.
You're thinking, "What a dinosaur!"
Well that is a compliment in my world, for dinosaurs are adored by me, but iKnow you say that as a gibe to keep me current and iUnderstand and acknowledge the truth in it.
So in order to stay on top of all things dinosaur techy, iRecently got the iPhone 6.

For 12 days.

That was enough.

Even though there was a restocking fee of $35 iWas willing to pay it to return this piece of technology that cost me more than my first car (used and massive=$300) and my wedding (churchy and small=$600) combined.
It wasn't that iDidn't enjoy the phone.
It was more psychological.
Along these lines....
iRemember playing with Barbies.
And yes, iAm so old that my sister and iHad some of the first Barbies ever made.
My mother or grandmother made us clothes for our Barbies (we each had only one) out of the scraps of fabric used to make outfits for us, or sometimes we used birthday money we had saved to buy a new outfit or accessory.
We could only get a new Barbie if it were a holiday where we received gifts and we had requested a Barbie because we had possibly burned all her hair off or pulled her leg out its socket, or dropped her down the sewer grate to wrestle the alligators that lived there.
After we destroyed them outgrew them, my sister and I left them behind to become adults.
We had children of our own and our girls liked Barbies too.
But guess what?
You could no longer buy seperate clothes or accessories for our childs Barbie, we had to buy a whole new Barbie.
Scuba Diver Barbie.
Paleantologist Barbie.
Chef Barbie.
Astronaut Barbie.
Ballerina Barbie.
Alligator Wrestler Barbie.
iMade that one up because iLove alligators, but you get the iDea.
iJust couldn't play that financial game and still afford food and school supplies.
Video Games did the same thing.
Music, same thing.
Movies, same thing.
Alligator Wrestling, same thing.
(Just kidding, Alligators Wrestling is still inexpensive and timeless if you live in the swamp or bayou like iDid as a kid and actually DON'T wrestle them because they will bite your face off or you're super rich and nothing is too expensive for you)
It is impossible to just upgrade and accessorize what you already have anymore.
Gotta have a whole new...Game system....Movie collection...Music Player....Alligator....whatever.
We are lured back to the cash register with a promise that "This is better, newer and cooler", even though it was only a teeny tiny bit different.
While iLove Apple products, iDidn't need this new phone.
iFell into the "Mine is old now so iGotta get a new one" trap.
But my 4s did everything the 6 did, just a wee bit slower.
The music even sounded better to me on the 4s.
So iReturned the 6, got my money back and slept like a baby that night because the night before iHad watched alligator wrestling videos till 4:00am iFelt iHad temporarily rescued myself from the hamster wheel of technology.
(Hamsters are delicious to alligators)
iHave no doubt that iWill get a new iPhone one of these days and iWill enjoy it, but for now iJust bought a new accessory (screen protector) and outfit (case) for my dinosaur old 4s and iAm happy.



My Son and Daughter Trying Scare an Alligator....the reptile is obviously terrified....



Alligator Kissy Time.
My Family loves kissing Alligators!
Alligators love kissing.....your face off!

Thanks for being here!


UPDATE:
This post was written 2 weeks ago and when iWent to get a baby gift this week, guess what I saw??!
Barbie accessories.
Now sold in stores.
Saw it with my own eyes.
iFound small blister packs consisting of a dress and shoes for $5.00.
The outfits were ugly...or at best, mostly ugly.
The only cute accessories were included with a doll for $10.00.
Alligators hate dolls..... and accessories.
iCan't seem to let this alligator thing go....
It's messing up my whole Stop Making Me Buy New Stuff Of The Same Thing All The Time point.
Sheesh.

Thanks again for being here anyway.

Thanks for Being Here.

