I thought about doing a year end post. List all the stuff you did, an inventory of the goings and comings. So, I did, after going over my planner calendar and marking what had happened.
Seems we went to Shop Rite and Costco nearly every week, except when Herb went alone because I couldn't be bothered showering and getting dressed at the crack of dawn.
Not too bad, really. At least it meant getting out of the house.
Then, oh, yeah, besides the numerous doctor visits for sugar and cancer check ups, I added the orthodontist. My teeth, I am happy to say, have really straightened out, but I still have to go until August.
Then there were the various times we had no bathrooms because both the upstairs rooms were redone. Going out to pick out tiles and tubs and sinks took up some precious time along the way.
Lest we forget the work on the floor in the room that has no name and the hallway between the bedrooms, west wing and east wing.
Add to that the redo of the deck surrounding the 20 year old pool. I haven't been in the pool in five years.
Now, let's see. We went on a mini vacation out to Lancaster when K had a sale out there. Did some exploring of the bucolic countryside.
We went down south to Emerald Isle for over a week.
Then the stuff started about the RV. I don't want to discuss that.
Then Herb surprised me with this cruise thing which led to the purchase of the RV thing.
We used it for a long weekend around Halloween.
Let me see. Have I missed anything? Probably.
It was a very expensive year.
Then K developed more physical problems.
Then Elyse got married.
Then I still hurt over my mom's passing.
But I also made some money editing, which is always interesting.
I forgot the LSFW conference, too, in March. That was revitalizing.
That's it, I believe. All 365 days in a few lines.
All in all, it was not too boring and my teeth are getting straighter, which is good.
This is me. Unvarnished and in the flesh, a week ago.
I look like shit.
This was for my daughter's wedding...I tried to look my best. The hair is good, though.
Now if you are wondering why I never attend reunions...here's why.
This is what I used to look like. So long ago, there was no color, only black and white.
Every family has its quirks. The weird uncle or aunt. The hidden skeleton in the closet. The prison sentence. The boozer. The odd way of describing things. The family traditions and habits that seem queer but mean something to people who lived through it or remember being told about it.
Here are some of mine.
I don't have any killers, except if you count my mother's uncle Nick who blew up a cow with a firecracker in its ear. He and his brother Jake thought they were Jesse James. They both did some time in jail--not sure about prison. Petty crimes, they weren't smart enough to be gangsters. Besides, they were Ukrainian.
We have a peculiar way of remembering conversations and are able to pick them up years after first initiated. Walk into a room and just start talking about the topic where you left off. This is an art, in my opinion. My uncle Eugene was particularly masterful at this, but any member of the family knows what's going on. This may not extend to the other branches on the tree, but it probably does.
Certain phrases some people might not understand. Such as "the way you go down the cellar" which means, simply, the cellar stairs. There is no "way you go up the stairs" to go to the second floor. We say "ahm" instead of I'm. Lots of folks say that. Sloppy tongues. "Whaddycall" instead of what do you call it, and it's linguistic brother "Howdycall", meaning something like the same thing, only different.
The way to tell if your hair is clean after washing is to squeak it with your fingers.
To signify a great deal of something, you say simply "whoady".
There are more. For the moment, these are at the top of my memory.
Oh, yeah. Both of my grandfathers made and sold illegal hooch. One actually spent a night in jail because of a dissatisfied customer, the other avoided the Volstead folks by going out the back door when they were at the front door.
Other wonderful snippets of my less than illustrious family to follow. And no, these are real relatives, not the made up ones I write about.
The above are not my relatives.
Story idea, bound to become a moneymaker.
Santa's favorite female elf falls in love with the Angel of Death.
Think of the possibilities!!!!!
This is my idea. No steals.
Happy Thanksgiving, everybody.
Not a sad day.
Really, not sad, even though there is a death to report.
Since, oh, last March, I have been using a container of Oil of Olay 7 something. I don't really know the name, but it is a face lotion that is supposed to do wonders for one's face.
I've been using this stuff for a few years. As far as I can tell, it hasn't done much, but I continue to have faith that it will eventually do SOMETHING about the wrinkles and bags. I will say that since it has an SPF listing, I have not had a sunburn, but then, since I don't go out in the sun, well...who can say if it is working?
For months, I have thought the contents were running out. After all, how long can a few ounces of cream last. Every morning after my ablutions, I'd apply the cream and that was about it. I waited for a miracle on my face. Didn't happen.
But the bloody pump thinger, which should only have lasted a month or two, kept going and going, dispensing more and more Olay.
I'd pull it from the drawer, suggest that this was the last time we'd meet, but time after time, it fooled me.
Since Sunday, I've sorta known the end was near.
Today, the last blop blopped out of the spigot and that was it.
RIP, little jar or bottle or whatever it is called.
You served your time. Off to the neverland of recycling you go.
May you join others of your ilk and be happy.
And smoothing.
Well, it finally happened.
Yesterday, I was exhausted after a long weekend of camping. I fell asleep on the sofa during a Hallmark movie...one of my Christmas favorites about a veteran. Actually, I had just watched the end of my other favorite about a veteran played by Michael Shanks (from Stargate fame) who falls in love with a war widow and buys her husband's old motorcycle with his re-enlistment money. But I digress.
This second movie stars two of my all time favorite Hallmark actors. This time, it is a woman Marine who was a dog handler who got out of the Marines when they reassigned her dog to someone else. Search and Rescue...that's what her job was. Anyway, her car breaks down in this sweet little fantastic town somewhere in Illinois where it snows a lot. I mean, it is just about Christmas and there is snow everywhere on the green leaves that they carefully try to avoid in each outdoor shot. It's Canada, everybody knows that, but you try to show one license plate and that sets the scene. So, it snows a lot in Illinois in December, right around Christmas, and the whole town is Christmas-mad. I mean, every possible space is decorated with greenery and balls and bells and ribbons and trees and candy canes and hot chocolate stands...and a merry-go-round because it is the big town wide celebration week.
Well, that was that movie.
The one I was in was probably the same place, only with fewer decorations, but the guy...oh, he was there for me.
So, I went through the being lost part and the him finding me and offering to take me in because there were no hotels in the small Illinois town, but not into his house because he has a reputation to uphold, but he's a super nice Hallmark kinda guy.
There I am. Stuck in Nowheresville. The townspeople think I'm safe and treat me well and this nice guy is interested in me.
Now...wait. It's not the me I am now! Of course not. It's the me of me in my prime.
I keep thinking I have to leave, there is something vague I need to see to, but I can't because it's one of those movies. So, I stay and probably fall in love with the guy, even though his face is rather narrow and he's slim and gorgeous and dresses well.
Just when he kisses me and asks me to marry him, I wake up.
That was a relief, actually.
I do not need any further complications in my life.
But I do need to purchase a card for a wedding on Friday.
It will probably be a Hallmark.
It doesn't have to be a ghost to haunt you.
It can be good, or bad, memories that visit your mind at inopportune moments.
This week, I have been plagued by ghosts...things conjured from my memory that have long been thought dead. I remembered some stuff that crept out of the depths from my childhood. I wanted to talk to someone about these thoughts, but there was no one who would either remember or give a rat's ass about what I was thinking.
That's the trouble with odd memories. Good or bad, sometimes they are just your own and therein lies the problem. You might be able to unload them if there was someone to share the pain or joy. But, no. They lie in wait for you to shut your eyes and hope for sleep without dreams, or nightmares.
That's when these memories spring up and spill over you.
Most of the time--they hurt.
