Wooooooooooooooh is me (part deux)......

One of the coolest things about having a blog or a diary is that you have a written, easily assessable chronicle of your life at your fingertips.

Like when my Dad says "What were you worried about a year ago today? Seeeee you don't even remember" to prove to me that my worries pretty much go in one ear, eat at my brain for about two seconds, and then exit out the other...not to be thought of or worried about again.

So Dad... I might be able to tell you (if give me a moment to log in) what I was worried about a year ago.

But do I really want to know?

On one hand, it may feel good to be worrying about some new things...

on the other,  it may be reassuring to know that all things cycle...

and somehow stay the same.

But do I really like being a hamster on a wheel...?

No. I don't.

But on some level, I must.

Which is evidenced by my continuing to spin my wheels and worry about things that come around, and go around, and all things in-between

I get stressed out man.

Reeeeeal stressed out.

So yesterday I'm putting on some makeup getting ready for work and my small dog is laying near my feet.

She's in a little heap right up against the vanity where there is a duct that blows delicious hot air all winter long.

That dog is sooo me.

I love warmth and coziness almost as much as I love Daddio.

So anyway, the little dog is even cozier than normal this morning, cozier because she's wrapped in a hot towel.

Hot as in... fresh from the dryer, folks.

When I brought the towel up from the basement she allowed me to wrap her submarine sandwich style with both ends tucked in.

It didn't take too long for her to wiggle free.

But she didn't come all the way out of her cocoon.

No, she stayed wrapped in that warm bit of heaven and just poked her nose out.

Just enough for a sniff of air.

Looking at that cute little dog suddenly had me thinking of my "woe is me" attitude of late...

and even though she was totally unaware she gave me a bit of advice...

I'm going to wrap myself up tight..real tight in a warm wrap of my blessings..with only my small nose poking out to sniff the air every once in a while...

it seems soooo safe and inviting.

Maybe you should try it too...?

PS....Googie in case you were wondering I did not recycle this towel, it is back in the laundry. Really though, it probably would have been okay since (no matter what you say) she really doesn't smell like shit .

Good eye....

Daddio was lonely the other day and he invited me on a walk.

It was going to be a very long walk to a park about 3 miles from our home...(okay, maybe 2.5 miles, but it felt like 16.5 miles).

I made him wait while I grabbed my camera.

I was hoping my walk would provide lots of cool things for me to capture. Maybe a couple of masterpieces with my lens.

(I have no eye for photography....the above line was wishful typing).

When Daddio walks, he is a man on a mission, and because we were walking so fast I only had time to dribble in my underwear, not fiddle around pulling out a camera.

Until we got to the park, where he offered me a sit on a bench and a small rest.

Just like I thought, the park was full of wonderful things for this Steve Bloom wanna be.

I started with a beautiful serene looking duck that was floating down the lazy river.

I crept to where I thought I could get some good shots.

Shit, I missed.

Again.

My sidekick threw in his two cents "are you not seeing that there is a rythym to the duck going up and down in the water looking for food?" Daddio asked. " He comes up for breath every so many seconds. Can't you snap the picture then?"

(Uh, sure Ed McMahon, thanks)

 Ah, I'm starting to get the rythym..the rythym of the dandelions.

The sweet duck, dangerously near the sidewalk (and me).

Some kind of black bird.

And here is a cute little squirrel.

When I got home and reviewed my shots it became very apparent that I need to look to other nature subjects to showcase my "good eye."

Ahhh, finally one I can be proud of.

The Paper Tiger......

My mother in law and I share a dirty little secret.

Piles.

Piles and piles of papers.

Stashed papers.

In paper bags.

Hidden in closets, or under beds.

I found out a couple of years after Daddio and I married that his mother has exactly the same filing system as mine.

Our stacks start out innocent enough. A bill here, a bill there. Toss a couple of coupons for Bed Bath & Beyond and a grocery circular, last month’s Redbook and a recipe for that cake you plan to bake on top.

The neat little stack sits pretty on the edge of the kitchen table, or the kitchen counter.

Daily the stack gains height, and width.

After about a week or so the stack begins to teeter.

And totter.

And before you know it, the stack has matured into a full fledged pile.

And then somebody whizzes by and the pile slides off the table onto the floor.

And then we got ourselves a bit of a problem.

Daddio threatens D I V O R C E.

Before he heads off to see an attorney he gives me time to clean up my act….like a few hours.

In a perfect world I would sort through the pile and reduce it. Then I’d file the important stuff and toss the rest.

Instead, I stash the pile into a paper grocery bag and hide place it in a closet or under a bed.

“I can’t live like this” Daddio yells when he stumbles upon one of my bags.

“I’m Claustrophobic”

“I will leave you” he threatens, when he has to catch one (or more) bag(s) about to tumble out of its hiding storage place.

“I WILL leave you over this”.

So I ask him, “aren’t you going to feel kind of stupid when we go to court and the judge starts questioning you”?

“Is she on drugs?

A shopaholic?

An alcoholic?

A germaphobe?

Been unfaithful?

Abusive?”

“No” Daddio will answer to each and every query.

“Why exactly then Sir are you seeking a divorce?”

“Piles, Your Honor, she makes piles."

Once when the kids were young Daddio built me a really neat bench, attached to the wall behind the table. It was for the kids to sit on.

“Make it a storage bench” I suggested.

He flat out refused, saying “In a week or two that bench will be so stuffed with shit that the kids will be sitting at an angle”.

He did as I asked and in a week or two, they were.