Let me begin this post by stating: "Thanks for being here".
I mean that truly.
There are not many things I say or think more often......except maybe: "You're not the boss of me" or even the usually silent motto my brain has muttered tirelessly for over half a century :
"Life sucks, then you die".
I'm sure your thinking, "Wait a minute now, that is an acutely negative statement!".
Or maybe you're even thinking, "Dadgummit, my phone is at 3% and I don't know where I put my charger!".
Both good observations, but your house is far away so I can't help and the dog chewed the cord anyway.
In my mind, 'LSTYD' is not really that negative and doesn't seem to be too bad when on the occasion I have shared this motto with a co-worker who was about to box cut an especially irritating customer.
Or when you get charged $35.00 for a $5.27 debit that was mistakenly made on an empty bank account for the ICEE and two packs of breath mints that you didn't need right then anyway.
That kind of thing.
It seems to put some circumstances into perspective.
Or since most of the world is younger than me, this sentiment can be easily chalked up as 'old person cranky-talk'.
Truth be told, I got the "life sucks, then you die" sentiment from a friend decades ago who told me that she approaches each day with this attitude and it helps her get through life.
If the day is good then it is an extra fabulous surprise for her to celebrate and if it sucks than she just shrugs her shoulders and gets on with things, because that was what she was expecting.
Works for me and is not as depressing as "Hang in there".
Blarg.
Now that I am getting older and more philosophical, I constantly ponder how sliced cheese can stay in that thin, transparent plastic wrapper and be all cute and delicious without all kinds of messy pressed edges, lumps and cheese pieces stuck to the wrapper!
I also ponder about life and death.
Regularly.
That's kinda why I like blogging.
It is in the blogging thought process that I can see and reflect on the idea that life is pretty ridiculous.
And pretty awesome.
Even the sucky days.
The sucky days help give a needed appreciation for the good days and the kind/thoughtful people that help make each day a bit brighter.
I like the good days and the kind people and I am grateful for both.
That means I am grateful for you.
Yes, YOU.
You are awesome because you are kind enough to read my blog and that helps make sucky days good.
That is why I say "Thanks for being here" at the end of every post.
I am grateful, indebted and sincere.

Thanks for being here.



Raspberry Heart

I offer, with gratitude and affection, this handmade raspberry heart.
Made with raspberries picked from my very own garden because not many people can appreciate a heart made out of celery.
That is how much I love you...........and because fresh raspberries are delicious.
I could have used some of my red tomatoes but they were all wonky and not nearly as affectionate.

You NEED A Pinecone!

Pinecone.

For some weird reason my mother thought I needed to have this pinecone.
I asked her why and she claims it's because we don't have any this big in the mountains.
I didn't know we needed any.
It is 10 1/2 inches tall....prickly.....lopsided.......and......a pinecone.......
It was very confusing to me when my son and I arrived at her home and she said that she had saved this pinecone for me.
"I'm sure you can do something with it", she said proudly, knowing my love of crafting.
But I'm not 7 years old any more.
I immediately thought, 'firestarter' but couldn't say it out loud and just said "Ok", leaving the pinecone on the trunk of her car and moving on with other activities
We spent the next few days enjoying the visit and not thinking about the pinecone.
When the time came to leave and we were actually ready to pull out of the drive, she waves frantically at us to stop and says "Ooohhh, you forgot your pinecone!"
Dadgummitt...Yes I did....
Gotta take the pinecone.
She seemed pretty normal, healthy and stable during our visit, but the obsession over this pinecone threw my assurance of her mental state off a bit.
So being the loving daughter required by law that I am, the pinecone sits on my desk.
Next to my computer.
Creeping me out a bit.
So I made the pinecone more personable.
Sort of like Wilson in the Castaway movie


Personable Pinecone

I sent the picture to my mother and texting back she says, "I love it! I will have to do that to mine!"
She has one?
I know the tree of origin has many pinecone children but not all of them can be household decorating accessories.
Is there a karma connection or just a guilt one.
It is kind of unsettling.
So to make matters even more bizarre and disturbing, my pinecone now has outfits.


"Let's eat Mexican Food" Pinecone!"


Goth Pinecone.


Cowboy Pinecone.


Mentor Pinecone.


"I am craving Hawaiian Pizza" Tropical Pinecone.

Strangely it was a wee bit fun playing with my pinecone.
But please don't tell my mother.
Or she will send me home with a bag full of the things next time I see her.

Thanks for being here.

Now you see me.....

