Sunday, December 30, 2012

Max has been eating the bird seed in the snow.

Saturday, December 29, 2012

Random words, Random pictures.

 
So, I reposted the phone art....(ph-art). When I send pics from my actual phone,  the carrier I have seems to insist on stamping their name all over it....While downloading and uploading the picture from my cell onto the library computer, I discovered that all of the pictures from my prior blogs are still accessible to me. I found a picture of my dog Sir Poopalot...he died this past January. It is so frustrating that almost all of my pictures of him are digitally stored somewhere like old phones or on the web rather than being stuffed into box in the closet like all of the photos I took in the 1990's are stored! I do have one actual picture of him placed in the mirror in the bathroom next to a picture of my cat who has passed on...darn those pets. You get attached to them while they hang around the house doing practically nothing or nothing practically.

******
It's funny that the pictures from my past two blogs are still around but the words are gone. Just as well. We are all writing in the sand anyway no matter what medium we use. Ink fades. Paper rots. Electronic devices become obsolete.  Spoken word is forgotten. Now don't get all depressed or think I am all depressed. Just making an observation.
Looking at the pictures remind me what I must have written about in the past but sometimes I look at the pictures and wonder. I found a drawing of feet; an Xray and an odd cartoon about a hair style....Hm....Let me re-post them here randomly with no other explanation of their meaning...
(PS...at the very bottom of this post is the letter I which is really, really random because I didn't mean for it to be there! Aw well...it fits with the randomness of this post.)
 
I

PHONE ART RE-DO


Phone Art.


Thursday, December 20, 2012

drama queen moment

I stand strong, my fingers cold on tiny screws twisting and turning. Finally, I feel it loosen and I know the task will be easier from this point forward, as long as I don't drop anything. It is dark, inky jet black dark because the sun has set and if the moon is out, the clouds have hidden it.
I sigh. I can't give up. I have to do this. The weather may be cold and wet and windy now but if the reports are true, it will only be worse in the morning.
"I must soldier on", I tell myself. I stand tall, proud. I hope the neighbors see me and say to their loved ones "I had no idea she could do this! Look, children and learn!"
I reach up because I must stand just a little bit on my toes to see. Fumble. Fumble. Oh wait there we go. All done. Now I just need to put the metal top back in place. Lining the holes up so the screws fit is not as easy at it looks but I power through and complete the task. I rush back inside to a warm cup of cocoa.
I flip a switch, look outside at the lamppost in the front yard. Ahhhh...it worked

I changed a light bulb.

Monday, December 17, 2012

Weather Observation:


If it is foggy in the morning when I let the dog out, it will be muddy in the evening. And I will need to mop the floor! I call these Mudoggy days. (Mud + foggy)

Saturday, December 15, 2012

Enough Already....

At first, in spite of the awfulness of the crime , I feel annoyed at the media attention. I get so tired of the news stations and websites practically wetting themselves with excitement over another mass shooting. I particularly dislike when the tragedy is given its own icon in the bottom corner of the tv screen. (yeah.. i am talking about you, ABC!) The icon flashes the name of the tragedy when the news resumes after a commercial break, as if we could forget that a gunman shot 26 or 27 people, 20 of them kids. ( some stations say one number, some stations say a different number, apparently the total number depends  if they count the victim related to the shooter.) I can't help but see it as salacious entertainment rather than sharing the facts of an event. At one point, on the CBS website each news section started with a headline related to the Connecticut Tragedy..
" Entertainers react to...."
" Sports Community reacts to..."
" Politicians speak out about..."

Yeah. We get it. It is sad and it sells. So cram as much coverage as you can into all news stories.

My annoyance just melted into sadness this morning when I heard the story again for the threescore and tenth time. The annoyance was really just hiding the sadness anyway.

Tuesday, December 11, 2012

this post is what it is

"It is what it is"



Have you heard someone say that phrase or have you used it?

What the hell does it mean? This is either deeply philosophical or a waste of breath. Funny how it us difficult to know which it is.





The first time I heard "it is what it is" was when I heard a guy at work use it when he explained what he told his girlfriend when she caught him cheating. You can imagine that I took the phrase to have negative connotations after that use of it. Since then, I have heard it used and used it myself in a variety of situations. So, now, I think of it as a throwaway phrase to be used to mean whatever the speaker means it to mean which means the phrase really means nothing..(say that 5 times fast).
Today at work, I told a coworker that during a long tedious meeting, I was fantasizing about becoming a waitress. I emailed my coworker that since I am klutzy I probably wouldn't make a good waitress.
I made a joke that I would probably spill food on customers.
She responded that she had once spilled food on a customer when she was a waitress. She said it wasn't a big deal. "It is what it is"...she said
Well...if I was the person getting dumped on
"what it is" is a mess.

