the old days, it was not called the Holiday Season; the Christians
called it 'Christmas' and went to church; the Jews called it 'Hanukkah'
and went to synagogue; the atheists went to parties and drank. People
passing each other on the street would say 'Merry Christmas!' or 'Happy
Hanukkah!' or (to the atheists) 'Look out for the wall!'
"Christmas Shopping: A Survivor's Guide"
Created by the warped mind of
There are people who have money and people who are rich.
~ Coco Chanel
been struggling with my feelings and how to express them about an
incident that happened with a friend since my return from North
Carolina. I know it is extremely difficult for some people
to imagine the life of another if they have never had the same and/or
similar experiences. It can be like describing snow to a person that has never seen or felt it. Because
of the difficulties I’ve have gone through over the years, I try to
explain my “snow” the best I can without having an avalanche of
memories/pain/hurt come crashing down on me. Perhaps that is my problem – I can’t paint a realistic verbal painting, I can only sketch in the abstract.
Before I meander down this tangent any longer, let me give y’all some background. In 2008 when I decided to go to esthetician school, I applied for a Sallie Mae loan. Since both my credit and Mulder’s sucked by then, Sallie Mae asked for a co-signer. My
sister turned me down.(My sister and brother-in-law are millionaires
but live like paupers.) However, my friend of 20-plus years said she
would be more than happy to co-sign the note. My boss would be reimbursing me a portion of the tuition upon graduation, which I would use to pay part of the loan. I
did not envision bankruptcy at the time nor did I know that my attorney
was not going to do his due diligence when filing my bankruptcy. Sallie Mae loans cannot be included in bankruptcy unless they are an adult education loan, which mine was. The attorney failed to note this and my loan became my co-signers responsibility when the bankruptcy was finalized. Brilliant. In
January of 2010 when I discovered the error, I did everything possible
to rectify the situation without success. The only solution was paying
another $600.00 to get different attorney to fix it. (There is much more
to the story but I won’t go into it, as it proved irrelevant.) To
keep everything simple until another solution could be found, my friend
and I signed the paper to have the monthly payment deducted from my
checking account. I informed her of every thing I did to have the loan returned to me and I have never missed a payment.
My friend has never experienced financial hardship. She has often said how
smart and lucky she is to have a husband that worked for the
government. She also is very astute when it comes to finances which she
also acknowledges that it's easy when you have money. I'm not jealous
of my friend because I know what it's like to not have to worry about
money. How could I begrudge someone their life because mine isn't as
About a year ago, my friend began making suggestions about how to pay this loan off more quickly and other comments. I
should have been more perceptive and reacted accordingly. I did start
to pay a bit extra each month but apparently not enough and/or my
actions weren’t satisfactory.
Here is where your appreciation of abstract art is going to come in handy, my lovely readers. I am not going to describe in minute detail my financial problems. Suffice it to say, they are many. They
require much manipulation and creativity every damn month. There is
going without, making do, making last, etc. etc. etc. I have days when
the repercussions of what happened back in 2005 are too much for me to
bear and I scream like a banshee driving home then go cry in the shower.
I did not plan for a life like this at my age. It is like an ever-present shadow in my life. However, I will not let it destroy me – after all, it’s only money. I
still have a home, can buy food, have a job, am healthy, have good
children and an adorable grandson among so many other things. I so,
usually, consider myself “rich”. That way I can deal with the shadow
most of the time.
Mulder and I planned the four-day trip to North Carolina approximately a year before we went. It was never definite until we knew we had the funds to afford it. That meant money that was not going to be used to pay the mortgage, food, loan, insurance, etc. The money for the trip came from some overtime he made and the profits I made from selling on eBay and Etsy. Our trip was made possible by hard work. I don’t think I had to keep it a secret nor did I think I had to explain how we got the means to take a trip to anyone. My obligations were/are taken care of.
The day we returned, there was a letter from my friend. She had written to Sallie Mae about having the loan returned to me. The
response she received was the exact same response from the same person
that I had received 3 years prior, a copy of which I had sent to my
friend. Since my bankruptcy had been discharged over three
years, I had planned on writing to Sallie Mae to reapply for the loan
but I guess I didn’t do it quickly enough for my friend. I should have taken the comments and suggestions more to heart but I thought my friend was a friend as I am. Apparently not.
