please be patient with me. I realize there is not much worse than typing in a web address expecting to read a new and exciting blog post only to find the ssdd...(same shit different day).
My apologies, I am currently in a really big and hugely gigantic fight against a really rotten, piece of crap, no good for nuthin set of circumstances (beyond my control) that appear to have taken up residence in my life...
My dad is sick sick sick (not to mention depressed depressed depressed) and my dear boy Bear has been suffering with a virus of some sort since Sunday night, the virus includes scary high fevers and terrible moods... he is, right at this minute, being smothered by a crazy woman (who's achilles heel is her children) with the sole intention of mothering him into good health, and sadly, I'm failing miserably.
His doctor... Dr. IAM-Too-Busy-to CareFOR-myTOO-Large-Practice... has been no help at all.
(I will be doctor shopping in the very very near future)
In addition to all of this, I'm tying to help my mother deal with her intense and horrific grief.
And some of my own grief.
So that you won't worry too much, dear reader... I want you to know that I have started not fewer than 4 blog posts to delight and entertain you with.
The kicker is that I can't seem to get a moment to finish them and I can't play on my computer while at work. The kill-joys that run the place tend to frown on people authoring blogs while on their dime.... to try and do so would risk adding "getting dissss-missed" to the thorny wild hair(s) that have recently crawled up my azz and set up shop.
See you soon (pray for the whole damn bunch of us, will ya?)
Please,
and
thank you...
xoxox
Thursday, July 19, 2012
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
On becoming an angel...
I heard a lot of great things about Garry before we ever met.
He was the new man in my mother's life and she was totally smitten.
"He doesn't like kids very much" she confessed over the phone one day.
It didn't really matter as my siblings and I certainly weren't "kids" we were all in our early twenties and living 3000 miles away.
So the fact that my mother had children and grandchildren shouldn't be a problem.
It didn't take long for Jan and Garry's romance to blossom and for them to become roommates, with Mom moving into Garry's home.
When the time came for us to make the cross country trek to Arizona to visit Jan and meet Garry I wasn't the least bit insulted when my mom expressed some concerns about what a houseful of young adult children and a couple of rambunctious, ill-behaved grandchildren would do to poor Garry.
One on one we could be hard enough to handle, but a gang of us all at once just might be a deal breaker.
Maybe Garry would bail out of this relationship..??
Drop Marmie like a hot potato....??
When we arrived at their Arizona home late in the evening we were greeted warmly by Garry.
From previous conversations I'd learned that he and I shared a love of cooking and also a September 24th birthday.
Both of us Libra's and silly proud of it.
Our second day in Arizona was a work day for both Jan and Garry; they left early with the instructions "make yourselves at home".
Garry had been relatively quiet since we'd been in town, I would have paid good money to to get inside his head for a minute and see what he really thought of all this commotion.
Before he left for work that first morning he handed me an Astrology book all about Libra's.
"You may borrow this" he said "it's a cool book, I've had it for years and still haven't read it all".
After they left we made ourselves at home like we were instructed.
My siblings, the kids and I laid around watching television, eating, chillaxing a while and then decided to clean up after ourselves before went out into the backyard to sun.
My toddler son Buttercup, (who's nickname "The Destroyer" didn't really do him justice) had other plans, as we cleaned, Buttercup uncleaned.
When dear Buttercup became fixated with one of the lower level cupboards I did what any good mother would do, I let him pull the crap out and have himself a field day.
While I busied myself with tidying up, Buttercup busied himself with Garry's pots and pans.
He had them all out on the floor and was pounding on the bottoms like they were a set of drums.
Susan, my sister (who goes by the nickname "Auntie Fun Time") decided that Buttercup's one man band would sound all the better if he had implements with which to beat the drums.
Auntie Fun Time plucked a small meat mallet and a couple of wooden spoons from the holder on the counter and handed them to my son.
With Buttercup busy beating on the pans we were able to concentrate on the rest of the housework and help Mom with a bit of laundry.
We tossed a full load of dark t-shirts into the dryer and hit the high heat button, when they were done and folded we hit the back yard.
When the Arizona heat got to be too much my brother John got the garden hose out and gave us all a refreshing soaking.
"US" included Garry's Astrology book.
By the time I rescued the book from the hose tsunami the cover was rippled and the pages stuck together.
Geezeeee, I though, I just met this guy and I ruined the first thing he ever loaned me.
After spending an hour or two outside we went in for a break.
