This Boot Was Made For Wordzzling

I missed Finola last week. It was the first Wordzzle I skipped since the beginning and that gave me a sense of incompletion, as though Finola’s story was missing something – missing words.
So I continue her adventures with the words from last week and this week. Finola deserves all her words.

If you have no idea what I’m talking about go to RAVEN’S NEST and check out the wonderful word game we play each Saturday.

Here are the words...

From August 23rd:
tiramisu, transfixed, evacuation, Queen of the Nile, pillowcase, grammatical, voice inflection, pacified, microclimate, swami maggots, thermal pocket, industrial, bovine, feminized

And this week:
pogo stick, ant farm, psychic, tin box, wall safe, Waterloo, surge protector, pneumonia, ravages of time, turtle Swollen ankles, opera singer, toothy grin, oil paints, potter’s wheel

Finola is Back!!

“You look like the Queen of the Nile” Ray told Finola. The poor store clerk was transfixed by the sight of Finola perched on the seat back of his old convertible. They were moving so slowly that Finola felt secure and kept changing poses. Now she was seated in what she assumed was a swami pose. She hoped to keep Ray pacified by constantly smiling at him and addressing him with the sexiest voice inflection she could come up with. The truth was his toothy grin was nauseating and his endless grammatical errors were annoying. To add insult to injury his convertible had lost its battle with the ravages of time and they were moving like a turtle. Finola was impatient for the glamorous part of her life to begin.

Finola plopped back down into the seat and asked Ray when they might be moving out of the industrial part of the county and into more pleasant surroundings. “We’ll be coming into Waterloo soon” he responded. “It’s a nice little town and ought to be a good place to stop”. “And after Waterloo?” she asked. “How long to the Medical Center?” Ray’s face clouded over with concern. “Are you feeling sick? You seemed fine a minute before”. “I’m worried about my swollen ankles” she told Ray, “it’s a sure sign of impending pneumonia”. Ray’s head nodded in agreement like a demented pogo stick. Finola stifled a laugh. Lord he was the most feminized boy she had ever met! Not that she knew that many boys.

“We could cut across the old evacuation route” Ray told Finola as he chuckled. “The locals call it Bovine Boulevard; the old slaughterhouse is shut down now”. A vision of mountains of maggots feasting on discarded cow parts crossed Finola’s mind and she said no, no. “I like the idea of stopping in Waterloo” she said as she touched Ray’s arm. “I’m feeling fine for now so let’s enjoy the trip”.

Finola was still half asleep when she heard the trunk of the car squeak open. She sat up and saw they were parked behind a large stone building. She jumped out and went to the back. Ray was rifling through a pillowcase full of stuff. “My car version of a wall safe” he told Finola. “A pillowcase isn’t very safe” Finola said sharply. “I know!” For the first time since they met Ray seemed bothered by Finola. She cursed her short temper and smiled at Ray. “I’m just worried that you might lose all your belongings”. “You’re sweet” Ray said, all was forgiven in the blink of Finola’s eyes. “I have a locked tin box for my money and this quilt has a huge thermal pocket for some cold beers. What more do I need?” You need a clue Finola thought as she grabbed Ray’s hand. “So how much farther to Waterloo?” “We’re here” Ray shouted out loud. “You’re going to love this place”.

Finola stood and stared at the huge stone building. It looked like several structures had been pushed together and covered in old sun baked stones. “I thought Waterloo was a town?” “It is” Ray told her. “Out here all you need is two people and a postal code and you’re a town. Come to the front, I can’t wait for you to see this place”.

A huge potter’s wheel was spinning in the sun as Ray and Finola rounded the corner of the building. It caught beams of sunlight and seemed to toss them back to the sky. Finola approached the wheel to see what made it spin. “Watch the surge protector!” shouted a low booming voice. “The entire town is connected through that thing”. Ray rushed over to hug the large loud man. “Pavarotti this is Posh. Posh this is Pavarotti” Ray was beaming with excitement. “Like the opera singer?” Finola asked. “Like the Spice Girl?” Pavarotti answered. Finola instantly liked him, things were getting interesting again.

“Come inside” Pavarotti said. He seemed to sweep them along with his large gestures. “We’ll have tiramisu and wine”. They entered the strange building through a large arched doorway. There were doors everywhere. Long narrow corridors and funny nooks and crannies. It reminded Finola of a large ant farm. She followed Ray and Pavarotti down the main corridor and into a bright kitchen area. There was a bottle of wine on the table along with many little dishes of a scrumptious looking goodie. Finola realized how hungry she was. “Is this the terror my sue?” Ray asked as he held up one of the treats. Pavarotti laughed and nodded yes. “Take a seat” he told them. “I’m sorry about all the chaos; I was playing with my oil paints”. “You’re an artist?” Finola asked. “I’m a psychic who likes to paint” Pavarotti told her. “I’m also a gardener. After we eat I’ll show you the orchids I’m growing. I’ve created a friendly microclimate for them in one of the back rooms”.

Finola settled down and sipped a bit of wine and tasted the tiramisu. They were both heavenly. Things were definitely looking up.

POOR FINOLA’S BEGINNING
PART TWO
PART THREE
PART FOUR
PART FIVE
PART SIX
PART SEVEN
PART EIGHT
PART NINE

I Got Da Boot!

I debated between doing my second Sky Watch and sharing a bit of my charmed life.

I opted for sharing.

My slightly swollen, hurts a bit ankle turned out to be a tibial tendon tear. Posterior tibial for those who are all medical like.

Tibial Tendon Tear Toots!

I will admit to a bit of self-pity. The ankle twisted because my poor left side takes a beating when my back is out. Because of the scoliosis (spine curve) I have a screwed up center. If I was on ‘Dancing With the Stars’ they’d be talking about my core of gravity handicap.

I have scoliosis because I was raised by wolves. Neglectful parents who ignored all letters and calls from several doctors. It almost ended up in Family Court but this was the 50s and child neglect was usually swept back behind closed doors.

Scoliosis is 100% treatable in the first 10 years of your life. The success rate plunges from then on. By the time I was 20 and capable of attempting to do something on my own the success rate of the surgery was less than 5% and required 12 to 18 months of recovery and therapy and movement restrictions. I was alone with a 3 year old – not a risk I could afford to take – certainly not at those odds.

This always comes up and smacks me in the face each time I see a new Dr. Inevitably the question “why wasn’t this taken care of?” is asked. Then we go through all the things that are happening because a severe spine curvature kinda messes with your body. It makes me quiet for a spell, usually brings out some old anger issues and then makes me cry.

Need a cart for all that baggage?

I had to wait 3 hours for the Docs office to finally get my insurance company to certify the MRI. It had to be done right then since the world pretty much stops for Labor Day Weekend and the Imaging place takes days to give you an appointment.