Went to the store today in search of a necklace.
The 'perfect' necklace was my goal, to wear with a new dress I adored and had purchased for a hotsy totsy shindig I must attend this weekend.
The torment of this post is that I am a horrible shopper.
Not only am I bad at it, I don't like it.
No, thats too mild.....I hate it!
Horrible at it and hating it are probably symptomatic of each other and might not be in this story at all if I had unlimited hours on the clock, lots of extra money to use while shopping for myself and if.....
...there were no mirrors.
Mirrors are the worst.
The only time I use them at home is to look at my hair tangles, to check my face for any wayward hairs, zits and stranded broccoli or to make sure my slip is not showing.
But to go to a store and see myself from every direction, in bright light (my house is dark...shall we say cave-like?) makes me double take in shock and look for the ropes to hold down this Macy's Day Parade balloon person I saw in the mirror.
Shopping for myself and by myself...in public...means I want something very badly or very quickly, or both, but as soon as I got a glimpse of myself in the 3 way mirror I was ready to go home.
(Well, I was ready to go home as soon as I got out of the car, but I was on a mission)
A necklace is, was and never will be enough to 'accentuate the positive'.
My mind has been playing tricks on me, convincing me that 'one more cookie won't matter'.
It apparently matters very much and I fell for it easily and repeatedly without the benefit of a giant mirror, bright lights and a positive self image.
"But hey, snap out of it!"
"No pity parties here!"
At least not enough pity or party to warrant a change of lighting, bigger mirrors and life without cookies.
I'm healthy, mostly happy, loved by some and my 80 year old mother has reminded me for years that "The older you get, the more your body does whatever the heidi-ho it wants to anyway", so I just need to embrace who I am and move on with my life.
So I will.
After all, everyday puts me one step closer to the grave where there will be no need for shopping... or mirrors.


No mirrors!

Oh, I did not find a necklace today.
I have to go out again tomorrow...................


Thanks for being here.

Swampy Alien Noises...

Do your insides ever make wierd noises?
Noises like something was taking a nap under the surface layer of some swamp muck and it just turned over to get more comfortable and made the blurping, bubbley, squishy sound that is so low frequency you're worried that your WiFi signal will be disrupted?
Or perhaps it's an alien egg that snuck it's way into my gut by way of my leftovers that became a pot of vegtable soup that was made the other day and now has fully matured and is ready to unleash it's huge mandibles on an unsuspecting, politically correct, ethnically diverse group of people!!
My 80 year old mother advises me not to worry.
"The older you get the more your body does whatever the heidi-ho it wants to do anyway".
Which is a remarkable comment coming from her because she's a worrier and she gives more money to her Doctor than to her church, and she LOVES her church and she never says heidi-ho.
I just added the heidi-ho because that is what I would say and my mother would never tell me not to worry.
Like I said she LOVES her Doctor or should I say Doctors for they are many, and would visit them if her air conditioner went out.
No, in reality she just called a repairman for that but went to the Doctor because her hot flashes were flaring up again.
I don't think she believed me when I said it was just a broken air conditioner that made her hot.
She lives in Florida for crying out loud.
It was 89 degrees in the shade...with a breeze...and a cold drink.
She is just trying not to die.
But aren't we all?
Even our gut monsters just wanna live.
They probably would prefer to live in air-conditioning.
But why do they live so noisily?
My Doctor says it's a good thing when your gut makes noises.
It means that "things are working down there".
What is working?
The swampy alien things?
My Doctor is probably just a black market swampy alien dispersal unit and instead of giving me a vaccine is really injecting swampy alien gut seeds into me and when the time is right, in a quiet moment, after I have just blamed the dog on my loud gut rumblings.......I will burp loudly......and all will be right with my world.
"Pardon me, please".
(Said with a sweet southern drawl and a demure smile)

Must be.....Swamp Gas....

Thanks for being here.

Since there really is no picture I could add to this post to help illustrate my intestinal anguish, here is a pile of adorable puppies that will never worry about swampy alien gut noises. Enjoy.


Cute, Alien Free Swamp Puppies.

Just kidding, just Alien Free Puppies.
No Swamp involved.
They were born in the Mountains.