It’s about life…

car_crash_rearend_accident_akesak-e1450457751442

 

Our daily adventure on Wednesday was something entirely new – we were rear-ended twice on 6th Street, by which I mean twice in quick succession, as in BAM!…BAM!! I screamed (ever wonder how you’ll react in a sudden crisis?) because it felt and sounded like we were being run over by a tall heavy truck, which we were not, but if we were I should have been saying “Kim, I love you. Forever. For always. No matter what.” No, I’m not the quick-thinker of the family. Kim – who is – calmly, with a hand over his bleeding right ear, steered us to a safer area, followed by the offending “truck,” a shiny late-model black Lexus, out of which hopped an adorbs young woman saying basically “Omigod, omigod, omigod!!”

She could not believe she hit us, but what she couldn’t believe MORE is that there was no visible damage to either car. Her words were, I believe, “Omigod, and I hit you HARD!! TWICE!!” The sweet virgin backside of our sparkly new red Mazda 6 GT was unmolested except for one teeny-tiny nick in the precise center of the lower bumper which we all vowed never to speak of again. The Lexus may or may not have experienced a miniscule brush with road rash of some sort, which wiped away with a touch. What I’m sayin’ is that they’re both leases and all is well. We’re confident my “whiplash,” and Kim’s eardrum will experience happy endings, too.

Meanwhile, we got to meet Terri, yet another lovely Lawrencian, whose intriguing business card bears this quote from Virginia Woolf: “One cannot live well, love well, or sleep well, unless one has dined well.” Amen, Ms. Woolf, and that’s why most of our daily adventures somehow end up revolving around food…

Final comment before parting ways? Terri told me my hair was cute, which strikes me as so quintessentially #lfk. What was the Love Level at YOUR last fender-bender?

Image

Whimsy…who doesn’t need some?

A psych-out when I start feeling weighed down by nonsense is to “brighten the corner where I are.” It’s the equivalent of Spring Cleaning without the lifting, bending, and sundry other exercise I like to refer to as work. My desk and I are good friends, so of course I ignore it and treat it like crap most of the time, but there always comes a day when the windows have to be flung open and the detritus swept away. Today is that day – AGAIN – in my world, and lucky you, I love to (over)share.

We start with our big honkin’ desktop because EYEBALL FEAST EVERY TIME WE SIT DOWN HERE. You can immediately see what a crucial first step this is, besides which everything from this point hinges on it. (Gah, I always hope my readers are note takers.) Nobody else’s desktop will suffice – it must speak to me, personally, in some way, and most tell me “You are freakin’ nuts, lady” which is when I know I’ve found THE ONE.

Today’s springboard, our dominant image:

wallup.net

That’s merely the start, although admittedly an auspicious one. Now that we have an arresting vista in front of us at all times, we must upload that same image as our Facebook cover picture. Done. And, since we use a sweet add-on called Facebook Purity, we get to upload a background image for all of Facebook. Furthermore, since the name of today’s game is *cheer,* we’re using this one:

HD-Plain-Yellow-Background-with-Flowers

Is that not an enjoyable little kick in the shorts over and over? When you spend a lot of time somewhere it’s powerful to make it yours.

Next up is our Facebook blog page, which obviously has to coordinate with the overall theme we’re developing here, and this will do quite nicely as our cover photo:

abstract-digital-art-top-hd-wallpapers-in-widescreen-free-hd-artworks-desktop-images-art-wallpapers-for-mac-1805x1015-736x459

All of our Facebook pages share a background, which is working out swimmingly, as you can see. We are ON A ROLL, boys and girls. Add this same image as the header for our blog page, tweak the background, and violas!! Moving on…

What shall we do next? We have choices:

  1. Two Gmail accounts whose non-coordinating backgrounds are piteously crying “Pick me, pick me!”
  2. The big loud Twitter header, or is that just my monitor? But yeah, there’s that.
  3. And we have to go get a new Chrome Theme.

Oh, haha, I forgot, this is my page, I choose! We’re doing the Twitter header next and there’s an outstanding reason for that – IT’S GONNA BE IMAGE #1 UP THERE AGAIN! See how simple this is? See a pattern here? Give a shit?