So while I waited I entertained the troops. The office staff is wonderful. There was a lovely older lady getting therapy for her new hip and a young guy who messed himself up playing basketball.

We played – “How did Di get injured?”

My two most popular scenarios were:

While indoctrinating Vin Diesel into the Mile High Club I lost my footing on the bathroom wall. If you’d like to see why I was wasting my valuable air time on Vin check out what TAMMY posted.

and

I was on the back of George Clooney’s motorcycle being chased by the paparazzi through the streets of some Italian village. As is always the case when George is near me he lost control.

I thought you all might like a peek at the new fall shoe fashions:


I do have an onsite therapist. Here he is at work:



And here he is leaving since the insurance company limits therapy sessions. Look how I managed to color coordinate my big ass boot to Siren’s highlights.


Please feel free to make up your own “How Di got injured” scenario. It is far more entertaining than rifling through my baggage.

While I Respect His Service ...

In the comments on my previous post my buddy MATT-MAN mentions being sick of hearing about McCain's military service. I responded by saying that I am tired of feeling the need to preface anything I say about McCain with "... while I respect his service".

Of course we respect his service and as I said to Matt if that is the ONLY qualification for President then I have at least a dozen guys from the VFW who should be our next leader and I'll gladly drive them down to the White House myself.

See a couple of them can't walk too good and a couple of them can't drive, one of them is blind in one eye, another is deaf. They don't have Cindy's money and McCain doesn't think we should spend "extravagantly" on helping them.

So I will take them to Washington myself, on my own dime!

Each has served, each has suffered and each is a better man ten times over than that war mongering loon who will be gracing our TVs all next week.

DARYL sent me this in my last post. I find it fitting to show this on the day that Obama will speak. It makes for a perfect contrast.

I doubt that the John McCain of years ago would vote for the John McCain of today. So respect his service and let him retire.

SHUT UP! I'm Watching the Convention

As my friend OLDOLDLADY OF THE HILLS mentioned in her last post if you want to actually watch the convention then tune in to C-SPAN.

If you want to watch idiots entertaining morons while congratulating themselves on their coverage then watch the mainstream media. I especially love it when the trains at Union Station drown out MSNBC. Even inanimate objects have had enough.

I loved Hillary’s speech. It was exuberant and resilient. It was graceful and powerful. I have never been a Hillary fan but that doesn’t mean I don’t respect her intelligence and accomplishments. Subtlety and context keep getting pushed further down the line as we become more about sound bytes and snark, as we slide into a nation with the attention span of a gnat. Just because I have supported Barack from day one doesn’t mean I can’t see the value in others.

I’m troubled by but not surprised at the calls for the speakers to be nastier. After all this is entertainment right? This isn’t about catching a country before it implodes. This isn’t about making history. This isn’t about reminding Americans that we’re all one. Of course not! This is about snatching a moment worthy of YouTube. This is about coming up with a headline the NY Post can twist. Really! Where are our priorities?

The most telling comments on the disintegration of our national mind came when yet another roundtable discussed the “tone” Barack Obama wanted for the convention. They mocked his call to unite, they spit out the word “bipartisan” as though it should be bleeped. One asshat said this kind of tone was “good for governing” but “disastrous during an election”. WTF!? Isn’t an election about deciding who should govern? No wonder we’re shocked and disappointed by who we end up with! We didn’t let them speak genuinely and if they did we didn’t listen.

I love a good slogan as much as the next guy. Senator Bob Casey from PA got me and the crowd going with chants of “Four More Months-Four More Months”. The fact that he, as an opponent of abortion rights, was invited to speak when his father was banned 20 years ago wasn’t greeted as a sign of maturity and democracy – it was mocked.

I loved when Hillary referred to her supporters as “The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pantsuits” and was touched and relieved when she asked the very important question – “Were you in this for me or …” I watched the faces in the crowd and saw many light bulbs go off. That question came from a true statesperson, from someone who knows the bigger picture doesn’t need her face to be in it. The bigger picture needs us.

It was but moments after her speech and the news outlets already had body language experts analyzing Hillary to decide if she meant what she said. They had people on the convention floor looking for the one cynic, the one disgruntled supporter. One reporter cornered Spike Lee and tried and tried to make him angry, to make him say something they could elaborate on for hours. Good Lord if you can’t get Spike to spit out some angry words maybe you need to accept that there aren’t any.

So I’ll continue to tune into C-SPAN and I’ll continue to think about words all on my own, I can do that. I am a grown ass woman who doesn’t need anyone to explain things to her. I’ll drop by the other channels just to see what’s cooking. I’m not above needing to peek at a train wreck. Then I’ll go back to listening and thinking and believing that people might just mean what they say. I’m so grateful that there weren’t 24 hours news shows owned by giant corporations 232 years ago. “The best damn idea for a country” (to quote Craig Ferguson) would never have come to be.

Ruby Tuesday: Classic Car

I went to a local summer festival two weeks ago. Part of the festival was a Classic Car Show.

I found this beauty perfect for RUBY TUESDAY. I like the reflection of the other car in the side of this one.

I met the owners, a couple in their late 60s. The wife told me the car was her anniversary gift to her husband. He had talked about that car for years. After their last child graduated college she decided it was time to spend a little money on them - on him. They spoke with so much love and regard for each other - I was happy for them.

It's My Award Ceremony and I'll Pass Out If I Want To

Thanks everyone for all the comments and concern. I appreciate it!

I had a bad reaction to the pain meds because I have a sinus infection. I’m so uncomfortable from the back spasms and the ankle throbbing that I assumed my head hurt in sympathy.

The back and ankle situation is a whole lot of blah-blah-blah and yada-yada-yada that I’m not even going to talk about it until I see the specialist on Thursday.

So – since I’m woozy and could pass out at any moment I decided to do what all the starlets do and hit the red carpet. I want to acknowledge some awards I’ve been given the past couple of weeks.

Just in case I do keel over I hope I fall at a flattering angle.

First – I want to thank KIMMIE for my blog mascot – “The Fork Goddess”
If only I looked like that in a clingy gown. As if that wasn’t enough Kimmie then gave me the:

Perfect Blend of Friendship Award – created by the effervescent CHUCK


I’m only going to spell out the rules that apply to giving credit to the person who created the award – that seems right. As for the how of passing them on - those rules just don’t compute with me.

I’m going to continue my new tradition of passing the award on to just one person. I’m all intimate like that.

I’d like to pass the Perfect Blend of Friendship award on to JENI – she was one of my very first blog friends and has always been incredibly supportive.

The next award comes from the wonderful MARY/the TEACH. I love Mary’s photos and her wonderful sense of humor and I’m thrilled that her Ruby Tuesday project grows each week.