My brother thought it would be a nice thing to mow the lawn for Garry.
The lawn mower started easy enough, and things were swimming right along until John ran over Garry's garden hose and chopped it right in half.
He walked in the house holding one end in each hand.
CRAP!! I thought..remembering Garry's fondness for kids, we sure aren't making the best impression here.
A bit later my mom called to check in and we told her about the book and the garden hose.
To get her mind off all the bad things we'd done I offered up the fact that we did the laundry.
"Whatever you do" she instructed "DO NOT DRY GARRY'S T-SHIRTS IN THE DRYER, OUR DRYER HAS SUCH A HOT CYCLE THAT IT SHRINKS THEM EVERY TIME"....
HOOOOOLY SHIT...it appeared that things couldn't get any worse.
Susan and I re-wet the t-shirts and stretched them out using our feet as anchors we pulled like hell on the shoulders...we then turned the t-shirts sideways and stretched them out the same way in the opposite direction.
We hung them on hangers and pretended that it was all a bad dream.
Other than the neck's being strangely lop-sided, the t-shirts looked okay.
Not one of us said a word about the mishaps that had taken place during Garry's absence our first day in his home.
We'd wait for the perfect moment to let him know.
That night Garry generously offered to cook dinner for us.
My heart froze and the hair stood up on the back of my neck when I heard him bellow...
"WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO THE BOTTOM OF MY GRANDMOTHER'S POTS...??"
In the course of one day, our first day ever at Garry's place we'd wet and ruined his book, we'd chopped his garden hose in half, we'd shrunk, then disfigured about 20 of his favorite t-shirts and we'd dented the bottom and sides of his great grandmother's antique pots and pans.
Surprisingly, or maybe not so surprisingly Garry forgave us that day and over the last 25 years we've developed and nurtured a great relationship.
He nicknamed me "Mama's Girl" and there was never a time that I would call my mom that Garry wouldn't say when he answered the phone "who in the hell is this? Ooooh let me guess" he'd say "It's Mama's girl"
"WOULD YOU CUT THE CORD" he would jokingly scream in reference to my mother and my close relationship.
He would yell it at least twice every time I called.
In spite of this teasing I knew where I stood with Garry, he was good and kind and generous to all of us.
Anyone who knows Garry knows that he pretends to hate kids, but we all saw through his tough exterior and into his sweet heart.
He has a couple of granddaughters who argue every time his name is mentioned over which one Grandpa Garry loves best.
And besides me (tee-hee)... Garry is the love of my mother's life.
I'll miss you Garry, and like you always used to say to me before we hung up,
"Take good care kid, love ya".
* Garry, the love of my mother's life passed away suddenly a few days ago. Please pray for her and for all who loved him too.
I'm going to try and read this at his service today.
xoxo
He was the new man in my mother's life and she was totally smitten.
"He doesn't like kids very much" she confessed over the phone one day.
It didn't really matter as my siblings and I certainly weren't "kids" we were all in our early twenties and living 3000 miles away.
So the fact that my mother had children and grandchildren shouldn't be a problem.
It didn't take long for Jan and Garry's romance to blossom and for them to become roommates, with Mom moving into Garry's home.
When the time came for us to make the cross country trek to Arizona to visit Jan and meet Garry I wasn't the least bit insulted when my mom expressed some concerns about what a houseful of young adult children and a couple of rambunctious, ill-behaved grandchildren would do to poor Garry.
One on one we could be hard enough to handle, but a gang of us all at once just might be a deal breaker.
Maybe Garry would bail out of this relationship..??
Drop Marmie like a hot potato....??
When we arrived at their Arizona home late in the evening we were greeted warmly by Garry.
From previous conversations I'd learned that he and I shared a love of cooking and also a September 24th birthday.
Both of us Libra's and silly proud of it.
Our second day in Arizona was a work day for both Jan and Garry; they left early with the instructions "make yourselves at home".
Garry had been relatively quiet since we'd been in town, I would have paid good money to to get inside his head for a minute and see what he really thought of all this commotion.
Before he left for work that first morning he handed me an Astrology book all about Libra's.
"You may borrow this" he said "it's a cool book, I've had it for years and still haven't read it all".
After they left we made ourselves at home like we were instructed.
My siblings, the kids and I laid around watching television, eating, chillaxing a while and then decided to clean up after ourselves before went out into the backyard to sun.
My toddler son Buttercup, (who's nickname "The Destroyer" didn't really do him justice) had other plans, as we cleaned, Buttercup uncleaned.