So now we’ll tackle the whiny Gmail accounts. Okay, pay attention because this is where this stuff gets tricky.

WE’RE GOING TO USE TWO OF THE SAME BACKGROUNDS WE’VE ALREADY UPLOADED. If I didn’t crack myself up I’d have no fun whatsoever. And I did try to warn you up top via words like whimsy and psych – which is like a twin or something to psycho, right?

And here’s where you get in on the fun – you get to decide which two of the three backgrounds above you want to use for your mail! You know, when you redesign it all according to what speaks to you.

Okay, all we have to do is find a new Chrome Theme and we’re set – there are a million of ’em and it’s fun. This one’s perfect and I’m happy. Cheery, even. For all the reasons.

Screenshot 2016-07-28 at 03.27.00 PM

Hope you are, too.

 

Image

Known only to me…

When I am old I shall wear purple and every damn color I want, probably all at once. I’ll be just like every other dried up old malcontent you’ve encountered, but different in ways known only to me, thus this brief Manifesto of Independence is for whoever ends up having to deal with me, most likely husband and then son, not that life ever follows a script.

IN CASE OF FUTURE FULL-ON FOSSILIZATION, BREAK GLASS TO READ:

  1. If I’m hungry, all efforts are futile until food happens – I more and more don’t have the capacity to maintain sanity during hangry spells. Good news: the devil within is easily placated, provided we like what we’re being bought off with.
  2.  I still hear non-stop music inside my skull from the ice fall last winter and it can get overwhelming in a way that loosens my hinges a little. It may never go dormant, so please factor that in when trying to reason with me.
  3. If I’m certifiably demented, don’t try to reason with me at all. Too much like arguing with the proverbial porker – only serves to frustrate you and irritate the pig. I’ll probably be fine in whatever world is current for me, so don’t waste precious resources trying to talk me out of it.
  4. Likewise, if intractable pain can’t someday be addressed with legal medical-grade cannabis – the thing that stops it – then pain awareness will have to be a fixture in the equation, too. I hate that, it sucks, I’ll be doing my best to stay sweet and not cause anybody trouble, but there it is, the big whiny elephant in the room.
  5.  It will be in everyone’s best interest to keep #’s 1, 2, and 4 from happening simultaneously. Good luck to ya’.
  6.  A great set of Beats headphones and Elton & Leon’s “The Union”will keep me out of your face for days – use it. Joshua Radin, Jennifer Warnes, Jason Mraz, the soundtrack of Catch & Release, The Lone Bellow, The Milk Carton Kids…  Merely a sampling – I’ll try to keep the playlist updated* until check-out – it will always be eclectic.
  7.  I don’t require much for survival, but two must-haves beyond music are books and a way to communicate. Even if you think I’m past reading, leave a book or two around because…you never know. No fluff, no bodice-rippers, best no serials. Poetry – that’s what I want – Krista’s, please. Give me an inactivated iPhone if it seems to provide a sense of being in touch with somebody, but if we’re all fortunate I’ll simply slip into a world where none of it matters to me anymore except the good times and die with a smile on my face. Or get hit by a bus. We never know.
  8.  Apparently women past 40 are programmed to grow an increasingly disgusting amount of first dark then white extraneous hair on our faces. If you leave that shit intact I promise I will come back after I die and sleep between you and your significant other until the end of your days. I mean this.
  9. If I need to live in a care facility for the good of all concerned, please try to find one that operates like a highly tolerant family – one where eating and sleeping are managed individually rather than institutionally – that would be huge. Also, of course, where no one will hurt me, whether on staff or in residence – that’s pretty huge, too.
  10. The baseline changes imperceptibly with the decades, but I will never not want to look and smell as good as reality allows. Please don’t subject me to the pitying faces of strangers without helping me look as much like this still-me person as anyone could expect. And while I’m here – please universe, no diapers, ‘K?
  11. After I’ve made my presence felt in my immediate world for as long as I can and something takes me out of here, give me a smokin’ hot body one last time and pack my ashes to the coast – pick one – for a sweetly drunken campfire and whatever you want to say about me. Talking to you of course, Kim and John.
  12. In the past few years since I let myself start writing again, I’ve put a body of words out there in the cloud that may or may not survive in one jot or iota. As long as the synapses fire I’m sure I’ll keep contributing to that pile of thought-turned-words that will, odds-on, prove to have been solely for my own rescue. That’s another thing we never know about – where it all goes when we do. Kind of pisses me off that I won’t be around to see if any of my sentences end up on Google Search. What I’m saying is, you two guys can do what you want with what I won’t be taking with me. Big Kev knows how to get to my passwords – that’s for the wording, the bits and pieces of ME. The rest of it…you know what to do.
  13. Anyway, thirteen points being my style, that’s about it. Keep it simple, keep it all about love, keep Karma in our corner. Plus all the things I’ve ever said, ever meant to say, never thought to say – take that with you. And did I mention the love – you know all about the love.