Million Dollar Friend

This award comes with some lovely words from two of its creators:

"You are never a burden.. don't ever think that. Friends need each other to pick them up when they are down and I would do nothing less. "Dawn Drover~ Twisted Sister*****

A Million Dollar Friend is the kind of person who instinctively knows what it means to be a good friend; this kind of person makes you look forward to the days ahead and fondly remember the days that have passed. - A Nice Place In The Sun*******

I’m passing the Million Dollar Friend on to JAY – BAILEY’S BUDDY. Jay was the very first person to recommend my blog to others, something I still can’t believe anyone does! Jay’s Wordzzle stories always make me smile, his Friday roundups are wonderful and his politics fill me with glee. And most of all Jay always responds with care and love.

I received 2 awards from DARYL. Daryl is a new friend who is an exceptionally talented photographer. She should be paid by NYC’s mayor for always showing the city at its best. Daryl is also very supportive of my political rants and I am touched by that. Through Daryl I have met some wonderful new people. I have also begun to delve into Black & White photography through Daryl's introduction to the team blog – THE WORLD IN BLACK AND WHITE

The Must See Award


and

Just Plain Fun – which Daryl created herself


I’m giving the Must See Award to FAYE’S PHOTOS. I think I found Faye through a comment on CG’s blog. I’m so glad I did – Faye’s photography is inspiration through a lens.

The Just Plain Fun award goes to QUIET RAGE. She is hilarious and angry all at once - which of course makes her delicious.

Last but not least there is the
Kick Ass Award

The award was created by MAMMA DAWG and even has its own club – check it out HERE

I received Kick Ass from PAGAN and from DIVAJOOD which is perfect since I found Jood through Pagan.

They have both become people I count on for good information and great entertainment. Pagan is art personified and Jood is an incredibly gifted writer. They are both great women to know.

I’m taking my pair of Kick Ass awards and giving them to a pair of bloggers I like a lot.

PATTI is one of the most positive, upbeat people – she makes me feel good just by leaving a short comment. Her creative photography is wonderful – she always spreads her wings and tries a new flight pattern. I admire her a lot.

RALPH gives good comment! He always has something funny or useful or helpful to say. He is thoughtful and knowledgeable. Ralph also comes up with great lines which I then steal and claim as my own.

So there ya have it! I’m off now to chuck my panties and climb into a limo. Hope no one is out there with a camera!

No Wordzzle For Old Women

I'm skipping this week's Wordzzle. Finola is holed up somewhere with the store clerk and she won't tell me what she's doing!

Plus - I'm not feeling too great. I've been battling with new back problems that then caused balance issues that made me fall in my backyard which caused me to sprain my ankle so I finally went to the doctor which called for all kinds of tests but of course none were conclusive yet the ankle got worse so until the specialist can see me at the turn of the century I was given some pain meds which I never used until last night when they made me so sick that I couldn't sleep so now I'm exhausted and in pain.

I love that sentence! It is proof positive of just how freakin' nuts I am.

Actually ya wanna hear nuts? For a moment I considered telling you I couldn't do the Wordzzle using the Wordzzle words.

When I'm not getting on my own nerves I do get a kick out of me.

So my plan for today is to elevate both my leg and my spirits. I'm going to watch a ridiculous number of Lifetime movies - they are so incredibly horrible that they make anyone feel better about her life. I'm also going to visit everyone's Wordzzles and I've decided I want to visit every single Sky Watch Friday post - all 4 million of them.

For those of you who worry too much (Raven) rest assured that I'm fine or I will be soon.

Maybe I'll do next week's Wordzzle using the new words and the words I missed. That would be 30 words - how f'ing brilliant would that make me!

Later ...

My First Skywatch Friday

I've seen SKYWATCH FRIDAY everywhere but never participated since I feel I take really crappy sky pictures.

Until this one. I like this one LOL

This was taken late Saturday afternoon. I was looking across Raritan Bay and watching the clouds gather and merge and break apart.

I've learned that the waters of Raritan Bay are considered to be part Monmouth County, NJ and part Queens County, NY. As a Brooklyn girl now living in NJ I think that's cool.

Creative Photography: Statue at Sunset

This statue sits in the center of the entrance to a little park that faces Raritan Bay. It was late, late afternoon and the sun and the clouds and the sky were all magnificent.

Please visit CREATIVE PHOTOGRAPHY to see all the wonderful photos entered this week.

Ruby Tuesday: Creepy Clown - and he drinks too

It’s Ruby Tuesday kids! Stop by WORK OF THE POET and check it out.



I hate clowns. I’m not afraid of them although I understand why many people are. They just annoy me.

This clown is the mascot for several liquor stores along the Jersey shore. There are 2 of them within 5 minutes of my house. This particular clown is the largest of any I’ve seen. He sits on an island right off a busy State Highway. The only way to snap a shot of him – or take a shot at him – is to manage to be at the curve in the road just when the light ahead turns red. In my quest for red I went around the jug-handle 4 times before I was at optimal shooting position.

The things I do for red.

An update to Sunday night’s post:

I’m sad to say it was not Spiderman coming to take me on wonderful skyscraper adventures. It was web worms. Thanks to all who gave me advice; special thanks to JAY SIMSER for finding the site that confirmed just how web wormy the glowing orb was.

After a few calls around the township and then the county I was referred to the ‘Shade Tree Commission’ and a wonderful, knowledgeable man there called me right back. He looked at my photos via e-mail and told me exactly what to do. Seems the branch will eventually die and fall and then the worms will lay their eggs in the ground and come out to do it all over and over. The branch has been removed and disposed of.

So I guess that means I’m still waiting for a hero.

SpiderMan Is That You?

Anyone remember the old Saturday Night Live sketch that went like this:

First Guy: What is it?
Second Guy: I don't know! What do you think it is?
First Guy: I don't know but don't touch it!

So I was out watering the plants and I looked up into the tree that sits on my neighbor's property but hangs over my yard. My pal Harry the Squirrel is usually up there at sunset and I make sure to throw him extra food.

Well No Harry - but look what I did find.


The glowy white orb (I'm so dramatic) in the midst of the greenest part of the tree.


first close-up


I left the sunset lighting alone but I softened the sky directly behind the web to get rid of added glare.


This was as close as I could get and still keep clarity, look at all the stuff in there - leaves and those little dry things we called 'itchy balls' as kids.


I wonder of that is the start of THIS

Wordzzling In The Dark

I didn’t intend to do all 3 challenges, I had Finola’s story completed and was going to watch TV. Let me tell ya – the excitement never ends round here. We had some violent storms pass through and we lost power. I was searching for a book to read by lantern when I found the Wordzzle words. Sometimes I print them out so I can get a feel for where I’m going.