Mulder and I have a small emergency savings account. There was enough in it to pay off this loan. We
discussed it and did just that. The $3,300.00 was a tremendous amount
to us – the “what ifs” are many but the fact that by paying this loan
off took a huge stressor away from me is worth ten times that amount. Hopefully, we will be able to replace the savings before we actually have an emergency.
My feelings for this friend have been forever altered. This is a person that has known me for a very long time. We worked together for many years, we’ve been in a club together, we’ve spent weekends away. We’ve laughed and cried, we’ve shared our lives. But I cannot look at her the same way any longer. She will still be my friend but she won’t be my friend. Am I wrong?
I know she has money but I now know she will never be rich.
Why is it that when you take a vacation, you need another vacation to recover from the vacation? Maybe I'm just too old for all this shit - traveling, grandbaby, children, work, cleaning, breast cancer walk, etc. I definitely should have been born rich and not witty. I need a wife.
I'm posting a slideshow of pictures I took on the vacation. The leaves had just started to turn so not much autumn colors but it was crisp and cool. YAY! Murphy, North Carolina is my kind of town. I could very happily live there the rest of my life. Ellijay, Georgia was very cool, too!
off, let me tell y’all how knock down happy I was to see that one of my
all-time favorite bloggers commented on my Miley Cyrus post. Spiky Zora Jones!!! I love this woman! She is an amazing writer and just a damn fine human being. I’m hoping she will start writing again. Spiky, you made my day by posting a comment and gave me inspiration for this post!
As I’ve mentioned before, I love to read and I love to learn new things. I don’t want to stagnate me by not embracing technology or by sticking with what’s safe. Learning new techniques for crafting, cooking (even though I HATE cooking), sewing, etc. keeps me excited and fresh.
The internet is a cornucopia of information, that’s a great thing, right? I
can find articles and/or videos on a huge assortment of topics. Reading others blogs is also a way to keep up to date on trends. Seriously,
I can watch videos of bot flies being hatched from someone’s skin, read
about the “god particle”, look at an amateur photographers awesome
pictures and then laugh at photos of captioned animals, read that Bank
of America is as skeevy and ruthless as I thought – all in about 30 minutes! Technology is BRILLIANT!
However, no good deed (or thing) goes unpunished. Because of the internet, I know things that I never wanted to know. Seen things I never needed to see, such as Miley Cyrus’s tongue – over and over and over. I could have lived my life very happily without ever hearing the name Miley Cyrus. I would have been infinitely happier had I never seen her ever present tongue.
Because of the internet, I know all the Kardashians names and what they look like. I
know who Miley Cyrus is. I’ve seen what two girls do with a cup. I know
the words to “Call Me Maybe”, seen the definition of “goetze”. Watched a
tattooed penis go from larva to full grown “butterfly”, know who Honey
Boo Boo and Mama June are. The
internet is a bottomless pit of muck and useless information that is IN
YOUR FACE simply because you turn on your computer, tablet or telephone.
Spiky questioned as to why Miley was taking all the heat from me and none was given to Robin Thicke. Well,
to be honest, I didn’t realize she had a partner in crime until I heard
it on the TV news. Can you even imagine Walter Cronkite reporting on
this!?! Of course, I “googled” Mr. Thicke. Did y’all know he had the #1
song of the summer? I don’t know what it is but he had it. AND … Alan Thicke is his father! Robin Thicke obviously isn’t as “out there” as either Miley or any of the Kardashians. I didn’t watch the VMA’s.
I don’t watch the Kardashian show(s), nor do I watch the show with that horrid Boo Boo child. I know about these people because it and/or they are plastered on the web 24/7 for weeks! I
could have lived for 100 more years without ever hearing about or
seeing Kanye West after the Taylor Swift thing. (I don’t listen to
either’s music but I know who they are!) But then he goes and knocks-up
Kim Kardashian (she has such exquisite taste in men, doesn’t she?) it
was ALL-KANYE-ALL-KIM-ALL-THE-TIME! You’da thunk the woman was going to birth the new Messiah.