 

I have no thought that anybody might need this vital information any time soon. But if you don’t write it down when it’s now, a day comes when you can’t say it anymore – you’re no longer your own advocate. And everybody needs one.

*Also Tracy Chapman. Keb Mo. Frank Sinatra’s “In The Wee Small Hours,” the album.

 

 

Image

An ti ci pa tion …

Kim, browsing my Facebook Saved list for recipes:  You have a lot of stuff in here, like really a lot.  What are your plans for all this?

Me:  My plans are to watch the videos, listen to the music tracks, read the articles, and use some of it as a springboard for my blog.

Kim:  Really?

Me:  Yeah.

Kim:

Me:  During lulls when there’s nothing else on my mind and Facebook is boring and I’ve already purged all my email files.

Kim:  

Me:  Seriously.  There are down times.

Kim:  So you save stuff every day because you’re in a rush, but you’ll have time later to go back through all of it?

Me:  Well.  Mostly my attention span isn’t that long, and after the first handful of big-ticket posts I start to drift, but I don’t want to lose them.

Kim:  So they stack up.  Doesn’t that bother you?

Me:  Not much, they’re out of sight.  And I’m waiting for Marky to come along and give me folder capabilities for saved stuff so I can sort and find.

Me:  And delayed gratification is my bag.

Kim:

 

Poor Kimmers.  Clutter, even the thought of it, offends his OCD worse than any other, and in my morally-lax final third I’m an endless trial to him. He’s out of the house most mornings now, so I’m probably working my way through the For Later list, right?  No, not so’s you can tell yet, because there’s another fact of life at work here — one must be IN THE MOOD.

And guess what, bitches, I got IN THE MOOD to compose and handwrite that belated note to Maddie’s veterinary staff.  Mailed it yesterday. Booyah!  I should have taken a picture for you — work of art and worth the time spent agonizing over it, except not really.  Oh, life, I adore your continuing education classes.

A final Easter Egg for the faithful who read to the end:  The Wurlitzer recital in my head, precipitated by my fall on the ice, ended approximately ten days after we upgraded my hearing assists and added a masking track.  I’ve busted it several times trying to make a comeback, and it slinks back under the bed.   Peace is not overrated.

 

procrastination-now-vs-later

Image

May ye’ be completely ate up with the luck o’ the Irish!

tinyfrogFrame

Little St. Paddy’s road trip.  May your day be filled with green beer and laughter …

A man stumbles up to the only other patron in a bar and asks if he might buy him a drink.
“Why, of course,” comes the reply.
The first man then asks, “Where you from?”
“Ireland,” replies the second man.
The first man responds, “You don’t say, I’m from Ireland too! Let’s have another round to Ireland.”
“Of course,” replies the second man.
Curious, the first man then asks, “Where in Ireland are you from?”
“Dublin,” comes the reply.
“I can’t believe it,” says the first man. “I’m from Dublin too! Let’s have another drink to Dublin.”
“Of course,” replies the second man.
Curiosity again strikes and the first man asks,”What school did you go to?”
“Saint Mary’s,” replies the second man. “I graduated in ’65.”
“This is unbelievable!” the first man says. “I went to Saint Mary’s and I graduated in ’65, too!”
About that time in comes one of the regulars and sits down at the bar.
“What’s been going on?” he asks the bartender.
“Nuttin’ much,” replies the bartender. “The O’Malley twins are drunk again.”