When dear Buttercup became fixated with one of the lower level cupboards I did what any good mother would do, I let him pull the crap out and have himself a field day.
While I busied myself with tidying up, Buttercup busied himself with Garry's pots and pans.
He had them all out on the floor and was pounding on the bottoms like they were a set of drums.
Susan, my sister (who goes by the nickname "Auntie Fun Time") decided that Buttercup's one man band would sound all the better if he had implements with which to beat the drums.
Auntie Fun Time plucked a small meat mallet and a couple of wooden spoons from the holder on the counter and handed them to my son.
With Buttercup busy beating on the pans we were able to concentrate on the rest of the housework and help Mom with a bit of laundry.
We tossed a full load of dark t-shirts into the dryer and hit the high heat button, when they were done and folded we hit the back yard.
When the Arizona heat got to be too much my brother John got the garden hose out and gave us all a refreshing soaking.
"US" included Garry's Astrology book.
By the time I rescued the book from the hose tsunami the cover was rippled and the pages stuck together.
Geezeeee, I though, I just met this guy and I ruined the first thing he ever loaned me.
After spending an hour or two outside we went in for a break.
My brother thought it would be a nice thing to mow the lawn for Garry.
The lawn mower started easy enough, and things were swimming right along until John ran over Garry's garden hose and chopped it right in half.
He walked in the house holding one end in each hand.
CRAP!! I thought..remembering Garry's fondness for kids, we sure aren't making the best impression here.
A bit later my mom called to check in and we told her about the book and the garden hose.
To get her mind off all the bad things we'd done I offered up the fact that we did the laundry.
"Whatever you do" she instructed "DO NOT DRY GARRY'S T-SHIRTS IN THE DRYER, OUR DRYER HAS SUCH A HOT CYCLE THAT IT SHRINKS THEM EVERY TIME"....
HOOOOOLY SHIT...it appeared that things couldn't get any worse.
Susan and I re-wet the t-shirts and stretched them out using our feet as anchors we pulled like hell on the shoulders...we then turned the t-shirts sideways and stretched them out the same way in the opposite direction.
We hung them on hangers and pretended that it was all a bad dream.
Other than the neck's being strangely lop-sided, the t-shirts looked okay.
Not one of us said a word about the mishaps that had taken place during Garry's absence our first day in his home.
We'd wait for the perfect moment to let him know.
That night Garry generously offered to cook dinner for us.
My heart froze and the hair stood up on the back of my neck when I heard him bellow...
"WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO THE BOTTOM OF MY GRANDMOTHER'S POTS...??"
In the course of one day, our first day ever at Garry's place we'd wet and ruined his book, we'd chopped his garden hose in half, we'd shrunk, then disfigured about 20 of his favorite t-shirts and we'd dented the bottom and sides of his great grandmother's antique pots and pans.
Surprisingly, or maybe not so surprisingly Garry forgave us that day and over the last 25 years we've developed and nurtured a great relationship.
He nicknamed me "Mama's Girl" and there was never a time that I would call my mom that Garry wouldn't say when he answered the phone "who in the hell is this? Ooooh let me guess" he'd say "It's Mama's girl"
"WOULD YOU CUT THE CORD" he would jokingly scream in reference to my mother and my close relationship.
He would yell it at least twice every time I called.
In spite of this teasing I knew where I stood with Garry, he was good and kind and generous to all of us.
Anyone who knows Garry knows that he pretends to hate kids, but we all saw through his tough exterior and into his sweet heart.
He has a couple of granddaughters who argue every time his name is mentioned over which one Grandpa Garry loves best.
And besides me (tee-hee)... Garry is the love of my mother's life.
I'll miss you Garry, and like you always used to say to me before we hung up,
"Take good care kid, love ya".
* Garry, the love of my mother's life passed away suddenly a few days ago. Please pray for her and for all who loved him too.
I'm going to try and read this at his service today.
xoxo
Thursday, July 5, 2012
Let them eat cake...I mean corn.
Yesterday (in 102 degree weather) we decided to do nothing other than float around in the pool.
When we felt properly bloated with too much chlorinated water we threw together a makeshift bbq to celebrate (like we usually do) The 4th of July...
Daddio was napping when the chow was done so I had Jerz (the one and only sweetest dog that ever walked the earth) begging me for table scraps.
A usual nonoccurrence as she doesn't normally get any of my food ( I don't share, grrrrrrrr)...
