Tricksy Trickster

I don’t know what gets into me sometimes.  I try to be good…I promise.  But I have these moments.  Moments usually brought about by random events I view as unnecessary.

Moments like having to give your phone number as you are checking out at a store; or having to fill out multiple “forms” in a single location.  I mean really.  Does the front desk NOT share information with the people in radiology?  Come on now.

And so, I stage my own form of mini-rebellions.  I tend to participate in ridiculously silly rules and procedures, but I do so erroneously.  Not in any way that would endanger my health and safety or anyone else’s, but rebel I must.

Recently, during an evening out with my BFF and favorite partner in crime, Judy.  I really didn’t intend to be flying in the face of normalcy.  But, it seems I just can't help myself.

If you know me at all, you know shopping is not my thing.  I hate trying on clothes and while you might think this was brought about by my changing body style, it is not.  I have never, let me repeat…NEVER enjoyed the whole trying on clothes event.

But, there are times when one must get naked in a strange room with unflattering light and fattening mirrors and try to find that perfect garment that will make you look 25 pounds lighter.  And so, shopping we went.

As we were wandering around the store with multiple hangars draped over our arms, we were approached by a very nice sales associate.  Relieving Judy of her burden, she informed her she would “start” a dressing room for her and asked for her name.  With Judy’s name in her ear and her prospective purchases on her arms she dashed off to place them in a room for Judy’s convenience.

And then she returned with the same offer for me.  Asking for my name, I promptly and without hesitation replied “Dolores.”  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Judy clap her hand over her mouth and go dashing to the front of the store, shoulders shaking.

After she had composed herself, we both availed ourselves of our assigned dressing rooms.  Sure enough, there on one door was a dry erase board bearing the name- Judy.  And another, “Delores” – please notice she misspelled my phony name.  The.Nerve.

I’ve thought about this and I can’t explain what made me do it.  But, on further reflection I’m going with this explanation.  What if someone were stalking me?  If they came in the store looking for me, they certainly aren’t going to look behind the door named “Delores.”

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.  Although I think next time out Judy and I will simply be Thelma and Louise without the car crash.

Knowledge Hard Learned

Things I Was Taught

Children are to be seen and not heard – this one worked to my advantage most of the time.  I sure heard some interesting stuff as a kid.

Look but don’t touch.

Don’t show up somewhere uninvited.

Being bored is not an option and work is mandatory.  There is no excuse for lazy.

Playing outside was also not an option.  You came in when you were told to and not before unless there was spurting blood.

Give your boss $2.00 worth of work for every dollar he gives you.

Understand that your boss will probably not recognize that you give more than he pays for.

Always return what you borrow.  And,  if you break it – fix it or replace it.

Don’t come to resent the people who have been kind enough to lend something to you.

Forgive and forget and if others can’t do the same for you, move on.

Be yourself, someone will like you for it – most will not…deal with it.

Be kind.

Be thoughtful.

Allow yourself to be “emptied” at the end of each day so that you can be “refilled” the next.

Respect all living things particularly those that are little, old or depend on man for their survival.

Just because you have an opinion on something doesn’t mean it HAS to be expressed.

Allow others the respect of their opinions whether you agree or disagree.

All conflicts could be ended by one single person deciding to give up power and control.

And certainly not least…realize God is driving your life, you are only a passenger.  Try not to jerk the steering wheel out of His hands…you will wind up in the ditch.

The Night Night Police

It is good to be the King!

Good dog Cooper has achieved his role in our household as the King of the pack. He rules with a firm yet benevolent hand.
Cooper is by nature a nurturer. It is he who cleans everyone's eyes and washes their beards and mustaches. He plays with them roughly or gently as the situation calls for. He watches over all, he worries about things and he adapts and adjusts beautifully to most situations. Except for the occasion when someone tries to achieve favored status with his beloved Genevieve. This will not be tolerated! She is HIS human and HIS alone, and quite frankly he cannot understand why she would ever need or want to entertain the affections of anyone else, animal or human.

Sometimes I have to hold everyone down in order to take care of them.

Lately, I’ve noticed Cooper has decided it is his job to make sure all the trains run on time and nothing is forgotten or missed. If someone has been left in the yard, he lets you know, especially if it is himself that has been left there too long. He will announce loudly and long that he has been outside far too long and needs to come back inside………..NOW!

Mealtimes are also his bailiwick. He makes sure the food bowls are filled at a proper time and he monitors each portion with the eye of a practiced dietician. Sometimes he’s so busy checking out everyone elses consumption he forgets his own and has to have a special mealtime alone.
Of course, Cooper also makes sure no animal, cartoon character or President Obama escapes from the television. He holds them all at bay with a fierce dedication to duty.
And now Cooper has taken on a new job. He has decided none of us have enough sense to go to bed when we should. When he is ready for the house to quiet down and get still he sits in front of me and grumbles. If I ignore the grumbling, he will pat me with his paws until I get up and start bedding everyone down.

