Leaving grudges behind in 2012

oakey woods wma, houston co. GA, United States

Happy New Year.

I don't make resolutions. They have always been wish lists for me.

I found my first passport which I got in 1985. That was 27 years ago and the woman in the picture is no longer me. My essential personality is there. Its all the baggage good and bad along the way. Of course there is my youth shining through the picture.

I struggled with becoming a senior citizen. I'm a young one at 56. My fear is that I will never get the Great American Novel written. Like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, it was there with me all along. It was lost in this race called life.

My resolution this year is simple. Drop the grudges. Forget the hidden scorecard. I learned a long time ago that you forgive for your own benefit.

Grudges are the memories of past slights and transgressions. For me, I have not had that many personal attacks. A fellow teacher despised me. I never figured out why. I was one of few co-workers who didn't criticize the fact she was gay.

I've had people that spurned my friendship for no reason The funniest one was this man who lived in the house he grew up in. His parents were snobs to my family. We didn't go to church and we were country. He felt too big to speak to me as a 50 year old man. No one is better than another person. But I had achieved so much and he so little in comparison.

This year I had a almost thirty something to really dislike me for no reason that I know. I was born with the "like everybody" gene. I would like to say it did not bother me. But it did. I don't burn bridges out of common sense. What eats at my soul is why was I disposable?

My new years gift to myself is I am leaving grudges to 2012. I'll write that person's name on a piece of paper and write what bothered me on it if I keep thinking of it. Wad it up and throw it out with the used cat litter that day.

I did have something remarkable happen this year. As a kid, my family was haunted by a woman in the neighborhood that I grew up in. I used to think she told all the stories because she had a past which my dad knew about. I now know it was about power and the fact that she could wield it. Those that shunned us spoke volumes about themselves. Many others could have cared less.

One of the kids who was several years older talked to me this past summer. His wife was there. She was my friend in water aerobics. It was surreal. Forty years had passed from the time I had known him. Forty years ago he would have looked through me as if I were invisible.

What do you say? We talked about our families. I felt like telling his wife. Don't make him do this. This is cruel. But like me in the photograph, that teenage boy who didn't associate with the neighborhood pariahs no longer existed.

Fake boobs.

I've got company coming on Tuesday. I sit trying to remember a familiar name as I peruse his Facebook page.. He has a picture of a girl on a Facebook page which I'm sure is a link to a phone sex business.  I can't be sure, I sure as heck was careful not to hit the link.

In the early days of the web, a teacher in the library watched as a student typed in the name of a hurricane in the news. She was paralyzed for a moment, it was pornography. What made it worse is they closed the browser window and it opened another window.

What stands out to me are her breasts. Like big bouncing balls. They are a supernatural sight. I wanted to post the picture here; but I don't want to fool with copyright; there should be some actor that has enhanced their body and would like free promotion.

Viola, Pamela Anderson, a woman who admits to surgically enhanced breast which are possibly her raison d'etre to stand out from the crowd.

Pamela Anderson images

It does and doesn't compare to the lithesome young gal laying on her back with huge gelatinous breasts standing upright like rotund soldiers.Pretend woman, pretend body.

Even funnier, this article by Men's Health How to detect fake breasts.  Four out of five are not bad. I am satisfied to know they slosh and you can hear the sloshing when in close contact.

Julee, Where are you?

My home phone has a bug. Debt collectors. Not for me but for a shapeless, formless Julie. The last name changes but the name Julie is still there. The first person had a first name that seemed African-American but it escapes my memory. It did have a nice sound.

This leads to my big question. Do these loan originators ever check the home phone number of the people they are giving a loan to? Do hospitals ever take the time to check the authenticity of a phone number their potential patient gives?

My home phone is an essential nuisance. I would get rid of it except that I like having a landline for several reasons. Yes, I do have the number on the government do not call list. I have gotten out of bed at 11 pm to answer one of these amorphous calls.

The latest one was a recorded call. It did give a phone number for the amorphous Julie to call if she had changed her number. I imagine if this Julie can get all this credit, I would think she would be smarter than that.

Revisiting high school

I grew up in a small town in Georgia a little like the mythical town of Garrison Keillor's Lake Wobegon. Warner Robins, Ga was a great town for young people. We had great mentors, we were far enough away from the troubles of a big city and there was an idealism nurtured in all of us. Our parents had steady jobs at RAFB and surrounding businesses.

I returned to Warner Robins when I was 44. My dad had passed away and my mother needed help. I have two handicapped siblings. I had the best job situation I had ever had but I as you get older, your social life dries up. What attracted me to the Atlanta area just did not shine as bright.

I made the big move several months before my mother had become semi-invalid with an arthritic back. She got better and more mobile. Broke her hip a few years later and father time has made her very frail.

The family thing is like all families. At times we are dysfunctional as hell and other times we are the backbone of what is best in us all. I really can't complain. As much as I can feel irritation at one of my siblings, I know if I need help they will be there that fast. With two handicapped individuals, our family is stressed with needs.

I usually snoop on facebook. Like many things it has morphed for me. In my efforts to write the Great American Novel, it is morphing into a marketing arm.

An old high school chum referred friends to me. I had never thought of friending people I barely knew.  I have friended one who contacts me and I do not remember him. So many of us have matured and recognize the need to like as many people as possible.