I hope you like my 10 word and my mini – they were written longhand in the wee hours of the night with the thunder rolling and the lightening crackling. If only that had been as romantic as it sounds.

Please visit RAVEN’S NEST to read all the Wordzzle stories and print out next week’s words – never know when a storm may pass through.

Ten Word Challenge: exponentially, Nightshade, braces, impossibility, the beginning of time, barracuda, playful banter, delve, automatic, bewildered

Mini Challenge: fragment, hemoglobin, insipid, flourish, juxtapose

I added quadruped to Finola’s story since I screwed up last week and didn’t use it.

My 10 Word:

Nigella Nightshade couldn’t believe the impossibility of her luck. She had been engaged in playful banter with one of the club patrons and now she had a semi-automatic pointed at her. To say she was bewildered was an understatement. Her Mother, the infamous stripper Blackout Nightshade, had always said that since the beginning of time the Nightshade women had nothing but bad luck. Nigella regretted not taking the time to delve into her Mother’s superstitions. It might be helpful now as her fear grew exponentially to know more about the Nightshade curse.

Braces Barracuda stared at Nigella. He had heard so much about her from their father, Bruno Barracuda. Bruno and Blackout’s affair had been legend back in the day but now Bruno was dead and Braces was damned if he was going to share the family business with his stripper half-sister.

My Mini:

Jaunty Juxtapose had a problem. He was an award winning horse, greeted everywhere with flowers and a flourish but he was owned by an insipid little man. Harry Hemoglobin was a disgusting blob, his name suited him well. He was also the cheapest bastard on the show circuit and Jaunty was afraid the bone fragment in his leg was going to cost a fortune to fix.

And Finola continues her adventure:

Finola only half listened to the insipid yet playful banter the store clerk was attempting to engage her in. She quickly realized that as long as she giggled every few words he was content to keep on with what Finola assumed was his version of flirting. This gave her time to create her new persona. Where the hell had the name Posh come from? The impossibility of her carrying off a name like that; she was bewildered by the workings of her own mind. She supposed she had heard the name mentioned back at school. She vaguely remembered some British celebrity, an anorexic with the air of a barracuda. Finola thought she might be the lead singer in that girl band ‘Juxtapose’ or was it ‘Nightshade’? Her roommate had always told her she was culturally stunted.

Finola’s automatic giggling must have begun to sound hollow to the store clerk. He suddenly stopped talking and asked if she wanted another soda. Finola said yes, but she’d prefer a glass with some ice. Anything to make him move back a bit, he had chewing gum stuck in his braces and was in general difficult to look at. He grabbed a class and swooped it into the ice bucket. He popped open a bottle of root beer and poured with what Finola assumed was his attempt at a bartender’s flourish. Too bad they were sitting in the middle of a dump in the middle of nowhere.

“I’ve been talking about myself all afternoon” the clerk said as he handed Finola her drink. “You must be bored by my stories, I haven’t really done much with my life, seems like I’ve worked here since the beginning of time”. Finola’s frustration with her current situation was growing exponentially. Once the small talk ended people always wanted to delve into her life. Where was she from, where was she going, why was she alone. All valid questions that required careful thought; she had to stop making things up on the fly. It only made her head hurt trying to remember all the lies. If people would simply leave her alone she could get her hands on a car and get away. This isolated setting was dangerous; she wanted a place where she could disappear in the crowd.

“So” the clerk said loudly, “a penny for your thoughts Posh”. “I really don’t want to bother you with my problems” Finola said timidly, “my life is such a mess, you’re better off not getting involved”. The look of concern on the clerk’s face made Finola feel guilty. She hated using people; she knew all too well how that felt. “I’d really like to help” the clerk told her, “why don’t you tell me what’s going on”.

Finola took a deep breath. “It’s a complicated story” she started, “I left school to spend some time with my parents. They had rented a RV and we were going to travel the coast, maybe go to the stock car races at Stonepoint”. The clerk was fascinated. “Sounds like a great plan” he smiled, “what happened?” Finola put on her best tragic face. “It’s really a wild story” she started, “My Father raises exotic quadrupeds, some of them are very dangerous. It’s illegal you know but we’ve never had any trouble until …” Finola drifted off and forced a tear into her eye. “Until what?” the clerk asked. “Until one of them bit me! It was awful, just a tiny bite but a fragment of saliva made its way into the wound and now I’m afraid I may be very, very sick”. The look on the clerk’s face was one of utter devastation. “I’m so exhausted and confused and afraid” Finola continued. “I can’t even remember the name of the medical center I have to get to. I just know it’s in the next city. It’s the only place where they do the kind of hemoglobin test I need”.

The store clerk assured Finola that he knew exactly which medical center she was referring to. As soon as one of the guys in the back could relieve him he’d get his car and take her there. Finola took a deep breath and smiled at the clerk. She was going to rest now and let Posh do all the work.

POOR FINOLA’S BEGINNING
PART TWO
PART THREE
PART FOUR
PART FIVE
PART SIX
PART SEVEN
PART EIGHT

I Want My Country Back

As of today – August 14, 2008 – 4,141 Americans have been killed in Iraq.

Four Thousand One Hundred and Forty One

This does not include the deaths of other coalition soldiers, this does not include the deaths in Afghanistan; it does not include the deaths of contractors.

And then there are the estimated 1,252, 595 Iraqi civilians killed as a direct result of our occupation of their country.

Earlier this evening, I sat with mouth wide open and hands shaking as I watched the August 11th episode of THE DAILY SHOW. The guest was RON SUSKIND. His latest book ‘The Way of the World’ has just been released. I listened to Mr. Suskind talk about the White House ordering the CIA to manufacture a memo that would link Sadam Hussein to al-Qaeda. The memo would also connect a few more dots by producing evidence that Muhammad Atta, the 9/11 ring leader, trained in Iraq.

You can read more of the details HERE and HERE


I watched Jon Stewart’s face twitch. I listened to the audience go silent. Jon asks why this isn’t news. Mr. Suskind shrugs – he has put the information out there, Congress has to act.

Congress has to act. What a novel idea.

I’ve stayed away from the whole impeachment discussion. After Kucinich was repeatedly shut down by the other Democrats and virtually ignored by the media I got frustrated. Then when Obama became the nominee I decided I wanted us to move forward. It’s very dangerous to get complacent. Now is not the time to enjoy a moment’s victory. The forces of evil never rest.

After watching the Daily Show episode I went outside. A huge thunderstorm had just blown through and I hoped the air would feel clean. My neighbor strolls over. After a few minutes of storm related talk he nods in the direction of my car – “So you added another Obama sticker”. Yes I did. “I don’t feel like quibbling over Obama” I tell him. He asks why. I start to tell him about the memo, about Suskind’s book. He interrupts – “that’s hard to believe” he tells me, “not one of the news shows has mentioned it”.