Just what I needed….someone else telling me what to do! If he starts laying out my clothes for me in the morning and packing my lunch, we are going to be rich.

Meanwhile the Queen Mother, aka resident Diva Daisy reclines on her cushion and sleeps!

Crayons

We've all experienced the pure joy of a brand new box of crayons. Bright and vivid colors, with nice sharp points, clearly defining their color names on the wrappers that hug them tight. Alas, crayons do not stay fresh and sharp forever. Little hands, gripping them so tightly can snap them right in two and then you have two not-so-perfect reds, or blues, or greens. Sometimes, it is the crayon that is used the most that breaks first.

However, as long as all the crayons are present, we can still make a pretty fine picture. It takes all the colors.

Yellow for the bright and happy sun. Red for the delicious apples and bright little boats. White for those nice highlights on everything and black to give the whole picture more definition, shading and interest.

Our country has become a box of crayons.......we have all the primary colors represented along with some nice hybrid colors that happened by mixing together a few other shades and hues. We have a glorious array of beautiful faces in all colors, all religions, all races, all lifestyles. And, I dare say, most of the people I know who are my age ceased to see a clear difference in "color" a long time ago. We were raised by people who saw color very distinctly and were pretty danged vocal about it. But my generation was smart and we learned that there were broken crayons of EVERY color in our box, but there were also some very beautiful and wonderful bright happy ones represented there as well and we colored with our box with wild abandon.

Now....suddenly...we are being asked to only see one shade of crayon. We are being told that if that crayon is broken it matters more than any other color in the box. In fact, maybe we should take all our other crayons and break them in order to make it up to that one broken crayon.

I am afraid if something doesn't change very soon, one of our crayons will be cast aside forever and then our pictures will no longer be as pretty, no longer be bright and vivid and full of hope and promise.

So....what color crayon are you? When you color with only yourself, is the picture pretty or kind of flat and uninteresting? Hopefully, we can get back to a place where all crayons have an equal slot in the box without having to toss out a color or two just because one of them was not colored with well in the past.

Got Game?

 

I like to spend some of my leisure time playing games..........mostly games I find on Facebook. There are lots of really good ones and they are really fun to play.

That is.......until.............you reach that magic portion of the game when the game decides you no longer have need of advancement and chooses to make you linger in the purgatory of level 69 in Candy Crush where that disembodied voice takes great pleasure in letting you know you failed to clear the jelly. Or then there is level 308 in Bubble Witch Saga with the linked bubbles and I refuse to talk about that one altogether. And who cannot appreciate the Farm Heroes Saga that wants you to accumulate 198 onions, apples and strawberries in 10 moves. Loads of fun!!

My frustration level drove me back to Words With Friends where I was promptly handed my butt by every opponent known to man. I even played random people in hopes of finding someone stupid....didn't work.

In desperation to find something I could play without pulling out my eyebrow hairs, I wandered back over to Farmtown where I promptly planted a whole plot of grapes and then forgot about them. When I returned, they were withered and dead. Fail..............epic.fail.

I think I am being told to step away from the dark side and go back to my needle and embroidery thread. I have a Christmas stocking to finish before this Christmas. I have a feeling if I don't get this project done in time I'm going to find out what an epic failure I really am.

Sweeeet!

N SYNC

Noooooooooo, not these guys………..

The in synch I’m talking about involves my neighborhood.  I wonder how hard it would be to get everyone to agree to mow/weed eat/edge and trim at the same time on the same day?

I have this really cozy little Party-o that I am super duper proud of and I love to sit out there and read and sometimes sew.  Invariably my time there is limited to about 12 minutes because just as I get settled and really “into” my project……someone cranks up their dad gummed mower and there goes the peace and quiet.

To make matters worse, when someone is mowing, it really hacks off the dogs in other yards and they start barking and flinging themselves at the fence in the hope they can take on the mowing beast they can hear but not see.

Then there are the neighbors who have a dog simply because it must be “cool” to have a dog.  That dog is so bored and so neglected he barks if he hears a mouse fart in the neighboring town.  I have what could be classified as a “herd” of canine family members and collectively they don’t make as much noise as that one dog on a given day. 

Howl Fests are excluded from the above statement – everyone knows a good howling simply cannot be avoided from time to time.