Image

Today’s drama on As the Eye Turns …

March-HD-Wallpaper-500x313

March — it’s what time DOES.  Snow fell all day yesterday and the ground is white, but spring is, even as we speak, gathering up little robins and crocii and dandelions, wheee, and it will all be showing up here any minute now!

The passage of time is so very relative, and that effect seems to be accentuated when your brain is on the fritz.  The day of the initial biopsy my surgeon said, “If it’s malignant we’ll do an excision, and if necessary a skin graft ….. you’ll come back in five to six weeks, we’ll remove the stitches, and you should be good to go.”  Crap, what did I know from what he actually said, I don’t hear for beans!

The day before my six-week check-up we figured out that I’d misunderstood parts of the process, but it was not yet clear just how delusional I was.  And then the appointment took all of ten minutes, not counting iPad time in the waiting room.  I’m not complaining, let the record show, my doctor and his assistants are lovely people who excel at what they do and I adore them.  But it was quickly apparent that no stitch-release stuff would be happening at that present time.  Ninety-degree turn in the Expectations Hallway.

THE GOOD NEWS:  The graft site is healing beautifully and we’re right on schedule (the correct one). After the next six weeks there’s an appointment to see how much longer the graft needs to cure.  I was indeed self-deluded, but now I know and all is well. Most important, this is neither fatal nor permanent. And life goes on.

So it’s at least a year-long process to reach total healing — I have friends who will deal with health issues for life.  One lost an eye at age two … and I’m whining about stitches holding an eyelid down for a few months.

NOTE TO SELF:  You are not allowed, for the duration, to apologize for looking demented, not to anybody, even if you happen to bump into President Obama on Mass Street next week.  {Sorry, deal’s off for the president.}  But you’ll get to walk away from this at some point, maybe even by summer, and that’s almost not even fair.  Your friends who’ve had to actually give up body parts are hoping nobody notices, too, and they don’t get a pass, so own your I’ve-been-drunk-for-a-week eye and live your life.

So yeah, “March is the month that God designed to show those who don’t drink what a hangover is like.”  –Garrison Keillor

ENJOY!

Image

And Friday spills over into the weekend again …

bridge

Are you whistling yet?

Image

Wednesday Wisdom

farts

Image

Friday fun on a Saturday …

A young guy from North Dakota moves to Florida and goes to a big “everything under one roof” department store looking for a job.

The manager says, “Do you have any sales experience?”

The kid says, “Yeah. I was a vacuum salesman back in North Dakota.”

The manager’s unsure, but he likes the kid and figures he’ll give him a shot, so he gives him the job. “You start tomorrow. I’ll come down after we close and see how you did.”

His first day on the job is rough, but he gets through it. After the store is locked up, the manager comes down to the sales floor to check on how the kid did on his first day. “How many customers bought something from you today?”

The kid frowns and looks at the floor and mutters, “One.”

The manager replies, “Just one?!!? Our employees average 20 to 30 customer-sales a day. That will have to change and fast if you want to continue your employment here. We have very strict standards for our sales force here in Florida. One sale a day might have been acceptable in North Dakota, but you’re not on the farm anymore, son.”

The kid takes his beating, but continues to look at his shoes. The manager feels kind of bad for chewing him out on his first day, so he asks half sarcastically, “So, how much was your one sale for?”

The kid looks up at his manager and says “$101,237.65.”

The manager, astonished, says, “$101,237.65?!? WTF did you sell?”

The kid says, “Well, first, I sold him some new fish hooks. Then, I sold him a new fishing rod to go with his new hooks. Then, I asked him where he was going fishing and he said down the coast, so I told him he was going to need a boat. We went down to the boat department, and I sold him a twin-engine ChrisCraft. Then he said he didn’t think his Honda Civic would pull it, so I took him down to the automotive department and sold him that 4×4 Expedition.”

The manager says “A guy came in here to buy a fish hook, and you sold him a boat and a TRUCK!?”

The kid says, “No, the guy came in here to buy tampons for his wife, and I said, ‘Dude, your weekend’s shot, you should go fishing.'”