Of course it hasn’t been mentioned. We are all coping with the far more devastating news that John Edwards couldn’t keep it in his pants.

What’s a few thousand soldiers and hundreds of thousands of Iraqis when we must get to the bottom of why men cheat.

I’m so disgusted by my country. Not just its government, its people. I’m so fucking sick and tired of how lazy and stupid we are. For every Kucinich there are a thousand yokels waving flags and watching their President romp around China. While tanks roll further into Georgia this asshole plays volleyball. While a 23 year old soldier from NYC is being blown to bits by an IED in Sadr City this piece of garbage is dancing in his seat at the opening ceremonies; ceremonies being hosted by one of the most violent and oppressive governments on the planet.

Not one single death had to happen. We occupied a country because Bush and Co. wanted a war. There are pieces of evidence all over the place that this war is a lie.

People died. People continue to die.

The world does not trust us. I do not trust us.

And STILL people try to tell me they “don’t trust” Obama. He “isn’t ready to lead”. He “needs more experience”.

And STILL people are talking about Edwards. It’s “disgraceful”. It’s “shameful”. His wife is sick and he cheated. What kind of person does that? He shouldn’t go to the convention. How will this effect Obama.

John McCain will be standing arm in arm with a war criminal and we’ll be wondering about the guy who screwed the pretty girl because she was taking his picture.

John McCain hugged and kissed a man who can sleep at night and tap dance in the Rose Garden while our children and Iraqi children die. They die because he’s greedy and vile. They die because he’s hateful and power hungry. They die because he’s a drug addicted alcoholic with a C- average who wants to show his Daddy he’s a big deal. They die because he believes his pitiful Born-Again Christian ass is the only ass worthy of living. Fuck the Muslims! Kill Them All!

As McCain sang so cheerily – “Bomb Bomb Bomb – Bomb Bomb Iran”.

I took the link to Mr. Suskind’s website and e-mailed it to my Senators and to my Congressman.

I don’t know what else to do.

But I’m thinking about it.

I want my country back.

Creative Photography: Is There Another Exit?

This is my photographic depiction of what the staircase at my doctor's office feels like.

It is always 100 degrees in there, the glare from double doors and double windows AND a skylight is blinding - and still they have lights on as well!

The stairs are carpeted slats so you feel as though you're going to fall through as you walk down. Walking up makes you dizzy.

The handrail is wobbly.

Please check out all the CREATIVE PHOTOGRAPHY entries and consider joining in. It's fun and all the other participants are friendly and supportive.

Ruby Tuesday: Fireman Only

It’s Ruby Tuesday. Go by MARY’S PLACE and check out all the red.

Ever since I mentioned ‘naked firefighters’ in yesterday’s post I’ve had firefighter on the brain – which is really not the place I’d like one but we take what we can get.

This is the side of an old firehouse in a town ‘down dah pawkway’. Right behind that window there are cots and firefighters sleep on those cots – I’ve never had the balls to peek – they do deserve some privacy.

I don’t want to objectify firefighters – but really, come on – they’re so freaking sexy it hurts my eyes. It’s more than the uniform. It’s more than broad shoulders. It’s more than knowing how to handle a giant hose.

Firefighters are sexy because they’re courageous. In putting their lives in jeopardy as part of a routine day they have developed a sense of priority that is keen and crisp and clear. The dictionary describes courageous as – “… inborn quality of mind or spirit that faces or endures perils or difficulties without fear and even with enthusiasm. “

Need I say more?

What's In a Label?

The lovely, shiny KNIGHT did a post last week about labels. A few people mentioned in her comments that it would make a great meme (I’m really hating that word lately) and they were right.

The premise is to see what, if anything, the labels you use on your posts say about you and your blog. I believe Knight called it looking for trends – she’s so research oriented!

So I pulled together my labels and this is what I discovered.

Out of 154 posts my most used labels are:

Animal related: 84
This included mentions of Mia and Siren as well as animal rescue, adoption, behavior …

Photos: 58
I only use this label when I’ve taken the photo myself. The copyrights I’m infringing upon are not included. This label is a more recent development as I start to join more weekly photo projects. Speaking of photography – I just joined a photo team blog ‘ The World in Black and White’ – click on the photo on the sidebar and check out some great photography.

Politics: 42
I actually wish this number was higher and I think it will be as I get more and more worked up over the crap I read and hear – and personally experience – related to the election.

Wordzzle: 21
This is just the best writing exercise ever invented in the history of written communication – including cave drawings! Check it out AT RAVEN’S NEST

Those are my big categories – I like animals and photography. I’m interesting in politics and writing. Oh and I like long walks on the beach and my measurements are …
sorry, the tape measure broke.

There’s a bunch of single mentions and a few Craig Fergusons (he’s dreamy). I refer to ‘Life’ 19 times but who the hell knows what I meant any more.

I label simply to be able to find crap later. A friend told me I should label to increase traffic.
So I think I’ll label this post:
naked firefighters, girl on girl action at volleyball games, get free pot here and – Cindy McCain confesses to having sexual fantasies about Obama (click here to find out – Barack or Michelle)

Oh and – this isn’t a meme! But what if I labeled it – Earn Money for Memes.

I’ll never know

... And on the Sixth Day They Wordzzle

Time for another Wordzzle. Please go by RAVEN’S NEST and check out her masterpieces and all the others as well!

Finola’s story continues …

Her words are:

middle finger, text message. the letter “Q,” Shangri-La, melodramatic, compensate, elixir, band of brothers, quadrupled**, explicit

deposition, monosyllabic, better off dead, dubious, posh


** - the word was quadruped NOT quadrupled! Really, truly - I must cleanse my mind. So I'll use quadruped next week - I'll add it as a 16th word. Oy!

Finola had decided to forgo the Stock Car Races and just settle for getting to the closest town. She wasn’t prone to being melodramatic but a part of her did feel she’d be better off dead. It had been hard to leave Ireland and Lovee in the middle of the night. While she felt she could trust them Lovee had been explicit about his desire to find her car. As good an actress as Finola was it was dubious that she could compensate for Lovee’s determination by spinning one more tale. Their evening together had ended with Finola pretending to send a text message to her Mother telling her where she was and that her car had broken down. It had taken all her might to use the dead cell phone she’d been carrying around in front of Lovee. Each time he moved closer her anxiety doubled, her fear tripled and her sense of hopelessness quadrupled. Finola had to laugh at herself, quadrupled was one of her favorite words. She loved the idea of double being doubled plus she had a thing for words that started with the letter ‘Q’. Quicksand she thought – that’s what I’m treading on – quicksand.