What backs me up is someone who I know really really well put me on their subscriber list. They basically want to give me updates but not hear from me. That would not bother me so much but they have close to 900 friends.

A high school group has accepted new friends but my request was ignored. This does not bother me too much. One, they may not remember me, I certainly don't remember many. Two, its an anonymous faceless groups with deep comments like "Hi", "Whassup", "We had 26 people over for  Christmas." and other vague comments with little depth. Three, I'm older, you're doing me a favor if you don't want me to not include me. I'll do the same for you. Four, they could have missed my request as they approved the other eleven this week. No biggee.

Its funny how two snubs can seem more important than all those people who barely knew you, didn't know you or plain disliked you in school were ready to be a facebook friend. When I taught school, if I had a difficult child or class, it was all too easy to dwell on that and not on what went well.

I might be older but I'm not wiser. I still feel the sting of exclusion. That interesting subscription button will not be used by me. Now those invisible stars, they are handy. ;=)

I'm walking around the house with my "Husband Beaters" on

They can't be wife beaters since I'm female. I've got these sport bras that really cover more than the infamous tube top. I'm prone to hot flashes and my entire family is used to the strip tease I do around the house. Those incredibly flashes of heat are a science project in themselves.

My favorite brand of bra no longer are made. I really feel disappointed. To get the shape I want, I have to wear bras that cut incredibly and ride up. So, I guess I am moving slowly yet swiftly into that sexless creature of old age.

Its been a good Christmas.

Every Christmas is unique and changes over the years. My family acquired a new dog last July who had a litter of pups on July 21.



Checkers looked at me like she loved me so much. I now know she saw a car full of old folks and we were her ticket to lavish lifestyle. Earlier this evening, I heard a terrible dog attack in the house. I went to check. It was Checkers running the 60 pound German Shepherd mix out of my sister's room. That bed is only for her and my sister. A big improvement over living under a house.

I have two sisters. One that lives with me and one that lives in a neighboring town. An emu was loose at the neighboring horse farm about 7 years ago. The horse farm came over and told my sister who was house sitting as we were on vacation to get our emu. My sister said Oh God, don't let my sister see it. She will want it.

The mystery emu was picked up by another neighboring family from later escapes. To make a long story short, that woman was a more serious animal person than I ever was and she found a home for it within one week of owning it. It was more than she could handle. I don't want an emu. I'm old enough to learn from another's misfortune.

As long as your parents are alive, you see your siblings. This Christmas was no exception. It's good to see everyone. My oldest brother had his two granddaughters in tow. The oldest is 17 and she was the chauffeur. I might be biased but both girls were gorgeous. The youngest is going to be a veterinarian. She inherited the love of animals. Her older sister I hope becomes a teacher like me. She has the disposition.

I bought Christmas dresses for my chihuahua mixes to wear and to take pictures. It was a sloppy wet day. I plan to wait a few days and dress them up for their pictures. I don't think they know its Christmas anyway. LOL

It was a good Christmas for me. Like all Christmas pasts, nothing really went the way I had planned. The little dog knows what we older folks have to offer. I hope all of you have a good day.

Makes you want to hollar sometimes.

I got a bill for a renewal for my National Geographic subscription. I was thinking, I did not get National Geographic. The cost was 59.99 for one year. Yuck, I was canceling that. Then I read the whole thing. It was a magazine subscription service.

A year's subscription to National Geographic is $15. I guess the extra $45 is for their time and effort in making someone think they have subscription and renewal to pay.

Robert Griffin III who is the quarterback for the Washington Redskins is trademarking the phrase, "Unbelievably believable" his name and initials. Trademarking is getting out of hand at times. Travyon Martin who was killed by George Zimmerman. Mom trademarked phrases associated with the public outcry. Everything has a profit potential.

There are copyright trolls that are stiffling the production of electronics and software. Legally they make money off of copyright infringements. This is one that makes you take a step back. If they own the copyright, they have a right to be paid.

Now how did they get that copyright. One reason you don't allow your own writing to go into public domain is that someone else can copyright what you wrote and make you pay to use what you gave to public domain. Makes you want to hollar.

My email was hacked.

The fact that I opened a link sent to me should speak volumes. There is a sucker born everyday and sometimes its me.

Immediately I knew there was a problem. It was a job opportunity to earn $15 every time I posted a link for Google  or some other well known organization. Thinking I was being so sly, I opened another window to Google the company. Meanwhile every person on my contact list had received the same generous offer. Spam for their contacts and the opportunity for their email to be hacked.

Goons have a one up on you every time  They know what you will do. Exploiting your ignorance. It's not just computer viruses. It can be the plumber.

My hot water heater stopped working. I called the plumber. I paid an exorbitant price for a $10 thermostat to be replaced. $179. The guy holds the intake water pipe and looks worried. He runs water in my kitchen sink. He tells me he has rechecked my elements and the top one has blown. That will be $231. I tell him fix it. Then I think, I'll cut my losses and get a new hot water heater.

He scribbles like hell on the receipt. He doesn't reconnect the circuit breaker for the hot water heater. He doesn't want anything to blow up. Well that sounds funny.

I give myself the gift of a day to think. I sweat like a pig and take a cold shower that night. My family is doing without. I call a friend and the man who keeps my well in shape. He came and fixed my well one Sunday night. His mom was in the hospital about an hour away. He left, fixed my well, and went back to the hospital unpaid. He gives me a name.