The internet isn’t just dumbing down America, it’s dumbing down the world! Okay, Okay! That’s extreme but it could happen if the entire world was as obsessed as we are with celebrity. Didja know that if you ask little kids nowadays what they want to be when they grow up, the main answer is, “Famous!” Not an astronaut, cowboy, ballerina, doctor or teacher. They want to be famous. Hopefully parents will teach them the difference between famous and infamous. Separate the wheat from the chaff. In
the future, I’ll try to bash everyone who participates is shockingly
miserable performances equally but since I refuse to fill my already
taxed brain with more utterly useless information, I’ll still continue
to only do superficial and visual research. Sorry, Spiky!
pretty sure that everybody has had an episode in their early life that
has affected them in a way that will endure until they pass onto the
Some have had positive experiences that they will gladly tell you about in reverent tones.Others have had something horrible happen to them and they won’t discuss it with anyone.Then
there are those who’s life-altering experience is terrible, they won’t
talk about it until the time comes when they can no longer remain
silent.When these poor folks
tell you what they’ve been living with for years upon years, your
reaction is, “Holy Crap! You’re goofier than a box of rocks!”
My dear readers, I fall into that third category.Since
you already know, because I’ve repeatedly told you, I’m a few flowers
short of a bouquet; you’ll refrain from the “box of rocks” comments.
On December 5, 1960, my father died.It was his 60th birthday.He. Died. On. His. BIRTHDAY!I’m
sure it was a miserable, horrible surprise (a massive heart attack at
work) for him but it left an indelible mark on me, his daughter.For 53 years, I’ve lived with the absolute terror of my 60th birthday.I know that my fear is irrational.My
fear of clowns is also irrational but it’s there and no matter what I
tell myself, clowns still make me pee my knickers a little every time I
For a long time, it was just a vague thought that would swirl around in my brain.I wasn’t too worried because I was only 19, 27, 34, 47, but now that my 60th birthday is smack dab in front of me, I am crazier than usual.My
family and friends are constantly “pooh-poohing” me when I bring it up
(which is daily since January) but I think they are secretly scared
shitless. The lunacy of an already
on-the-edge-post-menopausal-white-woman could be epic.I’ve requested no cards, no gifts, no cake, and no mention of my birthday at all.I’ve told them this isn’t a ploy – PLEASE, do not do one thing to mark the occasion.I am, excuse the pun, deadly serious.
I’ve made an attempt to get all my ducks in a row, just in case, but per usual there are a bunch of stragglers wandering hither and yon.I guess I shouldn’t worry too much about them ‘cause should the worst happen, I’ll be far from caring.
So, there you have it.My deepest, totally wacko, life-changing event.You can now feel relieved that you aren’t the most insane person you know.Hopefully, I’ve made you happier about your own irrational fear.I’ll be awake from 11:59 pm September 21 through 12:01 am September 23.Why tempt fate?If you see me online, please just say, “Hi!” ... Birthday wishes will not be accepted.
Does she have an illness that causes uncontrollable tongue sticking out-itis? I found this on LiveStrong ~
describes abnormal tongue enlargement. This condition can cause
misalignment of the teeth and speech difficulties. The University of
Maryland Medical Center reports that macroglossia often occurs with
certain congenital or inherited conditions, including Down syndrome,
Beckwith-Wiedemann syndrome, acromegaly, congenital hypothyroidism and
primary amyloidosis. Macroglossia can also occur due to tongue swelling
or abnormal tissue growth caused by a variety of disorders including
multiple myeloma, sarcoidosis, tongue tumors and certain infections.
It doesn't mention that the affected might be a nasty, low-life, untalented tart, though.
Besides, Gene Simmons did/does it better and not nearly as often.
I haven't watched the VMA's since Rock & Roll died but being alive in our technological age means that you see things that you can never unsee like Miley Cyrus and every damn one of the Kardashians. I am just appalled at the pictures of this nasty bitch that are covering every square inch of the internet.You'll forgive me for sharing, won't you?
No, I'm not having the contest. My imagination doesn't extend that far. My favorite, NEWLYWED zombie girl,IT'S ON RANDOM is holding the contest. She and her husband are going to publish a coloring and activity book and the bestMONSTER MAD LIB(S) will be featured in the book! WOOHOO!
Go visit her blog to get all the rules, examples, etc. and then go get writing! I know there are some absolutely fabulous writers that come visit me, here's your chance for immortality! (wink!)
Ferris Bueller had a totally rockin’ day off – me not so much.
Last Friday, I took the day off work because my grandson had his 4-month check-up and his mom had a doctor’s appointment. The
appointments were both scheduled early in the morning and since the
offices are right next door to each other, I figured I could get some
stuff done the rest of the day. Ah! The best laid plans of mice and grandmothers do quickly go awry!
Lemme give you the highlights.
at 6 pm, I took a swig of Z-Quil. I don’t sleep well because according
to the sleep study I had done several years ago, I chase rabbits all
night. My legs never stop moving. (Apparently sleep
running does nothing to build more shapely thighs. Sad.) I also snore
like a drunken sailor. (True. I’ve woken myself up. Very embarrassing.) Anyway, the Z-Quil is a lovely thing – I sleep like the dead. Luckily,
I was out by 9 pm ‘cause at 1:30 am, my rabbit pursuit was curtailed by
my son loudly requesting I, “Come look at the baby’s arm.” Panic
out of bed, I went to their room to inspect said arm. There I found mom
crying hysterically, my son pacing and baby happily sucking on his
binky seemingly without a care in the world. However, one look at me sent him into a crying fit. His left arm wasn’t moving. OMFG!!!! His arm was pink and warm but bending it at the elbow intensified his crying. Seems mom went to lay him in the crib, he stuck his arm out and it ended up twisted under him. I decided a trip to the ER was in order.
That brought on more hysterics by both mom and dad thinking that baby would be snatched up by CMS or the men in black. I told them both to calm down that it would be fine. I also decided that coffee and nicotine were in order while the readied the baby.
After going in to wash up, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I knew why the baby started to cry when he saw me. I was terrifying. I am so not a morning person. Especially 1:30 in the morning.
My thoughts were that since the weekend hadn’t really started that the ER would be fairly quiet a 2:15 am. Wrong. A
double shooting in "the ‘hood| brought 2 ambulances, numerous friends,
relatives and neighbors with children and dogs, and various police
agencies to the hospital. In my still semi-Z-Quil stupor, I forgot my coffee in the car but wasn’t allowed out of the ER until the “lockdown” was lifted. This was not going well.
approximately 3:05 am, stoner Doogie Howser, M.D. came to check the
baby. He stretched, pulled and pushed his arm much to the baby’s
discontent then ordered x-rays. I mentioned to him that my grandson’s
shoulder or elbow might be dislocated but he being an M.D. and all, said
that “nursemaid’s elbow” was more of a pulling injury, not a pushing
one. The x-ray tech showed up at 3:20 am. Doogie came back
at 3:50 to inform us that all was well, no dislocations and it was
probably just a bruise. Watch him and if it wasn’t better in the real
morning, take him to the pediatrician. Brilliant! (By the way, the charges for this excursion totaled $1,990.00!)
arrived back home somewhere around 5:00 am. At that point, time had
become irrelevant. Baby and mom went to bed while Mulder, my son and I
drank some more coffee. Mulder and my son went off to work around 6:30 am and
I took a much-needed shower.
At 8:30, I woke mom up. She in turn got the baby up, fed, dressed and we were off to the doctor. The
pediatrician was told what had transpired in the wee morning hours. She
took one look at the baby’s arm and said his elbow was dislocated. She also wondered why the ER doctor didn’t see it on the x-ray. Well, there was no answer for that, was there? The doctor set about popping the baby’s elbow back in. This was not an enjoyable procedure – for baby, mom or grand. Especially when our doctor couldn’t quite get it and she called in the other doctor. OH! MY! GODS! I’m not sure who was crying harder, the baby, mom or me. It was horrible! I thought that since babies bones are soft that the procedure wouldn’t be too bad. WRONG!
trauma stopped once the elbow was realigned but he still wasn’t moving
his arm. The doctors assured us he’d be A-OK shortly. We left after he
was weighed, measured, inspected and injected. Mom got her doctor’s visit over and it was time to head home. Or so I thought.
