Saltpeter

 Woke up this morning with a strange word in my mind: Saltpeter.

It is a chemical once obtained from the bottom of empty wine barrels, used by alchemists and those who fiddled around with any natural chemical they could find in their medieval world mindset.

Popular thinking at the time, and evidently still is thought, that the men in the military were given the potassium nitrate in their scrambled eggs to keep their minds on the job, not on  women because it was thought that the use of saltpeter, a chemical used in fertilizer and gunpowder, would subdue the male libido.

In other words, it was anti-Cialis or Viagra. While those drugs make the erectile function, saltpeter supposedly did away with sexual desire.

Yeah, right. 

It was used to preserve meat here in the US previous to 1980, it has been removed from such use. Back in the days of the "how can we keep meat from spoiling", or how can we get the biggest bang for our military buck, it was used. There are also suggestions that certain navies used it to keep their sailors ready to fight, not to ----. To keep their minds on the job of firing cannons, not using their own guns. 

Perhaps it had the desired effect back in the day and it was not talked about, much like UFOs still are, because of what it might do to the fighting forces. It has no effect on females, by the way.

So, in my brilliance first thing this morning, I considered a national Give "Em Saltpeter every morning as women are now forced to take birth control meds in order to get around the unwanted pregnancy thing.

Here I thought I had managed to solve the destruction of Roe v. Wade problem perfectly.

Not again!!!!!

 Yes, again. My computer with the funny little icons to  get me here to my website is effed up.

I am angry enough to spit.

Well, it is Good Friday and I always try to behave on Good Friday, but I really am tiked off.

Somehow, since I never made those icons myself, the lords of computerdom have decided to change shit around. Why can't they leave me alone?

I'm actually working on an editing job. The story is great and I hacve this awful feeling if I don't finish toeday, all my remarks and edits may disappear before I can remember how to send the work back to my friend. (It's a cozy mystery that has me tangled up better than Stephanie Plum.)

Let's see if this goes through and even onto FB.

'Tis the season

Well, here it is, Christmas. 

Ten days away. I have done nothing but order some candy from Vermont Country Store and watch Monarch on tv. Putting Doctor Who off for later. Can only take so much excitement.

Monday I go for mammogram and bone density tests. Fun fun fun. Then next day Karyn has some stuff  at yet another doctor. Nothing for me until after January when I see the oncologist then primary. Of course I will worry.

I do that so well, I ought to be in the Olympics.

Baking to do, decorating to do...I thought the house would be Hallmark style. Might get there.

The outside of the house is bedecked with penguins. Herb has had his way with the front. Last year he even put lights up in the back.

The little fake tree is up from the cellar, but without decorations. Got to have stuff on it...after all, it is Christmas! 

Wait. I sent out all the Christmas cards. That ought to count

for something accomplished!

Merry Christmas, everyone! 

Sweets for the skinny

 Admit it.

You've seen her...the slim, tall model, upswept hair, nondescript bland outfit...enjoying her family Christmas gathering.

As she sits there, she picks up a ball of candy and after unwrapping the shiny foil, slowly nibbles at a luscious chocolate ball of candy. Nibbles. She carefully doesn't bite it. A smile spreads over her lips and she almost inhales delight.

Right.

You've seen her. I've seen her...she's modeling and nibbling all over the Hallmark Channel.

You sorta dislike her.

Well, you may do more than sorta dislike her, if you are someone like me.

Bite the damn truffle, bitch! Eat it as if it won't put ten pounds on your thighs! Maybe you won't fit into that pencil skirt if you actually swallow the sweet confection! 

Be human!

You see, magnificent model person, there are women watching you nibble, women who like chocolate. Who look forward to actually tasting that deliciousness. Women who hesitate because they worry about those ten pounds added to their thighs or butts or ankles or chin. 

Maybe more women than you even know because they aren't models for anything but diabetes drugs.

We, the pudgy! We the women who do not  nibble! We the women who like chocolate and potatoes and spaghetti and cake!

Sorry. You and I cannot be friends.

Ever.

Nibble away, bitch! 

AAARGH!

The Purple Cape

 I've written about the fabulous purple cape previously. In case you don't remember, let me refresh your memories.

The purple cape came to our family in the mid-1950s. Beloved Uncle Gene gave it to us after his stint in a circus. I know nothing more about this but he came away with four silly costumes and the desire to build a Ferris wheel in a vacant lot in Middlesex, NJ. There were lots of empty spaces back then, not so  now.

Anyway, the costumes were pure circus. Some kind of flapper dress with black tassels, a green two flapped piece of material that I imagine was part of a harem girl's costume and something else I can't remember, but along with these gaudy bits, was the Purple Cape.

Let me describe it to you. It was deep purple, royal purple, about four feet in length, made of flannel. I only now realize it was flannel and not satin because I was just a kid and it was absolutely gorgeous to me.

Around the neckline was the only decoration. A band of pure gold, emerald and ruby lay around the neck. Absolutely gem quality. Beautiful. Magnificent.

Everybody wanted to wear the purple cape, even if we were just playing cowboys. Every kid on our street wanted that honor. After all, it was deep purple and encrusted with precious gems around the neck.

But at Halloween, it was most in demand. Cowboys, bums, girly girls, you name it, that purple cape went with every costume.

Chilly Halloween nights, it served as warmth and status.

Years went by. The cape was always there. Then, it disappeared. I don't know whether my younger brother every enjoyed wearing it, but by the time I was taking him out trick or treating, it was no longer used.

Oh, the delights of that regal bit of material!

I think I'm a princess just remembering it.

Many years later, as an adult, I was in our old garage, looking for fishing rods or something when I spied a crumpled bit of purple stashed in a corner. No! It couldn't be!

Alas, I recognized the bejeweled collar. Gold, emerald and ruby, still shining, while the cape had faded a dull grey.

The purple cape. 

I pulled it out of the corner, passed my hand lovingly against the stiff flannel and sighed.

Gone was the glory.

I should have cut the jewels away and kept them, but I didn't. I buried it in the garbage can and cried.

However, I do hold the glory of the Purple Cape in my heart and every year about this time, I remember it fondly, lovingly, and long for the days when it was magnificent to come back, if just for a second, to cheer my heart.

Something is wrong

 I don't feel good. I can't seem to wake up enough. There is no energy. 

I'm rather worried.

Spider in the can

 Beside the throne on the wainscoting is a little bitty spider. Tiny, about maybe 2 centimeters, maybe eighth of an inch. Little black body with red legs. So thin, they can barely be seen,

I did not freak.

I remained calm and said directly to it, "You'd better leave here. I'll let you off this time, but if you are still there when I get back, you're dead."

Nothing against spiders, not really, but they are rather disconcerting about 7 inches away from one's face in this very private moment.

Hours later, upon returning to the powder room, the bloody spider did not listen to me, did not take my warning threat. It is still there, some 7 inches from my face.

I had warned it. I had done my best, in my calmest quiet tone, to let it know its future if it remained where it was. Wiggling it's little red arms at me...sneering...batting its little multiple eyes at me as I heaved a heavy sigh, grabbed a couple sheets of TP and swiftly eradicated the disgusting spider from the wall.

The TP wad got tossed into the bowl. I didn't look down, somewhat ashamed of myself for  killing nature. Flushed away. Threat carried out: I am a woman of my word.

A bit later, I returned to the scene and needed to do what I had to do.

It hit me then that I had not truly seen the itty bitty spider's demise. What if it hadn't died? What if it had survived and somehow with its spidery red legs, it had crawled out of the bowl and was right now about to leap onto my humanity?

Oh, Lord, I can't go potty in there!!!