they call it facebook. we think it's some newfangled thing that we've only had since 2004.
we're such idiots.
facebook, as you know if you're on it, barely has a face at all. despite the profile pics and despite the cover photos and despite all the other endless stream of photos, it's really quite faceless. you can't touch anybody.
it doesn't really get its face until you......
meet up with these folks - often times again - many years later - in person. face to face.
what's new about that?
people (the smart ones and the not anti-social ones) have been meeting face-to-face since, well, since adam and eve. sorry, mark zuckerberg.
facebook, without ever actually meeting face-to-face, is a lot like what i have heard that many supermodels do......they soak cotton balls in various foods and food substances......and suck on them. so they don't gain weight.
facebook is like sucking on someone's teensy tiny profile pic without ever really sitting down with them over pie and coffee.
facebook is just a new way of saying "yearbook." but at least with yearbooks, you had to personally go down to the office to pick yours up and then you had to pass it around so everybody could write "U R 2 Nice 2 B 4gotten" on it.
and if i do forget, just friend me on facebook.
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Saturday, July 28, 2012
you're not angry, you're afraid. no, you're not.
the commonly held view in psychoanalytic circles is that if you're angry, you're really afraid.
but if you're afraid, what are you? really?
if you're afraid, what you are really is faithless. and if you're faithless, what you are really is self-centered.
and if you're self-centered, what you are really is angry. (good enough reason, right there, not to be faithless)
see why they call 'em psychoanalytic circles?
but if you're afraid, what are you? really?
if you're afraid, what you are really is faithless. and if you're faithless, what you are really is self-centered.
and if you're self-centered, what you are really is angry. (good enough reason, right there, not to be faithless)
see why they call 'em psychoanalytic circles?
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
stop the world, i want to get off.
there is practically nothing that i like better the way it is now than i how i liked it before they went and changed it all.
people assume that because i'm conservative i don't like progress but i like progress just fine - provided it's better -which it hardly ever is.
maybe i'm jaded - because of the kind of work i do.
or maybe because of the kind of work i do, i see the real inner workings of the downward spiral of our civilization in ways that most of you don't have the "opportunity" to do.
if i had to sum up the reason for what, in my opinion, is a horrible decline in this country of everything good and sacred and valuable and essential to the perpetuation of heaven-bound souls, i would have to say "self-centeredness gone berserk."
i am listening to the radio as i write this and the bee gees are singing, "nobody gets too much love anymore."
maybe cuz nobody gives it too much anymore, either.
people assume that because i'm conservative i don't like progress but i like progress just fine - provided it's better -which it hardly ever is.
maybe i'm jaded - because of the kind of work i do.
or maybe because of the kind of work i do, i see the real inner workings of the downward spiral of our civilization in ways that most of you don't have the "opportunity" to do.
if i had to sum up the reason for what, in my opinion, is a horrible decline in this country of everything good and sacred and valuable and essential to the perpetuation of heaven-bound souls, i would have to say "self-centeredness gone berserk."
i am listening to the radio as i write this and the bee gees are singing, "nobody gets too much love anymore."
maybe cuz nobody gives it too much anymore, either.
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
LOUD!
my job's interesting.......
at any given moment, there's at least one kid freaking out in the hallway. right now, somebody is screaming and yelling and kicking and punching and being restrained by 3 grown men.
it's amazing how long kids can scream and yell. one day last week, a 6-year old kept it up for over 3 hours. it's hard to concentrate on work in an environment like this.
some people tell me that they have learned to tune it out. not only have i not learned to tune it out, i don't want to learn to tune it out. if i want to tune out somebody else's pain, i'll just move to new york city and walk around the dead body lying in the middle of the sidewalk.
in between kids screaming all the time, we have routine lock-down drills and fire drills, not to mention routine some- kid-pulled-the-fire-alarm.
it can be very noisy in here.
as distracting and nerve-wracking as all this commotion is, i wouldn't have it any other way. because it's life. it's life in its rawest, most screwed up way. which is the only thing that most of these kids know.