By now, I was damn near incoherent. I truly began to hear my bed calling to me. It was only 10:45 am. Sleep would have to wait, though. In all the confusion, I forgot that mom has also scheduled a dental appointment for that morning! A trip to Starbucks was the only thing that saved me. Their regular coffee is like crack.
arriving home at 1:30 pm on my much anticipated day off, I was too
tired to do anything but watch some Law & Order: Criminal Intent
re-runs and drift off to sleep to dream about becoming a recluse, alone
in a mountain cabin.
Of course, when I see this face ~
running away, sleeping, pressure, stress, all fade away and I realize that life - if not perfect - is okay.
Created by the warped mind of
Does saying that you’re a good cook make you a good cook? You can say it until you’re blue in the face but unless you can prove it, it isn’t a fact. Am I right?
thinkin’ the same logic would hold true for someone that say’s, “I’m a
can talk about and/or write about your goodness and your devotion to
your chosen Deity but unless you’ve proven it, why should I believe you? In turn, if you have to point out your “goodness” to various and sundry, are you truly being good?
my humble opinion, I believe if you have to say you’re good and/or feel
the desire to list all your good deeds on a frequent basis, you might
not be as benevolent and righteous as you might want me to believe.
Bourne, the pseudonym of Jonathan Freedland wrote a book, “The Righteous Men”. It’s one of my Dollar Store finds and is an excellent
read. The premise is based on Jewish belief that
there are 36 righteous men in the world and it’s the goodness of those
men that keep the world from ending. The men don’t have to be men of great devotion or belief. They don’t even have to belong to The Birth and Resurrection Society – they don’t even have to believe in any God(s). The
36 are truly good and will sacrifice, do something beneficial for
others, right a wrong, etc. out of the goodness of their heart and they
don’t expect recognition or profit in return. The 36 are unknown, even to themselves.
I like this myth, story, belief, a lot. I
helps me to understand that even though our planet is batshit crazy
right now, there might be, no matter how few, some truly good, decent
people in the world. And the Goddess knows, they must be workin' their butts off!
I need to have the belief that goodness and righteousness will prevail
after reading about Bank of America, the I.R.S., how much our Prez’s vacation is going to cost us (and we won’t even get a t-shirt!) and the
death by a thousand cuts that Paula Deen is facing. She is a GOOD cook, that’s a fact!
Please do not think that I’m going to defend Ms. Deen’s words or actions because I think using the “N-word” is appropriate. It’s not and neither is using any other derogatory term for other races, nationalities or religions. But, I do want to see someone of ANY race – white, brown, black, - that hasn’t used the “N-word” at least once in their life. I’m
also curious to know, if Ms. Deen had called one of her staff, “a
faggot” or “a fat bitch/bastard”, would this kind of media-thrashing
have gone on? Paula made an error in judgment. She used words without thinking. Yes, they were hurtful words, they stung but they didn’t kill. Human beings make mistakes. I also think that African-Americans calling each other that word isn't right. Mulder doesn't like to be called, "Wop" or "Guinea" by anyone, especially another person of Italian descent.
Paula Deen a truly good person? I dunno. She seems nice. She’s done
amazing things for butter. Should she be persecuted on television, in
writing and online for outdated notions or un-P.C. language? No, she shouldn’t. Nor should anyone else unless somehow their words are intentionally spoken to hurt or defame.
that want to throw “stones” at another that has made a mistake or even
if it’s only a mistake because she got caught, look inside yourself. Go
to your heart of hearts and determine if you can find a truly righteous
person in there. Can you toss that stone without guilt? If you can’t, then come join me in chucking some rocks at Bank of America or the I.R.S. It’ll do your soul good, 'cause NO ONE is as rotten to the core as BofA! NO ONE!
