The Cherry Bowl Slightly Twisted

This Train Should Have Been Bound For Glory–This Train.

2012-02-19T09:45:00.001-06:00

Just recently the entertainment world lost an artist. A very good artist. A beautiful woman with loads of talent. She had the ability to give us all chill bumps when she sang. Her offering of our National Anthem was nothing short of awe inspiring. She was a woman who should have had a long life. Her career should have been one that, when ended, left indelible marks in the sands of time - remembered, glorified and hailed for the brilliance of an amazing talent.

Poor girl. With all the gifts and talents God gave her, she could not keep herself from falling off the edge of reason. She seemed to live a tortured life which apparently is going to re-play in the life of a child she left behind. Watching the downward spiral was heart-breaking. I can never understand how people who seemingly "have it all" cannot or WILL NOT be happy. Perhaps it is because that fundamental source of human happiness has been pushed down so far and buried beneath so many pretty, shiny "things" it can no longer grow.

It is said she knew God and it was He who gave her a start to thrill the world with an amazing voice. It is also said she helped a lot of young struggling artists get a foothold in the entertainment world. It is said she did many, many good and kind things for many people.

However, it would seem as she traveled her glamorous yet troubled road she forgot to take along the One who was responsible for her own ability and opportunity. At any point, had she simply reached out and drew Him to her side, He would have shielded her from those people and things who sought to do her harm.

I certainly believe people should have their accomplishments recognized. However, I cannot get past the images of a life sinking further and further into decadence and despair. Stories and images of a person who seemed to have lost their rudder in the sea of life haunt my memories. The expression “like a train wreck” prove true for me. It is horrific and hypnotic at the same time. Those images of someone lost and struggling have almost successfully removed other memories of this person from my mind.

There are so many people who pass whose lives are an example we can hold to our children's eyes and say "this person tried to always live a good life and died a good and honorable death." And yet, they are daily made aware of people whose life and passing probably shouldn’t be made so glamorous.

I have to wonder when some people look at all the tributes, memorials, honorariums and media frenzy over the passing of a life wasted - do they think "Wow! This is how to become famous!"? It would seem to me the tribute should be made to how a person lived their life, not just because they died. It would appear a slap in the face to men and women who fight and die, with little more fanfare than a flag draped coffin, 21 gun salute and the mournful sound of Taps in the distance.

So, before you send me hateful mail, let me say this. I too thought WH was a beautiful, talented and amazing artist. But, she basically took herself out of this life by throwing away everything she once believed in. She is gone, but because of her craft, she will remain in our world for a long long time.

Today, I choose to honor those who pass without fanfare, without countless memorials, sometimes without a single tear. Those people who live and die - often without anyone really knowing they existed. Who die with THEIR music unsung. Whose accomplishments, talents and gifts die with them and their contributions are held dear only by the recipients of their generosity or time. The ones who pass with only their families and closest friends to care.

Of “Corset” Is…….Not!

2012-02-10T19:21:00.001-06:00

OR SUCK IT UP AND SUCK IT IN!

So……being addicted to all things Yahoo and a devoted follower of their news feeds on my home page, I often find blog worthy items.

The latest was a model who has a waistline that is 5” bigger around than a CD. This girl is very wide through her pelvis and a waistline that small coupled with twig like legs makes her look alien.

But I was intrigued so I looked further. She isn’t alone. There are women who have had their ribs removed and then stayed corseted up in order to achieve that hourglass shape. One woman’s husband hated her appearance so much she finally resorted to a corset to try to look better. Once he saw how good she looked after lacing herself into that instrument of torture, he convinced her to wear it night and day. And so she did…for decades.

I realize some of us (me) have gone just a tad to the other extreme, but really…..

I can remember when girls like Marilyn Monroe and Rita Hayworth made the guys hearts go pitty-pat and those gals had some curves….lots of them. In spite of their beauty they seemed approachable. These trussed up corseted victims look like they could snap at the waist in a high wind. And where, pray tell, are all the internal organs that are supposed to be where there is no room to be. They are pushed up and squashed down in areas they don’t belong.

I’m sad these women will never know what it feels like to truly be comfortable, to breathe and relax. What a pity they never learned to be comfortable in their own skin.

Death to Cartoon Characters and Tacky Blouses

2012-02-01T04:51:00.001-06:00

So....today I had a conversation with someone at work. Conversations with this person occasionally take strange and rocky side trips because their sense of humor rivals mine in sick and twisted. This "talk" went south in a big hurry. We started out talking about what good bargains Dillards has to offer when they decide to have a "sale."

Which led me to Darling Daughter Avenue where my sweet girl always gets such good prices on things, partially because she is teeny tiny and has been known to actually shop in the kids department. It is always a good day for shopping in her neck of the woods.

But eventually we made a wrong turn and found ourselves on the corner of Overweight and Slighty Dotty. The clothing stores in this not so attractive part of town tend to have the misconception that older, slightly “chubbed up” grandmotherly types have lost all sense of fashion.

Hello........we may have lost our ability to say no to Snickers but we still have eyes with which to see that with which you wish to adorn us. Yes, I'm speaking to you designers for Catherines, Lane Bryant and the rest of your ilk. And we will just not even mention those “discount” retailers who are the worst offeners IMHO.

Can you please explain to me why all tops in my size must be covered in flowers the size of dinner plates and in colors that make your retinas cry for mercy? Is there one good reason why you think I need to dress myself in my great grandmother's bedroom curtains?

Really people, we do still have a need for nice solid colored tops. Or are you deluded enough to think you are doing us a favor by making them wearable with any color stretch pants we own? PLEASE.STOP.

And while I'm on this subject, I have not reverted back to my childhood and I do not find myself in need of emblazoning Tinker Bell, Winnie the Pooh or Tigger on my casual wear or undergarments. Something tells me all three of those characters make a lot more money than I do and have no need for me to advertise for them.

Even pajamas for larger women have to have something "cutesy" on them. Really? Do you think you are tricking us into thinking we are tiny fluttering little bits of gossamer wings? The only requirements I have for PJs are nice soft and seasonally appropriate material, a good heavy duty drawstring and the ability to withstand numerous washings. Thank.You.Very.Much.

And before you, sweet gentle reader, come after me with a pitchfork and burning broom, let me explain that I don't even like children's clothing that is festooned with Barbie, Bratz, SpongeBob wetPants (yes, yes, I know that's not his name - but think about it) or any other TV character.

And now the confession. I have been known to sport a favorite athletic team on my person from time to time. That is about as far as I am willing to go to make my body the equivalent of a vehicle wrapper advertising for someone or something else. (GO CARDS!)

...............and how was your day? I would really like to know.

Hold the pickles, hold the lettuce, special orders don’t upset us….well, actually they do.

2012-01-10T18:14:00.001-06:00

I don’t understand this…..you can’t make me understand this. When did a simple little ordinary hamburger lose its’ entire identity as an individual item?

Apparently one of our favorite fast food chains (who shall remain nameless) – but they do have a big disturbing clown as their spokes annoyance – refuses to recognize the lowly hamburger.

You can order it but what you will receive is a cheeseburger/no cheese. It takes 12 additional characters on their sales ticket to produce a hamburger. I’m pretty sure the plain old hamburger came first – is it fair that now all things burger must be linked with cheese? What about the lactose intolerant? And Wimpy, what is to become of poor Wimpy who will gladly pay you tomorrow for a hamburger today?!

And what about the message here? We are going to print on your ticket what a bothersome wench you are by daring to order merely hamburger when everyone in the free world KNOWS there must be cheese.

I actually like cheese…………..in fact…………….I pretty much LOVE cheese, but oddly enough I’ve never wanted it on my burger. But since I am surely causing someone a great deal of work by NOT allowing them to slap cheese on my order, I shall adjust.

From now on I’m going to order a cheeseburger WITH.GOUDA.CHEESE – when they inform me they do not have that cheese, I will work my way down the list of exotic dairy products, FETA, LIMBURGER, SWISS…….the possibilities are endless!

At some point they will certainly inform me that my only option is an AMERICAN cheese clone substitute. Then, I will say “I didn’t really want cheese but since you don’t offer a plain hamburger I thought I should at least get the cheese I prefer.

By now, I’m pretty certain there will be a significant line of honking cars behind me, perhaps one or two angry words and some interesting hand signals. Ask me if I care…….just give me my danged HAMBURGER – I don’t feel the need to explain to you that I want you to hold the cheese.

Parenting Minus 101

2012-01-05T16:39:00.003-06:00

In the “What in the Helicopter” were they thinking department – the human Barbie Doll. This British lady has had mutiple plastic surgeries to reportedly make herself look like a human Barbie doll. May I say it has worked splendidly because she officially looks more plastic than a car full of Wal-Mart sacks.

But today, she has put her primo parenting skills at the forefront of news services everywhere by giving her 7 year old a voucher for roughly 10K in liposuction “when the time comes.” Geez……most kids are thrilled with a pony.

One has to wonder why someone did not step in when she gave the child a similar gift certificate for breast augmentation when she turns 18.

I guess over summer vacay they can go together and get matching tattoos and navel piercings. I believe in being a friend to your kids to some degree but PLEASE be a parent first.

My question is when all that silicone starts to break down in “mummy” will she regret setting her child’s feet on the road to destruction. Or….will she wrestle the vouchers away from the child to try to “fix” the damage being wrecked on her own person.

Something is seriously wrong with this woman’s value system – I pray for this child and wonder where is Daddy?

THINGS WERE BOOMING IN BORGER TEXAS

2012-01-03T20:35:00.002-06:00

My daddy was an oilfield man. He didn't start out to be, but like many others, whose initial plans didn't quite work out, he became one. And once the smell of rich black crude hit his nostrils, he never looked back. Gone were his dreams of being a gentleman lawyer along with the disappointment of not being able to remain with the Texas Rangers - the law enforcement agency, not the ball team.

Because of dad's profession and where he chose to settle, Borger's "boom town" days are the legends I grew up on. The first Panhandle oil well was drilled near Borger, TX on May 2, 1921, on the 6666 Ranch of S.B. Burnett. While that well was a poor quality strike, the 1926 gushing arrival of Texas Tea caused the town of Borger to explode into existence practically overnight. Merely ninety days after that first big "strike", there were reportedly 45,000 people living, loving, drinking and fighting in a place previously filled with tumbleweeds, antelope and prairie dogs.

The history of "Booger Town" is one I encourage you to delve into. You will find a story rich in sex, drugs and boogie-woogie. The town teemed with oilmen, prospectors, roughnecks, panhandlers, fortune seekers, card sharks, bootleggers, prostitutes, and dope peddlers. Naturally, it became a refuge for criminals and fugitives from the law, hence the nickname “Booger Town.”

Quickly, the town government was firmly in the grasp of an organized crime syndicate led by the unsavory and shady "Two-Gun Dick" Herwig. Borger became notorious for brothels, dance halls, gambling dens, slot machines, and speakeasies. Murder and robbery became commonplace. Illegal moonshine stills and home breweries flourished with the blessings of Herwig and his henchmen, including W. J. (Shine) Popejoy, the KING of the Texas bootleggers.

Merely a year after Borger had roared its’ way into existence, Governor Daniel J. Moody sent a detachment of Texas Rangers, under the leadership of Captains Frank Hamer and Thomas Hickman to remedy the situation. Captain Hamer later became famous as one of
the lawmen involved in the ambush of Bonnie and Clyde.

Although the rangers proved to be a stabilizing force compelling many undesirables to leave town, Borger's wave of crime and violence continued intermittently into the 1930s. After a couple of high profile murders, the Governor once again stepped in and imposed
martial law for a month. State troops were dispatched to help local authorities rid the town of its’ lawless element. That goal was eventually achieved but not before Ace Borger, town promoter for whom Borger was named, was shot to death by his longtime
enemy Arthur Huey in 1934.

This article was reworked from information found in the history of Borger, strangely enough I had never heard any of it.

A drop of trivia: The first rotary drilling rig, built at the staggering price of $25,000, was placed into use near Borger, TX by W.T. Willis, J.E. Trigg, and H.D. Lewis. The 6-inch-diameter (150 mm) drill could pierce through rock.

MERRY CHRISTMAS–yes I said it.

2011-12-11T09:36:00.001-06:00

I said it and I refuse to apologize for it. And what’s more I’m dad gummed tired of being made to feel like I have to be sorry for saying it.

I find it interesting that all those groups who have screamed for years about tolerance, understanding and inclusion have suddenly become so intolerant, narrow minded and exclusionary.

Lately, I’ve seen multiple news reports on people’s insistence that nativity sets not be shown, that Happy Holidays should be shouted as opposed to Merry Christmas, that Christmas is a myth – a fairy tale if you will.

While I understand the date may be off by some months – I simply.do.not.care. I don’t know when some of my dogs were born either, but I gave them a birthday anyway. The group of so-called deluded people who celebrate CHRISTmas are called CHRISTians. Therefore, it stands to reason we choose to keep CHRIST both in our holiday and in our “club” name.

I don’t care what you call yourself, I don’t care what you do or don’t believe (that’s a lie – I do care and am praying for you), I don’t care if you celebrate kwanzaa (speaking of made up holidays), Hanukkah (great peace and blessings – my Jewish friends), the winter solstice, apple blossom time or the advent of your yearly dental exam. Please allow me to do the same.

If the sight of a nativity offends you – don’t look. If hearing Merry Christmas bugs you – turn off your hearing aids or better yet – stay home. Your right to not be subjected to things that offend you DO NOT supersede my right to enjoy them. YOU are not more important than me and I am not more important than YOU.

It is disheartening to me to know there are people who have so little to do they have time to be offended ALL THE TIME. I wish my circle of acquaintances had less work to do and as much time to spend trying to protect and preserve OUR way of life as you have trying to tear it down.

However, I think I have devised a plan that should make everyone happy. Anytime a group of people decides they are offended by something and wish to have a disclaimer banner posted along with the offensive sight – make them sign it. Put some muscle behind your griping. Go on record with your name, address and phone number. Then have the other side of the situation do the same as supporters of the offending object. You see as Christians we believe it is not only our right but our duty to proclaim our faith – we will happily go on record in support of our CHRISTmas.

Pretty sure the number of signatures on our banner will outnumber the ones on yours by a pretty astounding margin. And if you choose to engage us in thoughtful and serious debate, we will welcome you with the love and tolerance our Christ demands of us.

I am only one person – but I am taking back my Christmas. You will never see a Happy Holidays card from me, nor hear me utter those words. This is Christmas – a time of joy and celebration for the birth of the light of the world, the Savior of man, the King of Kings and the Lord of Lords. I will not be ashamed nor will I try to hide His light under a veil of non-offensive meaningless images and words.

Welcome Lord Jesus!

A Christmas Bargain

2011-12-07T18:04:00.001-06:00

This is the cover for my children’s book Genevieve’s Window – this is a peaceful easy reading bedtime poem. It is the first book I self published and is available at www.lulu.com

This is the cover for my interactive alphabet book The Alphabet From Amazing to Zany. It is also published and available at www.lulu.com This book offers many opportunities to teach your children and talk with them about the funny pictures depicting each letter of the alphabet.

Lulu is offering a 30% discount on my books right now and they are absorbing the cost of the discount which means my revenue from sales stays the same. WIN!

These are good Christmas gifts and stocking stuffers and I would very much appreciate any support of my work. Should you decide to purchase use this code WINTERSAVE305

Thanks my friends and MERRY CHRISTMAS!

The Real Thing

2011-12-01T19:02:00.001-06:00

Suddenly there is all this confusion over this white can. People claim to be able to tell the difference in Coke in red cans and Coke in white cans. Some say they are so confused by the can because it looks like a Diet Coke can (ummmm….okay…except Diet Coke cans are silver and SAY..…….DIET. COKE.

People are Utubing, Tweeting, Texting, Smoke Signaling and using hand signals (some not so pretty) about the audacity of Coca Cola to change their packaging for the holidays. So incensed are some members of John Q. Public that Coke is bending to the criticism and removing the white cans and replacing them with red.

I honestly thought you had to be in your 80’s or 90’s to fear change and be so cantakerous. I realized I was getting close, but little did I know that MY generation, who used to be so hip and progressive in their thinking could turn out to be such a bunch of old fuddy duddies.

Here’s the thing…I don’t care if this stuff is in a bottle, a red can, a white can, a green can or a bean can…it is still the bomb. Still my drink of choice, both mixed and unmixed. You can shoot it out of a fountain head or put it in a plastic 2 liter bottle. I simply don’t care. All I care about is that IT IS.

I thought it was kind of cool they were doing something to call attention to endangered wildlife by featuring the polar bears, but what do I know?

And, you….yes, you lady….the one who can do the blind taste test and tell if the can is red or white….come to my kitchen kiddo and we will check you for accuracy. I’m betting you can’t tell – I couldn’t and I’m pretty sure my bloodstream is running at about 98 proof for Coca Cola right now.

Its’ can might be white, but it is still the Real Thing. Oh and by the way…..companies have the right to market their product as they see fit. And I’m okay with that as long as they aren’t morally reprehensible. I refuse to be offended by “white.”

It Depends

2011-11-20T17:40:00.001-06:00

I seriously question the good sense of advertising people these days. I've already gone off on a tangent about toilet paper commercials. I've given the "respect the roll" ad my "slap the crap outta you" award because................really............by definition is toilet paper something we have EVER respected?

Then I got my knickers all in a knot over the lubricating products that are supposed to make everything in our life all fun, fireworks inspiring and multi-colored. I really think there are some things we can figure out on our own. And, I'm sorry...I really don't need roman candles in the bedroom, these days I'm all about the heated mattress cover.

But now, Depends have crossed my tolerance line in the sand. Today, I saw a commercial which depicted a rather nice looking later aged man exiting a store. After dropping a flirtatious wink at an unseen girl (maybe?) - they let us all in on his secret. He's wearing an adult diaper. Suddenly, he isn't so cute or flirtatious or even good looking. The ewwww factor was huge. Now, before you get all up in my business on this one, please know, that I realize these products are necessary. But is it necessary to make them seem so appealing? What do they think we are going to do? Perhaps, because they are such "fun" items, we will all rush out to buy a dozen (after all, according to the next commercial - they come in peach color as well)? Really? If you have to wear one, are you really going to show it off at bridge club or on the golf course? Probably not.

I have now accepted my husband's observation that most of the items advertised on TV have to do with wetness of some form or other. Again, I saw ewwwww!

A Love Letter To My KitchenAid Mixer

2011-10-03T20:37:00.001-05:00

This is not my mixer.

It is my mixer’s younger prettier cousin.

My KitchenAid mixer is almost as old as my daughter. Not.that.she.is.old, but you know what I’m saying.

My KitchenAid mixer has mixed up hundreds of cakes, pies, cookies, dog biscuits, bowls of whipped cream, mashed potatoes. In short it has taken a lickin’ and kept on tickin’.

This was some of the best $ I ever spent. The only thing I have ever had to do to it was replace the whisk beater after I mistakenly let it eat a wooden spoon.

My fervent prayer is that my lovely old white KitchenAid with the chipped paint keeps on mixing things up in my kitchen for a long long time. I’m not sure I could replace it either financially or in my affections.

Well Fluffenfeathers!

2011-09-27T19:07:00.001-05:00

Have you ever noticed how some people just can’t leave well enough alone. Why they always seem to take things just one step too far and wind up entering the “what were they thinking” zone.

Today, I read a local newspaper piece about a rather well known attorney who has discovered a doll that has a little bit of a potty problem. Now, I confess that when I was a youngster I wore out 3 Tiny Tears dolls. There was just a real fascination with putting that baby bottle in her mouth and watching her cry and wet her diaper that could not be equaled on earth. Of course the constant introduction of water into Tiny’s body meant that soon her rubber figure began to deteriorate. That made me sad, especially when they quit making the ones with painted on hair and began sewing that tacky stuff to their scalps.

Tiny had a potty problem – but at least it was the “right” kind. These new dolls have a potty problem as well, but the problem they have is a “potty” mouth. Apparently, they say unrepeatable things, or they seem to say them. We all know what recordings can sound like when they decide to go awry.

Anyway, said attorney has written letters to the manufacturer as well as all the stores selling baby and demanded they ALL cease and desist. This was probably relatively effective in insuring that most of our innocents didn’t have to be exposed to Baby Dirty Mouth.

But, he didn’t stop there. So concerned is he that our impressionable children will stumble upon these dolls, hear their profane speech and repeat it that he made a video demonstrating the ugly languaged little dearlings. And what you may ask, did he do with said video? Well, says I……………he uploaded the whole kit and caboodle to………wait for it……………….UTube.

I think this will be effective don’t you? Now every child in America with access to the internet could possibly stumble upon Polly Profanity by simply doing a UTube search for babydolls.

So…….I ask you…………what in the helicopter was he thinking?

R.E.S.– P. E.C. T.

2011-09-17T12:02:00.002-05:00

So according to one of our creative(?) toilet paper manufacturers and their always reaching for a new level of low advertising people – we are urged to

“RESPECT THE ROLL”

In other words – never, and I repeat NEVER are we to leave our “naked” toilet paper rolls sitting out in plain view.

Seriously, have we forgotten what toilet paper’s primary function is? Is that respectful? Perhaps the colorful and cutesy cover for our additional rolls is to prevent them (the rolls) from seeing what will be their final mission.

What is next? Perhaps some sort of lock box device where we must unlock our TP in order to use it. That way it would be safe from the prying eyes of……………..other people who would perhaps use it as well.

I’ve been on tangent about TP makers in the past but this one…….almost…..leaves. me. speechless.

OH……and…..Furthermore….

2011-09-10T14:13:00.001-05:00

This one is embarrassing and I am only now able to admit to it. Was I the only human being in the entire state of Arkansas who had NO – FREAKING – IDEA what

WPS

stood for?

I have decided I don’t get out enough, or maybe I get out too much. I know one thing – you’d better be danged careful who you ask questions of this nature. Some people can and will make you feel pretty cow dumb.

In the meantime…

Wooooooooooo Pigssssssssss Sooooiiieee!

and my apologies.

AcroNYMPHS

2011-09-09T20:13:00.002-05:00

Admittedly, I have some problems understanding some of our abbreviated vernacular. The whole texting thing has me defeated – one, I can’t stand spelling errors – two, thumbs are for space bars, not regular letters and when cursed with trigger thumb you have a whole different set of challenges – three, my fingers embrace standard keyboards with affection – phone buttons, not so much and four, if you have to text the person sitting across from you in the restaurant, perhaps you shouldn’t be there together in the first place.

I’ve always known that TNT meant something is blowing up. That ADHD is a real pain in the kiester for kids and their parents. That IBS is NEVER a good thing and STHU meant I’d better go in the closet and tell my problems to my shoes. I know that I, myself, possess a certain measure of OCD and AR behavior. Somehow, saying I am AR is much less embarrassing than admitting to simply being anal retentive.

But now, I find, there are all kinds of shortened abilities and disabilities out there and half the time I’m afraid to use anything but full words for fear I will say something unforgiveable and let’s face it – from me, most probably offensive.

So…in my never ending search for knowledge and enlightenment…on a whim I Googled “acronym for SOS”. Now, I knew it stood for MAYDAY – which is code for “Holy Crap – we are in a boatload of trouble – save us soon” which begs the question – why isn’t is SUS? But, I digress (and you KNEW I would – now didn’t you?) I was amazed to see a whole page of things that SOS can also stand for – some of my stand outs were:

SINK OR SWIM (submitted by cruel swim instructors no doubt)

or………SHOOT ON SIGHT – (have these feelings regularly)

but my absolute fave was…………….STUCK. ON. STUPID – lovin’ this one!

I spent probably 3 years never understanding what the def between 2 tennis players names on the sports recap stood for. I thought it was French. Sorry – now you see why STUCK. ON. STUPID appeals to me.

I have to wonder though if maybe all these abbreviations and acronyms are simply our way of trying to not offend anyone. Afterall, if I knew that F.A.T really stood for Fabulous and Talented – I would be thrilled. Certainly being told that I was an OABUW would seem wickedly exotic as opposed to just being an old and butt ugly woman who was F.A.T in the bargain.

So…..in closing I would like to say – OMG I hope some part of this had you ROTFLYBO and that you will say TY at some point for always remembering to BRB to make you smile.

Zip It–Nip It

2011-09-07T20:05:00.001-05:00

One of the hardest things in the world for me is holding my tongue. I literally have had to hold it between 2 fingers before to keep it from wagging me into trouble.

It is said we have only 1 mouth and 2 ears for a reason. We should listen twice as much as we talk. But what about situations where you know for certain no one is listening at.all.

Are you still duty bound to zip your lips and keep silent? And what about the times you have patiently and kindly asked with a much love as you can muster for someone to either A: please do something or B: please stop doing something? When it becomes obvious that they simply are not complying to your request out of just plain old pig headedness – can’t we let ‘er rip then?

One of my friends has recently said she has volume control issues and that she too finds the battle to gain dominance over her tongue is ongoing. One thing I know for sure is that I am NOT an ultimatum type person. I will try to the best of my ability to lovingly make you listen but when my attempts continue to fall on deaf ears – eventually…..I. GIVE. UP.

You won’t like me when I’ve given up because at that point I don’t guild the lily at all. And once I’ve given up – I don’t go back. In the meantime – I will seriously give holding my tongue a real college try if you will try opening your ear canals a little more. Also, it would help if you didn’t get offended by everything I do say.

Oh Yeah? Well, Just How Big An Ole Boy Are You?

2011-09-02T14:43:00.002-05:00

Remember him? Mr. Cooper Brown Beshears? Light of my life, apple of my eye, sweetest little guy on the planet.

Well…….he has grown and is still a handsome lad of a whopping 12.8 pounds. Probably 5 pounds of that is hair. The rest is attitude.

Because

in reality he is this big

But in his teeny little brain HE IS THIS BIG!

Making Cooper the “poster child” for This Complex.

And what did we learn from being taking to “school” by our old friend Max? He really is a big ole boy and he totally kicked your butt. I’ll give you this…you never back down….remains to be determined if that is bravery or just good old fashioned dumb as a bag of hammers. Lucky boy Cooper! It could have been much much worse.

Has Anyone Here Seen My Good Friend Me?

2011-09-01T22:03:00.001-05:00

I’m sure we all have moments when we feel invisible. For some it primarily happens when they have enjoyed a bit too much beverage of the alcoholic persuasion. Other people make a habit out of being invisible. Standing on the fringes hoping no one notices them or makes mention of them. They have the ability to “blend” into the scenery and when all is said and done – no one remembers they were there.

And then there are others who genuinely want to be a part of things and yet seem to be invisible in spite of their own desire. People who want to feel like they have contributed and that their efforts were at the very least noteworthy.

I find it interesting that so many “humans” are motivated by something far less tangible than the all mighty $ sign. How many of them want an “atta boy” every now and then. They want their actions to matter. In some ways we are a lot like our friend the dog. They will stand on their hind legs, dance around like crazy, roll over and play dead, shake hands and speak for little more than a pat on the head and an occasional “good dog.”

As I get progressively older I find I need those strokes and pats far more than I used to. I also find that I seem to be disappearing into the fabric of life with increasing frequency. Perhaps this is why I write. Perhaps, it is my own form of “atta boy” - to leave something behind so tangible that when I am gone – someone might remember and know I was here.

And so I wonder…someday will you remember the sound of my laugh? Will you remember that in spite of all my failings I genuinely tried to be a good person? Will you remember that I had far more flaws than perfections, but that I worked on them every day? Will you remember that while I aged, my mind and attitude remained young? That the colors of my world were ever vibrant and happy? That I loved with an intensity that scared me? That I have many regrets but far more accomplishments that I am really proud of? Will you remember if I cried? Will you know for certain whether I cared for you or not? Will you remember anything about me at all? And now……do you even notice me today? Do you notice ANYONE? Do you really pay attention to the humanity swirling around you or are they all just bits and pieces of cellophane? Things of some substance but transparent enough that you can look straight through and see what you really want to see.

Please God help me to always see the Cellophane People around me and help me to acknowledge their existence, praise their performance, shoulder their tears and celebrate their happy days. Help me to keep my hand off my own back and at the ready to pat someone else’s head and tell them I noticed.

Hoarders, Horkers & Hairspray

2011-08-20T10:29:00.003-05:00

This is not my house, although it could be. I have no idea what happened to me – unless compulsive cleaning skips a generation. My mother was one of those people who could pass a “white glove” test. Not me. But in my defense my mother never had to live with my hubalump who does not prescribe to the theory “a place for all things.” He believes everything should be in plain sight, therefore the chances of him finding something are greatly magnified.

I am currently obsessed with “watching” and I use the term loosely a little thing on Ustream called The Owl Box. I keep it up on one of my computer monitors practically all the time. I’m not sure why because I am learning that owls don’t particularly do anything in a hurry. Mostly they stand around on one leg sleeping. Hmmmm…..this also reminds me of someone I know. There are others similarly intrigued by The Owl Box, however, they are hoping to see the owls “hork.” Reallllllly? I’m having a bit of a difficult time understanding why you want to see an owl lose the remains of its vermin dinner. Even more confused that people like to dissect those “tosses.” Thanks A LOT – GG for bringing me to this particular interest. You know who you are……and something tells me you are enjoying my new found compulsion.

There was a time when I could use about a can of this stuff every day. My granddaughters have even remarked on my high school years' photos “Wow, that is some TEXAS hair!” Thankfully, I no longer use this particular product - now I use something that costs about 5 times as much and is labeled with a name that is synonymous with revving your car engine. You might be able to take the girl out of Texas but you will never take the TEXAS out of the girl OR her hair.

SHOCK AND PAW

2011-08-16T06:06:00.000-05:00

Since I seem to have no filters (just ask my kids - they will verify it) I have so much material worthy of decades of columns.

I'm not so sure these things only happen to me or if I am the only person mentally deficient enough to share them. On the day I die, a lot of people are going to know me really really well - probably better than they might wish.

My affection (spell this A F F L I C T I O N please) for canines of all shapes, sizes, colors, breeds, temperaments and situations has been fodder for the mill on more than one occasion. My exploits with my "pack" have led to a little publication I call The Dog Chronicles. Every now and then I will publish a segment - few people have read them in their entirety. I'm not sure the masses are ready for them. Plus, I fear being judged "tetched" in the head and made a resident of a lovely rubber room somewhere with a peaceful harbor view.

This column is not so much an admission as it is a public service announcement. Surely, I cannot be the only person who has these random thoughts and the stupidity to follow up on them. But, just in case there is anyone out there who wonders about the effectiveness of items and decides to test them - please consider yourself warned.

The Shredder Sisters have been anything but lovely grateful dogs only wishing to please their master. They have pushed the envelope and challenged me from the beginning. Leaping over privacy fences, destroying treasured lawn furniture, hiding while I frantically searched, giving the garage door a work out - it has constantly been one thing after another.

They have acted like feral slum dogs in the presence of others, dug up every decent flower and bush I own and barked until I lost MY voice from screaming "SHUT UP". Well, there were actually more words that I screamed but I'll not bore you with unnecessary details.

Most of my big events happened while my husband was working in Kansas City. I guess I just had too much time on my hands.

So, my most embarrassing event took place one day when the barking had been particularly annoying. I really don't believe in cruelty in any form but I was guilty of purchasing one of those voice activated electronic dog collars. It actually worked pretty well, however, I had not had it on my dogs in a while but I decided today was the day.

When I took it out of the drawer, it seemed to have lost its' "fire power." So, I made a quick trip to Wally World and purchased a replacement battery. When I took the battery box apart and began to remove the old battery the box "beeped" at me.

This begged the question "was the battery really dead?" But, I went ahead and replaced it and put the whole thing back together. As I stood there with my newly refreshed collar I started to contemplate the humanity of the things. How did I know that it really worked? Did it hurt my dogs? Or did it merely just give them a fun little buzz?

The more I thought about it, the more I slid down the slippery slope into momentary insanity. I finally decided the only way I would ever know would be to "test drive" my electronic dog collar.

Pressing the contact points to my throat, I issued my best imitation of a deep and meaningful "woof."
I immediately experienced a seizing of my vocal cords - as a matter of fact my entire neck constricted and I'm pretty sure I lost feeling in my legs. Tears were streaming down my face, my ears were ringing along with blurred vision and a blinding headache within a few seconds. I am relatively sure I lost control of at least one vital body function as well.

After about 30 minutes I regained enough of my senses to call my husband and tell him what I had done. After patiently listening to me for a moment, he said, "Honey, I'm going to have to call you back in a few minutes" and disconnected the call. He did call back and was very solicitous and concerned about my well being. I was touched.

I remained touched until a co-worker of his called and asked if I was alright. When I inquired into their concern - they immediately started to laugh. Finally the whole ugly story was revealed, apparently the reason my darling husband needed to end our conversation was because he was having great difficulty maintaining his composure. It seems that as soon as he hung up the phone, he laughed hysterically for about 5 minutes before pulling himself together.

Cad. Barbarian. Unfeeling, uncaring and unremorseful bad, bad husband.

So, there you have it. My most embarrassing moment - well for that week at least. And just so you know, those danged things really do work. However, I'm not so sure that I will ever use one on a dog of mine again. But, it did make for some really entertaining holiday entertainment that year as no one was willing to believe me until they tried it themselves. See, I'm not the only stupid person in my family.

A Poppin’ Good Time

2011-08-14T10:31:00.001-05:00

Today in my “what were they thinking?” category are the balloon wedding dresses. This does not refer to a type or style……it means the dresses are actually constructed from balloons.

So, what happens when one sits down in these dresses. How attractive to have your wedding or reception accompanied by the equivalent of the bridal party each having a sheet of bubble wrap. I’ve always found bubble wrap to be a great stress reliever and maybe this is the reason behind these dresses.

What happens if there is a sudden shift in pressure or temperature? Could the bride conceivably be left in her “scanties”? Are the balloons filled with just good old fashioned air or are they helium filled. Imagine the hysteria as the bride squeaks out her vows like a member of the Lollipop Guild in the Wizard of Oz.

I can see some interesting fun for the groom during honeymoon time. Painstakingly popping each little balloon to get to the prize beneath. It lends a whole new meaning to the song “Anticipation.”

I guess there will always be someone looking for a new way to invent the wheel. However, I’m thinking there is a certain amount of discrimination at work here. What about us girls of the “hefty” variety? I’m thinking a dress for me would need to be made from the Hot Air Balloon material in order to withstand the stress of the structure it encompasses.

Somehow I don’t see the possibility of ever remaking these dresses into First Communion outfits for the bride’s daughters. And what about the impact on our environment from an increase in rubber entering our landfills.

Thoughts? Comments? Discuss among yourselves.

The Egg And I

2011-08-07T13:15:00.001-05:00

Today I pay homage to a recent love, love, love affair of mine. There was a time when I did not appreciate the perfection of the humble egg. I have come to see the error of my ways.

Perhaps it is the diminishing of disposable cash that has brought about my devotion to that which Humpty Dumpty made famous by tumbling off a wall. **My theory here is old HD was slightly in his cups or he wouldn’t have broken his noggin**

There are few things as versatile. As nourishing. As artistic. Heck just in general as much fun as what my dad used to refer to as “cackle fruit.” There are good eggs and bad eggs. Bad eggs are particularly heinous, but it takes a lot for them to become that way. Sort of like some people who have to deal with major stressors for too long – they start to be a bit “off.”

Hard boiled, deviled, scramble, fried, poached, basted….pickled – did I forget anything? A lot like people. I personally can ascribe an actual human being in my acquaintance that could be the depiction of each state of egg.

They are canvasses of color at Easter. Toys during certain eclipses. Objects of retaliation and revenge by teenagers. And the delight of all my dogs’ hearts on Sunday mornings.

They also challenged me to learn to make a perfect omelet – something I am very pleased to report I have mastered. I appreciate the fact that as long as I have eggs I will never starve – my cholesterol may be sky high, but by gosh I will eat.

The only thing I regret about eggs is their inability to bounce. But even that was turned into a positive when I dropped a dozen on my super heated driveway where they promptly cooked to the consistency of a rubber ball. My dogs loved them, however, and saved me from having to hose off the concrete. Good thing too ‘cause truly – “all the King’s horses and all the King’s men couldn’t put those Humptys back together again.”

My Daddy Was a Pistol–I’m a Son of a Gun…..

2011-08-04T06:02:00.001-05:00

In the “you have got to be freaking kidding me” department this morning is a news story I heard. Seems that people are still trying to re- invent the wheel as it were.

Have you been wondering what to do with your earthly remains? Kicking around the whole traditional burying/cremation/cryogenically frozen dilemma? Well, you will be happy to know there is a brand new alternative out there for us all.

Now you can do a combo farewell. It seems that you can have your ashes sent to a company who will make your dust into bullets. And what is this company called you ask? Why, “Holy Smokes” – I answer.

I’m sorry, but this really sends my mind whirling off in so many inappropriate directions that I won’t even offer you insight into most of them.

The big question for me here is this…….after living your life as an ordinary person, you wish to become an instrument of death? And, if you are used to kill someone, can your heirs be sued as accessories to murder? That’s a nice legacy to leave behind don’t you think.

Or, let’s say – some hunter bags a trophy buck with you – does your name appear on the plaque along with the date of this momentous event. Or perhaps they can hang your photograph next to the disembodied head hanging in the den.

I told you that my mind goes to strange and bizarre countries with this – you were warned. So, if you have trouble dealing…..let me give you a bullet to bite on.

Well Isn’t That Just Charming!

2011-07-02T13:46:00.003-05:00

Do you know any of these people? People who never think of anyone else, but judge people based on what they do for THEM? People who continually fly in the face of convention, mindfully doing the WRONG thing and never suffering the consequences of their actions? People who are so self involved and self centered they CANNOT open their eyes to the suffering of someone else? I guess we all know these people. And if you are like me – you are always asking yourself….WHY? All my life, I’ve heard these types described as “silver spooners” – or living a charmed life – or my favorite….being born under a lucky star. I’d kind of like to know which star it is – I’d plan a party and we could all go sit under it.

Why do these people never seem to have to face the music as it were?

And then, there are those people who honestly try to do good, do right and still suffer. People who in spite of all their good intentions cannot live up to the expectations of others. Or worse, those who have to learn their value to other people is only as deep and lasting as the dollar signs in their checkbook. It must be a terrible feeling to know that just because a person is financially unable to do what they once could – they no longer matter. I see it everyday – no one steps forward to ask “can I do something for you?” “Could I help you with that?”

Why does the music seem to play for them endlessly?

Well, maybe it is because God knows the “spooners” are basically weak and therefore unable to stand in the withering heat of challenges, disappointments and failures. And maybe God knows that the valueless people here on earth are the ones that will reap his richest benefits in their ultimate reward.

One of the greatest gifts a human being can possess is the gift of discernment. Being able to see a need and set aside a pre-conceived notion of why that need is there or what the person did to “deserve” their lot in life – and step up with a giving spirit and a generous heart and HELP!

I know some people like this – unfortunately I also know some of the other kind. You can sit in church every Sunday till the trump sounds and if you have not “gotten” this basic principle of loving your fellow man – I fear you might be wasting your time.

Look around you. People are hurting, people are in need, people are scared, sick – dying. And one small gesture from you could make all the difference in the world. You might not be able to stop the pain, end the need, kick the boogie man to the curb or heal their sickness – but you can gladden their heart. You can show them they matter…they still have a value. Don’t wait for them to wrestle themselves into a position where they can reach out to you – you go first. Stick out your hand, open your eyes, soften your heart and give of yourself. You may find the payback is enormous.

One of the biggest problems in the world today, in my little humble and non-important opinion is that no one wants to make the first move. We are all sitting around in our “state of being wronged” waiting for the other person to say “I’m sorry.” I ask you….who is the bigger person? The person who sits on his I’M RIGHT AND THEY ARE WRONG pillow or the person who probably was right all along who is willing to say…I’m sorry – I was wrong for hurting you.

BTW……I’m sorry and I was wrong.

Are You a Middle Man?

2011-06-30T19:57:00.001-05:00

I drive a stretch of city street on my way to work every morning. This street is at least 3 lanes wide and one could probably squeeze 4 out of it if needed. However, the powers that be, have not yet seen fit to put lines down the middle of the road – so it is basically just wide open spaces.

It amazes me how many people drive this vast area smack dab in the middle. Seriously people, do we really need those yellow dotted lines to show us where it is appropriate to drive?

I’ve come to realize that some people just freaking like the middle of everything. You can have a nice straight edge on your baked goods which leaves one edge to dry out and some schmuck will come along and notch out into the middle area. Now you have 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 edges to suffer from the ravages of air. Big time pet peeve of mine – I do not like people to ravage my cake or corn bread.

As weird, off the wall and non – conforming as I am I still like to follow the rules to a large degree. I drive on my side usually pretty close to the boundary on the passenger side. And those people driving in the middle scare the helicopter out of me. You cannot predict what they are going to do, or where they are going to go.

So…..while sleeping in the middle on a cold night can be cozy…the middle is not necessarily the best place to be or piece to have. Just ask any middle child and they will give you all the reasons why the middle sucks.