All her hard work (running between the few guests, sitting pretty, panting, rolling over (almost dead from the combination of heat and body mass)... panting, sitting pretty, running between the few guests, rolling over (almost dead from the combination of heat and body mass)...sitting pretty...and on and on and on and on until I (as she planned I would do all along) eventually caved and tossed her a bone..
Or rather a cob.
She almost lost her mind mowin that thing.
And Googie was there to record it.
I wish you a cool breeze on a sweltering day....
xoxo
When we felt properly bloated with too much chlorinated water we threw together a makeshift bbq to celebrate (like we usually do) The 4th of July...
Daddio was napping when the chow was done so I had Jerz (the one and only sweetest dog that ever walked the earth) begging me for table scraps.
A usual nonoccurrence as she doesn't normally get any of my food ( I don't share, grrrrrrrr)...
All her hard work (running between the few guests, sitting pretty, panting, rolling over (almost dead from the combination of heat and body mass)... panting, sitting pretty, running between the few guests, rolling over (almost dead from the combination of heat and body mass)...sitting pretty...and on and on and on and on until I (as she planned I would do all along) eventually caved and tossed her a bone..
Or rather a cob.
She almost lost her mind mowin that thing.
And Googie was there to record it.
 |
| As you can see...her "haircut" has matured and become respectable. Thank goodness, she was starting to resent being laughed at. |
I wish you a cool breeze on a sweltering day....
xoxo
Monday, July 2, 2012
Being a spineless jellyfish ain't all it's cracked up to be....
My poor, poor, poor father has been ill and suffering through his illness laying in a hospital bed.
Laying there for hours and hours and hours on end has given him lots of time to think.
When he thinks this much he gets anxious.
And depressed.
He thinks of all the stuff that needs to be done around his home.
He misses farting around in his garage.
He longs for his best girl's wonderful home cooking.
And sweet Lord does he ever miss that mangy mutt of his.
(his mutt isn't all that mangy, in fact, he isn't mangy at all, the problem is that he is my dad's favorite child and that irks me to no end)
Anyway, I'll cut to the chase here...
My old man wants me to get him out of the hospital.
He doesn't care how I do it, just that I do.
Day by day as his physical health improves his mental health declines.
Like a see-saw with all the weight tipping first to one side, then to the other.
See....A few days ago the hospital was my dad's best friend, when I got him there he climbed into bed and under the covers with his shoes on.
He's not nuts, just happy to be where a sick man can get a bit of assistance.
Saw....A couple of days later the hospital becomes my dad's worst enemy.
He says things like "I gotta get the hell outta here" broken record style.
The other evening he called and with a voice I'd not heard before he whispered into my ear...
"I've got a plan Beth and I need your help"
"Oooookay" I say and he continues...
"I want you to page the dr and tell him that all my test results are great and that he needs to send me home"
"I want you to page him right away...okay?"
"Uhhhh Dad" I say "it's 6:30 on Saturday night"
"Page him Buffy, get me outta here. Please do this for me".
My dad asks relatively little of me...
So little that this little request is probably the only one I can think of.
Other than buying that damn dog of his some food the other day he's really not asked me for anything.
"Okay Dad" I say "I'll call you back in a bit".
I hang up and tell Daddio.
He asks me if I've lost my mind.
Who pages the doctor on Saturday night...???
Crazy, kiss ass daughters do...that's who.
Contemplating my options had me seesawing... I didn't have any plan to disturb the doctor.
But more so I had no plan on disappointing my dad.
Doing so would just confirm the fact that the dog is a better kid than I.
I put on my bathing suit and jumped in the pool. I floated around on the top of the water like a stingray.
Spread out in all my misery.
Which lie would I tell my dad..?
"The dr.'s brother was on call and he has no idea who you are...so it's not possible for him to release you...you'll have to wait until tomorrow"
"The PA was taking calls this weekend and she doesn't have the authority to get anybody outta anywhere"
"He never called me back Dad..sorry"
"Maybe I called the wrong number or put my number in wrong.."
I worried that using any of the above could come back and bite me in the azz... he would remember to chew them out about it the next day...
The lie would have to be one that he couldn't follow up on.
I thought to not call him at all and the next morning I could tell him that the phone broke.
Blasted damn luck...the home phone, the cell and my work cell all took a shit the same day/same time...
Crap happens Dad, yes it does.
That plan was dumb.
The next one even worse...
When my dad would call back to find out what was taking so long I'd use my best foreign accent (a mixture of Chinese and French) to inform him...