I'm not Italian, from New Jersey, nor am I in the Mafia but I had/have a visceral connection with character of Tony Soprano. I related to the fact that he was a person with demons but still had to take care of a family and work. It's hard to explain how this "man" touched me.
from having crazed face eating folks, serial killers and 93 year-olds
that still have driver’s licenses and cars, Florida has some damn freaky
insects and reptiles.
I’ve lived down here in Hell’s foyer for 37 years.
I was born in New York. The only bugs that I remember scaring the crap
out of me up there were praying mantis. In Florida, every time I turn
around, there’s some new invasive species popping-up that could headline
their own horror film. The
walking catfish for example, while not an insect or reptile; it can
rise out of the water and WALK, people! – fish-walk on land to get to
its next watery home! No self-respecting northern fish
leaves its lake to walk around looking for a better location. They know
that trotting around someone’s driveway at 7:00 am will produce screams
that George Romero would get hard for and being beaten to death with a
souvenir Mets baseball bat is shameful.
has Palmetto bugs, which are really just humongous flying cockroaches
but it’s easier to screech, “There’s a Palmetto bug in the shower – KILL
IT NOW!”, then “TheresahumongousflyingcockroachintheshowerKILLITNOW!” In addition, it’s more polite to point out to your dinner host that a Palmetto bug has fallen in your drink than a cockroach.
Snakes are also prevalent in Florida. Some are poisonous like the Coral Snake. Just
to have fun with us, Mother Nature also made the King Snake – it’s not
poisonous but has the same colors as the Coral Snake but in a different
pattern! How ‘bout THAT! Here’s the little poem you’re supposed to remember if you encounter a red, yellow and black snake –
Red Touch Yellow - Kills a Fellow
Red Touch Black - Venom Lack
Yellow Touches Red - Soon You'll Be Dead
Red Touches Black - Friend of Jack
That’s exactly what I’m gonna be doing in front of a snake, reciting poetry!
Black racers are almost as plentiful as our state bird, the mosquito. They are harmless but still will cause me to totally loose my shit especially when I find one curled up in the dining room. Or hanging out of the tree near my front door sticking its nasty tongue out at me.
Lizards – anoles and geckos are common sights down here in the tropics. They’re small, cute and you get used to them fairly quickly. I’m not partial to them in the kitchen or bedroom, though. I’m worried I might accidently cook one in the pasta sauce or one might crawl in my ear while I’m asleep.
far, neither has happened but I still need to be vigilant. I’ve also
gotten used to the mutant grasshoppers that look like they’ve taken
steroids since birth and the dragonflies that are as big as Lear Jets.
What I haven’t gotten used to are the curly tail lizards. These guys are HUGE! As in baby Godzilla huge. They are also not as timid as the little lizards. Well,
they will eat the little lizards, so there’s that. The curly tails will
stand their ground when you walk by or they’ll dart out of a bush
narrowly missing your foot. They also look at you with those beady lizard eyes, seemingly thinking how you’d taste for dinner. This guy was sunning himself on the sidewalk outside my office recently. My taking his picture didn’t faze him in the least. Their tails curl up when they run or slink around on their bellies looking for someone else to terrorize.
This is the only picture I actually took
grew up in Westchester County in New York. My playgrounds were fields,
woods, creeks and orchards; I never saw one snake in all those years.
You can imagine my shock at seeing one making himself all cozy-like in
years ago, I moved from Southern to sort of East Central Florida. Even
for all the weird, wicked wildlife in my area, I’m grateful that so far
we’ve avoided the iguana and giant African snail invasions. Although,
I heard that the curly tail lizards migrated from the south and we are
now poised on the edge of a hostile takeover by ginormous aggressive
mosquitoes so if you hear blood curdling screams coming from The
Sunshine State, know that I’ve just encountered either an iguana,
slipped in giant African snail slime or been skewered by a mutant
This is a blog by a woman in her 50's who is finally on the crooked path to find who she truly is.
Married at 19 and divorced at 53. I am going to unearth the artist, the cynic, the free spirit that has been long buried. Or die trying.
I've left Bethlehem
and I feel free...
I've left the girl I was supposed to be
and some day I'll be born.