The name came the next day when I called. He showed me how to check the elements and thermostat. Nothing was wrong with the elements. The thermostat had been set to nuclear. I turned it down as low as I could get it. He didn't want me to pay him. It made him sick that I had been overcharged and possibly ripped off. He showed me the reset button on the thermostat.

My dad told me the year he passed to toughen up. You always have stress. It made me feel sad that he was close to 80 and had to weather storms.

I will say one thing. Just because someone tricked me with my ignorance it doesn't mean they are smarter than me. It means they are missing something that makes you fully human.

I used to not believe in God. One day I realized I didn't believe in people. God was always there for me. People are always there for me too. I believe in people too.

Older and wiser. I wish those first graders in Connecticut were too. God Bless.

Some 'plaining due.

The earliest television show I remember watching on a regular basis was I Love Lucy. Ricky Ricardo would want Lucy to do some 'plaining after one of her madcap hi-jink.

Personally, I get a wee tired of the explaining. Today I went to request to pick up my mammogram to take to the doctor's office. I had been told that I could pick them up where the mammogram was done versus the hospital. Either location is a trip so I really did not care.

I make the request on Tuesday to pick them up Thursday morning. The young lady behind the counter tells me it takes 24 hours, I need to pick them up Thursday afternoon. I say, 24 hours, today is Tuesday. She continues to explain you need to come Thursday afternoon. I say, my appointment is Thursday afternoon. She says you need to come Thursday afternoon. I say, 24 hours? She says 24 hours and then we have to wait for the mail.

As she rattles off about I need to come Thursday afternoon, it occurs to me what she means. 24 hours for the mammogram films. Another 24 hours for delivery. She needed to say 48 hour turnaround. The hospital is maybe half a mile away. I tell her I can pick them up there.

When you are old, you need lots of explaining. Well old to the receptionist.

Now, I have been cleaning house, I need a coat of paint (make-up), I resist the urge to tempt fate and go home and make the request early Wednesday morning. Squaring my shoulders, I go straight to radiology and make my request. As I walk in, I think maybe I should have taken my purse with my ID.

The receptionist is so cute and young. "Do I have a picture ID?"

That caption above your head where you are thinking real loud goes off. "Hell no, what can I do with some old broad's mammogram? You're going to make me walk back to my car, looking like this. I know, I know, only the pink lady in front noticed how sloppy I was. All you kids think this is how folks like me always ...." She smiles at me and tells me to bring my picture ID to pick the films up Thursday morning. "look as good as I feel right now."

I make eye contact with the pink lady and wave as I leave.

Now this is not one incident there is lots of 'plaining going on.

One supermarket chain has a mystery coupon for a penny item on senior citizen Wednesday. My mom looks forward to this event. We are going to buy 2 for 1 grocery items whether we need it or not. Sometimes mom gets so worked up, we have to leave before the mail comes and I get my mystery coupon from the local paper. You know the motor chairs batteries get worn down my mother reminds me.

I've discussed this with the manager. He told me he can't justify getting more chairs for one day of high demand. He's rather good looking so the explaining is more pleasant.

I've timed my mother. It can take up to two hours studying the aisles of this magnificent store. I have to admit, the workers are very friendly. Could it be the $2000 the pharmacy gets from the insurance company for medicines my mom and brother take each month. All for getting 5 lbs of sugar for one cent. We don't use sugar. We're diabetics. But the Methodist food bank does.

Well the mystery item can be quite a mystery. You sort of have to look for it. Since I have a book to read at all times, I go to customer service and find out what the item is. The closer they are to my age, the more likely they make eye contact and say what the item is as they wait on the customer ahead of me.

About three weeks ago, it was a new girl. I say, What's the mystery coupon?
She tells me what the mystery coupon is. I say, no, the item. She then explains to me that I asked for what the mystery coupon was. Granted she was right. I say, what is the mystery coupon item? It's a good thing we played Simon Sez as a kid.

Like I say, we old broads need lots of explaining.

Now you're probably wondering what the picture has to do with this article.

Absolutely nothing. I jes felt like doing some 'plaining. Have a Great Day!

My what big feet you have.

My mom could hardly hide her aggravation with a woman commenting on my big feet in a shoe store. I was about 13.

I learned in high school when people asked me how tall I was to say 6 foot. It took the punch out what happened when I gave my actual height 5'9". Some were conveniently confused when they could not say I seemed taller.

Add that to short and often pudgy girls admiring how small they were compared to me. The most obnoxious one was fat and ugly. I could be equally obnoxious in my own way but I was already at a point where I felt compassion for someone else. Particularly because I truly believed I was gorgeous at the time.

When I taught school I really did not see that many unattractive children. Youth has a beauty of its own. One young man in a ROTC uniform seemed fairly homely until I said something that made him laugh. Its like a curtain pulled, and he was very attractive.

At the nail salon, I couldn't understand the Vietnamese. I could understand the motions. They were comparing their little feet to mine.

I have a developmentally delayed brother who I bring on to the nail salon. He likes having his feet done. The nail technician points out my feet are bigger than his. Now exactly what do you do with this sort of information. Put it on your curriculum vitae?