One of my neighbors mows his entire yard with a weed eater.  This is the same neighbor I refer to as the Tree Butcher who takes it upon himself to trim my vegetation as he deems it necessary.  However, the fact that his truck garden is climbing over my fence and encroaching my personal space escapes him.  I’m just hoping the “yield” of the encroachment is something I like….because I’m keeping it.

Living in town has its advantages……you are close to the store……….yeah, that’s about it.

But the disadvantage are you have to peacefully co-exist with relative strangers.  And I try very hard to NOT be “that” neighbor who takes issue with every little thing.  However, we are now a week past 4th of July and my tolerance for fireworks have ceased.

In case you are reading this – we will be mowing our yard on Tuesday……maybe in the early morning and maybe really late at night.  I’d like for it to be a surprise for you.  Seriously, the city can set up days and times you can water, why not when you can mow.  Then we could all sit on my Party-o, drink a beer, listen to music and chat without screaming at each other.  Let’s get In Synch people…………..

What’s On?

Sooooooo, first of all (Reality show junkie that I am) I have to say I am sorta likin’ this little Bachelorette chick. Aside from being a little loose with her lips which some might find a bit gross (I don’t – I think kissing is fun and let’s face it….if the earth don’t move when someone kisses you – why bother taking the trip) Ms. Des is a pretty down to earth little gal.

I was a bit worried about her at first over her inability to see when she was being manipulated and played, but she went a long way toward easing my fears when she sent “Gentle Ben” packing. After all, she lived through the whole Terrible Tierra thing last season and she needed to recognize when that behavior was manifesting again. Now if she can just see through the prettiness and smooth talkin’ James she might actually have a shot at a great guy.

That being said…..my husband is about to embark on a worldwide “Revoking your Man Card Tour.” We are both noticing a trend in our television viewing that seems to indicate guys are becoming more tuned in to their softer side. Now….I can appreciate a guy who has the ability to be tender, but the sight of guys crying all the time kind of makes me cringe. I will never get to the point that I don’t appreciate a guy who will go “balls to the wall” for the people he loves and a cause he believes in.

When the likes of Sean Connery, Sam Elliott and Tom Selleck are the things your dreams are made of, someone tearing up over not getting a one on one date leaves you a bit cold and makes you feel kinda icky.

Now, on to much more serious matters. Falling Skies. Love.This.ALOT! I’ve been secretly crushing on Noah Wyle since his ER days and this story of a professor turned blood and guts freedom fighter waging war against aliens really gets me going. Now, there is a guy whose sensitive side is apparent but not cringe worthy. This whole show is a thumbs up for me, mostly because I like this sort of thing. Remember me? I’m the person who is still wondering what the helicopter happened to all those poor people on the 4400. (TV people please note, if you are bent on canceling something – your viewers need closure. We’ve invested, we’ve cared…..don’t leave us hanging.)

I am pretty hacked off at the Food Network over the whole Paula Deen thing. To me, she is becoming living proof of what my old dad always said “stick your head up above the crowd and someone is going to be waiting to behead you.” What a load of Country Crock! Seriously…..we’ve all done and said things we’ve come to regret, times change, people change………and sometimes we evolve and look back at our past and think “WTH was I thinking?”

Personally I’ve come to learn that your opinions about things are directly governed over by how close to home a subject hits. In other words, racial issues, gender issues, sexual preferences, &  political issues are all very lofty things to weigh your opinions on. But let one of those things affect you on a personal level and your opinions tend to shift………..your core values may remain the same but how you feel about it is now colored by your heart. So, Paula made a mistake in the past…she used some not so pretty language. She’s apologized and probably today in this climate regrets it more than anyone can know, but she must be hounded to the doorstep of hell for it? Come on. I pity you when your skeletons come creeping from your closet.

I remain hopeful she starts her own TV network and the Food Network finds themselves Chopped. Yes, I do believe there should be punishment for our actions – I just have a problem with overkill after the fact. I also have a problem with people who cannot just move on. Wonder how many heads rolled over at NBA TV when they inadvertently ran their championship apparel ad with the wrong team on it. Ooopsie…..some of us always thought the Spurs should have won, apparently we were unanimous in that feeling.

In short, because of the political climate today and the fact that the news makes my blood pressure spike on an hourly basis, I tend to lose myself in what my hubs refers to as “drivel.” I am unapologetic in my lack of television taste buds. I don’t complain (much) when I my DH is watching still yet ANOTHER episode of NCIS – I’m sure there is not one he has not seen at least 5 times. And I will watch Criminal Minds happily. I also freaking LOVE Big Bang Theory – for some reason it tickles me that Geeks and Nerds have become popular after spending so many years shoved in lockers. Besides I know some pretty interesting fellows who are a little geeky at times.