It was easier to move quickly without the cardboard box. Finola had taken out the bare necessities along with anything that gave away her identity and shoved it all into a large shopping bag. Ireland had a ton of them in the kitchen cabinet. She had set out the moment she heard Lovee begin to snore. Since her cot was outside it had been easy to get away without making a sound.

It was just beginning to get light when Finola found herself on a main road. Since she wasn’t sure where she was and she had no idea where the next town, any town, might be she decided to stay on the road. She knew it was dangerous, a police car could appear at any moment but she also knew she couldn’t wander the woods forever. What if Lovee called the police? What if they decided to come looking for her? She needed to get a car and get as far away as possible.

The sun was getting hot and Finola was exhausted when she got to the small gas station and general store. It was right there at the side of the road, in the middle of nowhere, nothing behind it but road and nothing ahead but more road. “Welcome to Shangri-La” the clerk said. “Need your car filled up?” “Uh, no” Finola muttered. She felt barely capable of a monosyllabic exchange; all the lies and stories were catching up with her. “You came on foot!?” the clerk seemed shocked. “It must be 100 degrees out there, how about a cooling elixir?” Finola thought he meant a cocktail but a Dr. Pepper appeared on the counter. She was just about to say she didn’t have much money when there was a huge crash in the back room. The clerk raised his middle finger to the heavens and let out a string of cuss words, Finola was impressed.

Finola and the clerk stared at each other for several moments. The loud noises from the back had stopped as suddenly as they had started and there was nothing left but a heavy silence. “You have a calm deposition” the clerk told Finola, finally breaking the stillness. “I think you mean disposition” she replied. “And smart too!” he chuckled. “Sorry the Bozo Boys frightened you; they’re working on their sound board. They think they have a band, Band of Brothers they call themselves”. Finola sat down at the counter facing the clerk, her mind racing with possible scenarios she could invent to explain her car-less appearance here in the middle of nowhere. The clerk handed the soda pop over and smiled. “So my new friend, let’s start off simple. What’s your name?”

“My name is Posh” Finola replied as she took a long cool sip from the bottle. “I was on my way to Vegas when I was car-jacked”.

POOR FINOLA’S BEGINNING
PART TWO
PART THREE
PART FOUR
PART FIVE
PART SIX
PART SEVEN

Six Things I'm Proud Of

I’ve noticed this meme on a few blogs recently. Most recently on ’Tis Herself one of the newest blogs I enjoy. Visit her! She’s very interesting and always puts up great pictures of her dog Cosette – who is one of the most adorable creatures. I know I say that about everyone’s pets but I always mean it.

So – six things you’re proud of sounded positive and uplifting. For those of you who get a headache when a post has too many words I’ve included photos that illustrate each point.

I’m proud of my son and my baby brother. I raised them both. There are only ten years between my son and my brother so they seem more like siblings than uncle/nephew. My brother is a wonderful Dad, a successful, ethical businessman in an industry where it’s hard to make a dime without cheating and scheming. Since baby bro and I grew up in the ‘wretched den of wolves’ I am amazed at how we have managed to break the cycle. My son grew up with much more than I had but still his Dad has been a crushing disappointment and yet he is a balanced, kind, sensitive, hardworking all around good guy.

My son - my brother's best friend since childhood - my baby bro

I’m proud of my care-taking abilities. As the oldest of four (in the den) I pretty much looked out for all of us. As a young Mom married to a crazy person I protected myself and my son and had the good sense to get out of a bad situation early. So many women think they can’t or shouldn’t, they feel ashamed or helpless. Do it. Whatever awaits you on the other side is within your control. As overwhelming as my responsibilities were at times they made me stronger and gave me life skills that have served me well all these years. I have adopted many over the years

my adopted boy, my son's best friend and best man with Jeffrey

I’m proud of my rapport with animals. I’ve socialized some of the wildest critters. Abused, lost, afraid; I think they sense, since they’re so much more in tune than humans, that I just want to be there for them and that I don’t think I’m better than they are. Perhaps that’s it – I believe animals are better people than people.

go to luxist.com and search 'animal' for lots of great rescue stories

I’m proud of my quick, sick, twisted mind. When menopausal moments aren’t messing with me I can do 10 things at once. My former boss called me “a master juggler and the gold standard of management”. Swanky - eh? And I wasn’t even sleeping with him! Not at that point anyway. I have a great sense of humor and appreciate funny, irreverent people. I’m also a passionate defender of free speech. I’ll tell you you’re an asshole and deserve to die for what you’ve said but I’ll defend your right to say it.

****I have removed the task juggling photo at the request of the owner - I was infringing on copyrights ****

I’m proud of my Italian cooking. I can cook other stuff too but Italian food just suits me – throw some of this in, a dash of that, sauce fixes everything and pasta is god!

photo courtesy of dagostinorestaurant.net

I’m proud of my hospitality. People always say they feel at home with me, they feel comfy. I love that. Folks show up here with kids, dogs, once a ferret and two lizards. There’s always food and drink. If you can’t drive home there’s always an air mattress and extra pillows.

photo courtesy of sleepcenterbrookings.com

Well now my head is so big I won't be able to get out of the room. I need to go look at some of my unpaid bills, that'll deflate me real quick!

I don't do tags. It does feel good to be proud of yourself and I always enjoy learning more about fellow bloggers - so have a go at it.

Ruby Tuesday: A Childhood Memory

Back when the world was flat and I was a child I had dreams - visions really - of the suburbs. The burbs were big news in the 50s and 60s - developments going up - the parents of us Boomers looking for room and land for all their youngins.

We lived in crowded Brooklyn. Didn't have much money or a car so I never got to go to the suburbs. Until one day my aunt took me to work with her. She worked for a Doctor who had just opened his second office - in the burbs of course - so he could keep all the patients who were moving.

I was amazed at all the green - trees and sidewalks and parking could live together!

Last week I was at my doc's office when I was hit with the most wonderful and startling memory. I was looking at a scene right out of 'My Day at Work With Aunt Pat'. The shadow the tree left on the ground, the big 2 lane road, the drive-thru bank across the road. Back then a drive-thru was a big deal.

I got the shot and then wanted to turn it into B&W, my memory was in B&W. It was a Commerce Bank and the two little red lines really popped out.

This poor photo has been through hell and back. What I lack in talent I make up for in tenacity.

I was determined to get those two red lines to show up but was so frustrated that they kept appearing uneven. Let me tell ya - I was saturatin' and croppin' and rotatin' - I had so many brushes open it's a wonder the Internet didn't crash.

Then I gave up LOL

Then this morning I drove by there and the REAL lines are uneven and the red is faded in some spots.

So here she is! My childhood memory of a magical land with a splash of red and all its flaws.