I had a mammogram two weeks ago. You basically go into a changing room and put on a hospital gown that ties. I was fairly covered. I thought about thanking them for giving me a larger gown.

During the mammogram, I guess the technician realized I had large boobs. She asks me if I would like another gown to wear in the front when I leave. I said, no. I thought, Did you see my boobs hanging out when I came in? I think not!

As my mother slowly and silently shrinks, I can know the advantage of height. I can also think of much worse things in life, one of them shallowness. I feel blessed with what I do have. Sometimes I see people disfigured, unhealthy, homeless. What happened in Connecticut is quite hard to bear. I can't imagine the pain of the parents of those innocent children. My mother keeps changing the channel to get away from it. I've seen her crying too many times over the tragedy.

My mom worked in a cotton mill in Macon GA in the late 40s and early 50s. The office staff looked down on the millworkers who happened to get larger paychecks than the office workers. She and her aunts who were 5 to 10 years older to her knew the mill was their pot of gold. Not that the work was easy, My Aunt Cleo would slip off from work and go to the movies occasionally. It was hot, arduous work.

One of the straw bosses would walk up to my Aunts and ask them how the weather was up there.

Aunt Cleo had bright orange red hair. One day he made the mistake of telling her how big her feet were.

In front of the same people he hoped to humiliate her she said,
"Mansions are built on Large Foundations. Little Shithouses are built on small ones."

Ce la vie.

Some of my dogs might be nerds.

I've read a lot of good blogs lately. Amazing some of the challenges other people have faced in their lives. One blogger, Abiding, really has had to meet some astounding challenges. What makes a good blog is strong emotion.

Many bloggers write as if you can hear them speaking and you can imagine what their voice sounds like. I feel envy and relief at the same time. Envious of the ability to put so much life in what they say. Relief in not having to endure so many setbacks.

My biggest setback is not being able to go to work. I take care of my mom and two handicapped siblings. Not exactly the life I wanted to lead. I somehow doubt I was going to be able to spend my retirement on a cruise ship. I have heard cruise ships are a great alternative to assisted living.

I worked on an independent film. The filmmaker, his wife and son were a young family with an errant dog. I had gone to his house to retrieve my laptop. This cute little dog sat on the front porch and gave me a look like she loved me immensely. Well one thing led to another. I had a pregnant dog in my car with my family. Everyone in the car looked at me like I was hopeless.

That dog is Checkers. My sister adores her. The whole family loves the puppies and now I have more dogs and dog issues which keeps me even busier. Tonight, I went on a dog food run. I have spoiled the babies with canned dog food. I take a large can and divide it equally nine ways. The 50 pound dogs are just as content with their share as the 5 pounders.

I didn't tell you that Checkers is half Jack Russell/half Chihuahua. Single pawed, she is responsible for the new leash law in Arabi, GA.

One of her puppies has a beagle look. One looks to be a full blood chihuahua with ears cocked in different directions. Another one looks like her mother. The last one who is boss looks like Yoda from StarWars.

When I came out with the food, a woman was admiring my puppies. The pit bull who the horse farm next door is paranoid will hurt one of their horses, a poodle mix who the puppies are abusing, and my elderly purebred poodle. I looked at all three. The nine pound poodle has to have the back seat by himself. Sharing is not part of his vocabulary. The bulldog and poodle mix were in the passenger seat waiting.

All three have social issues. This is when I realized they weren't just any kind of dog. They were nerds.

It Wasn't All Dancing by Mary Ward Brown

Tina Whittle of the crime fiction drama novels "Darker Than Any Shadow" and "The Dangerous Edge of Things" by Poisoned Pen Press has issued a challenge and little fun in the blogging community. Write a blog about a favorite book.

Quite a challenge, how do you choose a favorite book when you are a big reader. I personally enjoy non-fiction as well as fiction. Of fiction, I have a fondness for the novella and short story. Partly because I have a hard time laying a book down once I start. When you think of Helen Hooven Santmyer's 1000 page plus novel, "And Ladies of the Club", you are talking about some late night hours and neglected housework. However, her book was well worth it.

So, drum roll please, the book I've chosen is "It Wasn't All Dancing" by Mary Ward Brown of Alabama. It is one of the few books I reread on occasion  Like most readers, I have stacks of books I plan to get to. What makes Mary Ward Brown's stories significant is they take everyday people and share a poignant aspect of their lives.

The title story is "It Wasn't All Dancing" tells of the dying days of a former socialite, debutante and her hired caregiver. Not all heroes do heroic things. Not all heroes get recognized. We are all blind to what we don't want to see at times. Seeing a point of view not expected is riveting.

Each story in the book seem like a photograph. It takes a quick glimpse into the characters thoughts and life. It is hard to imagine ordinary people having such interesting moments or life defining events but they do. Mary Ward Brown's stories are an honest look at the South and her people as they transition from Jim Crow and segregation into the New South. I recognize these folks.

All of these people who make up the day to day lives of people in the black belt of the South have a story deeper than than the dirt roads winding through the countryside. "The House That Asa Built" was comical as well as real in detailing the frustrations of a young wife with a husband who buys a television instead of a washing machine in the late 1950's.

On a deeper level, you will love the prose. Mary Ward Brown is truly a Southern writer and she serves up the fresh trajectory of language that you expect. In "The House That Asa Built" the comparison of two tow headed children's freshly washed hair blowing in the wind like dandelion puffs stands in my mind.