Saturday, December 8, 2012

Feed a Child...Not a Childish Political System

I saw a headline this past week that the presidential campaigns spent 2 billion dollars for an election that basically left the country exactly where it was before the campaign started. Hm. No comment....However...FYI




For just a dollar a day $2,000,000,000 could feed this child for 5, 479,452 years.

Wednesday, December 5, 2012

you wear those jeans with such passive-aggressive pizazz!

When I was in my late 20's and early 30's which would have been in the 1990's, I had a group of friends who, in retrospect seemed inordinately concerned with "passive-aggressiveness".
"That driver is driving passive-aggressively";
 "I am sorry, was that passive-aggressive?"; "My (choose one: parent, sibling, boyfriend, girlfriend) is SO passive-aggressive!"

 Here was my favorite phrase. I still use it.
"Better passive-aggressive than aggressive-aggressive!"

I lived in the Ann Arbor, MI area in the 90's and I think folks there, God Bless Them,  were highly evolved or liked to think of themselves as highly evolved. They recycled long before it was cool.  They were into therapy long before Dr. Phil hit the airwaves. So, it is no wonder, being that I lived in such a self-analyzing, self-righteous town, that I would have worried about passive-aggressiveness.

I will admit that I probably was passive-aggressive, maybe I still am. However, I always thought the concern for passive-aggressiveness was a mark of a spoiled existence. I am sure that the folks caught in war and violence in Afghanistan, the Congo, Syria, Gaza would LOVE to have their worst problem be how passive-aggressively their sister-in-law spoke to them the other day.
I haven't thought much about passive-aggressiveness since that group of friends broke up. I am not even sure why I am thinking of it now...

Maybe, it has something to do with the "activity committee" at work. We have this committee of folks who collect money and then are supposed to plan events and charity opportunities with the money collected. This past Friday we were supposed to give $5 to wear jeans and the money was to go to the Christmas Family. Well, we had already collected $900 for the family the week before AND we were each to pick a gift to buy for the family on top of that. So, in my opinion, it feels like the activity committee just keeps sucking us dry. They are a bit like the Democrats...tax, tax, tax. I and a few other folks in the department rebelled and refused to wear jeans. There was a small group of people who wore the jeans but refused to pay (they were a bit like the Republicans...pout,pout,pout about having to pay.)

Anyway, there was quite an under-current of tension in regards to the jeans and the $5 throughout the department. It felt like one big passive-aggressive party; with each side making snide remarks to the other, then gossiping with their like-minded co-workers.


Sighh...well, like I said...lucky the  soul whose biggest concern is the passive-aggressive behavior of co-workers.

Saturday, December 1, 2012

Faaaatooorsooo!!

As I look in the full length mirror, checking for cat hair, lint, upturned collar or drooping threads, I notice my body type has changed since I have moved well past 40 on my way to 50. I now have what I call a " fatorso". I am of average weight, not too big, not too small, but what I do have settles south of my shoulders, north of my knees. Hence, a "fat" torso. When I say fat, I don't mean it in the pejorative sense. I mean it biologically. As in, the fat cells have returned from the nether regions of my body and created a city on the hill of my abdomen. I imagine at conception and birth, the fat cells are sent out from the biological headquarters with the instructions: "Go forth and populate the baby. Make the cheeks round and cute. Pad the feet for running and fill the arms for strength." I also imagine at conception and birth, the fat cells were given this imperative: "We will meet back at the torso in 50 years! Wherever you are, whatever you are doing, when the baby grows into a middle aged adult, make your way to the middle of the body." Yeah. Like getting older requires that your hips and tummy need air bags in case of falls. Most folks have the same or similar problems : our butts sag or our butts disappear into our back fat; our bellies jiggle and need flowing blouses reminiscent of maternity clothes. I firmly believe there is a biological reason for our bodies getting pudgier with age. It could be nature's way of making sure only young folks wear mini-skirts and skinny jeans. Regardless, all I really wanted to say was "fatorso"...I thought of that word as I looked in the full length mirror the other day.