"Sorry, wrong number" I would say when he asked for me.
Desperate times call for desperate measures....
Back and forth, up and down, my thoughts and excuses teeter-tottered.
From absurd to more absurd.
It was a situation I was desperate to squirm my way out of.
Maybe I just wouldn't answer at all when he called.
As I floated in the pool my pathetic-ness began to get the best of me.
What the hell are you so scared of? I thought...
Your dad is a big boy, he can take a bit of disappointment.
Call him right this minute and tell him that you can't bother the doctor with such a silly emergency.
Oh hell no I couldn't do that.
Instead, I'll tell him to call Susan.
(Susan, my sister, the one who doesn't read this blog)
It takes a lot of nerve to say no to your dad...even when you're as old as I am, it takes guts and balls and a bit of "I don't give a frick that you are going to continue to love the dog better than me"
"Dad" I said when I called him back after almost two hours
(borrowing a Dr Laura-ism)
"you knooooow I'd swim through shark infested waters to bring you a lemonade...right?"
"You know I'd do anything for you"
"Aneeeeee-y-thing Dad. I love you that much...."
"I can't do this Dad, it's not right to bother the doctor on Saturday night, this is not a true emergency, he will lose all respect for both of us if I do this... he'll let you out when the time is right"
"Please be patient".
"I thought you would say that" my dad said.
"It's okay, I'll wait" he continued.
And just like..... (wait for it).... thaaaaaaaaaaa- t... (cue, finger snap)
I may have (finally) reached (true) adulthood.
(and of course totally, 100% surely, lost my standing as almost my dad's favorite kid)
Laying there for hours and hours and hours on end has given him lots of time to think.
When he thinks this much he gets anxious.
And depressed.
He thinks of all the stuff that needs to be done around his home.
He misses farting around in his garage.
He longs for his best girl's wonderful home cooking.
And sweet Lord does he ever miss that mangy mutt of his.
(his mutt isn't all that mangy, in fact, he isn't mangy at all, the problem is that he is my dad's favorite child and that irks me to no end)
Anyway, I'll cut to the chase here...
My old man wants me to get him out of the hospital.
He doesn't care how I do it, just that I do.
Day by day as his physical health improves his mental health declines.
Like a see-saw with all the weight tipping first to one side, then to the other.
See....A few days ago the hospital was my dad's best friend, when I got him there he climbed into bed and under the covers with his shoes on.
He's not nuts, just happy to be where a sick man can get a bit of assistance.
Saw....A couple of days later the hospital becomes my dad's worst enemy.
He says things like "I gotta get the hell outta here" broken record style.
The other evening he called and with a voice I'd not heard before he whispered into my ear...
"I've got a plan Beth and I need your help"
"Oooookay" I say and he continues...
"I want you to page the dr and tell him that all my test results are great and that he needs to send me home"
"I want you to page him right away...okay?"
"Uhhhh Dad" I say "it's 6:30 on Saturday night"
"Page him Buffy, get me outta here. Please do this for me".
My dad asks relatively little of me...
So little that this little request is probably the only one I can think of.
Other than buying that damn dog of his some food the other day he's really not asked me for anything.
"Okay Dad" I say "I'll call you back in a bit".
I hang up and tell Daddio.
He asks me if I've lost my mind.
Who pages the doctor on Saturday night...???
Crazy, kiss ass daughters do...that's who.
Contemplating my options had me seesawing... I didn't have any plan to disturb the doctor.
But more so I had no plan on disappointing my dad.
Doing so would just confirm the fact that the dog is a better kid than I.
I put on my bathing suit and jumped in the pool. I floated around on the top of the water like a stingray.
Spread out in all my misery.
Which lie would I tell my dad..?
"The dr.'s brother was on call and he has no idea who you are...so it's not possible for him to release you...you'll have to wait until tomorrow"
"The PA was taking calls this weekend and she doesn't have the authority to get anybody outta anywhere"
"He never called me back Dad..sorry"
"Maybe I called the wrong number or put my number in wrong.."
I worried that using any of the above could come back and bite me in the azz... he would remember to chew them out about it the next day...
The lie would have to be one that he couldn't follow up on.
I thought to not call him at all and the next morning I could tell him that the phone broke.
Blasted damn luck...the home phone, the cell and my work cell all took a shit the same day/same time...
Crap happens Dad, yes it does.
That plan was dumb.
The next one even worse...