Mary Ward Brown has also written a book of short stories titled "Tongue of Flames". You will enjoy everyone. I did. You will appreciate all the people that Mary Ward Brown brought to life.

Why can't I remember the post I wrote in my head while driving.

I remember when so many websites provided a free email account. It is still true. But the World Wide Web has opened up even more. You can create your own website in many forums.

I took a course in how to make money using the web. Squiddoo and Hubpages were suggested as possible revenue sites. Essentially, if you want to make money on the web, you produce your own website or work with one of the revenue sharing sites. How much you make depends on how many people click ads on your webpage or there is a tracked sale with a site like Amazon.

Honestly, you don't make money. There are a few people who work Squidoo like a job reading other lenses(webpages) and creating sales lens. I know why they suggest you donate the proceeds of your webpage to charity. It probably costs more to cut and mail the $5 check for your yearly earnings. lol

I have had much fun on Squidoo. There is a rush in the beginning with the points and there are some really lovely people who write webpages. What surprises me is the strong topics some people will choose. What disappointed me was the heavy commercial bend most people who write for Squidoo use. They are basically creating free ads for products that are sold on Amazon, Ebay and a few more affiliate programs such as Cafepress.

Some of my anathema to the heavy sales approach is somehow we have lost our way in the pursuit of consumer goods. I have a packrat mentality and a packrat's woes. My house is difficult to clean because of all the stuff I and my family members have accumulated. This is a whole nother post.

I know the root of my holding onto things is growing up without having everything. The teasing in fourth grade about my holey tennis shoes is found somewhere in my closet of too many shoes. Maybe. Most of what I bought has been on sale. The logic is that you can't find an object and when you do it is priced high so buy it why it is available and on sale.

I have one brother who throws things away. My grandmother also threw things away easily. I know my brother can't stand clutter since he grew up with clutter. My parents were packrats. I have suspected it was inherited. I don't think it was taught.

I'm not able to watch the hoarding television shows. For a packrat, it is a chilly reminder where all this accumulation can lead if I go to one too many yardsales or get sick. So, I am having a yardsale. I normally give my excess to Happy Hour Workshop yardsale and what I have may indeed make it there. It's just that some of it is furniture, a bedroom suite, dining table, sofa, clothes rack with clothes.

Yes, I'm actually unloading without moving. I'll keep my Squidoo pages. I'll leave the ads for what I think people may actually want. But, I shan't make any money with these webpages and blogs.

This is a picture of me with my trusty dog Frank. Have you ever known an untrustworthy dog? I have, her name is Louise.

Things that go bump in the night.

I had some money stolen out of my billfold that I left in my purse in my car. The car was unlocked and the purse was in the backseat. They missed two crisp 100 bills that were in the pocket next to the bill area.

What was stolen from me was much greater than the value of the money. It was the security of not having things stolen out of your car. My driveway is three tenths of a mile long. I know that sounds like I got a big place. However, it's a long lot and the people who built the house, built at the back of the lot. That means someone had to come up a ways from the road to riffle through the vehicle.

You get where you don't trust anyone. On the stat page of my blog, I have gotten new visitors. They are spam referrers. Their purpose is for you to look their URL up so they can sell you something. There are spam commenters. You are protected much better from them. I would list their URLs so you could stay away.

But the following blogs have done a much better job and why should I paraphrase something they have written so well. I promise these links are safe.

http://professormungleton.blogspot.com/p/comment-and-referral-spam-on-my-blog.html

http://www.nuff-respec.com/technology/referral-spam-does-
it-really-work

It took me awhile to understand what in the heck these sites were. At first, I thought, they are sending my blog around the blogosphere so I can get followers. Then I decided to look up what the sites were. Yes I did look up their URLs. I did not click any links. I've heard that is the big "no no". Your malware, antivirus software will begin throwing alerts here there and everywhere.

It makes me think about something my little sister did when we were children. I had folded her clothes and she was to put them in her drawers. She would resist the chore. She wanted me to do it. I demanded she do it. The next week when I changed sheets, I found all her clothes between the mattresses. She just wasn't going to put those clothes in the drawer.

As an adult, she is not like that. There are a whole breed of people who want to make a living in a shady way. The irony is if they used their smarts, they could probably make more money legitimately. I understand many of these spambots are from Russia. I really think the World Wide Web needs to be tamed in the United States with prosecution of those that make all of this malware, etc.

Ce la vie.

So much to choose from

When I was in fourth grade, I earned 16 junior Girl Scout badges. All of the adults were so impressed with me.

When I started cadettes in seventh grade, My girl scout leader asked me to not work on all the badges at the same time like I did in juniors. I worked on all 51 badges from beginning to end. Being a preteen and early teenagers, she had to coax me to do any badges as a cadette. I remember when I finally got my First Class badge for being a cadette. My troop leader had worked so hard.

I'm still in the same situation. I want to do it all like I was as a junior. I don't have the motivation to do a lot of what I should do like I was as a cadette. I have to pick what I will do and do it well.

The purpose of this particular blog is simple. Create a platform for the book I am writing. I am also toying with the idea of a blog. I have never been a diarist. Fly by the seat of my pants is more like it. There is never enough time in the day to do all you want. The steam I had in the past is poor to non-existent. So, hopefully, I can distill what I want to create using this blog.

I have another blog which will wither because it was the serious me. I had a few followers. The biggest thing I got from that blog is that I had opinions. I have always done whatever to get along with everyone. However to write I have to have a starting point and a compass. I have to know who I am and where I want to go. The other blog was my starting point. I have more confidence in saying what I think. This blog will be my compass.

These are my other two blogs

5K or bust

Science Ladybug

Ce la vie

Live Oak

An aged oak unfurled

Limbs wider than it is high

Burling scars from limbs torn

Twists and turns, lichen frosting

Dark limbs

Leaves of winter make a show

Leaves of fall crisp below

A labyrinth of imagination

Dragons roar

Elves speak

Spirits abode

Showers carefully listed in growth rings

Bright sunny days stored away

In the lines of wood

Secrets stored

Roaring time night and day.

All that is left are the burling knots

Worn in the wind

Like stairwell bannister knobs

Of a regal home

Getting a head start on Monday.

Retiring is for the birds. The first time I retired, my dad's friends told me to reconsider. It's only fun for about a week.

I was lucky in that I was able to retire at 51 with 30 years teaching. The original plan was to work another job and double dip for awhile. What happened is the demands of frail family members got to be a full time job and I was stretched to the limit.

I was happier when I was working and trying to keep up with it all. With no time to think, ignorance is bliss.

Living in the moment and avoiding deep thought has always been my modus operandi. I don't take anti-depressants. I usually chalk it up to my dogs keeping me happy. Most of it is genetics and I had the rug pulled out from under me when I was young. The phrase, All things considered, plays heavily when you know there are worst things to bear in life.

Today is senior citizen day at Beall's Outlet. I hated the store the first time I went with a sister. Then I scored an incredible bargain. Well I was hooked. The only thing I buy now are shoes. I realize I have enough clothes to last until I'm 100.

This really goes back to having no time to think. The idea that I have about 10 well actually 20 pairs of black pants really is the result of not having clothes at one time and buying a pair because it was only 3 to 5 dollars. I'm really lucky my apple cart collapsed. There is no telling how much I would have accumulated.

We went to Roses in Macon today. It is a very old dollar store. You know they had a really neat looking dress for $8.50. I thought I could safely clothes shop there. Who knew a cheap dress with heels and the right jewelry could look so fabulous, in the grocery store, standing in line at the post office. I'm bed by 9 PM.

I went immediately to the pet department and bought a dog bed and a fetching pink, cheetah spotted fake fur for my dog, Daisy. I'll get a good picture of it and post it later this month.

This is dog fennel in bloom blowing in the wind. It's in my front yard. 

Getting the right offer.

Do any of us see ourselves as we are?

Last summer I was working out at a wellness center I go to. A nice gentleman probably 5 to 10 years older than myself. I don't know age is a mysterious thing. I meet people who look older than me who are younger and vice verse

I'm always careful not to age people. It's surprising how many people never catch on. They assume they're younger when I know they aren't. They are so candid with aging me which makes me steam on the inside. Then there are the occasional few who know what I'm up to and want me to come clean.

Well this man, I'll call him Mr. Bopbag, asked me if I could get back up off the floor. My instinct was to yell, "Do you think I would get on the floor in a public place and know I can't get back up?"

The reasonable part of me knows this is a legitimate question. I deliberately sit on the floor and get back up to keep the skill. One time I was sitting on the floor with a group of students and it looked like I was teacher of the year.

The principal walked in. The only problem, it was time to get up. I just started reading from the beginning until he left. As he walked out of the room, I just stopped and got up as did the students. Starting the next lesson I thought about what they had done. I did it because I did not want that man to hear me grunt getting up. Some teacher of the year.

Back to Bopbag, I give him that name because he looks like an inflatable punching bag. He is short with a distended tummy. I wonder if his waist measurement might be larger than his height. A few red marks on his arms and cheeks. He obviously takes blood thinners. We have a nice conversation. I'm in suspended animation, ready to move on to the elliptical machine. Then the statement comes.

He lets me know he has a wife. I wasn't considering proposing. I'm old enough to know what a good catch is. I see that worn sedan he drives. His daughter works in a local grocery store and her jokes at the register do wear thin. Besides, he can't get off the floor and I can.

My 82 year old mother was talking to a 400 pound man in the pool one day. I recognize him. I just don't remember his name from high school. He told my mother he was married. She shared her disgust with me. I wasn't even talking to him in a flirty way, she says. Besides no one can replace Jack (my father).

It's inescapable. People's perceptions be what they may. I know why the meek shall inherit the Earth. They are the only folks who have a clear picture at times.

Ce la vie.

three dog office

My old timers worked the first shift in my office. Now its the two youngest and the oldest taking their duty. We've had a big dogfight this evening. It's the same fight but its that combination of a large powerful dog and a Jack Russell mix. The Jack Russell has a small injury. Her babies have taken her side. The pit bull doesn't understand why everything is mad at her. I broke the fight up. The Jack Russell is not hurt, just humiliated.

I'm glad she is half chihuahua. It brings a little sanity to a fighting fool. They say you should never leave two Jack Russells together.  I have had to train the babies to hold down the fighting to the death practice of their mother. Picking the yellow one up to break up a fight and two were hanging from that one. The yellow one went to get a better grip on her brother and attached to my arm (ouch). The gray one finally loosened her hold on the yellow one. I have separated the two many times.

It brings me back to an idea I have which is to get rid of the bulldog. Everybody is so in love with the Jack Russell mix. She is such a love. Her babies have all stopped at her dog bed to check on her. She does have a scratch on her ear. The loyalty dogs have. The bigger problem is getting the Jack Russell to stop attacking the other dogs. The bulldog is very gentle. She truly loves the puppies.

I love a gentle giant. Its the size difference and the fighting nature of a Jack Russell that is the problem. I don't believe in breeding pit bulls or powerful dogs. I saw two dogs dumped on Highway 96 the other day. Why did I not get them. I have 9 dogs already. I can't afford the dogs. Its a common occurrence on Highway 96. This is why I am keeping all of the babies. There are more dogs than homes. Looking at the local newspaper I see pictures of small breed dogs needing homes.

I know people wonder why I would even own so many dogs. They are useful. They control vermin which is good in the country. They are good for our mental health. They keep people from just coming up to the house uninvited. At the moment, they are too much work for me. I'm keeping the bulldog. I'll keep the Jack Russell and Bulldog separate. My oldest is a 9 pound poodle who is a warrior in his own right. He's almost 16 and has outlived two large dogs he would get into a scrap with.

Ce la vie.

Fall is my favorite time of the year

 I like watching the season's change.  Fall has so much to offer. A summer time daisy flower becomes a fluffy wad of puffs that brown and disappear leaving the sepals to form a brown daisy. Still lovely in monochrome. Spring is pretty wondrous. But it is the animals migrating in fall that affect me.

I live next to a hunting area. The deer come up on my property during deer season and the turkeys come during turkey season. For some reason they know they are safe in this area.

I like the huge flocks of black birds. I have looked at them up close. They are mostly red winged blackbirds. There are brown sparrows mixed in. They drape themselves over fields and decorate trees with the intensity of their large flocks. In the beginning of fall, the flocks are small. By December they are quite large and coincide with the last of the Pecan harvest. One time I stood out on my driveway about three tenths of a mile from the road as a flock flew over. It was a loud roar like the ocean and took over five minutes. They obviously keep joining until the whole family gathers.

There are some Canadian geese that still migrate. We have year round flocks at small ponds built in the area. There is a millionaire down the road with a large pond. We never see any geese there. I wonder what he does to keep the ducks and geese from coming.

As I entered the house today, I couldn't see them but I could hear Canadian geese flying overhead. They can fly so high you can barely see them. Calling back and forth as if there was a perpetual echo in the heavens. I saw one small flock of about 9 birds. I kept looking toward the sound, there were several maybe eight V formations. A smaller V merged with a large V. In another V, the birds were changing position.

Louise is mousing in the front pasture in the first picture. Waiting to take a ride in the second picture. Louise loves to be on a leash and going someplace.

Rolling roulette of ideas

I spend a good bit of my day driving. At least 3 hours shuttling my brother to the workshop he goes to. The gas is more expensive than the paycheck he gets. What is the benefit? There is someone there who gives a damn if he shows up. If by some sort of catastrophe befalls me, someone will come get him.

I live a spoiled life. I'm not rich, not poor. I have a car that works, social skills that people will help me, enough money to make my bills, relatively good health, judgement, a retirement check. Its not the life I dreamed of when young. I never was motivated by money. Thrills would be my passion. I like having a good time. Money is just a tool for getting what you want.

When you ride by yourself in a car, you have time to think. I have a pit bull terrier that rides back and forth with me. I stop and buy her a sausage biscuit at Hardee's in the morning. The biscuits are good but I'm burnt out. As far as I can tell Louise still enjoys her biscuit. I thought about getting one for myself this morning. However, I am picky about sausage. I lean toward the plain, bacon or steak biscuits. I wondered whether she had a preference.


Louise is in my car because of the horse farm next door. She has had a bone broken by a horse. A horse kicked one of my elderly dogs and she made it home to die on her blanket on the front walk. Being a pit bull, the horse farm owners are scared she will hurt one of their horses. So Louise stays on a leash or with me. I agree people should not breed powerful dogs for family pets. However, my chihuahua mixes can do damage with their jaws. Louise cracks pecans and the chihuahua mixes eat out of her mouth in the process. A dog is a lot like people. They have the habits of the company they keep. I don't allow her to run with the chihuahuas

Dogs have always been part of my life. We had a member of the family that happened to be a dog when I grew up. Winky disappeared one rainy night between Thanksgiving and Christmas when I was in Seventh Grade. Neighbors suggested that he went off to die. Dogs were in heat and Winky had been injured in a fight the last time we saw him. He ran off that night again to do what a dog has to do.

The next dog was Bruno. My mom had said she wanted another dog like Winky but one that would not climb the fence. Bruno was brown but he eventually turned red and looked a lot like Winky with short legs. He only weighed about 20 pounds but he had a big dog voice. He would get under the house and bark and people were scared to come in our yard.

Bruno was the big pet of my younger siblings. My older brother was taking a guided tour of Vietnam courtesy of Uncle Sam. I wrote him a letter about Bruno when we got him. I just didn't tell him it was a dog until the end. I went to college when Bruno was three. He would greet me like a small child when I came home. My affection for Bruno faded into family stories of his escapades.