Please click here to see more RED

The Red White ... (And Black) and Blue ... And Black and White

It is a world without context.

I got an e-mail Saturday morning. It was a forward and that should have tipped me off but it was from a friend who is usually OK about e-mails – she sends great animal pictures or some silly joke.

The subject line of this e-mail was ‘Where is the American flag’. Yet another warning but again I decided it was most likely some lovely series of photos – you know, the flag created by colored crystals on the beach or a hot air balloon all red, white and blue – drifting across the majesty of the Northwest.

We have become fixated with the flag and not in a good way. Since 9/11/2001 flag waving has turned into a way of communication and a way of self-righteous judgment. It has gotten so out of hand, this meaning that has the wrong meaning, that I took down the flag that flew above my home. It no longer stood for just simply being proud. It said you supported Bush, it said you hated “them” – all of them. Those who are not Christian, those whose skin is darker, those who have different ways of loving people, those who speak different languages…

So I open the e-mail and the first line is:
Disgrace

Followed by:
This has been verified by snopes

Ahhhh – they have learned that if you give people the idea that you did a little homework …

If you claim to verify they will believe. The field of bullshit.

Under this is a picture of Senator Obama’s campaign plane.
Under that a picture of the plane before the Obama campaign had it refurbished.

And then a tiny paragraph – the highlights are:

he decided to remove the American flag from the tail...

Obama is such a despicable human being.

Please forward this if you're not ashamed of our country and our flag & if think this is a disgrace.

If Obama is elected president of the United States we are in trouble. If you think the Liberals can lead our country just look what Pelosi and Reid have accomplished for us.

All of this is in font size ranging from 14 to 18 pt and in red, blue, and green. Yes green. I guess they couldn’t figure out how to do white on a white background and they didn’t know how to change the background.

The bad grammar and missing words are verbatim. Can’t really stop and fix things when you’re in the grips of flag fever.

The thing is – all they’ve done is redo (badly) the original e-mail – origins unknown – and then sent it out into the world claiming it had been verified. They didn’t actually show the verification.

The photo of the Obama plane is taken from an angle that obscures the fact that there is indeed an American flag on the plane – right next to the plane’s call letters.

The flag he removed – personally I suppose while dressed as a Muslim terrorist – is actually the logo of North American airlines – the corporation he got the plane from.

The full snopes verification also shows McCain’s plane – no American flag in sight. Which is fine with me since I do not suffer from flag fever and prefer to choose my President based on ideals and policy, not airplane décor.

I also wish they could explain how the US will be in trouble if Obama is elected. Will flags everywhere just suddenly disappear on Inauguration Day? Oh – and we’re not in trouble right now?

Then there is the ‘L’ word.

No not Lesbian although that is a close second.

Liberal. We soldier hating, flag destroying, gay loving, illegal immigrant worshipping – uh – um – infidels. That’s the ticket. And what could possibly be more American than calling people who don’t agree with you names and casting doubt upon their character. And trying to frighten people into hating the same people you hate.

I will give them one thing – Pelosi and Reid have accomplished nothing for us. Well maybe raising the minimum wage for the first time in ten years. And Pelosi did recently explain clearly that there is actually land/water set aside to drill in but the Republicans don’t want to drill there first because the oil companies won’t make a fortune developing new drilling sites.

Has the war stopped, is Bush and Cheney and Rove in jail, has torture stopped, are those being held without a voice freed …

NO

And we come full circle.

The Democrats are afraid of looking like soldier hating, flag destroying … you get the picture. So spreading fear and lies works. It’s a lot like – what’s the word – oh yes – terrorism. But now I’m confused. Aren’t we fighting terrorism? I guess we are, just not in our own backyard.

Taken on its own this e-mail is nothing to get all riled up about. It’s nothing compared to “secret Muslim” and constantly saying ‘Osama’ instead of ‘Obama’ and then claiming to have had a brain fart. It’s nothing compared to showing Cindy McCain looking like she just baked a dozen cookies while showing Michelle Obama looking like she just ripped off the head of a white baby. Since Michelle is animated and engaged she is usually shown with her mouth open and her eyes all afire. Cindy, bless her heart, always looks so composed. I wonder if she takes the same meds that Laura does.

So why did this e-mail get me going? Going so that I found the entire SNOPES ARTICLE and sent it to every single e-mail address in the original.

It came on the same morning as did the last time I will ever allow someone to tell me they won’t/can’t vote for Senator Obama because they “don’t trust him”.

As the white mother of a black son I speak the code. If you “don’t trust” a black man and you can’t explain why then it is simply because he is black. I have watched my son being watched in stores. I once had a salesperson confide to me, snickering, that they were watching “that big black kid” because “you can’t trust them”. I was too disgusted and weary to enjoy watching the top of her head explode when the untrustworthy big black kid turned and called me Ma.

I am better than this, many of us are better than this. I don’t care how exhausting it becomes. I don’t care if it forever changes friendships (as it has with the person who sent me the Saturday morning e-mail). I absolutely believe that we are fighting for our lives. I don’t want my future grandchildren to go to Iraq as part of the 100 year war. I don’t want to see any more abandoned homes in my neighborhood. I don’t want to feel sad about the way we look to the world.

And I don’t want to be silent when an honorable, accomplished, decent man is disrespected because of his name and his skin color.

I imagine my future grandchildren running for office one day.

My future white/black/Christian/Jewish/French/Irish/Russian/Greek/African/Native American grandchildren.

I will open a can of the fiercest whoop ass known to humanity on anyone who plans to block the path.

The Wordzzle Must Go On

Before we get to this week’s Wordzzle. I’m having problems with IE or Blogger – or Both. I can’t get to some blogs including my own. So I need to launch Firefox, look up the blog’s addy and then go from there. I don’t know if this has anything to do with last night’s “Spam-Gate” debacle. The funny thing is one of the blogs that was flagged as “spam” is a blog I can get to with no problem.

Did Blogger fix one problem by creating another? Or is it just me?

Ahhhh the questions of life.

Anyho – here is this week’s continuation of Finola’s Story. Please drop by RAVEN’S NEST and check out all the others.

Ten Word Challenge: ghastly, excrement, bill of sale, vague, thicket, precarious, life long ambition, gunnery sergeant, posthumous, bellowed

Mini Challenge: lap of luxury, yellow-bellied sapsucker, quinine, generalization, abnormality

Finola Part Seven:

Finola sat through dinner with “them” feeling as though she was in a thicket of thorns. She had a ghastly stress headache and more than a vague sense of discomfort; it continuously struck her how precarious her situation was. Finola felt she had convinced Lovee and his wife that she was not wanted by the police. The wife seemed very kind and gentle, actually they both did but the husband also seemed suspicious.