When my dad would call back to find out what was taking so long I'd use my best foreign accent (a mixture of Chinese and French) to inform him...
"Sorry, wrong number" I would say when he asked for me.
Desperate times call for desperate measures....
Back and forth, up and down, my thoughts and excuses teeter-tottered.
From absurd to more absurd.
It was a situation I was desperate to squirm my way out of.
Maybe I just wouldn't answer at all when he called.
As I floated in the pool my pathetic-ness began to get the best of me.
What the hell are you so scared of? I thought...
Your dad is a big boy, he can take a bit of disappointment.
Call him right this minute and tell him that you can't bother the doctor with such a silly emergency.
Oh hell no I couldn't do that.
Instead, I'll tell him to call Susan.
(Susan, my sister, the one who doesn't read this blog)
It takes a lot of nerve to say no to your dad...even when you're as old as I am, it takes guts and balls and a bit of "I don't give a frick that you are going to continue to love the dog better than me"
"Dad" I said when I called him back after almost two hours
(borrowing a Dr Laura-ism)
"you knooooow I'd swim through shark infested waters to bring you a lemonade...right?"
"You know I'd do anything for you"
"Aneeeeee-y-thing Dad. I love you that much...."
"I can't do this Dad, it's not right to bother the doctor on Saturday night, this is not a true emergency, he will lose all respect for both of us if I do this... he'll let you out when the time is right"
"Please be patient".
"I thought you would say that" my dad said.
"It's okay, I'll wait" he continued.
And just like..... (wait for it).... thaaaaaaaaaaa- t... (cue, finger snap)
I may have (finally) reached (true) adulthood.
(and of course totally, 100% surely, lost my standing as almost my dad's favorite kid)
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
Ommmmmmmm.......(and all that jazz)
A Wayne County judge who works with troubled youth has decided that she wants to follow a slow(ly) growing resurgence of something that was all the rage in the 1960's and 70's ... Transcendental Meditation.
If you have first hand experience being alive and didn't damage your brain with LSD experimentation or heavy pot use during the 60's and 70's (or you did damage your brain with LSD experimentation or heavy pot use during the 60's and 70's) you may recall hearing of Transcendental Meditation.
The mere mention of it a while back brought crazy images to my mind. Memories of oddball, flower carrying, bald headed, toga wearing weirdoes canvassing airport waiting areas spreading, oh I don't know, flower petals, peace/love/dove ...maybe??
Today some cool celebrities have hopped on board with this rad mod fad. Celebrities like Oprah and Dr. Oz....(so who in the hell wouldn't think this was wonderfully great and totally on the "up and up" if these two were riding the train...just saying)
According to some crap I read on Google they both have trained their staff(s) on the how to's and the benefits of daily meditation, Transcendental Meditation style.
Anyway, back to the Wayne Co judge that is interested in this stuff and what is happening in my neck of the woods.
A few months back it was decided that a couple of our staff would be trained in TM and that we would lead daily meditation with our youth once the youth were all trained in the practice.
I won (or lost, depending on what you think of this) the coin toss and was trained in Transcendental Meditation.
It's weird, it's odd, it's totally me.
I'm currently meditating as often as I am able to find time.
I love it and look very forward to seeing what it can do for our lovable thugs.
The cost of our training was picked up by The David Lynch Foundation... they will also fund the training for the kids.
It is outrageously expensive...
and...
our loveables have the option of opting out (or their parents may opt them out)... so we won't be shoving anything down anyone's throat.
Please check out these links and give me your opinion(s)...
Go here
here
here
PS... Please don't be a hater.
xoxo
If you have first hand experience being alive and didn't damage your brain with LSD experimentation or heavy pot use during the 60's and 70's (or you did damage your brain with LSD experimentation or heavy pot use during the 60's and 70's) you may recall hearing of Transcendental Meditation.
The mere mention of it a while back brought crazy images to my mind. Memories of oddball, flower carrying, bald headed, toga wearing weirdoes canvassing airport waiting areas spreading, oh I don't know, flower petals, peace/love/dove ...maybe??
Today some cool celebrities have hopped on board with this rad mod fad. Celebrities like Oprah and Dr. Oz....(so who in the hell wouldn't think this was wonderfully great and totally on the "up and up" if these two were riding the train...just saying)
According to some crap I read on Google they both have trained their staff(s) on the how to's and the benefits of daily meditation, Transcendental Meditation style.
Anyway, back to the Wayne Co judge that is interested in this stuff and what is happening in my neck of the woods.
A few months back it was decided that a couple of our staff would be trained in TM and that we would lead daily meditation with our youth once the youth were all trained in the practice.
I won (or lost, depending on what you think of this) the coin toss and was trained in Transcendental Meditation.
It's weird, it's odd, it's totally me.
I'm currently meditating as often as I am able to find time.
I love it and look very forward to seeing what it can do for our lovable thugs.
The cost of our training was picked up by The David Lynch Foundation... they will also fund the training for the kids.
It is outrageously expensive...
and...
our loveables have the option of opting out (or their parents may opt them out)... so we won't be shoving anything down anyone's throat.
Please check out these links and give me your opinion(s)...
Go here
here
here
PS... Please don't be a hater.
xoxo
Thursday, June 21, 2012
Caution, your eyes may dribble....
A friend of mine posted this ( link below) recently on Facebook.
She challenged us to read it and not shed a tear...I lost.
You will too.
Go here...
May your today be filled with possibilities.
xoxo
(Thanks for reading my blog)
She challenged us to read it and not shed a tear...I lost.
You will too.
Go here...
May your today be filled with possibilities.
xoxo
(Thanks for reading my blog)
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Math and reading, (obviously) not my strong suit....
Monday is my grocery shopping day.
I've often remarked that my job is just like being at home, cooking cleaning, laundry and a shit load of rotten azz children to look after.
My Monday workday starts when I get my cash advance check for items needed, hit the bank, then the grocery.
I normally shop at my favorite (NOT) grocery store Kroger.
I try not to give my business to the Kroger near my house (they have a management problem) so I hit the store near my work building.
I picked out a huge amount of groceries for the week.
While searching for a checkout line my work cell rang.
I slumped against the cart, my chest low on the bar helping my one arm to steer as I answered, then held the phone against my face using my shoulder and my other hand to carry on a conversation...(you know exactly how I looked).
I found a lane with only two people ahead of me, their baskets not too full and managed to maneuver my full basket into it.
I placed 100 2 liter soda pops, 10 bottles of poupon mustard, 10,000 boxes of crunchy taco shells, 3 large bottles of bleach, a couple of gallons of milk, an unbagged group of (uncooperative) lemons, a bag of tomatoes, (assorted varieties with different "scan codes") and another hundred or so items on the belt
I then grabbed for the divider to add a few items I'd gotten for myself (an impulse buy or seven and an orange).
Just as I was putting my second order on the belt a lady came up behind me.
I noticed (out of the corner of my eye) that she had two or three things in her hands.
Ohh brother, I thought, I hate it when that happens.
Will I be mr nice guy and let her go ahead?
Sometimes I will...
But, not this day... I was too wrapped up in my convo and feeling a bit in the bitchy mindset of " Lady, we all have to wait our turn, and if I were you sister I would have gone to the u scan or chosen a 15 or fewer lane. I would not stand in line behind a gabby woman with a cart full of crap and hope to invoke a merciful, kind gesture from said woman in front.
I vowed NOT to make eye contact.
I won't even begin to notice her and her two items waiting patiently (*not really, I'm sure she was just hoping I would allow her to jump in front of me so she could get her business done and over with and be on her way).
I had her number and I wasn't biting.
Having ended my conversation and beginning to feel a bit of guilt at not letting the woman go ahead of me I began to help bag my cartload of groceries.
When it was time to pay I couldn't find my envelope of money.
While I dug through my messy purse my phone got tossed overboard and hit the ground.
The battery came off the back.
And the back hit the ground and slid under the metal lane.
The lady behind me bent over and dug the paper thin phone back out from under where it had slipped and handed it to me.
"Here you go dear" she said.
The cashier then began my other order.
As the cashier finished bagging my stuff, I searched for my debit card to pay.
I looked high and low in my purse.
Eventually I found it, hidden inside my coupon folder.
I was so flustered I entered the wrong code (three times).
On the fourth try I had success and glanced behind me and mouthed an apologetic "sorry".
It was then that I looked up and noticed that I was in the 15 items or less aisle.
THE 15 (FIFTEEN ITEMS) items OR LESS lane....
I wished right then and there that a huge crack would appear in the middle of the grocery store floor and swallow me whole.
I did the only thing I could think to do...
I blamed the cashier
"Why didn't you holler at me when I started to unload?" I asked
"Let me know I was in the wrong lane?.." I continued
I looked at the woman behind me, she smiled at me.
Not a smirk or a painful grimace.
She hadn't clicked her teeth,
or loudly sighed.
She didn't say.. "she musta slept through first grade" (out loud so I could hear).
All the things I probably would have said and done if it were me in the same situation.
"I'm not in a hurry" the nice, smiling lady said to me.
"It's no big deal, really, it could happen to anyone" she went on sincerely.
I thanked her for her kindness and apologized (probably ad nauseam) for my blunder.
I promised to pay her lovely attitude forward.
No teeth clicking, no loud sighs, no eye rolled curtly delivered accusations of "lumpy mashed potatoes for brains"...
Kindness, it appears, is contagious.
I've often remarked that my job is just like being at home, cooking cleaning, laundry and a shit load of rotten azz children to look after.
My Monday workday starts when I get my cash advance check for items needed, hit the bank, then the grocery.
I normally shop at my favorite (NOT) grocery store Kroger.
I try not to give my business to the Kroger near my house (they have a management problem) so I hit the store near my work building.
I picked out a huge amount of groceries for the week.
While searching for a checkout line my work cell rang.
I slumped against the cart, my chest low on the bar helping my one arm to steer as I answered, then held the phone against my face using my shoulder and my other hand to carry on a conversation...(you know exactly how I looked).
I found a lane with only two people ahead of me, their baskets not too full and managed to maneuver my full basket into it.
I placed 100 2 liter soda pops, 10 bottles of poupon mustard, 10,000 boxes of crunchy taco shells, 3 large bottles of bleach, a couple of gallons of milk, an unbagged group of (uncooperative) lemons, a bag of tomatoes, (assorted varieties with different "scan codes") and another hundred or so items on the belt
I then grabbed for the divider to add a few items I'd gotten for myself (an impulse buy or seven and an orange).
Just as I was putting my second order on the belt a lady came up behind me.
I noticed (out of the corner of my eye) that she had two or three things in her hands.
Ohh brother, I thought, I hate it when that happens.
Will I be mr nice guy and let her go ahead?
Sometimes I will...
But, not this day... I was too wrapped up in my convo and feeling a bit in the bitchy mindset of " Lady, we all have to wait our turn, and if I were you sister I would have gone to the u scan or chosen a 15 or fewer lane. I would not stand in line behind a gabby woman with a cart full of crap and hope to invoke a merciful, kind gesture from said woman in front.
I vowed NOT to make eye contact.
I won't even begin to notice her and her two items waiting patiently (*not really, I'm sure she was just hoping I would allow her to jump in front of me so she could get her business done and over with and be on her way).
I had her number and I wasn't biting.
Having ended my conversation and beginning to feel a bit of guilt at not letting the woman go ahead of me I began to help bag my cartload of groceries.
When it was time to pay I couldn't find my envelope of money.
While I dug through my messy purse my phone got tossed overboard and hit the ground.
The battery came off the back.
And the back hit the ground and slid under the metal lane.
The lady behind me bent over and dug the paper thin phone back out from under where it had slipped and handed it to me.
"Here you go dear" she said.
The cashier then began my other order.
As the cashier finished bagging my stuff, I searched for my debit card to pay.
I looked high and low in my purse.
Eventually I found it, hidden inside my coupon folder.
I was so flustered I entered the wrong code (three times).
On the fourth try I had success and glanced behind me and mouthed an apologetic "sorry".
It was then that I looked up and noticed that I was in the 15 items or less aisle.
THE 15 (FIFTEEN ITEMS) items OR LESS lane....
I wished right then and there that a huge crack would appear in the middle of the grocery store floor and swallow me whole.
I did the only thing I could think to do...
I blamed the cashier
"Why didn't you holler at me when I started to unload?" I asked
"Let me know I was in the wrong lane?.." I continued
I looked at the woman behind me, she smiled at me.
Not a smirk or a painful grimace.
She hadn't clicked her teeth,
or loudly sighed.
She didn't say.. "she musta slept through first grade" (out loud so I could hear).
All the things I probably would have said and done if it were me in the same situation.
"I'm not in a hurry" the nice, smiling lady said to me.
"It's no big deal, really, it could happen to anyone" she went on sincerely.
I thanked her for her kindness and apologized (probably ad nauseam) for my blunder.
I promised to pay her lovely attitude forward.
No teeth clicking, no loud sighs, no eye rolled curtly delivered accusations of "lumpy mashed potatoes for brains"...
Kindness, it appears, is contagious.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