Bruno was also trained to stay in his fence. If a dog went in heat, my dad would open the gate and let him out. I was old enough to joke that maybe we should take Bruno to a doggie cathouse.


On one of Bruno's days out with the neighborhood male dogs wooing a fetching neighbor, a friend of my dad saw the dogcatcher and tipped my dad off.  My mom and dad got in their automobile. They saw the dogcatcher in front of the house.  Dad drove through the alley behind the house and opened the back door. Bruno ran and jumped in the backseat like a gangster. My parents drove to a corner store and drank a soda to hide their deeds. You do tend to help a family member when you can.

It's hard to dream more than the wonder of life. Spider webs like dewy flags of fairy tale realms gleaming in the sun.

Exercise Plans

It's hard to get anything done when you are pulled every sort of way. My tactic of approaching whatever comes my way willy nilly is more miss than hit. However, the few hits I get are worth my efforts.

I attempted nanowrimo this month and have failed. I only have about 30,000 words done with a total of 50,000 to win. I hate not making the mark. The story I am writing really says something I believe in although it is definitely a fantasy story.

Picking yourself up when you fail is no easy feat. I should know. I have done it so many times. I had a boss that would rip you to shreds. It took two weeks to get it together on the inside. The irony is he was incompetent. He would give everyone this story of how he really screwed up when he was a young adult and his parents wouldn't help him and he was 29.

Being female and working class and in my 40s, I disliked his story. Screwing up for a young woman means having a baby and not being able to support themselves or have a stable relationship to help raise the child. Screwing up as a working class person means poverty. He was one of those people who stood on third base when they were born. Making the home run in life was easier for him. I stood on second base.

There is a humbleness you feel when you realize how much others have to struggle. I had an evening school student who was incredibly slippery and lied for no reason. As I got to know him, he worked two jobs to help support his mom and younger siblings. When he graduated, I knew his older brother who was reported to be a drug dealer. He was a kid who had no respect for authority or adults. He was a kid that stood up to his father who was sexually abusing him because he was not going to tolerate him doing it to the baby. The power of the internet allowed me to see what he was doing. He owns a small business repairing air conditioners.

This is not a funny blog today. I'll rewrite it tomorrow with a funny bend. Give me feedback when I hit the mark.

Living in the fast lane.

I have such an exciting life. Today is senior citizen day at the grocery store and today is also mystery coupon day at the grocery store my mother likes the most. So, when I get home after taking my brother to his job, my mom will be dressed and ready. We will be grocery shopping whether we need groceries or not.

We have enough groceries bought to last awhile.

It's 6 am and I've got a 5 pound lap piranha wrapped around my neck as I type this. She looks to be mostly chihuahua. I know she is at least 1/4 jack russell on her mother's side. I hope she doesn't get too much bigger. She'll eventually wake the house up early if she can't have her coveted position.

As soon as I finish this post, I plan to run my mop over as much of the house as possible before everyone gets up. I retired early to take care of these people I love. I remember the last year my father was alive. It's like I would hear a little voice that said these are the good times. I made time to spend a day with my parents once a week. I broke the rule the weekend before his death. I was coming the following Tuesday. I did come home the following Tuesday. Too late to see him one more time.

I regret not being able to do things with the enthusiasm as I did in the past. Working full-time, I got behind with staving off the clutter and organization of my house. There is an awareness you get when you stop work and slowdown. You realize first of all, you ain't got as much money anymore which is fearsome. You also see all the problems you were too busy to notice.

I've got too many animals. The mother of this little neck warmer peed on my office rug. I paid $5 at the dollar store for it but I did want to keep it clean and longer. I adopted a small pregnant dog. We kept all the pups. Living in the country, they are great mousers. Plus they have done much for the mental health of us all.

This post is as exciting as my life. It doesn't sound like much but it describes what this blog will be about. Dogs, love, care-taking, grocery shopping, exercising, reminiscing about the good old days when I had a job, taking care of my mother, brother and sister. These are the good times. I promise to make it funny.

Ce la vie.

Be yourself

I got a solicitation from Chesty friends today.  I've had men and a few women look at my breasts as they talked to me. Imagine your boobs get asked out on a date. I guess you can eat whatever you want and not have to worry about making good conversation.  Luckily, if they use your email, they send your password to your profile so you can leave their lovely dating service.

I'm interested in meeting someone. Just not someone that shallow at my age. Looks matter and I know that is  true.  I have never been the hot chick. After a bout of a co-worker hassling me for sex one time, I realized I was lucky not to be incredibly good looking with the logic that I would have had to deal with it more. I don't know. I'm also overweight and we are supposed to have terrible self esteem.

I worked out in an effort to lose weight and feel better. One of the water aerobic instructors kept after me about getting a bust reduction. What I couldn't get over was didn't these women look in the mirror. How attractive can you be when you get a certain age. Most overweight women are busty.

What made me dislike the woman was not her constant harping over a pretty serious surgery. It was the way I shut her up. I said I had never met a man who had a problem with my big breasts. Actually, I lied. I have never discussed them with almost all men. The idea that I did not want to have surgery and they didn't bother me I guess was not reason enough for her. Yes I do resist the urge to suggest a face lift to her.

I think I will work on changing my email password. Ce la vie.