“You look uncomfortable” Lovee said, making Finola jump out of her thoughts. “I hope you like the food” Ireland said, “we don’t exactly entertain in the lap of luxury but we try our best”. Finola smiled at Ireland, she really liked her. She knew it was a huge generalization but Ireland was the epitome of ‘Southern hospitality”. It was Finola’s life long ambition to travel the world and the southern states had always been at the top of her list. Finola was just about to tell Ireland the wings and mashed potatoes were great when Lovee bellowed “look at that yellow-bellied sapsucker go!” Both Finola and Ireland looked in the direction of Lovee’s outstretched arm. “I don’t see a sapsucker dear” Ireland said quietly. Finola giggled at how patient Ireland was with Lovee. “All I see is a puff of yellow feathers, could be any number of birds”. Lovee insisted it was a sapsucker as Finola continued to giggle at both of them, she especially liked the way Lovee said sapsucker. Finally Ireland gave in. “OK it’s a sapsucker, in fact after dinner why don’t we all go search for its hole – perhaps there will be enough excrement for DNA testing”. Lovee’s laugh was deep and made Finola feel better about him. “My wife’s wit is a bit like drinking quinine” he told Finola, “you know it has good intentions but it still goes down bitter”. Ireland smiled at her husband as she cleared away the dinner dishes.

Finola joined Ireland inside the RV while Lovee strolled near the woods. Ireland watched her husband from the window and smiled sweetly. He was in the Marines you know” she said – partly to herself and partly to Finola. “I know he was a sergeant I’m just not sure what kind – Master or First or Gunnery Sergeant I think – maybe all three”. Once again the sound of Ireland’s laugh calmed Finola. “He comes off as rather gruff doesn’t he?” Finola wasn’t sure if she was supposed to answer. “He’s such an abnormality within his family” Ireland went on. “They’re all so hateful and careless with life, I’m glad we don’t live near them anymore”. Last time we saw any of them was when Lovee’s youngest brother was awarded the Medal of Honor. A shame it had to be posthumous, he was killed in Iraq, I’ll never understand why he went there at his age”. To get away from the rest of them I suppose, and to try and keep the young ones alive I’m sure, he always said they’re not trained enough or equipped right. I’m so glad Lovee stayed with me”.

“Are you ready to go looking for sapsuckers?” Lovee called. Ireland and Finola looked at each other and laughed. “I can’t believe how I went on” Ireland said. “I guess I sounded like a rambling old woman”. Finola assured Ireland that she hadn’t been rambling and she sure wasn’t old. Ireland looked pleased. They joined Lovee outside bringing coffee and cake with them. “So Finola” Lovee looked her in the eyes. “I think we should go find your abandoned car tomorrow”. Finola told him it wasn’t worth the trip, the car was old, a piece of junk really. “Nonsense” Lovee responded. “We’ll find the car and sell it, even if just for parts” Finola felt the panic building up again. She imagined herself admitting that the car had been stolen as she said “the car’s not in my name, it’s my mother’s car. I don’t think she’d want me selling it, I don’t think you’re allowed to sell someone else’s car”. Lovee told Finola not to worry. They would find all the paperwork and he’d put together a bill of sale.

“Let’s enjoy the rest of the evening” Ireland said. “Tomorrow we’ll call Finola’s mother and then set off looking for the car – and sapsuckers.”

POOR FINOLA’S BEGINNING
PART TWO
PART THREE
PART FOUR
PART FIVE
PART SIX

A Million Thanks - Plus ONE

I have mixed feelings about awards – I have mixed feelings about everything. I’m a little crazy ya know.

On one hand awards are nice to get – they’re acknowledgement, appreciation, kindness.

On the other hand – I am ambidextrous – they sometimes come with rules – which I ignore – and it can be so hard to decide how to pass them on. Will the person you give the award to really want one? Will they feel obligated to display it? Will they, in turn, not know how to pass it on?

Then again – yes I have more than two hands, I’m a Mother – it’s an award, not an STD – pass it on.

The death of blogging would be taking ourselves too seriously – kind of like the Oscars do.

This past week I got three awards – three! I love odd numbers almost as much as I love odd people.

Since I’m crazy I need to create themes in order to focus and quiet all the voices in my head.

My theme for today is ONE. I looked at each of my pretty awards and thought of the ONE person that FIRST came to me. I did it this way because I’ve been having a few revelations lately and I’ve learned over the years that I’m usually spot on, right on, hit the bull’s-eye when it comes to other people. Me – I haven’t a freakin’ clue about. I’m just pleased not to be institutionalized.

The first award comes from JENI – GrandMa Extraordinaire. One of my very first blog friends and an exceptionally kind and generous lady who keeps giving me stuff – and I love it.



I’m going to pass this ONE on to DIANE M – Martinis for Two. My revelation about Diane (does she spell her name right?) is that I love to follow her life. I love pictures of her gorgeous Grace Kelly self. I love stories about her husband (more pics please – he’s HOT) and his family. I love the little videos she does – I want more from her nephew.
Diane posted that she’s a bit blog-blocked these days. I hope she doesn’t see this award as a way to guilt her into staying around – although I am Jewish AND Roman Catholic so guilt is a language I learned at birth.

The next award is from SHELLY – sassy, sexy Shelly from This Old Farm – hanging out in the party barn one moment and then pouring concrete the next. They never describe women as Renaissance Women – they seem to leave that for men. Guess it’s because men need to be encouraged to do two things at once. Shelly is a natural Renaissance Woman.



This dual award goes to JO. Whatever Jo says and does is magic. I usually have issues with tiny, pretty women (I want to kill them) but Jo is huge in love and kindness – and talent. She is gentle and whimsical and calls me all kinds of sweet, pet names.

Last but not least is this award from SPARKLING RED. I think, I hope, that Sparkling and I have become closer lately because of sharing real feelings about our journey through life. She writes so openly yet carefully about her heart – her mind – her soul.



The sweet looking award was designed by DARYL. If you want to visit NYC without having to deal with how it smells in August then stop by Daryl’s place. I lived in NY for 48 years and still one of her photos will make me go Wow!

Considering how sweet looking the award is the recipient is going to laugh his perverted ass off at getting it. I’m giving it to MATT-MAN. Hopefully he’ll still be sober enough to read this. Matt is fun to read - he’s irreverent, shocking, hilarious, quick, smart, sarcastic …
My ONE new revelation about Matt is that he’s brave. Some of what he says can (and has) cause him a bit of grief. Anyone who pushes the envelope while crossing the line risks that. The Matt-Man has always been kind to me and even when I open one of his posts and say to myself “Oh Baby Jeebus this is SO wrong …” I find myself laughing while I think – and that makes the world go round.

Happy Friday everybody!