I’m still waiting for The Real Housewives of Sebastian or LeFlore County. These would be some chicks I could hang with and would probably resonate with a lot more people than the Beverly Hills or Orange County bunch. Although, I will say….those Jersey girls do make me laugh. But, I will give it all up if someone will resurrect Looney Tunes and give me good doses of the Coyote and Road Runner. After all………..if you can’t laugh what fun is life?

Lost In Translation

Sometimes I forget that not everyone has as rich and colorful language skills as myself.  But then, something always happens to bring me up short and make me painfully aware that language can often be very confusing.

I have an associate who is from another country.  This associate speaks lovely English which he taught to himself by listening to American music.  Impressed?  I certainly am.  However, listening to our music doesn’t educate one in the slang and local expressions we all have at our finger tips.  Most of you share my knowledge of “cold as a ___________” or “hot as a __________” etc. etc. etc.

Because I am really drawn to teaching someone, I have made it my mission in life to help my associate be familiar with expressions he might hear that confuse him.  And then……he usually breaks me up with the result.

My first attempt at his edification was the day he inquired “Lavetta, is it supposed to rain today?”  My response?  “Honey, from what I hear we can expect a turd floater.”  This required a bit of question and answer and I felt he was adequately equipped in that personal favorite of mine.  However, I learned soon after in speaking with his father in law on the phone (who is still out of country) he informed him “the turds are floating today.” Hmmmmm

Then….this week…..I skyped him and asked “did you do the backup on my computer over the weekend?”  He responded…….”are you ready for a wipe?”  Now given the fact I have been working with a non-dominate hand for 2 weeks……this question caused me to baptize my monitor with coffee.  Sadly, he had no idea the depravity of my thinking skills and where my mind went immediately, but he soon caught on and then was most amused at himself.

Gotta say…..I adore him………he always always always makes me laugh and there are days when that is most needed and needs no translation at all.

Can We Get Over Ourselves For A Moment?

While alone in the car the other day (a rare occurrence these days) I was brought up short by a radio ad.  This is even rarer as my husband is a talk radio junkie and I can’t stand to listen to people argue on the radio so I usually turn the thing off immediately.  But…this day…he must have had the radio tuned to old….and I do mean OLD classic country music.  Nothing had yet offended my delicate **ahem** sensibilities.

But, all good things must and usually do come to an end.  Suddenly…there was an ad directed at me………female…………wife……….victim of prostate cancer.  WAIT!  WHAT?!  Had my gentle gender become so equally evolved we have now grown prostates and therefore can add them to our list of maladies?  Well….no.  Duh!

But….according to the ad, we, as women, are the “real” victims of prostate cancer because it affects our marriage.  Seriously?  Really?  Are we really going to allow this to happen?  How long would we, as women, sit still for an ad proclaiming our husbands as the invisible victims of breast cancer (which they also CAN get you know) but I think you are getting the tilt of my viewpoint?  After all…..being ravaged by breast cancer can’t be pleasant for the testosterone set in our lives either, but we don’t have to hear about how traumatized about it they are.  We are much too busy being traumatized ourselves and rightfully so.

I am truly 100% FOR women having the same advantages and benefits in the workplace **providing they are willing to do the absolute SAME as a man in their position** – I am also one of those gals who knows how to do a lot of things for myself.  Does this mean I do them as well as a guy, probably not.  After all, I cannot tighten a lug nut down to the point of stripping the threads, most guys I know can…………..and do.

And would I participate in a good old fashioned bra burning?  Oh hell to the yes!  But, I would probably be burning mine because I hate the thing and fully believe it was developed as an instrument of torture and pain.  I’m kind of thinking most guys would be there at the rally with us too, since I think most of them either overtly or covertly would like to see the “girls” running around unfettered.

But…………can we…………..as women………..and society in general……….please let our men have this one thing that is ALL.ABOUT.THEM. ?  Can we get over ourselves long enough to recognize what a horrible thing this is for those hunky guys turned lovers and providers and just be supportive…….and loving?  Can we be the women they need us to be in their time of trouble and fear?  Can we…………..please?

And while I’m ranting…………where in the helicopter is THEIR ribbon we can post on our Facebook pages and attach to our cars?  I’d buy one……I can even come up with the design.

Squeezies Pleasies!

After my long postponed trip to the dentist finally became an actuality, my friendly dentist (cute as can be) was discussing my upcoming dental needs. I asked him when a person my age reaches an age where a dentist just says "never mind....it probably isn't going to matter anyway." He courteously chuckled and I told him "every time I see my physician and tell him I have some ailment or other, his response to me is "let's see now....how old ARE you again?" I'm pretty quick....I take this to mean I probably don't have time to A) recover from it or B) worry about it. However, I have noticed he is all over trying to send me to have my boobs flat ironed. Last visit...I turned the tables on him and retorted..."hey! those things are exactly the same age as me."

But.......I know this is wrong of me and yes, yes, I intend to go and let them be slammed in between 2 cold plates at least one more time. I urge you all to do the same...unless you are one of my lovely masculine readers. In this case, load your main squeeze and take her down for THE main squeeze!

Get A Pet Rock

Last week my doorbell rang. Ugh! I hate it when people ring the doorbell, it is almost NEVER anyone I wish to see let alone talk to. This was no exception.

A young man who lives down the street was standing on my porch with a dog. The dog was an enormous Chow, obviously in heat and the young man was asking for a leash. Now this young man routinely comes to my house and asks for things, paper, pens, saws, brooms, leaf rakes, tools…you know anything he has spied in my garage and feels he has a use for. They never come back home.

I got an old leash and took it outside and sat down on the step to try to help him leash the dog. She promptly snarled, snapped and almost bit me. Her owner promptly threw her to the ground, put his knee in her throat and started threatening her. Young man is a minor or he would have suffered a similar fate, however, I used small words in all caps to emphasize the need for him to remove himself from that dog….NOW!

At this point, I noticed her collar. It was hard to see as it was buried beneath a heavy winter coat and the fact it was of a sufficient size for a dog ¼ of her size made it almost invisible. I immediately got a pair of scissors and instructed “young man” to remove that collar from that poor dog. It didn’t remove easily…the fact it was not embedded in her flesh is nothing short of a miracle to me.

Young man explained to me that his neighbor’s Rottweiler had “hooked up” (his words…not mine) with her along with several other random passing strangers and his dad had instructed him to “get rid of her”. When quizzed about exactly what that meant, he explained they needed to find someone to take her who would take care of her. YOU THINK?!

I’m quite sure that dog has never seen the inside of a vet clinic and has never had even minimum health maintenance performed and now there will be more of them. That being said, I understand not everyone is like me. Dogs eat better, have better health care and far more grooming maintenance than owners…………but……they didn’t take ME in….I took them, therefore they are MY responsibility. They are also my heart.

Young man……get a pet rock. You aren’t deserving of a living creature, even one that bites.

This is a stick-up, I mean a pop-up, no it’s a pop tart…..art.

OR.............Take me to your toaster!!!
Where can a person move to where people still have a teensy bit of common sense?  Please….anywhere?  Somewhere a 7 year old doesn’t get suspended from school for nibbling his breakfast pastry into the shape of a gun?  Anyone?

Let’s totally ignore the fact he was trying to nibble a mountain and it just wasn’t working out.  But when he looked at it, he decided it looked like a gun……”kinda”.  According to the kid his teacher was pretty mad and he thought he was in BIG trouble.

Can we seriously get a grip people?  Do we think at some point this kid is going to hi-jack an airliner, demand 1 billion Hershey bars and insist on being flown to Willy Wonka Land?  It’s a pop tart for crying out loud.  Of course we need to not study on that fact too long or someone will have his parents up on charges for not sending him to school with a carrot and a tub of tofu.

According to news reports, children have been suspended for lobbing imaginary grenades into the playground sandbox or threatening to shoot someone with the bubbles from their Hello Kitty bubble gun.

For most of my childhood I always had a gun on hand – my right hand usually.  I worked hard to perfect my shooting sound (the boys were always so much better at it than I was) which was probably why I always had to be the outlaws “woman” instead of an outlaw.

I begged for months for a B B gun because the boys next door had them and I wanted to ride my bike (horse) and shoot at dirt clods and telephone poles.  Sadly, I never got one, having a mother who was not THAT evolved.

In high school every pickup in the parking lot sported a gun rack and every gun rack – a gun.  And yet, here I sit at the ripe old age of 63 telling you no one ever dreamed of shooting up the school.  Maybe part of this was due to the fact we didn’t sit at home and play video games all day, we played cowboys and Indians, cops and robbers, and Army OUTSIDE until it was too dark to play out there any more.

Geeeez Louise, this whole thing really gets my knickers in a knot.  I thought I had it bad when my son’s 4th grade teacher called me to ask me to beat him senseless when he got home because he spit in his beans at lunch.  I was pretty undone over this, I’m supposed to punish him 3 1/2 hours AFTER the crime?  Lady, jerk his young Asterisk up off that lunchroom chair and give him a good old fashioned butt beating!

