One can only hope...

I have a post mentally prepared. A story I wanted to tell about my Daddy and my Great-Grandfather, but today I don’t feel too good. It’s going to have to wait.

I didn’t want to completely miss another Wednesday post, so, here listen to The Band, et al.

Twofer

OK, I completely missed a blog post last week and today it’s getting pretty late and I haven’t come up with an intriguing topic yet. A few weeks ago I finished ‘Roughing It’ by Mark Twain and thoroughly enjoyed the read. I love the way he thinks and writes. If there is a chance to digress into another topic than the one at hand, Twain will go for it with gusto. I suppose I love that style so much, because it fits exactly the way my brain works. Having a twenty minute conversation with me can leave you confused and wondering just exactly what we began talking about. I would have loved the chance to sit down with ole Mark and have a visit, but then it could have taken us months to completely converse on one small topic.

Anyway…’Roughing It’ is his memoir of sorts about his big excursion to the West. Nevada in particular during the boom days of silver mining in the Carson City area. I love that part of the country, especially Lake Tahoe and have visited there more than once, therefore, many of the things he discourses on are familiar. His dry wit evokes downright hilarity in extreme situations.

The final chapters of ‘Roughing It’ are dedicated to his travels to the pacific islands that now make up the state of Hawaii. The descriptions of various attributes of the tropics, particularly the insects are exact and fantastically funny, at least to someone like me who currently resides in the tropics and has no choice but to laugh at the predicaments you can get into involving bugs.

Most of you are probably familiar with Mr. Twain’s characterizations of Tom and Huck and their antics, but if you haven’t read ‘Roughing It’ and been a little more ‘up close and personal with ole Mark Twain himself, I highly recommend it.

Next up with a little book that was far more frivolous and profane but another up close and personal look at a man, including  his relationship with his father, ‘S#*! My Dad Says’ by Justin Halpern. This was some light reading that only took me a few hours to finish. There are some awkward moments for Justin with a father who is blunt and profane about everything, but by the end I definitely had the feeling that he wouldn’t have missed a minute of it. Although, Dad is a tough old bird who tell it like it is, there is no doubt that he loves and is proud o his family, Justin in particular. This is a light read that you might enjoy while waiting in the dentist office to have a root canal, but be careful least others worry about you because at times it is just plain laugh out loud funny.

So, when I opened this blank page I hadn’t intended to write a review of anything let alone two, but it’s just how my brain works. Blank pages – start typing – see what is hidden in the recesses of my mind. Give ‘em a try. Start with ‘Roughing It by Mark Twain and finish out the day with “S#*! My Dad Says’ by Justin Halpern. I think you’ll might like them both.   

IWSG or Die Vampire Die

I’m up to my arse (it’s not really cussing is you spell it like that, right?) in alligators. Trust me, this does absolutely nothing for my basic insecurities. I’m not in a good mental state to really go on, so I’ll just let you listen to a little tune that may or may not help you with your own insecurities and at the same time it should clue you into my biggest one ‘the voice of reason’.

Please be warned this little song is from the Broadway Musical ‘Title of Show’ and you know how those Broadway types are, thar be  adult content here (that just insured you’re all gonna click on it, didn’t it?). Know that you have been warned, I don’t want anybody showing up in my front yard with torches and pitchforks.

For more information on the IWSG or to read other posts please go HERE

Then up at the very top click on the TAB that says 'Insecure Writers Support Group'.

The Great Spider Debacle or YIKES, I don't know what to do!

While I can't say for a fact this was Mr. Hairy Legs, they are at least related.

Yesterday was my little friend Macy’s first day at the new theater group her mother signed her up for. She was so excited. Because Mom works, she asked me to pick Macy up from school and entertain her for about an hour and a half and they take her to ‘The Calico Cat Company’ theater group. Since I thoroughly enjoy spending time with Macy, I thought, sure why not. Macy is six years old.

The policy at Macy’s school is you drive up this one-way street where the kids are waiting to be picked up on a porch. Each car takes it’s turn stopping at the stairs as a teacher diligently inspects each vehicle to be sure you have the proper clearance to pick up the child you are requesting. (Actually, that’s how it’s supposed to work, but you pull up, call the child’s name and as long as they seem to know you and come to the vehicle willingly, nobody questions a thing.) Anyway…after following said procedure, Macy walks around the front of my vehicle and comes to the rear door on the passenger side to enter. (I should probably mention here that the place where you are required to stop is barely at the crest of a rather steep hill – and it’s helpful to know that my car has a manual transmission.)