 

expedition_181

Image

It’s HUMPDAY, kids!

“In Bristol, England today, which is where the graffiti artist Banksy came from. Clearly, I need to draw on some walls.” –Stephan Pastis

pastis life

Image

The Thankfulness Season

So we made it past the Halloween shenanigans, and now the fast train that was 2014 is bearing down on Thanksgiving and Christmas when hearts overflow and gratitude gets top billing for a few short weeks.

In the spirit of the season I’m asking myself, Self, what are you most grateful for?  I always like to get a second opinion on weighty matters so I asked my husband, too.  He suggested that maybe I’m thankful I don’t live in my car or under a bridge, or that I eat good food at a table every day instead of from a dumpster.  He may or may not have mentioned the clean water that flows on demand from every tap in the house, but it would be just like him to do that.  I’m pretty freaking thankful for all those things, sure, and a comprehensive list of my personal benedictions wouldn’t have any place to end.

But I knew we had a winner when he said, “Well, you should be thankful you aren’t any shorter than you are.”  For a hot second I felt pissed, not grateful, but I’m a realist and I’ve seen the pictures — I’m clearly not as height-intensive as some people out there.

After a careful examination of the evidence, however, I feel I’ve been mislabeled — It isn’t that I’m short, he simply overachieved in height-training, much as in everything else he does.  And just like that, we have a perfectly legit place to start on this being thankful thing.  I’ve GOT this.  The Big Turkey and the Elf on a Shelf (I detest that li’l sumbish) are putting stars next to my name as we speak.

Moonbeam and Othello say hey and peace out …

 

MBOBlog

 

 

Image

No pumpkin-carving experience is complete without a near-fatal knife wound

A timely post from Ned. Ray Villafane, eat your heart out.

Ned's Blog

imageCarving a jack-o-lantern used to require little more than a pumpkin, an oversized kitchen knife, and a tourniquet. It was a simple matter of plunging a 10-inch French knife into the gourd of your choice and creating a triangle-eyed, square-toothed masterpiece of horror.

In those days, the trickiest thing about making your jack-o-lantern was deciding on how to light the candle.

Option one: Light candle, then attempt to lower it into the pumpkin without catching your sleeve on fire.
Option two: Put the candle inside the pumpkin first. Then attempt to light it without catching your sleeve on fire.
Option three: Accept the inevitable and just light yourself on fire, then go find a candle.

After a quick trip to the emergency room for stitches and some light skin grafting, you could return home and set your jack-o-lantern on the porch, where it would remain until gravity and molecular breakdown…

View original post 532 more words

HumpDay Humor …

If you don’t yet know Stephan Pastis, creator of Pearls Before Swine … my sympathy.  

Check him out at https://www.facebook.com/PearlsComic if you’re ON Facebook.  No?  Then Google is your friend.

 

Carpool

 

languages

 

stupid people

 

Image

Some things are doomed from the start …

Pavlov's Cat

Image

Striking matadors could result in a lot of bull for Spain

Striking matadors could result in a lot of bull for Spain.

Ned’s humor suits me just fine and I laugh at nearly everything he writes.  Funny guy.

Previous Older Entries

Winnowing the Chaff

rarasaur

frightfully wondrous things happen here.

FranklyWrite

Practice Writing

Social Justice For All

Working towards global equity and equality

Drinking Tips for Teens

Creative humour, satire and other bad ideas by Ross Murray, an author living in the Eastern Townships of Quebec, Canada. Is it truth or fiction? Only his hairdresser knows for sure.

john pavlovitz

Stuff That Needs To Be Said

Drifting Through

Welcome to the inner workings of my mind

KenRobert.com

beginnings, middles, and ends

Margaret and Helen

Best Friends for Sixty Years and Counting...

The WordPress.com Blog

The latest news on WordPress.com and the WordPress community.

Musings of a Penpusher

A Taurean suffering from cacoethes scribendi - an incurable itch to write.

Ned's Blog

Humor at the Speed of Life

Miss Snarky Pants

A Humor Blog For Horrible People

mylenesmusings

Every other asshole shares their opinions, why shouldn’t I?

%d bloggers like this: