the impatient blogger™

Seeking grace.

2013-01-04T10:27:00.000-05:00

Seeking grace.

If you find it, please send it my way.

I have been putting something off. But today I have to suck it up and get it done. It's going to be expensive. It's frustrating. I'm embarrassed. It's awkward. It makes me feel just a little bit like a failure...

...but it's surely not my fault and I have done all I can to navigate it over the past year.

I am not Super Woman and sometimes I simply have to admit that I need help.

I hate asking for help. I really, really hate it. I will struggle with something indefinitely before I'll admit I can't do it alone.

Some things we can't do alone. Some things are beyond our control. Sometimes the only way to find grace is to admit that we need help.

There is so much shame wrapped around being less than. I miss breathing. I can't remember what it feels like to have an entire day without coughing, wheezing or struggling for air.

I am not perfect, I am not super human, I am not a failure.

I can't fix this by myself.

Love
Margot

Zen Master Slacker Mommy's Guide to Letting Things Ride: Holiday Edition

2012-12-14T11:13:00.002-05:00

Ho, ho, hold the phone!

There are either eleven more days until Christmas (I'm sorry, what?)

or...there are seven more days until the Mayan Apocalypse.

Hooray!

Either way, no worries, Zen Master Slacker Mommy has you covered.

Mayan Apocalypse

It's the end of the world as we know it, and I feel fine.

Egg nog, check. Rum, check. Comfortable pants, check. Tiara, check.

That should cover it.

Christmas

Gifts are overrated. People mostly just like the idea of a gift. Therefore I suggest giving fancy boxes with nothing inside except for a single word typed on a small slip of white paper: 'Happiness.' Then you can say, "I am giving you the gift of happiness. You can thank me later."

People, particularly your kids, will love it.

Gift packaging is also overrated. Who really remembers your candy cane and glitter embellished handcrafted wrapping from last year? I'll tell you who, no one. Buy gift bags at the dollar store, add tissue paper. Toss in a single word typed on a small slip of white paper. Done.

I suggest buying wine in boxes this time of year so you don't run out. Nothing puts the fun into dysfunctional like the holidays.

If you don't drink wine, try meditation.

Hahahahahahaha.

If meditation doesn't work, the world just might be ending 3 days before Christmas, so there's that upon which to hang your jaunty Santa Hat.

If you don't feel like gifting this year, feel free to use the Mayan Apocalypse as your excuse. I'm so sorry, I thought the world was ending! Hold on one moment, I have something you're really going to love. Write a single word on a post-it note and hand it to them and say in a very cheerful voice, "Here you go! I'm giving you the gift of happiness! You can thank me later."

Decorations don't have to cost a lot of money, why not use things you already have around the house?

* Gather up the used facial tissues from your children's rooms and hot glue them to some sticks you gather from the yard. Add glitter! Arrange on mantle. Done. (Wait, maybe I'm the only one with a kid who tosses her used tissues around like confetti...)

*Write 'happiness' on a swath of post-it notes. Add glitter. Stick them everywhere! Done.

*Dirty socks on the floor? Hang them up on the mantle! Add glitter. Instant stockings! Done.

*Front door looking bare? Open the junk drawer. Empty contents. Grab hot glue gun. Glue everything into a ring. Spray paint gold. Add glitter and a big bow. Hang it up. Done.

*Need a tree? Cut a spindly branch from a tree in your yard. Stick in a tree stand. Add a few balls and a cut out cardboard glittered star. Charlie Brown tree. Done.

*When all else fails, add glitter. And wine. Did I mention wine?

Or meditation.

Hahahahahaha.

I have a small gift for you, and I think you're really going to like it.

"Happiness."

Love
Madge

Great Expectations

2012-12-12T11:16:00.002-05:00

Some might say my biggest flaw is my dewy eyed optimistic belief that there is room enough for all of us to shine. Because of that, I never hesitate to recommend people, connect people, reach out to people or invite them to the party whatever the party is, even if it might mean competition for me. That's come back to bite me on the ass more than a few times, but in the big picture cosmic reality, it's the only way I know how to move through the world. I see the connections and I am driven to make them. And let's face it, no matter what you do there will always be competition. Even if you know it's an illusion, other people may not have gotten the memo.

I try not to carry great expectations of reciprocation or recognition or appreciation. Expectations are tricky things. You can't give and expect, you simply have to give. That's a pretty big pill to swallow and we're all human, aren't we? People don't always rise to the occasion. People don't always give credit where credit is due. Truth is, most people usually won't rise to the occasion. And when you're smart and sparkly and talented and nice, it really pisses some people off. How dare you be so...shiny!

I'm always shocked beyond belief when someone whom I've connected or assisted or invited turns around and kicks me in the ass. It happens far more often than you'd imagine. I suppose I should kick back more often, but I truly don't see the point. Frustrating as it might be to those in my innermost circle, being an asshole just isn't how I roll. I'd rather walk away than get dragged into someone else's crazy drama. Though believe me, I have been dragged in without my consent on many occasions.

And of course, it also means I've walked away, a lot.

The thing is, at some point you can't keep walking away, not if you want to survive. I'm willing and able to fight if shoved against a wall. I've got no problem at all speaking my mind. I'm not afraid to point out that the emperor has no clothes. I am not, however, an asshole.

I'm amazed out how many successful people are assholes. Some of them so skilled at being assholes, they can do it seamlessly and without the slightest hint of unpleasant odor. Well, at least to those who aren't keyed into their bullshit. Those are the first people in line for the favors, connections, invitations and recommendations and the first ones to turn around and slam the door in your face. They're the people that surprisingly often appear to the outside world and the folks in charge to be absolutely delightful. They've honed their brown nosing skills and they're master manipulators and thieves. They're sociopaths, for sure, which affords them the freedom to do as they please and to be completely unconcerned with the repercussions of their actions.

I fall on the opposite end of that spectrum. I love too much. I open myself up too wide. I care too deeply.

And that's something I can not change.

I can, however, surround myself with people who approach life as I do. I can remove those who will never meet even my smallest expectations of respect and kindness from my sphere

We are all responsible for our own happiness. No one can make us sad or happy or angry, we own those reactions. Seize joy. Share joy. Become happy. Watch the world shift.

It's also okay to lace up your steel toed stilettos and send the assholes packing now and again.

Love
Madge

Ho, Ho, Humbug

2012-12-10T09:48:00.002-05:00

Christmas is and always has been complicated for me. For many years, it was lonely. I was far away from home and rarely had the money to fly back, so I spent a lot of Christmas eves and days alone feeling isolated and well, kind of lame.

Before that and more pointedly, the joy of Christmas got lost one horribly sad year in my childhood and it didn't come back until I had my daughter. It was as if that sad year melted away watching the sparkle in her eyes on Christmas morning. That's the magic, isn't it?

But perhaps that's unfair, to expect her to make it magical. That's a lot of pressure on a kid. And it wasn't until yesterday that I started to think that maybe that was what I was doing. I was thinking I was making it magical for her, but maybe she was making it magical for me. It's funny how it all falls down to perspective.

Maybe I was, maybe I wasn't. Maybe the magic is something we all have to believe in for it to be real.

I can't say.

I can say that I was pretty sad yesterday and it's spilled over into today and I'm damn sure not spending the Christmas season feeling sad. I gave it my all yesterday. I sang stupid Christmas songs, I plopped on a dorky santa hat, I decked halls, hung lights, re-imagined a new and improved holiday decor. Getting her and her dad to participate was like pulling teeth. The two of them just sat staring at electronic screens all day only stopping briefly and begrudgingly when I begged them to hold something for me or help me up or down a ladder.

You'd think I was asking them to scrub toilets.

At one point, after hours of my gently prodding, I pretty much lost it. Then her dad yelled that he hated Christmas.

Hated. Christmas.

And that was it. From that moment on I stopped asking nicely and started insisting the tree be hauled out and lit. There was so much bitching going on, I stepped in to help and still can't for the life of me figure out what was so hard about stringing lights on that tree. The branches are all exactly the same, I just don't get it.

Now there's a tree in the living room, with a smattering of vintage Christmas balls and some candy canes on it and I'm not really feeling the love for decorating it alone. Is that so wrong? I mean, isn't the whole point of having a family doing this stuff together and liking it? Whether we like it or not? Am I expecting too much from my family?

When did we lose the magic of Christmas and how do we get it back?

I can only ho so many hos before my ho ho ho has sputtered out. But I will not sled gently into that good night. I will put the fun back into dysfunctional! They're going to trim that tree and they're going to enjoy it if it kills me.

And it just might.

Love
Madge

Shiny. Happy. Madge-y.

2012-12-04T18:36:00.000-05:00

I know, it's kinda weird. I have two blogs. One is my shiny, happy, Madge-y blog where I talk about shiny, happy, Madge-y stuff.

Shiny. Happy. Madge-y.

Stuff.

This is the red headed step child to that blog.

Where I talk.

I talk about whatever bee flies up my arse or whatever sticks in my craw or whatever makes me kinda giddy in a dorkalicious fashion.

Today was my second day of Operation Build a Better Blog next door, at the shiny blog location.

It's almost there, just a few more little tweaks, but I'm really happy. Shiny, happy, Madge-y happy!

So here's the thing. I launched a ballsy e-book, much of which was mined from the old posts on this olde blogge. And it's selling...it is! It really, really is! You might like it...so if you'd like to glean a little insight all you have to do is go read about The Fine Art of Shameless Self Promotion. Yes, I'm shameless, quel suprise.

The blog has just not been right. I've been obsessively ~~stalking~~ perusing the ~~Mormon Mommy~~ perfectly perfect craft blogs in relentless pursuit of perfection and quite frankly, I just could not bring myself to plunk down several hundred dollars to have someone tweak my template.

That sounds kinda naughty, doesn't it?

So I boldly marched into CSS land armed with a relentlessly specific vision and dogged determination and I finally figured out how to do the most silly things. I lined up my social media icons...horizontally!

I created a shadowed foreground and a textured background.

I dropped the header down a skootch.

I uploaded a custom favicon, that is still not showing up but it will, oh, it will.

I added pink dashes around the edge of my foreground.

And...I'm...spent.

There is more in my head, but I shall have to revisit another day. I'm also working on SEO over there, but over here I just want to write and make clever blog titles and not think so fucking hard about it all. Over here I use potty words. Did I mention that? If not, do forgive.

I would like to share how I did this, but the short answer is that I Googled my way to the answers relentlessly until I found the code and the CSS and then poked around the code for my template that simply had to be different...and I got 'er done.

And that's just the way it works in my world. How hard can it be, really? It's just a bunch of letters, numbers and symbols.

Or a magical language that makes awesome pictures appear on your computer.

Six of one...

Luff
Madge

The Vast and Powerful Interwebs

2012-11-21T08:48:00.000-05:00

Ah, the interwebs. Our hyper connectivity is a double edged sword. On one hand, we can build a network of thousands of followers, fans and 'friends' with whom we can be constantly connected. On the other hand, this false sense of familiarity can be problematic.

People feel as if these little snapshots of your real life, carefully extracted and edited are somehow the totality of you. And this can be dangerous. An offhanded comment, a melodramatic blog post, a heated exchange, they all take on greater meaning through the lens of the computer screen. What we say has greater impact and how we say it opens it up to scrutiny and miscommunication. When you type your words on a keyboard, you lose the subtlety of spoken word. Sarcasm gets lost. The tongue planted firmly in your cheek isn't always apparent. What is crystal clear to you isn't always clear to the people on the other side of the screen.

And last week all of this hit me squarely in the arse.

I don't know how you navigate it all and I'm not sure what to do about what happened. I have real friends from several lifetimes all living together on my personal Facebook page along with fans and friends of friends and people whom I do not know and have never met in real life. It can be confusing and disconcerting watching them interact. They really don't belong together, you know. It's easier to keep them compartmentalized neatly into different eras. High school friends, college friends, theater friends, punk rock music scene friends, home shopping television friends, craft friends...and all of them also reflect different aspects of who I am now, who I was then and how I got from there to here.

It has happened to me on multiple occasions that people decide to mine my Facebook friend list to build their own. The problem is that a good portion of the people on that page are not crafters and are not interested in being marketed to by crafters. It is my personal page after all. And, well, it's kind of surreal really seeing people gather up my friends like a bundle of sticks and place them into their basket.

I am not sure how I feel about the internet. I am not sure how I feel about what happened to me last week. I am not sure how I feel about Facebook and Google and other sites tracking me and filtering what I see based on their perceptions of who I am. I don't know if I like how the internet creates these false impressions, false connections and false perceptions and I don't know how you change it without completely unplugging.

And I'm not sure if I can.

It's a brave new world.

Love
Madge

Dear John (Schnatter)

2012-11-15T19:28:00.003-05:00

Dear John Schnatter:

You are are a miraculous, splendiferous, amazing asshat.

Firstly, I would like to state for the record that you have never served anything for which I'd plunk down even a fraction of my hard earned cash.

Your pizza sucks. It always has. I'd rather eat cardboard smothered in ketchup and covered in rabbit turds and I'd eat that when hell froze over. Even my kid has the good taste to know your pizza is crap. I'm now sure the lack of quality of your product is a reflection of your Free Market driven, penny pinching, corner cutting approach to making as much money as possible to support your lavish lifestyle while you pay your employees crap wages.

You simply can't help yourself, can you?

I am willing to bet that even if you increased the price of your crappy pizza, the people who willingly choke it down would pay more without batting an eyelash. According to Forbes, your 11-13 cents a pie speculation is incorrect, we're talking 3.4-4.6 cents per pizza.

Really? You are making this much noise over less than a 5 cent per pie increase, to insure the health of your workers, which is BTW tax deductible as a business expense? Wow.

Just wow.

I know in your eyes, I'm simply one of those people who want the free stuff. I keep wondering where this free stuff is and how I get some of it. Oooo...free stuff! WOO HOO! Not that I want it, to be clear. In fact, I don't really think this free stuff is free anyway and I also don't think it's much fun to be poor or lack health insurance.

But hey, I'm kooky like that.

Frankly, I find you and the rest of the asshats who are threatening to fire their employees, dun their patrons and raise their prices simply because Obama was re-elected morally reprehensible. I know you're just pissed off that you can't hire slave labor and pay them pennies and work them like dogs. I know you're mad that your boy Mittford Romnington III didn't make it to the White House. I know it has to be tough living in a 40,000 square foot mansion on a 16 acre estate surrounded by all of the stuff built on the backs of your hard working employees. Yes, they built that. Brick by brick...crappy pizza by crappy pizza. But hey, you go ahead and take credit for all of it and while you're there, why not fire some folks and cut back people's hours just to make a point?

Go you!

Your days are numbered, angry white man. The face of this country is changing and you'd be wise to change too.

Christmas is coming, though. Might I suggest any version at all of A Christmas Carol? There might be something in there for you.

Love
Madge

Don't Mess with Madge

2012-10-24T15:47:00.003-04:00

I am angry today.

Why, you may ask?

I am angry because my bright, brave and beautiful daughter is afraid to express her opinions in her science class. Because, you see, certain other students feel science class is the appropriate place for them to bully other students into silence with endless threatening rants about their religious views. Yup, Honors Science here in good old East Tennessee has become The Bully Pulpit. Shocking, no? These students feel that their narrow interpretation of Judeo-Christian scripture is the only valid lens through which anyone should view the world. Therefore, they have the right or perhaps more aptly they have a 'holy mandate' to bully other children and even their teachers.

I am fairly confident, but can't say for sure because we've not spoken recently, that this is NOT what Jesus would do.

I believe I recall some passages in the second half of the book these students keep beating so loudly about not judging lest ye be judged, loving your 'enemies', being kind, compassionate and forgiving. Somehow these messages are not making an impression. They feel compelled to threaten other children, yell over anyone with a divergent viewpoint and they've even threatened to report the teacher for not subscribing to their version of reality, yes report her for not allowing them to continue abusing other students. And make no mistake, this kind of behavior is abusive.

The dangerous thing happening here is the belief that there is only one way of being in the world and that anyone who disagrees with that one way of being is 'evil.' And that's some evil shit right there.

Some of the views they're espousing included hatred and discrimination towards gay people, vehement intolerance of other religions and political views, refuting the theories of evolution and climate change, dismissal of all scientific theory that does not support their narrow world view, espousing of violence towards those with opposing views...

...and this slippery slope they're traversing is the slope that creates the kind of religious extremism that fuels terrorism.

It's the kind of thinking that allowed Hitler to take control. It's the kind of thinking that fueled the acts of 9/11. It's the kind of thinking that allows people to justify war, hate, violence, mass murder, oppression and aggression.

It's very, very dangerous thinking.

And it makes me really fucking angry to think that my daughter is afraid, AFRAID to speak her mind.

I have, quite frankly, had enough.

I'm tired of this behavior from these children and from the adults who indoctrinate them. What happened to freedom of expression? What happened to civil discourse? What happened to people having thoughtful conversations? What happened to the right to dissent?

And for the record, because perhaps my silence has made my beautiful daughter feel afraid of expressing her views:

I believe that gay marriage should be sanctioned by law just like heterosexual marriage. This will allow gay partners to receive the same rights and privileges under the law that straight partners receive. Being gay is not a choice, it's who you are when you're born. The very thought of amending the Constitution to support discrimination is absurd. It's the same kind of argument once used to support slavery and institutionalized racism and it's deeply flawed. People need to lighten the fuck up and get their noses out of everyone else's britches. It's none of your damn business. Period.

I believe in religious freedom and tolerance. People should be able to pray or not pray in the way they decide works for them. Your relationship or lack thereof with 'God' is private and personal. People who are confident in their beliefs are not threatened by the beliefs of others. People who force their beliefs on others in an aggressive fashion or call people who disagree with them names are bullies and quite likely completely missing the point of their religion.

I believe in the Theory of Evolution and will continue to do so until presented with empirical evidence to the contrary.

I believe that our climate is changing, rapidly, and that the amount of toxic crap we dump into the oceans and air most certainly has an affect. Shitting where you eat is bad. As an asthmatic who lives in the ozone filled Smoky Mountains, I can attest to the very real affect of pollution on the air. Seems kind of, well, obvious.

I am a liberal.

I am a feminist.

I am an Independent.

I think most (if not all) of our elected officials have been bought and sold by corporate interests. I think we need a clean sweep in Washington and some serious campaign reform.

I think lobbyists should be banned and politicians should be required to serve the people, not the people who line their pockets.

I believe in term limits and putting an end to the career politicians.

I believe that everyone should have unfettered access to quality health care and that a single payer system would be far superior to one in which insurance and pharmaceutical companies bully doctors and patients. I don't think anyone should have to file for bankruptcy simply because they got sick and buried under mountains of medical bills. As an asthmatic, without access to the health care I am denied by insurance companies because of my condition, I will die. I'm kind of partial to living, but I'm funny like that.

I believe that corporations are most definitely not people.

I believe in the free market, but I also believe that we have to have regulation. Corporations do not have hearts or souls or compassion for people. If we don't regulate them, we'll be right back to the kinds of conditions we had during the Industrial Revolution. If you don't know what it was like in this country during that time period, might I suggest a little research? There have to be rules, or people become expendable. If people become expendable, we're all screwed.

I am an entrepreneur, for the record.

I believe that a society is measured by how it treats the least among us.

I would rather my taxes pay for education, developing ecologically sound alternative energy sources and programs to help lift people out of the insidious cycles of poverty than pay to feed the voracious military industrial complex or provide handouts to big corporations and tax breaks to multi-millionaires. I believe there is far more corporate welfare doled out on a daily basis than welfare to poor people. I think this idea of entitlement goes both ways, to the folks skimming the fat off of the top and the folks scrambling for the residue at the bottom. I don't think the poor people are all trying to take my pie that I baked all by myself without any help from the wheat farmer, flour plant workers, fruit pickers or the host of other people involved in making it possible for me to bake my pie. As a kid, my family was briefly on welfare. I had subsidized school lunches. This happened because my father decided he didn't want to pay child support. I don't think needing to eat meant that I, as a child, had an overblown sense of entitlement. Access to food during times of duress seems to fall under the Life, Liberty and Pursuit of Happiness category. Those who feel it does not, will be pleased to know that we were cruelly ridiculed for being poor, probably by folks who forgot that part in that book of theirs about the beggar in the night.

I believe the only 'class warfare' against the incredibly rich happens when the incredibly poor become so downtrodden and disheartened and desperate that they rise up and revolt. Like say when Marie Antoinette and Louis the 14th met the guillotine. Asking super rich folks to pay taxes and not hide their money in offshore accounts and tax shelters is not class warfare. Asking the middle class to carry the bulk of the tax burden, however, is. The real class warfare is the squeeze being placed on middle class families and the exodus of jobs overseas where workers are paid little and treated like cattle. (See The Industrial Revolution above.)

I believe in Fair Trade. I believe that if we lift people up, provide them with training and opportunity, most people will rise to the occasion. I also believe that some people will not and some people literally can not. Not everyone is equipped with the ability to thrive. I don't think they should be left behind. I am my brother's keeper.

I can not believe that people in Arizona are being legally harassed simply because of the color of their skin. I can not believe my friend has to worry that if her son forgets his ID, that he could be arrested. I can't believe her fellow Americans are yelling at her to go back to Mexico, when her family has lived in this country for multiple generations. Really? Effectively punish people who hire illegal aliens and we will no longer have a problem, that includes hypocrites who whine about illegals and then hire them to mow their lawns or watch their kids or do their dirty jobs. We can and should do better than this.

I believe in the golden rule.

I think Jesus was a socialist and a rebel. I can't believe how much his teachings have been twisted to serve the agenda of the fear mongers, but then again, he did warn us this would happen. So why am I surprised?

I believe that women should have the right to control their own bodies and their reproductive choices. If you don't have a uterus, I don't think you get to make decisions about mine. If you do have a uterus, might I suggest you worry about your own and leave mine to me, thanks.

I believe that rape should be punished with castration, if that doesn't solve things, repeat offenders should be put to death or slathered in whale fat, tethered to a barrel soaked in blood and dropped into shark infested waters. I believe people who sexually abuse children should be similarly tortured and then put to death. I am not very liberal when it comes to rape and child abuse. I've been raped, for the record, and I can attest that it was not fun and I did not ask for it. There is no such thing as legitimate rape. Anyone who sanctions rape is a misogynist and an asshole. What the hell is going on in this country? There is definitely a war on women and it must be stopped.

I think we need to seriously revisit passing the E.R.A.

I believe that anyone who doesn't bother to vote should be fined, heavily. Voting should not just be a right, it should be a requirement of citizenship.

Women who don't vote really baffle me. Other women FOUGHT AND DIED for your RIGHT to vote, get your sassy ass to the polls.

I like our president. I think he's smart and thoughtful and passionate about his country and I plan to vote for him again. Not that it's any of your business how I vote. Feel free to refrain from telling me why I'm wrong and I shall do the same if you intend to vote for someone else. This is a FREE COUNTRY! We all get to vote the way we choose! Huzzah! If we stop being free in this country, I'm packing up this circus and moving elsewhere.

I believe that there are as many pathways to God as there are people traversing them and no one pathway is better or more valid than any other. Feel free to refrain from telling me why I'm wrong. No, really.

I believe that we are here to practice unconditional love.

I believe that the people who scream the loudest about their political or religious views are usually the ones with the most to hide and the least conviction.

I don't believe Fox should be able to call their hate filled blatant half truths, lies and propaganda 'news.' I don't think any propaganda should be called 'news.' There is nothing fair or balanced about their message. At least Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert are honest about their agendas. I'm just sayin'.

I believe 'it' (meaning the big picture, top secret, global government and economy stuff) is far, far more complicated than most of us will ever know.

I believe day to day life is pretty simple, however. Make good choices, be kind, love freely, listen respectfully, keep your mind and your heart open, reject fear, embrace joy.

This is what I believe. I don't really give a fart in a windstorm if you like it or you agree. I don't expect you to share my views and I would never demand that you do. I am not interested in arguing with you or converting you. I believe that each of us has the right to express our views without justification or apology. However I do not think we should have the right to shove our views down other people's throats or to threaten people who don't agree with us. You are free to speak your mind and I am free to disagree and visa versa. If you can't get with that program, maybe you can focus on finding a way for all of the intolerant holier than thou folks to gather together, pool their resources and buy an island where they can live and judge everyone else from a distance.

Just a thought.

And if my bright, brave and beautiful straight A honors student continues to be afraid to speak her mind in her HONORS SCIENCE classroom, her mother is going to head over to her school and kick some proverbial virtual ass.

I am not interested in arguing about semantics, religion, politics or my parenting decisions.

And that's all I've got to say about that.

Love
Madge

We Get That Upon Which We Focus

2012-10-18T14:15:00.001-04:00

I attended two large shows recently teaching free 'open to the public' classes. It was a fascinating experience on many levels. On one side, it was pure delight watching people give themselves permission to be creative. It was fascinating viewing the process over and over again. I kept being reminded of the intro from my second book where I talked about getting that fresh box of Crayola crayons and a brand new coloring book. Every kid enjoyed that moment, every kid got lost in that adventure, because back then there were no rules and you hadn't decided you weren't an artist, yet.

It was a study in human behavior too, because you very quickly saw how people approached their lives by how they approached their project. Some people dove right in and ignored the instructions, blissfully unconcerned with listening to the instructor's advice. Opening packages willy nilly, dumping glitter and glue with abandon, and generally getting lost in their own little world. Most of them experienced a variety of craft fails which could have easily been avoided had they waited just a moment for a road map. Some of them made epic messes that took a fair amount of effort to clean. Some people stared at the projects with furrowed brows muttering over and over that they weren't artists and they were doing it wrong. No matter how much we encouraged them to let that go and just have fun, they were unable to relax. So their expectations of failure were met. Some people listened carefully and proceeded to 'follow the rules' precisely, resulting in a successful project, but one that lacked any personality. Some people listened, followed the guidelines and then dove into the fray and let their imagination take over. Those projects were definitely the most interesting of the bunch.

Finally...there were people who could not be happy about any of it, even though it was free! I was scolded multiple times by people who showed up to a full house and felt it unfair that we did not have extra free kits for them to take with them. People took time to take me to the side and yell at me because I didn't watch bags they'd left behind or save seats for them or give them extra products. Yes, they yelled at me because they didn't get the free thing in the way they expected and it was my fault that there weren't more chairs and more kits and more accommodations for their needs. Some people got really weird about colors and materials, demanding to have the exactly same color yarn or markers as someone else. Even when we suggested they share, these people scoffed and scowled. SHARE! Harumph. People stole our rented chairs, they dumped entire buckets filled with product that was meant for other classes into their bags, they took virtually everything that was nailed down.

Sigh.

My takeaways from these events were many. But most of all I was reminded that we get that upon which we focus. Meaning if you live in a place where there isn't enough and it isn't going to work out and you're not capable of rising to the occasion, then no one is going to be able to fix that for you. No matter how many markers or jars of glue you steal or how much you complain about not getting enough or how much you blame the instructor and the instructions, that void in you will continue to expand and it will never be filled. These people can not appreciate what they get for free. The truth is, they are the minority. It's just that they're a very vocal minority. That being said, we only have to get caught up in their weirdness if we so choose. The drama loses impact if no one else participates.

If you live in a place were life is a glorious adventure, where there is abundance and it is already working and you can rise to every occasion, then life is a celebration. When you approach life with this kind of joy, every little gift is treasured. Experiences count and so does kindness. Anything is possible. These people appreciate all of it. They get that the experience, good or bad, is entirely up to them and entirely a matter of perspective. They're happy to share, because they're not afraid of running out. The truth is, they are also in the minority. They are a more quiet minority, but a powerful one. Their joy is contagious, in a good way.

Most people live in the spaces in between, but if you can meet them where they are and make them feel valued, accepted and embraced, then you both get something wonderful from the experience. Even if they don't 'get it', as long as you offer it, you've done your part. We get that opportunity every day. Kindness really does count.

Ultimately, after days and days of these experiences, it became clear that it wasn't about the free glitter.

It was about something much bigger and brighter and far more sparkly.

And that's some mighty good stuff indeed.

xoxo
Madge

Awe Plenty

2012-10-16T19:41:00.000-04:00

It's funny how life works if you allow for possibility. A year ago, I resolutely walked away from the darkness and into the light. I'm still on the journey. Along the way, I've had to let go of a lot of excess baggage. Some baggage was easy to release, and other baggage far more difficult. Some was downright heartbreaking.

One could say that I lost jobs, friends and things. The truth is they weren't lost, they were released. They were never real anyway. You can't lose anything that is real, you can only release your attachment to illusions.

Illusions of stability, illusions of connection, illusions of possession, these things can be quite seductive and quite convincing. Eventually the mists fade, the curtains open and the truth is revealed, that is if we are willing to live deeply and see clearly.

Jobs can be replaced. Stability does not exist. Chaos lurks. Even careers that seem shattered can be reinvented. I find myself in a tail spin every eight to ten years, but each time it becomes easier to regain my footing. I'm knee deep in another reinvention, discovering new talents and exploring others long neglected. So far, every month, the universe has provided us with enough. I have let go of panic, worry and fear. I have remained open to abundance. I have remained deeply grateful. We can choose to create our own success, of this I am certain. It is a fluid and organic thing. To navigate it, we have to become flexible and fearless.

There is more than enough, for all of us. If something gets 'lost', we simply make more. As long as we are breathing, we can create change. The more we focus on possibility, the less fear we hold.

One is lucky to count a handful of people true friends. We can give love freely knowing fully that it may not be received or returned, because every good thing we put out into the universe returns ten fold. People can only hurt us if we allow it. Their fear does not have to become ours, unless we choose to make it so. We can choose to love unconditionally.

Love has no limits. If we wrap it up in expectations, we are sure to be disappointed. The more we focus on letting love freely flow from us and back to us from the divine source, the less we need to be validated by others. Love is, all there is.

We don't really own anything. We're merely caretakers of objects for a period of time. And time and things are illusions. Our possessions are merely reflections of our desires and surely we can't be sad at losing them, because doing so makes more room for love.

Things come and go, love remains.

I get up every day and keep putting one foot bravely in front of the other. I open my heart to love. I move with intention into the great wide open. I trust with every fiber of my being that it is okay, I am okay and it is all going to be okay.

In fact, it's awesome. Make that awe some. Or should it be awe plenty? Hmmm...

Love
Madge

A Dream

2012-09-17T11:10:00.001-04:00

The air is overflowing with ragweed and goldenrod pollen this time of year in the Smokies. My lungs are wheezing their way along as they are wont to do, and sleep sometimes eludes. Last night was one of those restless nights with lots of time spent bent over two pillows trying to catch my breath. I woke up gasping for air at 4am...then 5am came and went...and I stayed up until 6am to wake up Avalon for school. Dad is kind enough to do the morning ritual as mornings are not my shining time. This morning I fell into a most disturbing dream.

There are two women. One of these women is oddly present in much of the drama of my professional career, the other has been following along as of late. The first woman is a soft spoken, smart and successful woman. Yet, somehow, any time things get blown up or blown around or sent to places they simply did not need to go, she's a participant in the scenario. More often than not she is on the fringe, whispering something into the right ear at the perfect moment.

They were both in my dream.

In my dream we were having a very large party. It was our house, but not our house, but our house in the dream. It was a very, very crowded party. My husband was somewhere, but finding him was proving difficult. The second woman was crying surrounded by people who were consoling her, when I called to her to come talk with me privately, she came at me screaming and accusing me of all sorts of awful things. I tried to explain that these things were not true, but she refused to listen. I kept calling out for my husband, as though he could explain and fix this, but of course he could not fix this. This was beyond fixing. I went looking for the first woman, who was holding court to an array of rapt listeners as she told them a litany of horrible stories about me, all with small threads of truth in them, but twisted and bent and turned into ugly lies. As I walked past her, under her breath she whispered, "I hate you, Margot."

Then I woke up.

I am now in a horrible funk which I can not seem to shake.

What is this dream trying to tell me?

What is the lesson I am to learn from this situation?

This is not the first woman like this to be in my life. I find these women frightening because they have mastered the art of manipulation and I am, somehow, the perfect foil.

What is it, about me, that they find so threatening?

Love,
Madge

She's Back!

2012-08-29T19:20:00.001-04:00

And you thought I was down for the count. Not no way, not no how. Buckle yourselves in, it's going to be a bumpy ride. xoxo Madge

An Announcement

2011-12-29T10:34:00.001-05:00

All craft, craft industry, professional and jewelry making related posts can be found at Margot Potter The Impatient Crafter blog. If you want self help and lifecrafting advice, please visit Craft. You. If you'd like to enjoy pithy quips directed at snarky internet comments, please visit Internetiquette with Ms. Madge(rs). Finally...stay tuned for my haven for all things retrofabulous at Your Grandmother's Crafts.

Phew.

This blog will be taking an extended hiatus. It's become too much of a microscope and too little of a refuge. I am turning a new page, if you are a reader here, please do come along for the fun at my other sites!

Love
Madge

Of Cabbages and Kings

2011-12-22T23:37:00.001-05:00

The above picture makes me laugh. I do things like this to keep from crying. I am crying while I type this, so I guess I had better bust out another perfectly lovely picture to deface.

I know I haven't posted here much. I am sorry about that. This is really where it all started. Now I have fifty seven blogs.

Okay, I have four.

Or five.

Um, let me count them on my fingers...

Five.

Yup, that's it. Five blogs and not one of them pays the mortgage. Seriously?

Someone give me a book deal already, GOOD GRIEF.

As we all know, all fifteen of us, I have had a long and miserable year. Insert tiny violins...here. Extracting myself from this year has proven difficult.

Yay.

I am really, really hopeful (hope full) that this is all going to work out to be so fabulous and fanfuckingtastic that I will look back in a year or two and have a jolly good laugh about it all.

Yes, I shall toss back my strawberry blonde Leonine mane with my manicured finger tips in my bubblegum pink yacht as I drift past our new home on the coast of Bora Bora, wearing a ridiculous straw hat, a bedazzled sarong and drinking some incredibly fruity and delicious rum soaked beverage from a pineapple served by a cabana boy.

I'll meet you there. Be sure to bring wine and some delicious fancy cheeses.

They aren't really into fancy cheeses in the tropics. Alas. We make small sacrifices for our fantasies, but in mine, I teach the natives how to make fancy cheeses and a nice crisp Sauvignon Blanc and all is well.

I should be sleeping, but I'm just not that into it. It's the shortest day of the year, so it makes absolute sense I'd milk it for everything it was worth.

No, mostly it's hormonal shifts and other things you would probably prefer I not blather on and on about. Yet it's tempting to be sure.

It is Christmas, but Santa is not bringing me anything. Santa is low on funds this year. It happens. Please don't tell the children, they'd be terribly sad.

What I'd really like, if Santa is listening, is to sell my humor book, sell my TV show and to get my life back. The one that got lost in this horrible year. Yup, that about covers it.

Also some wine, fancy cheeses and good dark chocolate.

Oh and Botox and a trip to the tropics.

That about covers it.

Really just the first three would be fabulous, the others are just icing on the cake.

Make that a dark ganache icing...if you please.

I'm feeling a Scarlet O'Hara moment coming on...I simply must go whip up a dress from our curtains!

Love
Madge

Some Good News!

2011-08-09T18:08:00.003-04:00

Some of you may recall that I visited National Jewish Hospital last year in my relentless quest for answers about my unresponsive asthma. I went on a 9 month course of antibiotics after that trip to eradicate a microbacteria from my lungs called mycoplasma. You can read about it here.

Well, here it is over a year later and I have interesting news.

I have been having a heckuva time breathing since the heat index went through the roof here in East Tennessee over the past two weeks along with some other extenuating breath challenging situations. I visited my new asthma doc for some relief and she gave me some new meds to get me through until the heat subsides and the ozone levels go down.

She also told me that I have the first viable improvement in my breathing in years! So that means the Biaxin must have worked, which means that my regular asthma meds may finally be able to get in there and do their job.

So...although I'm currently wheezy and exhausted, there is a bright light at the end of the tunnel!

Huzzah!

If you know anyone with unresponsive asthma, MS, Crohns, Gulf War Syndrome, Lupus, Chronic Fatigue, Rheumatoid Arthritis or any other long term chronic inflammatory or immune system condition, they may benefit from this therapy too.

I had to fight hard to get this answer and I really want other folks to know there is hope, it's not just you and sometimes you just have to fight long enough until someone finally listens.

Fight the good fight, you are worth it!

Love
Madge

Gentle Readers...Few Though You May Be

2011-08-05T18:03:00.005-04:00

Dear Approximately Four Regular Readers

Yes, there are about four of you who read this drivel and a few who stumble through on their way somewhere else. You held on even when I took down four years of posts and mostly stopped writing here. You lovely wonderful four of you who for whatever reason keep coming back for the few posts I manage to eek out these days...thank you.

Thank you for offering me a virtual shoulder and for reminding me, especially in the toughest times, that you are out there and that you, yes you, gentle readers, genuinely care about someone whom you have never met. Someone who shows her seams, embraces her warts, colors outside of the lines and lives out loud. Someone who takes the side roads and rescues any turtles she might find stranded on them. Someone who, just like every other someone on this planet, merely wants to love and be loved and to find whatever modicum of grace and dignity she can as she makes her way through this weary world.

And if you're looking for something here that isn't bathed in unconditional love and covered in fierce fabulosity and glittery goodness, then I'm afraid you have come to the wrong blog.

To the looky loos, the trolly trolls and the thrill seekers, move along. There is nothing to see here. Show's over. I truly hope you find your pathway to joy, or at the very least find your way back to that bridge that is missing you.

Writing is my guilty pleasure. It is the joy inside my tears. I work things out by writing them out and I post them here because I know that in doing so I have given someone else who may be struggling to find terra firma a little message in a bottle that lets them know to hang on and be strong.

Just know, brave four, that you are light, you are loved and nothing and no one can harm you and if you ever need to feel just a little less alone, you can find me here.

"And in the end, the love you take, is equal to the love you make." The Beatles

"Blackbird singing in the dead of night. Take these broken wings and learn to fly. All your life, you were always waiting for this moment to arise." The Beatles

"The opposite of love is fear, but what is all encompassing can have no opposites." A Course in Miracles

Be in peace,

Madge

The Scar

2011-08-03T13:32:00.005-04:00

Her fingers traced lightly over the scar on her right cheek.

It was an imperfect circle, there were small almost imperceptible peaks and valleys. It was a fresh scar that was still settling into a state of permanence. When she caught a glimpse of it in a mirror, it was confusing and alien. She had spent 47 years living without it.

Most people were far too polite to inquire how it had appeared where it once was not, and so it hung in the air like a great unspoken question mark.

Maybe it was always there, somewhere, lurking in the shadows waiting to emerge.

The deepest scars are mostly invisible.

Perhaps this one had been making its way to the surface for a number of years only to meet at the proper moment with an accidental external assault.

She traced, sighed, gazed and reflected on the subtle changes time was making to her countenance. The scar felt like a vulgar addition to an already fading canvas.

"I will learn to love you, scar." She announced resolutely.

She had no choice, so she did, in point of fact, learn to love it. It was a part of her now, after all.

Rock the boat, don't rock the boat baby...

2011-07-25T14:56:00.005-04:00

It has been a while since I posted here.

I have so much to say, yet I can't say it out loud right now.

I built my entire career on transparency. I am no longer running the show. I have been asked not to rock the boat.

I used to be the captain of the boat, the boat that I rocked with joyful abandon on a regular basis. I mean, who doesn't like rocking the boat now and again?

I can say I'm not really happy with the new sailing arrangements. This makes me sad.

I can also say that was not a pathetic stab at irony or sarcasm.

It is just how I feel.

I can also say that without hesitation that I will wrap my fingers around that wheel again and I will not ever let it go.

Just saying that makes me feel better.

I guess that about covers things in an obtuse way.

"The time has come, the walrus said,
To talk of many things.
Of shoes, of ships, of sealing wax,
Of cabbages and kings."
Lewis Carroll (also being obtuse, but in a most delightful way)

xoxo
Madge

Shiny Things

2011-02-28T09:48:00.002-05:00

Starry Night by Vincent Van Gogh...a shiny person who felt the strain.

Sometimes I feel stuck in the resistance of people who feel threatened by me. Let me be clear, it's not all about me, it's not about me at all. It's about them. It's about living in a state of lack and allowing that state of lack and fear to project outward and infect your actions. This happens to all of us at some point or another if we put ourselves out there and god forbid, achieve some level of success. I first noticed this phenomenon when I was a kid. People who don't sit quietly in the corner, who don't follow the rules blindly, who sparkle freely, who live out loud...especially people who do all of that and also boldly encourage others to do the same...we are threatening. We are threatening because our presence is catalytic.

It's weird, because my endless Pollyanna desire for community and belonging is ever thwarted by my square peg in a round hole reality.

I have never fit in and I'm afraid it's become increasingly obvious that I never will. Even among the misfits I'm some how odd girl out.

C'est la vie.

The thing that makes this frustrating is these threatened people often do their best to push me out of the spotlight, out of my jobs, out of my connections, out of the party...though how my leaving will make them appear any better at what they do is beyond my comprehension.

In point of fact, together we are far stronger than we are individually.

I want to take them gently by the hand and sit them down and say, hey, listen, I'm not the enemy. I don't want to take your pie, I'm busy baking my own. You don't get anything out of making someone else smaller, except bad karma and a side of guilt. It's okay for all of us to become exactly who we are and in doing so there is no possibility for competition or threat, no one in the entire world can be you better than you can. It's okay to get yours, but you don't have to kick someone else in the shins to do it. I don't need to take away from you to make me bigger.

I just want to shine and watch you shine and encourage everyone to shine...

Yeah, I want to buy the world a Coke.

Except for the diabetics who probably don't need a Coke, so maybe I can get them a sparkling water instead.

But I digress...

There is room enough in the sky for every star to shine. So just shine brightly and don't worry about that star on the left or the right, they're doing their own shiny thing. Do yours.

"Your life is an occasion, rise to it." Mr. Magorium

xoxo
Madge

A Little Breathing Room

2011-01-15T16:38:00.006-05:00

An old friend of mine left a comment on my Facebook page that bears contemplation. I was getting the old roots dyed and she asked, "I wonder when a woman decides it's o.k. to see what's underneath. I see those women walking down the street with their amazing silver hair. When do we become one of them?"

I see those women too, they have downy soft shiny silver hair, it's gorgeous. It's fabulous.

It's not my hair.

I have the hair of a wire terrier. It is neither silky nor soft. It is not silver, it is part grey and part reddish brown and there isn't much sense to be made of why some is gray and some is brown. For me, that lovely image isn't a reality. I do not have lovely shiny silver hair. Beyond that, I am so pale that silver hair would make me look like an albino.

That is not an exaggeration for literary effect.

I think she brings up a point that is interesting. When do we see what's underneath? Must we see what's underneath? If we don't are we vain and silly? If we do are we special and brave? Are we not seeing what's underneath because we're feeling pressured to look younger or are we just not that into it? Either way, aren't these both choices?

Sometimes women don't give each other enough room to just be who we want to be without explanation or apology. Sometimes...women need to give each other a little breathing room.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Wash, dye, don't dye, shave, pluck, don't shave, don't pluck, rouge, don't rouge, rinse, repeat...look in the mirror and love what you see. If it takes a little help from Miss Clairol to make that happen, so be it. Rock on with your bad sassy self.

Love
Madge

Weenieness 101

2010-12-15T18:28:00.001-05:00

I find it fascinating that there are people who simply can not operate with even a modicum of transparency or compassion. I'd respect them far more if they'd just be honest about it. I mean, if you're going to be a total bastard, wear it proudly. Get the t-shirt and the vanity plate.

These people know just up what arse the smoke must be blown and can, with lightning fast speed, turn from said aforementioned smoke blowing to blowing poison darts in your direction all the while grinning like a Cheshire cat. We all meet up with weenies, but a rare few are almost pathological in their weenieness.

No, it's not a word. Don't page Websters.

What's frustrating for me is that I want things to be happy and shiny so much so that I often do my best to 'fix it' until I realize, once again, that there is no fixing crazy. The more you try to fix crazy, the more that crazy just rubs off on you and makes you stink. No matter how much you bob, crazy keeps weaving at you with a stealth force and a cruel laugh. I've been dragged into crazy too many times and I'm quite frankly tired of it. Crazy can, quite frankly, kiss my ass.

I'm not made of the stuff that relishes in crushing others. I want to buy the world a Coke and furnish it with love. I want everyone to hold hands and sing Kumbaya. I don't understand and so, therefore, I don't know how to navigate it. How do you navigate someone who revels in being cruel? How do you get the light of truth to shine on someone who is so good at the old razzle dazzle that the people who matter simply can not see how horrid they truly are?

I don't know. I do know that I've had to spend far too much time with this kind of crazy in this lifetime and there must be a reason for it, though it still eludes me.

I do know that 'I will not go gentle into that good night.

(I will) rage, rage against the dying of the light.'

I have missed this blog. I have missed you, Gentler Reader.

Wish me luck while I lace up my steel toed boots, I think I just might need it this time.

Love
Madge

Take That, Internet Haters

2010-09-24T11:54:00.005-04:00

Today's incredibly rude e-mail via my website hails all the way from Europe via info@Alzheimer-Europe.org and was lovingly penned by 'Etiquette Police' also known as 'Edicate Police.'

"Oh I see now now... your a closet comedian/performer...

You REALLY need some etiquette lessons... I "really" don't want to hear about "every girl should have a 'shaft'" or "stif-whatever you said" when I am watching a "craft" video.

On what planet do you live----that you cannot see that all of this is sexually INAPPROPRIATE behavior. Can you NOT SEE how uncomfortable you made that woman...?!!!

PLEASE! Go get some performance training or image consulting, maybe some therapy to understand "why you cannot SEE, your inappropriate behavior!" RAISE YOUR CONSCIOUSNESS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It's all so... eeeww, unprofessional and dysfunctional!

Edicate Police!"

"Dear Etiquette Police:

Perhaps instead of sending unfathomably rude emails to complete strangers, you might focus instead on assisting people with Alzheimer's. My Grandmother and my Grandfather both suffered from this most horrible and debilitating disorder. I can't even begin to believe that you think it's appropriate to send such a thoughtless email to someone whom you don't know.

Life is far too short to lack a sense of humor, even in the face of the most horrible things we must endure. I don't really give a rat's behind if you like my videos and for the record a flexible shaft is a kind of electric drill and my friend Jenny Harada thinks me very funny. I wonder what kind of a person bothers to be so RUDE under the guise of dishing out 'etiquette advice?'

As for etiquette, since it appears that you are the one who requires a lesson, one does not attack another person via anonymous emails merely because they don't like the videos they make, one politely declines to comment and moves on with their day.

Oh and finally, I have performed some of the greatest roles in the Classical Theatre canon to accolades and acclaim and I have been a professional performer for 28 years. My craft career came long after my performing career. It is you who requires lessons, in basic human courtesy.

Regards,
Madge"

Madge's Afterthought:

We live in a world of increasingly rude behavior that is escalating at a most alarming rate because of the ability for people to hide behind their computer screens. What exactly is sexually appropriate behavior and when is a joke just a joke and not an affront to humanity? Why can't a girl enjoy a little innuendo now and again? I mean, really. Lighten up, buttercup.

I am so tired of the army of anonymous people who feel compelled to spread their nasty all around the internet. I am not afraid of them and I'm not backing down.

Take that, haters.

Love
Madge

Turn and Face the Strain Ch-Ch-Changes

2010-09-14T15:52:00.008-04:00

We are smack dab in the middle of some major life changes here at Casa Potter. It's been...overwhelming. I decided to dig up a post from my archives I wrote way back when I first started this little ol' blog of mine. It's apt as we move towards a new adventure. A caveat, I used to write in lower case letters, but I decided that unless it was poetry or I was channeling e.e. cummings, it was derivative at best. Do forgive.

"turn and face the strain, ch-ch-changes."

ah, change. the only constant. and in my lifetime perhaps the only moor to which i can ever dock my sailboat. i have moved 27 times in my life.

27 endings...27 beginnings...27 major sweeping reality shifts...27 hellos...27 good-byes...27 opportunities to reinvent myself.

man...am i tired.

it's funny because so much of life is change, and yet the thought of instigating sweeping changes absolutely terrifies us. because we have no freaking clue what might happen if we push the button, right? will the great glass elevator really shatter into a million pieces...and if it might should we push the button anyway...just to see? it is good to stand on firm ground, but i think it might also be good to rock the earth under our feet a little every now and again. Keeps us on our toes...makes us feel that rush of living.

"to make a beginning, there must be an ending...the end is where we start from."
t.s. elliot

albert einstein theorized that if we stood in space and could see to its farthest reaches we would see the back of our own head. now that's a circle for you! maybe reality is a circle and not a straight line...and our feeble attempts to change that are wasted effort.

ultimately, it isn't the external change that matters, because if we don't make a quantum shift inside of ourselves then no matter where we go, the scenery all starts to look the same.

change may be good or maybe not so much, but regardless of its merits it is impossible to avoid.

"time may change me...but i can't trace time..."

Glamerican Beagle Jr.

2010-09-07T13:45:00.010-04:00

I knew eventually my kid would decide that funky thrift store finds were simply not going to cut it at school. I held out hope and then...the unrelenting logo pressure got too strong. Not only are teens label conscious, they're season conscious. They pay top dollar to wear clothes that are slathered shamelessly with store logos AND they must have this season's picks or the other kids will know.

Oh no. We wouldn't want...the other kids to know.

I don't want Avalon to feel like Second Hand Rose, so I do supplement the stuff from the discount stores like TJ's and the Mom Closet finds with a few key logo savvy pieces.

So off to the mall we went. Hoorah. We hit several stores and then had one last store to check for a skirt she had to have. After no fewer than three incredibly perky sales people tried to sell us something we really did not want, we managed to get to the register mostly unscathed. Then the perky cashier asked if we wanted a Frequent Shopper Card. I said okay and then after handing me the card she asks me to hand her my driver's license so she can 'save me some time' and fill out the form for me.

Insert screeching tires sounds...here.

Uh, not so fast, Muffy.

I can fill it out myself, thanks.

I get home and read this form and realize that she was trying to flim flam me into signing up for a CREDIT CARD. To add insult to injury, it requested my Social Security Number and my Mother's Maiden Name in two small boxes at the bottom.

Seriously?

To say that I'm a little miffed is a vast understatement.

It's bad enough that customer service has disappeared, but now they're trying to trick me into signing up for a credit card and sharing personal information that could be easily stolen by said aforementioned perky cashier a.k.a. Muffy Liarpants?

WTF?!

I would name the store, but that might set me up for a libel suit. Instead I shall say that it's the teencentric clothing store that rhymes with 'fairy' and is a branch of the store that sounds like Glamerican Beagle.

I wasn't born yesterday.

Love
Madge

Justice, Wherefore Art Thou?

2010-09-03T08:58:00.008-04:00

I have watched two amazing women be methodically crushed by two monstrous men for the past few years and it's been unbearable to see how our legal system does absolutely nothing to set things right. These women have tried to escape, but the courts have made that impossible. I am so angry, so frustrated at my lack of ability to help them break free. These selfish, cruel and vindictive men have been rewarded over and over again while the women they continue to abuse have been punished. No matter how many lies they tell, how many lives they ruin, they continue to abuse, control and crush with a complete and total disregard for the destruction of their relationships not only with the women they've abused, but with the family that surround them. That is the psyche of an abuser.

The wheels of karma have not yet spun in their direction, but it is my sincere hope that soon they will and with an unrelenting velocity.

I wonder sometimes how these men can stand to even look at themselves in the mirror. I suppose trying to understand a sociopath is pointless. I wonder if the possessions and the money they covet like Gollum or Scrooge give them any satisfaction at all. I wonder what it feels like to know that your egomaniacal unbridled selfishness and unrelenting need to 'win' has completely destroyed your relationships with your children, your grandchildren and everyone who should have mattered to you.

You'd think, eventually, somehow, someday, when they sit alone in their dragon cave surrounded by their crappy dragon hoard that whatever tiny heart they might actually possess will crack open. And then, finally, they'll know how much they've lost and how little they've gained.

If there is justice, they will find the prison they've constructed so carefully for themselves is locked so completely, they will never be able to escape.

"I wear the chain I forged in life. I made it link by link and yard by yard. I gartered it on of my own free will and by my own free will, I wore it." Jacob Marley from A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens

"They’re thieves. They’re thieves, they’re filthy little thieves. Where is it? Where is it? They stole it from us. My Precious. Curse them, we hates them! It’s ours it is, and we wants it. "
Gollum from The Lord of the Rings by J.R. Tolkien

‎"Until you do right by me, everything you THINK about is gonna crumble!" Ceelie to Albert from The Color Purple by Alice Walker (thanks to Andrea Ferguson)

Love
Madge