Macy says “Hi” to me through the open window and opens the back door. The next sound out of her mouth is a shrill, blood curdling scream. I look over at her through the open door and see three bright orange and black hairy legs of a spider that has to weight about forty pounds. I’m trying to calm Macy down, when she starts screaming, “I don’t know what to do,” while standing there staring at said spider. I’m trapped behind the wheel with one foot on the brake and the other on the clutch, not sure how good my emergency brake is, when I holler back at her, ‘slam to door and get in the front.’ Sheesh!

Macy complies and scrambles into the front passenger seat. Next, I make a fatal mistake.

I ask one of the teachers, supervising the children for help. I explain that there is a GIANT spider on the car and can she please come around the side and kick it off for me. She comes around the side of the car and shrugs while telling me there is nothing there. I think oh shit sheepskin; it’s in the door jamb, so I tell her to open the door. Sure enough, there he is all huge and orange and hairy (remember I still can only see about three legs of him, but I’m sure he was smiling and evil grin.) Again I ask her to kick it off into the street.

Does she do that? NOOOO, she takes her hand and flicks him into the backseat. Then she looks up at me and says; “ah, oh. I guess I didn’t do too good.” Are you kidding me lady, and you are in charge of children. I just smile and thank her anyway as she slams the door.

Macy is now huddled on the front seat refusing to put her feet down on the floor. I drive away, every few second feeling this creepy crawly on my leg. Yeah, you guessed it, we spent the next hour and a half tooling around town doing errands, just the three of us; Me, Macy and Mr. Hairy Legs.

Later that night, I had to get someone, to hunt him down (Mr. Hairy Legs), kill him and remove the carcass. They tried to minimize his size, but I wasn’t hearing any of it. That sucker was 40 pounds of hairy, scary, trantulaness.

Ah, life in paradise. So what was your Tuesday like?

SEA OTTERS, HUMANS, AND HOLDING HANDS

A few weeks ago I posted a blog bit titled ANCHORS. I talked about being adrift and wondering what you, my readers held as your anchor. Well so far after the fact, that probably nobody but me saw it ‘luckymama13’ commented:

     ‘Did you know that sea otters hold hands while they sleep so as not to drift apart?

      Anchors can and are in many forms.

      I love you.’

Today, I reply to luckymama13 ~ Thank you for that information. I love you too, honey. (For those of you who don’t know, lunckmama13 is my daughter.)

All that aside, I decided to do some research on Sea Otters. I found that it’s true; they do hold hands when they sleep. Now I don’t suppose a sea otter has ever explained exactly why they are holding hands to a research scientist (file this under things like – all dogs are color blind – how do they know that?), but they do sleep in ‘rafts’, large groups of up to 100 otters floating on the sea often holding hands. Sometimes they even wrap themselves in kelp. The most logical explanation for either of these actions is to anchor themselves to the group.

Quite a few of my readers replied to my question about what is their anchor, but stating it is their family. It makes me wonder why, as a whole, people are not concerned about standing together.

In this modern world we face a lot of tough issues. Of course, we don’t all agree how to handle all of these issues, but if we could at least stand together and try to find a viable solution, instead of insisting ours is the only way, don’t you think we would have a better chance. If we could open our hearts and minds to truly looking for solutions rather than resorting to ambiguous attacks on the opposing viewpoints, wouldn’t we at least be starting a dialogue that just might lead to some productivity? If we kept our emotions in check and looked at things logically, systematically ruling out the impossible and impractical and forging communication based on facts, shouldn't we have a more sturdy platform on which to agree.

As a woman, I’m all about ‘holding hands’. We hold the hands of our children to protect them keep them close and help them to feel loved and safe. We hold hands to show affection to others and provide a real physical connection. We hold hands to share grief, show sympathy, empathy and solidarity. And finally maybe we should hold hands so as not to drift away from the most basic needs, wants and desires of the human race – an opportunity to feel love.

In preparing this post, I started to think; what would it be like if during the most contested debate the two parties were required to face each other and hold hands while expressing their views. Do you suppose it would make a difference? Would they act more civil to the party they oppose? Would they take more care and time to explain their position? Would they take more time and care to truly listen to their opponent? Or would it become a ‘hand squeezing’ contest to see who could inflict more pain?

Just a thought.

Banning, Burning and other Bombasities

Banning, Burning and other Bombasities

There is so much floating around on the Internet these days about the banning of this or that. Currently it primarily has to do with guns. Emotions are running high after the shooting in CT, where twenty innocent children were sacrificed to absolute evil and madness. I have children who are very close to my heart, of the same age, attending school in the same grade, as these victims, so make no mistake that this is a tragedy that hits very close to home.

I have read emotional blog posts that say; ‘if we love our children, we simply MUST fight for gun control and ultimately confiscation’. I on the other hand believe that, ‘if we truly love our families, especially our children we must use our very last breath to insure they have the opportunity to grow old while enjoying freedom from tyranny.’

Most would seem to agree that we should fight the enemy from without, but these same folks don’t seem to grasp that the best way for an enemy to conquer is to infiltrate (be bought into the physical and emotional arena of trust) their opponents homeland as well as their hearts. This is a tactic that goes back to ancient times – anybody remember the ‘Trojan Horse’. And, of course, I’m sure you all know the best way to cook a frog. You simply cannot throw him into a pot of boiling water, as he is able to jump right out, BUT if you place him in tepid water and slowly turn up the heat he will become used to the gentle warming, as he relaxes, this poor frog will have absolutely no idea that he is beginning to cook until it is much too late for him to do anything but be served up as the main course. The questions here might be; do we know the enemy within? Who is it turning up the heat? And have we been presented with a very personal Trojan horse?

Someone, somewhere, at someplace in time is most likely advocating burning some book or effigy that they personally find offensive. It’s easy for most to jump on a bandwagon of banning an inanimate object or even an idea that is evidently the cause of some great tragedy. Persons are scorned and mocked for their beliefs and ideals every day, even when, or maybe especially when, those beliefs and ideals are backed up by hard facts. This only proves to me that most people are afraid. And by that I mean they are afraid of most everything. They have succumbed to the great evil that would paralyze us from within by our own fears, another example of conquest by infiltration.

 I abhor ‘political correctness’. While I don’t believe in or advocate all out name calling and general rudeness, I do believe in the quote by Moses acting as Charlton Heston or is vice versa? While he was still coherent he said; ‘Political Correctness is simply tyranny with manners’. Lately, it appears the world of the PC have begun to drop the manners and started to play tough. There are some people you cannot call to question. There are some questions that will not be answered even though all facts point to an explanation. There are some explanations that are not for the ears of the general public.

As I see it, in order to survive and insure the peaceful survival of our posterity we must overcome our fears, rise to the occasion at hand and shout when ‘enough is enough’. Make no mistake, I am for the most part a very peaceful person, a pacifist at heart, while at the same time I embrace the motto, ‘Don’t tread on me’ (or mine). You would also be wise to make no mistake that I’m no longer some idealistic twenty or thirty something. Also know this; I have looked down the barrel of a semi-automatic weapon with a bayonet attached, wielded by military personnel, in my homeland, in the very city of my nativity. I have witnessed people physically beaten and emotionally discharged for their very appearance, not to mention their beliefs and ideals. I have felt the heartbreak of the loss of innocence by an entire nation. I have endured the misfortune of watching as a member of my own family surrendered their belief and trust in a government gone wrong.

All of the above is way more information than I have ever intended to give about myself here in this space, and probably volumes more than you ever wanted to hear about this ‘dumb blonde’. I don’t tell you these things to make myself seem more knowledgeable or superior to anyone else, but rather that you might have some idea of the naiveté that I lack. If you have read more than a half dozen of my blog posts, there should be no doubt in your mind who I and my house serve. I also hope you now know that I believe Banning and Burning what we fear, is a Bombastic approach to securing our happiness and freedom, and exactly what the Enemy wants us to do.

Check out one nations solution to tyranny HERE. The DVD is available through Netflix. Ninety-seven minutes well spent.

Anchors

Anchors – The Free Dictionary say an anchor is:

A heavy object attached to a vessel by a cable or rope and cast overboard to keep the vessel in place either by its weight or by its flukes, which grip the bottom.

A source of security or stability.

Recently, I‘ve been wondering what my anchor was and where it went. I have my faith and belief system, but beyond that there isn’t much. I’m wondering exactly what a good anchor should be. Other people? That sounds like setting yourself up for some pretty severe disappointment. Job or Career? More of the same – disappointment, disappointment, disappointment. Location, place or home? Again this seems dangerous.

Personally speaking, I think I’ve been a failure at ‘other people’, i.e. relationships. Not a very good anchor for me to choose. Job or career? Well, in the course of my life, I’ve had plenty of both, but I have resisted being defined by them, so probably not a good anchor choice. Location, place or home? I’ve spent so much of my time moving around that although many days I feel as like I would like to ‘go home’, I have no idea where that is. (I was born and raised in Chicago, IL, but my parents are gone, no siblings, only one aged aunt, few cousins and a very dear friend left there.) I do have some other family, but they all seem to not ‘need’ me at the present. (This is not necessarily a bad thing. No sympathy needed here.)

I think about my writing and wonder how committed to it I really am. I have been devoting my time to revisions on a story that is near and dear to me. I decided I wanted it to be the best it could be, for me and for itself. That means even if it never sees the light of publication. It’s a story I want to tell. Is that an anchor? I really don’t know.

This is starting to sound depressing. I’m really not depressed, but I am drifting and that’s not good. So tell me, what are you anchored to. What is the most important thing, idea, or whatever, in your life? I’m just wondering.