Thursday, November 29, 2018

Here's the scene: People standing on the edge of a rocky high cliff, glorying at the scenery below.
Here's Irene, cringing. They're gonna fall off.

People trudging through the snow, or better yet, people on a ski lift, dangling there above the ground.

Children throwing snowballs at trucks. No, make that ice balls and smashing the windshield of the oncoming car. They run away through the foot deep snow.  What fun?

Take it to another season.

Jumping in piles of leaves that they just raked through the whole yard.
Searching in mud through rows of orange pumpkins for just the right one. Feeling that first brisk wind tear through your too-light jacket.

Or, how about frying in the sun?
Diving into a freezing cold pool or ocean or lake?

None of these things are appealing to me.
I can watch scenery from a window. I don't want to ski. Last time I skated was okay, but my thighs got chilblains.

Shoveling snow is back breaking. I don't care if it looks like marshmallow, it is cold, wet and heavy. Oh, my back!

Don't talk to me about driving in snow or ice or fog!

I am not an outdoorsy person, unless there is a horse involved, and even that would take a mighty fantastic horse to get me outside.

Tuesday, November 27, 2018

Where does my brain wander?

Spent the first big holiday without Mom.
Spent it with husband's family as far away from Central New Jersey as I could get.

Two days in the new car there, two days back home.

In a way, I think it cleansed my soul, but something happened that also cleansed my digestive tract. I got sick. Really sick. Never leave the bathroom sick. Not because of the lovely Thanksgiving dinner, no, not that. I think it was coming on before we left home.

But...a sick stomach is dangerous.

It rained. Parts of NC and parts of VA were flooded. When we came home, we found that parts of NJ were flooded also.

All I can say is, Thank God it wasn't snow.

Wednesday, November 14, 2018

Thinking back on Thanksgiving

All of us in 6th grade Miss Clancy's class had to perform in the holiday assembly. She painted a beautiful autumnal backdrop and we liked up on risers in the front of the stage to sing along to Miss Titler's piano.

Swing the shining sickle, cut the ripened grain!
Flash it in the sunlight, swing it once again.
Tie the golden grainheads into shining sleeves, 
beautiful the colors of the autumn leaves.

Then we broke into the Pilgrim's Anthem:

The breaking waves dashed high, on the stern and rockbound coast.
The trees against the stormy sky, their giant branches tossed.

The heavy night hung dark, the trees and waters o'er, 
when a band of exiles moored their bark on the wild New England shore.

This was the fall of 1960. JFK had just been elected president. I had the best teacher in the school and it was going to be a good holiday.

Why were we singing songs with words that had to be explained to us? No idea what a sickle was nor a grainhead. We were singing songs from the turn of the 20th century.

I wonder if anyone but me remembers those stupid ancient songs!

I'm gonna try to look them up on Google, see if they are not just a figment of my imagination.

Saturday, October 27, 2018

Sorry to have been away

The current situation in this beloved country of mine stinks.
I don't even want to see news reports.
I don't want to know how many people have been shot or smashed in a bus wreck or assassinated or made redundant.

I want peace.

I want...yes. I want. That seems to be how everybody feels nowadays.

I want money. I want a job where I don't have to work too hard but make lots of money.

I want to be beautiful.

I want the world to go away and leave me alone.

I want to do away with everybody I hate.

I want to live in a world of love.

Fat chance.

Everybody wants, not too many people are willing to actually fight for the right.
Not too many people understand what it means to be an American.

Those people waiting at the border...they think they know what it means, but American is turning their back on them.

What if America had turned its back on their relatives?
What if America had killed off the settlers in the 1600s instead of being killed by them?

Too many thoughts.
Too many horrors.

Monday, October 8, 2018


Today I figured out how to unfriend someone.
I hadn't wanted to friend this old boyfriend to begin with, but wishing somebody a happy birthday was a nice thing to do.
Figuring out he was a real asshole took a bit longer, but yesterday's post showing his true colors was the end.

I unfriended you, asshole.

I do not agree or think it is funny to call me a libtard and laugh at Hillary Clinton.

You're the one who deserves all the shit possible in your life.

I hope you get what you deserve.


Saturday, August 25, 2018

Guns and poses

Growing up, television was entertainment. I mean, it was there to keep the regular folk happy with wrestling matches, a few news shows, a couple of doctor shows and westerns.

Ah, westerns. Legendary cowboys in the frontier, totin' six guns and killing injuns. Or bad guys wearing black hats. Or Mexican banditos who had huge mustaches and wore bandoleers full of brass encased bullets who knew a surprising amount of English.

When it came to the television shows, there were at least fifty westerns, ranging from Disney's Davy Crockett (he died at the Alamo, killed by a legitimate Mexican army protecting its land) to stage coach guards to gamblers to adventurers, to killers for hire to lawmen to bounty hunters...the list goes on and on.

All these stories had someone protecting something with a fast gun and life or death in an ambush, or a bank robbery or water rights or cattle theft or preventing or causing a hanging.

I sincerely doubt that there were as many gunfights and/or hangings as occurred every week on television.

Matt Dillon kills someone every week on the main street of his town. The Rifleman had a special rifle that shot more rounds quickly because of a little latch on the trigger thing. Paladin was a gun for hire...for a thousand dollars, he'd kill anybody while spouting proverbs or Shakespeare and the occasional sonnet. Bounty hunters always brought miscreants in dead, not alive. Maverick won everybody's money and had a derringer hidden away so he had one shot to kill the person who wanted his money back. Sawed off shotguns, Steve McQueen. Buntline Special, an elongated barrel carried by Gene Barry portraying a cowboy who later became a sports writer in Chicago. 

Everybody was packing and ready to kill.
We grew up feeding on this, like suckling babies. I guess it was all right because that was all there was to watch. Wrestling was fake, anyway. Doctor shows were on after bedtime. generation had guns in front of them constantly. We should have been crazed killers, shooting up schools and blasting from '57 Chevy windows at kids on the street playing hopscotch. We may have on rare occasions, but they never ever made the news.

But, perhaps Vietnam happened and killing was necessary for our boys' survival. Kill or be killed definitely puts a different light on the need for weapons.

Our generation is old now. We remember Woodstock, days of music and mud and good old groups where most of the members have passed on. We remember those television cowpokes fondly, but when we watch these programs now, we become aware of all the killing. Bad Indians and Mexicans and rustlers and those who would block the water from their neighbors. 
We don't shoot much anymore.

No, we leave that to our kids who never had the exposure to televised make-believe killing that we did.

Somewhere along the line, what we witnessed and chose to forget leaked into the brains of our children. Maybe our memories were passed in vitro. Maybe the three wars that have happened since Vietnam finally got through to them and killing was necessary once more.

Perhaps the anger at not being privileged or being bullied or being looked down upon or being loners has turned our next generation into killers.

Maybe, just maybe, it is fear of being unimportant without a weapon of destruction that is behind it all.

I don't know. Maybe it is because guns still make people something important. Maybe it is because anybody can shoot a gun and kill or maim a living thing. 
Who knows?

Just something I was thinking about this morning. Maybe you'd like to respond? Go ahead.
I'll listen.

Thursday, August 23, 2018


Elyse posted one of her Elyse Explosion videos in which I have no small part.

I look hideous.

No links from me.

This is what it has come to! Alas, it's all gone.

I also sound as if I am choking on something. I am not, rest assured. My voice apparently sucks, too.

Gone are the days.

The one on the bottom was the best I've taken in years. I look like shit.