Last night my mother in law came over for dinner. On the side of the table, hidden in the back against the wall are two paper bags filled to the gills with papers and flyers and bills and important recipes.

I’ve been taking full advantage of the fact that Daddio has bigger fish to fry these days and he hasn’t noticed mentioned the piles.

Normally, before she would arrive I'd have stashed the bags and had the place looking all spiffed up, yesterday, I got sidetracked and forgot.

After dinner, we sat at the table talking. She glanced over to her left, toward the right hand corner against the wall where the papers were sitting and she said "Nice piles".

What the........?!!!!!

How could she throw me under the bus like that?

"You like my piles?" I asked, wounded. "I've been very busy and haven't had much of a chance to clean them up or stash them anywhere, you know how it is?"

She looked at me kind of strange.

"Your tile" she said,

"I said I like your tile".

This morning, checking on my horiscope I had a Oprah lightbulb ahhh-ha moment when I saw this......

Feng Shui Tip of the Day

If everybody is being uncooperative or unhelpful, check the near right corner of your home for clutter or broken items.

My Great Depression.....

It's no secret times are tough all over. The entire nation is suffering through the worst economic crisis since the mid 1920's and frankly I am about over it.

Since Daddio's layoff from his job six days before this past Christmas I've come to the realization that I have been a bit spoiled. And that I sometimes waste money on trivial things. The definition of trivial is going to be different from person to person. Another man's can't live without could be a total frivolity to the next guy.

A very personal interpretation, a need certainly is.

Due to a few bucks we saved from Daddio's previously good paying job, his unemployment and my job we are doing well enough and I have no true worries that we will be out on the street or that we'll have to survive on crusts of bread and pork & beans....still though things have been a bit different around here.

In the beginning it was a bit humbling to have to start watching my pennies again...not to say that I was a spend thrift before, cause I certainly wasn't.

I did often splurge on things that made my heart sing, things like lipstick and nice hair spray.

And perfume. Lots of perfume.

They know me in Macy's at the perfume counter. They know that every few months I'm in there slipping them big bucks for the good stuff.

I try to treat myself on certain occasions like my birthday and Mother's Day (and maybe some of the other big holidays, like the First Day of Spring or the First Big Snowfall of the Year).

And when I'm not buying, I'm begging for samples. I know which saleswomen will set me up. And I stop in when I know they're working. They always slip, real slick like, a few samples of the new stuff into my bag.

They know one sniff, I'll be hooked and then back for more.

Like a drug deal on 8th street.

I can't ever seem to get enough.

Forever searching for my scent.

And so far I'm not having much success in finding that perfect signature fragrance.

It's important to me to smell like something other than just me and being the fickle, all over the place, thing that I am I continue to try new things and chase ladies down street asking them what it is that they are wearing.

In the meantime I have a few bottles of foo-foo that suit me as okay (for the moment anyway).

But I'm getting low on those.

So low that some days it feels like a true emergency.

An empty Ed Hardy.

 Only a few drops left of Paris.

Recently I've started to panic...The First Day of Spring has already gone by and I see no extra flow to feed my addiction  make a frivolous purchase.

I pride myself on being resourceful and I've devised a plan.

I'll let you know how it pans out.

When dispair for the world grows in me......I think of Wendell Berry

The Peace of Wild Things

When despair for the world grows in me

and I wake in the night at the least sound

in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,

I go and lie down where the wood drake

rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.

I come into the peace of wild things

who do not tax their lives with forethought

of grief. I come into the presence of still water.

And I feel above me the day-blind stars

waiting with their light. For a time

I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

— Wendell Berry

One of my very favorite poems.

I save a copy on my overcrowded fridge front at home where despair for my own private world and that of my children’s' often finds me wide eyed and terrified in the middle of the night.
 
I force myself to come into the presence of still water, and the peace of the wild things.
 
What a lullaby.

I love a bath.....

Many a day I get a song, usually just a snippet of a song, stuck in my head.

Sometimes it's pure tortoure...like hanging by your toenails would be.

Cisco Kid was a friend of mine, a perfect example.

Most times I can't for the life of me figure out what song it is that is playing (only part way) in my brain.

Where did I hear it? What is the title? What are the rest of the words?

I've gone so far as to tell Googie that I'm getting a notebook and writing down the lyrics that swirl in my noggin...surely they will connect, in all their unorganized and scattered beauty, and provide me with a message.

A message from the universe?

From God?

Just for the record (in case my message hunch is correct) I don't think that I've ever done anything rotten enough for God to sentence me to a couple of days long "Cisco Kid " mind take over.

Sometimes it really does feel like some kind of horrible punishment.

Other times, the lyrics and melodies that I hum and sing out loud in the car are like a cheap therapy.

For days its been these words.....

"My chains are gone
I've been set free
My God, my Savior has ransomed me...."

That's all I could remember.

Finally, I Googled them.

I was embarrassed when Amazing grace popped up.

"My chains are gone, I've been set free"...man, talk about a tranqualizer.

Oliver Wendell Homes says, "Take a music bath once or twice a week for a few seasons. You will find it is to the soul what a water bath is to the body."

This little doozie ... is a soul jacuzzi.

And this one .... a soul waterfall.

Music and baths...what amazing gifts.

May every person......

who crosses your path today have this opinion of you.

DON'T MAKE ME DO THIS TO YOU!!!!!

(This picture and title were totally stolen from a card my precious daughter gave to me....I have it up on the fridge and it never fails to give me a chuckle...)