All I can say is it is a good thing the kid didn’t nibble the image of Jesus in his poptart or he’d be headed to Kinderprison right now.   **Facepalm**

Who Let Their Cows Out–who,who,who?

So…..I sort of love this picture!  When I was 7 the Texas panhandle had an epic blizzard.  Lots of snow and high winds caused drifts of snow so tall you could literally walk from the roof of your house to your neighbors.  As a kid……….IT.WAS.FREAKING.AWESOME!

As an adult, particularly a cattleman, I’m quite sure it was the equivalent of beating repeatedly on your thumb with a hammer.  Just as we children reveled in the massive snow drifts, the cattle all decided to go on a winter vacay.   All they had to do was walk over the barbed wire fences and travel with the wind.

And travel they did, miles and miles.  I think it took a really long time for all those cattle to be rounded up and returned to their rightful places once the storm was over.  Thank God for branding!

However, on the heels of what is being referred to as “Snowpocalypse” or “Snowmageddon”, this photo has shown up on the internet A.LOT.  And I really get amused   PO’d at some of the comments.

Comments like “how irresponsible to allow your cattle to be roaming loose in such horrible weather!”  Ummmm, ‘mkay…..we kind of felt like maybe it would be wrong to lock them in a barn and then have the snow keep us from getting to them to feed and water them.  Or heck…..it’s a little hard to ring the bell and holler out the back door…..kids it’s time to come in now (especially when the wind is blowing 75 mph).  Another favorite “oh, the poor things must be so cold.”  Sorry…we ran out of sweaters for them and couldn’t get to the store to buy more, we were hoping their leather coats and higher body temps would prove sufficient.  “How long were they loose?”  I guess as long as it took for the winds to die down, the snow to quit blowing, for people to be able to get their vehicles out of the snowbanks and garages they were stuck in and go looking for them.

There is no bigger animal lover on the face of the planet, but where I am from cattle are an industry, a business that has been part of my life forever.  I’ve seen my granddad cry at the sickness in his herd, watched him up to his shoulders trying to help a calf be born and saw him dedicatedly be on the spot, on time twice a day to milk. so those milk cows would not suffer from being neglected.  These cattle were not loose because people were negligent or uncaring.  These cattle were loose for the same reason they get swept away in tsunamis and tornados or swallowed up by earthquakes.  This was nature's work and you can’t stop Mother Nature when she’s got her drawers in a bunch.

And really, this group of bovine could very well be from several different herds who found safety in numbers and just drifted along with each other.  I think it is funny they came to town which leads me to question……how you gonna keep ‘em down on the farm? Luckily they only went to Pampa.

Playin’ Chicken

I've never understood the whole "chicken" thing as a description of a coward.  You know, you are driving your car hell bent for leather head on at another car and the first one to swerve away is “chicken?”

Chickens could be some of the bravest creatures on the planet. Think about it - there you are happily scratching the dirt for nature's little treasures when the farmer's wife comes strollin’  through the yard. With a pan of seed, waves her hand back and forth and dinner falls to earth like manna from Heaven.

Suddenly..............she snatches you up and with a quick little flick of the wrist you are running around the chicken yard WITHOUT.YOUR.HEAD.  Now instead of getting dinner, you ARE dinner.

And yet…….tomorrow - some loud mouthed testosterone filled rooster will announce to the world there are still lots of you available for frying and all your living feathered friends will exhibit the same enthusiasm for Mrs. Farmer as YOU did today.

Ah say....Ah say.....that, my friends..........is no chicken!

Cruisin’ For A Bruisin’

This was one of my dad’s favorite expressions.  Used as a warning to my brothers and myself when we were dangerously close to stepping over the lines of his endurance.    It seemed to work amazingly well.

However, events of late have brought Cruising to the forefront of all our realities.  For those who have cruised, there is a first hand knowledge of what all the hubbub is about. For those of us who’ve never floated the oceans and seas on the equivalent of a city on water, there is perhaps a bemused attitude.

First of all….these people who were inconvenienced recently were……inconvenienced.  Yes, their cruising experience might not have been pretty, or pleasantly scented but they weren’t harmed.  And for most of them, they made out like bandits.  Refunds, vouchers, free cruises…I think they have been treated most fairly.

Was this unfortunate……..absolutely!   Was it intentional……doubtful.   And will these put upon poor cruisers venture forth to cruise again………I would wager so.

Anyone complaining about having to smell sewage while in the middle of the ocean surrounded by fresh sea air has obviously never been in a baseball complex outdoor bathroom in August in Arkansas.  Now….there’s some smell accompanied by flies roughly the size of B-52s.  Sleeping on the deck of a ship sounds kind of exciting to me – after all, that would have never been allowed had there not been a problem on board.

I’m just thinking it is a good thing this wasn’t a Disney cruise – just think…..they all could have been trapped aboard that boat with 2 children for every adult.  Now that would be my idea of a nightmare.

Get over yourselves people….it is experiences like these that give you interesting stories to tell your grandchildren.  Imagine their wide eyed wonder when you tell them how you were trapped at sea, living on the edge…..fearing you would never see land again.  WOW!  If you can manage to get over it I’m betting in 6 months you will be laughing about it, because while you might not see it now, I can imagine all kinds of things you have heard, seen, smelt or felt during your hardship that are side splittingly funny.  Laugh about it…..I did.

I Bought It One Piece At A Time

If you follow my rantings and ravings you are aware that I have very strong opinions on everything from raised toilet seats to firearms in church. And since I don’t particularly like to argue with anyone over the validity of my opinions, I choose to Blog. In the Blogging world if you don’t like someone’s comment you simply get rid of it. Sad that all of life is not that easy! I’m kidding of course, I actually think good healthy discourse is productive. However, I also find that often there will be one component in a debate unwilling to let the opposing side have an opinion at all. They simply want their way, their words, their thinking. But…this is why I blog. I blog about things that are sad, things that make me happy and most of all things that I find wet my pants funny or give me those “what in the helicopter” moments.

I was watching television the other night. Admittedly probably reality TV – I am a card carrying Addicted to Reality show junkie. This fact drives my husband insane. I know he thinks I am above par in the intelligence department, but he DOES.NOT. get my compulsion to watch what he refers to as….”that crap”. Well, that is sort of what he calls it. But I ask you, where else could you see hair pulling, spitting snarling hairdressers? Redneck duck call manufacturers? Illegal Moonshine makers? And, gals who have a mission in life to help the overly endowed women of America find the perfect foundation garment. Really….who could not embrace a show called Double D…vas? And, I will spare you my glowing recommendations of all things “Housewife” – I keep hoping for a Real Housewives of Eastern Oklahoma – if they do that one I want to be involved in the casting process at the local Wal-Mart. **Calm down ladies……I have loads of perfectly wonderful friends in that area, but even you have to admit there are some real interesting folks over there** And I have no doubt it would soon be followed up by a spin-off for the ladies of Western Arkansas.

Part of the fun of reality TV is commercials. It was reality TV that introduced me to the For Farmers Only online dating opportunity. No………I didn’t call in for my perfect match. I’m totally happy where I am and besides at my age and weight I would probably be matched with Moonbeam McSwine’s dad.

The commercial that caught my eye of late is for a perfectly wonderful way to purchase a new car without having to pay a penny for it yourself. Given the fact I could really use a car I feel I may need to explore this option further.

This is a registry where you create your vehicle and then solicit donations from family and friends to “sponsor” an individual part. You know just like a bridal registry where someone buys you 2 bowls of your china pattern. Except………they might purchase two pistons. Think about it…..no one would ever have to wonder about what to get me for Christmas, my birthday, Valentine’s day, anniversary or just because I am wonderful.

My only concern is that at a ripe old age of nearly 63 do I have enough time left to provide enough events to get my car funded? What happens if I pass away with only a steering wheel, one tail light and a hood ornament? That would be the visual representation of my life….I’ve always been one blinker short of a good right turn.

Dear Bachelor

I want to like you. For a while now I’ve kind of been a fan of yours, but now you are starting to trouble me.

I think it is humanly impossible to be “crazy about” 5+ girls at the same time. Perhaps you should develop a vernacular that can be used as a “rating” system.

I really admire your character
I think you are one of the most intelligent girls I’ve ever encountered
You are just the cutest thing ever
Seriously girl, you are making my heart race
I’m crazy about you

If you insist on telling everyone you are crazy about them, pretty soon you are going to experience “crazy” of catastrophic proportions.

Also, I question the wisdom of putting a girl with a physical handicap in a Roller Derby arena. Really? I think that girl is an amazing person, but that’s a little beyond intimidating.

And lastly………..pay close attention to the cutesy pie who says and does all the right things – (come on now, you know who I’m talking about.) Watch her body language and that of others when she is around. If people are circling her like a poisonous snake, take heed.

Oh, wait…..I have one more – lose the excessive tongue kissing with EVERYONE, that is really starting to gross me out.

Sincerely…….pick the girl from Arkansas, she seems to be the real deal.

CHILD.....ish OR .....like?

The older I get, the more I notice the maturity (or lack of) of people around me. You find lovely examples of it at home, in your family, the neighborhood and sometimes even at work.

I love to find those people who still embrace their inner child. The ones who have the ability to throw themselves into life’s experiences with the wide eyed wonder of a little kid. They greet each day as a gift, expect the best from it and are rarely disappointed because even if the day turns out to be a little less than, they find something to celebrate.

However, it is incredible to me to realize there are more CHILDISH than CHILDLIKE people running around. And there is a huge difference in these two characteristics. But just in case you need just a few pointers to help you recognize the ISHs…..here you go.

If someone is constantly looking for something wrong in you to justify their own bad behavior….they might be CHILDISH

If someone has wronged you and now cannot a) meet your eyes…or b) stay in the same room with you….they might be CHILDISH

If someone is constantly trying to make themselves look better or feel better at your expense….they might be CHILDISH

If someone does not have the ability to admit they are wrong, apologize and move on….they might be CHILDISH

If someone’s first response to every situation is to immediately bemoan the effects that situation has on THEM…they might be CHILDISH

If someone does not possess the ability to own their own mistakes, but must instead pass off the guilt…they might be CHILDISH

If someone is constantly unreliable and undependable in doing what they say they will do...they might be CHILDISH and could possibly also suffer from the other deadly ISH...SELFISH

But….if someone greets each new day as a gift. Or, smiles through their own troubled times. Or, perhaps, just tries to make everyone they are in contact with feel like they were important enough to engage with. Or, if someone just can remove their own needs and wants and truly listen to others and try to make a difference where they can……….They just might be CHILDLIKE and therefore, should be treasured.

Bless The Beasts & The Children

It has taken me this long to decide I want to have my say on the terrible tragedy at Sandy Hook.

First of all, I want to express my most humble gratitude to God that I only had to be touched by this from a distance. It is all too feasible that this could, and now we realize, CAN happen to any of us. There is no safe haven except in the arms of our Heavenly Father.

Secondly, I know I will never again take any encounter with someone I love for granted for truly THAT time could very well be the LAST time I have with them and for my own peace of mind I want to know I will have left them with the firm assurance they were loved by me, completely.

Violence of this degree can only be laid at the feet of one thing. It isn't a weapon, it isn't a sickness. It is EVIL. And evil is a very real presence in our world today. The more we turn from the values and morals that make us a kinder and more compassionate people, the more ground we yield to the encroaching evil.

I am not a fan of guns, but I know in my heart of hearts there is a need for them. Assault type weapons for private citizens, no. And please, before you try to talk me out of this, remember this is MY opinion and I get to have it just as you do yours. But while a gun is often used to create mayhem, we need to remember, a gun has to be in the hands of someone to be dangerous.

And a dangerous, evil person bent on destruction will use any method they can find. McVeigh used fertilizer, terrorists used airplanes, some will use knives, poison or merely just torture until their desired end result is achieved. Right here where I live, there was man so overcome with evil intent, he chased his ex-wife down with his car, and when she stopped, he stabbed her to death on a busy street corner in the middle of the day while her sister in the passenger seat watched the murder of someone she loved.

My point in this post is that we cannot remove evil from our world by removing guns. Basically because, those who are truly possessed by evil will always have a weapon, and it will most likely be a gun. All we will accomplish is to effectively disarm evil's potential victims rendering them powerless to fight back.

Delusional people think removing guns will make us all safer, but it will not. For the evil will find a way to arm its minions and the destruction will be great. And we, as a society will be judged by how well we teach, love, and protect the smallest, helpless and most vulnerable of our kind.

"Bless the beasts and children, for in this world they have no voice...they have no choice"

Speak people and don't stop. Push back against the mildewed rot of evil.

Say My Name…Say My Name

If you’ve ever been in an area full of Aspen trees – you know that when the wind blows, they sound like they are whispering.

It is kind of like a religious experience.  Like they are telling all the secrets of the forest on the wind knowing it will soon reach God’s ears.

In the New Year – I didn’t make resolutions…I decided to develop habits.  But I wanted those habits to involve someone other than myself.  And so, I decided that every day I would choose one person among my acquaintances (sometimes family, sometimes friends and sometimes just someone I barely know.) 

And, in choosing this person I commit myself to whispering their name in the wind to God and asking for Him to attend to their needs as only He knows and to bless them with his favor not just that day but for all the days to follow.

These people don’t know they are chosen, which makes it even more gratifying to me.  Particularly when the person I have chosen has not been particularly kind or gracious to me.  It helps me realize there is a need for them to be my focus and it helps me to know I am trying to put them in wind with God and sincerely hope He brings them divine favor.

Soooo, if sometime in the year, you think you hear your own name in the wind, I am praying for you to have everything your heart desires and maybe, just maybe…you will say my name as well.

Peace and contentment to you all.