and if i'm going to help them, i need to know it, too.
at any given moment, there's at least one kid freaking out in the hallway. right now, somebody is screaming and yelling and kicking and punching and being restrained by 3 grown men.
it's amazing how long kids can scream and yell. one day last week, a 6-year old kept it up for over 3 hours. it's hard to concentrate on work in an environment like this.
some people tell me that they have learned to tune it out. not only have i not learned to tune it out, i don't want to learn to tune it out. if i want to tune out somebody else's pain, i'll just move to new york city and walk around the dead body lying in the middle of the sidewalk.
in between kids screaming all the time, we have routine lock-down drills and fire drills, not to mention routine some- kid-pulled-the-fire-alarm.
it can be very noisy in here.
as distracting and nerve-wracking as all this commotion is, i wouldn't have it any other way. because it's life. it's life in its rawest, most screwed up way. which is the only thing that most of these kids know.
and if i'm going to help them, i need to know it, too.
Sunday, July 22, 2012
please give abby a trophy
blah, blah, blah, twins and triplets are such a blessing and yes, they are. they are also some of the hardest, most relentless work you will ever do.
eli can get away from it. he goes to work. not that eli's work isn't hard and not that i even totally understand what eli's work is, but whatever it is, it isn't as hard as abby's. sorry, eli, it's just not.
last night, we all went out to dinner in celebration of my dad's 85th birthday (God love his little sweet soul) and truth be told, i don't think abby enjoyed a single second of it. it was just work, work, work for her. not that eli didn't help - he did - but, well, the moms always end up with the lion's share of it. they just do. (not that i think there's anything wrong with that, by the way. i think that's the way it should be. don't get me started.)
so, anyway, abby works hard. she works harder than i do, she works harder than eli does, and unless you are the stay-at-home mother of 3-and a half-year old twins and 10-month old triplets, she works harder than you do, too.
so i want to give her a trophy.
but a trophy will either get broken by the kids or it'll collect dust.
so, i think i have a better idea......
abby? eli? i'm gonna save my money to send you somewhere special. abby gets to pick. it can be paris, it can be frisco, it can be timbuktu. obviously, the more extravagant the trip, the longer it's gonna take me to save, but it's abby's choice. if you pick tokyo, tell me NOW, cuz i'll make boiled water for my lunch. :)
i will take care of the kids while you're gone. it will be my problem to figure out how. i can be resourceful when i have to be. i'll drum up support. i'll find help. i can make it work.
now, shoo!
eli can get away from it. he goes to work. not that eli's work isn't hard and not that i even totally understand what eli's work is, but whatever it is, it isn't as hard as abby's. sorry, eli, it's just not.
last night, we all went out to dinner in celebration of my dad's 85th birthday (God love his little sweet soul) and truth be told, i don't think abby enjoyed a single second of it. it was just work, work, work for her. not that eli didn't help - he did - but, well, the moms always end up with the lion's share of it. they just do. (not that i think there's anything wrong with that, by the way. i think that's the way it should be. don't get me started.)
so, anyway, abby works hard. she works harder than i do, she works harder than eli does, and unless you are the stay-at-home mother of 3-and a half-year old twins and 10-month old triplets, she works harder than you do, too.
so i want to give her a trophy.
but a trophy will either get broken by the kids or it'll collect dust.
so, i think i have a better idea......
abby? eli? i'm gonna save my money to send you somewhere special. abby gets to pick. it can be paris, it can be frisco, it can be timbuktu. obviously, the more extravagant the trip, the longer it's gonna take me to save, but it's abby's choice. if you pick tokyo, tell me NOW, cuz i'll make boiled water for my lunch. :)
i will take care of the kids while you're gone. it will be my problem to figure out how. i can be resourceful when i have to be. i'll drum up support. i'll find help. i can make it work.
now, shoo!
Saturday, July 21, 2012
four weddings/four houses
as probably most of you girls know and probably none of you guys do, the TLC channel has a show called "four weddings" and a show called "four houses." "four divorces" is probably next.
anyway, so they've got four weddings and four houses and the premise is the same for both. in the wedding one, four engaged women who have never met before, meet. and attend each other's wedding. and give each wedding a score and whoever has the highest score wins a honeymoon. in the house one, four people who have never met before, meet. and tour each other's home. and give each home a score. and whoever has the highest score wins ten thousand smack-a-roos.
so far, as reality t.v. goes, not too shabby. BUT.........
how fair is it to pit someone who thinks that as much glamour and glitz and bling and bedazzle that you can possibly afford to spend makes for a good wedding against someone who thinks the simpler the better? likewise, what kinda sense does it make to have someone who loves the suburbs and target and the home goods store square off against someone with the taste of jackie kennedy onassis on steroids?
i'm surprised the liberals aren't all over this one.
in the wedding show, at the beginning of each episode, each bride gives an intro to her "wedding philosphy" (bet they don't teach THAT at sarah lawrence). on a recent episode, one bride said that her wedding was going to be a "rhapsody in all shades pink." and the next bride said that pink is the root of all evil.
in the house show, one woman said that if you don't have art in your house, you don't deserve to live and another woman said something along the lines of "art, schmart."
and so then, with these diametrically opposed viewpoints, they go to each other's wedding or to each other's house and, instead of suspending personal judgment for just a second here and trying to evaluate the wedding/house not according to your own individual taste but according to whether or not the person who had the wedding/house did the wedding/house in a successful manner, given their taste, these clowns go to a wedding that's all done up in pink and if they don't like pink they say, "i don't like pink so i give this wedding a zero.".
in other words, there's no apples and apples going on with these folks. it's all apples and oranges, all the time.
oh. that reminds me. if you're hosting a wedding, don't serve fruit. very un-okay.
fruit on your dining room table is still fine.
as long as it's not in a bowl from target.
anyway, so they've got four weddings and four houses and the premise is the same for both. in the wedding one, four engaged women who have never met before, meet. and attend each other's wedding. and give each wedding a score and whoever has the highest score wins a honeymoon. in the house one, four people who have never met before, meet. and tour each other's home. and give each home a score. and whoever has the highest score wins ten thousand smack-a-roos.
so far, as reality t.v. goes, not too shabby. BUT.........
how fair is it to pit someone who thinks that as much glamour and glitz and bling and bedazzle that you can possibly afford to spend makes for a good wedding against someone who thinks the simpler the better? likewise, what kinda sense does it make to have someone who loves the suburbs and target and the home goods store square off against someone with the taste of jackie kennedy onassis on steroids?
i'm surprised the liberals aren't all over this one.
in the wedding show, at the beginning of each episode, each bride gives an intro to her "wedding philosphy" (bet they don't teach THAT at sarah lawrence). on a recent episode, one bride said that her wedding was going to be a "rhapsody in all shades pink." and the next bride said that pink is the root of all evil.
in the house show, one woman said that if you don't have art in your house, you don't deserve to live and another woman said something along the lines of "art, schmart."
and so then, with these diametrically opposed viewpoints, they go to each other's wedding or to each other's house and, instead of suspending personal judgment for just a second here and trying to evaluate the wedding/house not according to your own individual taste but according to whether or not the person who had the wedding/house did the wedding/house in a successful manner, given their taste, these clowns go to a wedding that's all done up in pink and if they don't like pink they say, "i don't like pink so i give this wedding a zero.".
in other words, there's no apples and apples going on with these folks. it's all apples and oranges, all the time.
oh. that reminds me. if you're hosting a wedding, don't serve fruit. very un-okay.
fruit on your dining room table is still fine.
as long as it's not in a bowl from target.
dollar signs!
the truth about money is, nobody minds having it. they just mind you having it.
raise your hand if you would turn down a (legitimate) winning lottery ticket.
hand up if you would bristle at being left an inheritance.
the boss gives you a raise.
somebody puts a check in your birthday card.
your accountant tells you about a perfectly legal loophole.
the truth is, if you're truthful, none of the above scenarios is gonna throw you into a conniption fit. and the truth is, all of the above scenarios - with perhaps the exception of your birthday card (and sometimes even that) - is likely to make you at least think twice (if not blow a gasket and tell everybody to vote for obama) if they happen to somebody else.
the lottery ticket should be donated. at least part of it.
where's your share of that inheritance? what the hell did your brother ever do for your parents that you didn't do?
you. mean. to. tell. me. that after all. that. hard. work. you've. done. they give the raise to some. one. else?
ok, fine. so it's your birthday. happy birthday.
"i wouldn't wanna do anything illegal, mr. accountant. or even immoral. most of all, immoral."
a friend of mine posted something on facebook the other day about how bill gates has given something like 28 million bucks to charity and he still thinks that his taxes should be higher. so, whattya waitin' for, mr. gates? you can pay more taxes if you want. nobody's stopping you from donating however much you want to the government. go for it.
besides, mr. gates......you didn't build that company.
raise your hand if you would turn down a (legitimate) winning lottery ticket.
hand up if you would bristle at being left an inheritance.
the boss gives you a raise.
somebody puts a check in your birthday card.
your accountant tells you about a perfectly legal loophole.
the truth is, if you're truthful, none of the above scenarios is gonna throw you into a conniption fit. and the truth is, all of the above scenarios - with perhaps the exception of your birthday card (and sometimes even that) - is likely to make you at least think twice (if not blow a gasket and tell everybody to vote for obama) if they happen to somebody else.
the lottery ticket should be donated. at least part of it.
where's your share of that inheritance? what the hell did your brother ever do for your parents that you didn't do?
you. mean. to. tell. me. that after all. that. hard. work. you've. done. they give the raise to some. one. else?
ok, fine. so it's your birthday. happy birthday.
"i wouldn't wanna do anything illegal, mr. accountant. or even immoral. most of all, immoral."
a friend of mine posted something on facebook the other day about how bill gates has given something like 28 million bucks to charity and he still thinks that his taxes should be higher. so, whattya waitin' for, mr. gates? you can pay more taxes if you want. nobody's stopping you from donating however much you want to the government. go for it.
besides, mr. gates......you didn't build that company.
Friday, July 20, 2012
wake up! it's NOT sleep deprivation!
unless you are a medical resident or intern, the parent of an infant, studying for the bar, flying across a bazillion time zones, or have some sort of bonafide illness or physical condition, you are NOT sleep deprived. so quit saying you are.
everybody these days is "sleep deprived." it drives me nuts because it's just one more example of victim mentality. "poor me, i'm tired, give me a break."
now, don't go shootin' off e-mails to me about how yes, you are sleep deprived and how dare i say you're not. i am not a dummy. i recognize that there are legitimate factors that lead to legitimate "sleep deprivation. staying up late to watch letterman is not one of them.
staying up late to party is not one of them.
staying up late in your dorm room trying to solve all the world's problems over greasy pizza is not one of them.
being a lousy manager of your time and staying up late to do the laundry or other household chore that you should have done on saturday or even yesterday at 6 is not one of them.
everywhere i go, everybody is "sleep deprived." i wouldn't give a rip about your "sleep deprivation" were it not for the fact that you want me to excuse you from your responsibilities to me because of them. i wouldn't give a rip were it not for the fact that you annoy the hell out of me with your, "duuuuuude! i'm tired! whadda ya want me to do, man?????"
what i want you to do is leave me alone.
so i can take a nap.
everybody these days is "sleep deprived." it drives me nuts because it's just one more example of victim mentality. "poor me, i'm tired, give me a break."
now, don't go shootin' off e-mails to me about how yes, you are sleep deprived and how dare i say you're not. i am not a dummy. i recognize that there are legitimate factors that lead to legitimate "sleep deprivation. staying up late to watch letterman is not one of them.
staying up late to party is not one of them.
staying up late in your dorm room trying to solve all the world's problems over greasy pizza is not one of them.
being a lousy manager of your time and staying up late to do the laundry or other household chore that you should have done on saturday or even yesterday at 6 is not one of them.
everywhere i go, everybody is "sleep deprived." i wouldn't give a rip about your "sleep deprivation" were it not for the fact that you want me to excuse you from your responsibilities to me because of them. i wouldn't give a rip were it not for the fact that you annoy the hell out of me with your, "duuuuuude! i'm tired! whadda ya want me to do, man?????"
what i want you to do is leave me alone.
so i can take a nap.
Thursday, July 19, 2012
i don't do pinterest. not because pinterest isn't good but because it's too good.
i think everything has an upper limit. but pinterest violates that principle all. the. time. it is pinterest's job to continually do more, add more, be more. if pinterest ever established a limit and stuck to it, pinterest would be out of business. i get that.
i don't need an infinity number of recipe ideas. i have about half an infinity number of recipes as it is and i will never get around to making, well, half of them.
ditto with clever party ideas. besides, nobody ever created a party idea better than a keg. period. they just didn't.
i do not need idea after idea after idea about what to do with an ugly couch or how to turn my guest room into THEE guest room. i don't need a hundred and ten different ways to hang towels.
don't you people have enough information bombarding you from every direction all day long, every day of the year, without going out and purposely looking for more? how big are your brains, anyway?
the only idea that i have taken from pinterest is this:
don't do pinterest.
i think everything has an upper limit. but pinterest violates that principle all. the. time. it is pinterest's job to continually do more, add more, be more. if pinterest ever established a limit and stuck to it, pinterest would be out of business. i get that.
i don't need an infinity number of recipe ideas. i have about half an infinity number of recipes as it is and i will never get around to making, well, half of them.
ditto with clever party ideas. besides, nobody ever created a party idea better than a keg. period. they just didn't.
i do not need idea after idea after idea about what to do with an ugly couch or how to turn my guest room into THEE guest room. i don't need a hundred and ten different ways to hang towels.
don't you people have enough information bombarding you from every direction all day long, every day of the year, without going out and purposely looking for more? how big are your brains, anyway?
the only idea that i have taken from pinterest is this:
don't do pinterest.
doing better with my eyes closed
i spike my hair and i have found that, invariably, if i look in the mirror while i am spiking it, it always turns out worse than if i spike it without paying attention.
this pretty much sums up, i think, the amish way of life. the amish don't go to school past the 8th grade. i am not sure what all of their reasons are for that, but they're smarter than the rest of us in very many ways. example: they know that the less you know, the more you know. or at least, the better off you are.
think about it for a minute. aside from the rare, rare exception, how many evil amish people are out there? how many times do amish people commit murder? or adultery? or even just plain tell a lie? (well, ok, so maybe they do that.) the answer is - hardly ever, ever, ever. and yet, those of us with a buncha fancy schmancy education do those kinds of things so routinely that we don't even blink anymore when they happen.
so maybe there is something to this "ignorance is bliss" idea. maybe the less we know - at least sometimes - the better.
and for those of you who have to look at me with my spiked hair - you're welcome.
this pretty much sums up, i think, the amish way of life. the amish don't go to school past the 8th grade. i am not sure what all of their reasons are for that, but they're smarter than the rest of us in very many ways. example: they know that the less you know, the more you know. or at least, the better off you are.
think about it for a minute. aside from the rare, rare exception, how many evil amish people are out there? how many times do amish people commit murder? or adultery? or even just plain tell a lie? (well, ok, so maybe they do that.) the answer is - hardly ever, ever, ever. and yet, those of us with a buncha fancy schmancy education do those kinds of things so routinely that we don't even blink anymore when they happen.
so maybe there is something to this "ignorance is bliss" idea. maybe the less we know - at least sometimes - the better.
and for those of you who have to look at me with my spiked hair - you're welcome.
Sunday, July 15, 2012
chim chim chiminea
abby and eli have - well, had - a chiminea. you know what a chiminea is, right? one of those fireplace/kiln sort of things that you can use in your backyard. or your front yard, if you prefer. or even your side yard. hell, the point of this story is not which part of the yard you use your chiminea in! sheesh!
anyway, so abby and eli have - well, had - a chiminea. it was there one minute and gone the next. well, broken the next.
before i tell you how it got broken (which isn't an exciting story, so don't hold your breath), let me tell you that it had a lot of sentimental value to abby. it was her dad's - before he passed. if you need a concrete symbol of love (which she didn't), a toasty chiminea around which you can gather with your family and friends and remember the wonderful bond you had with your father is probably about as close as you're gonna get. and so, for abby, this wasn't just a chiminea......this was love.
but what's also love is how it got broken. well, not how it got broken but who broke it - charlie.
charlie is the only child of abby's 5 children who is a total photocopy of her dad. when you look at charlie, it's hard not to say, "hey, david." that's how much they look alike. and so, it is only fitting that charlie is the one who broke his grandpa's chiminea.
he didn't mean to do it, of course. it was an accident. he was driving his little cozy coupe car out on the patio and the chiminea was in his way. being the independent guy that he is - and not knowing how much chimineas weigh - he "parked" the cozy coupe, hopped out, and proceeded to clear the roadway of the interfering chiminea.
oops.
and so, last night, we gathered up the remains of the chiminea and laid it to its final rest. not unlike what we had done with abby's dad almost 4 years ago now.
abby's sad about it, but i don't think too sad. after all, the chiminea may be gone and her dad may be gone,
but,
charlie's still here.
:)
anyway, so abby and eli have - well, had - a chiminea. it was there one minute and gone the next. well, broken the next.
before i tell you how it got broken (which isn't an exciting story, so don't hold your breath), let me tell you that it had a lot of sentimental value to abby. it was her dad's - before he passed. if you need a concrete symbol of love (which she didn't), a toasty chiminea around which you can gather with your family and friends and remember the wonderful bond you had with your father is probably about as close as you're gonna get. and so, for abby, this wasn't just a chiminea......this was love.
but what's also love is how it got broken. well, not how it got broken but who broke it - charlie.
charlie is the only child of abby's 5 children who is a total photocopy of her dad. when you look at charlie, it's hard not to say, "hey, david." that's how much they look alike. and so, it is only fitting that charlie is the one who broke his grandpa's chiminea.
he didn't mean to do it, of course. it was an accident. he was driving his little cozy coupe car out on the patio and the chiminea was in his way. being the independent guy that he is - and not knowing how much chimineas weigh - he "parked" the cozy coupe, hopped out, and proceeded to clear the roadway of the interfering chiminea.
oops.
and so, last night, we gathered up the remains of the chiminea and laid it to its final rest. not unlike what we had done with abby's dad almost 4 years ago now.
abby's sad about it, but i don't think too sad. after all, the chiminea may be gone and her dad may be gone,
but,
charlie's still here.
:)
Saturday, July 14, 2012
a "fold" button on your clothes dryer
something's circulating on facebook about how there oughta be a "fold" button on clothes dryers. so we wouldn't have to do it ourselves.
i disagree.
i wash and dry - and fold - abby's and eli's and the twins' and the triplets' laundry every day. the washing and drying part requires practically zero effort on my part. basically, i dump it in, pull it back out, dump it back in, and pull it back out. that's what amounts to "the chore of laundry" in 2012.
the only part that requires any effort at all (and "effort" is an extreme over-statement) is the folding. if they invent a button for that (and they will), i will be able to look God in the eye and say, "yesSir. i did help my fellow man. i pushed i-don't-know-how-many-buttons in my lifetime. all on somebody else's behalf. now, let me into heaven."
laundry is love, people. buttons aren't. (unless you're sewing them on.) laundry is love and cooking is love (the kroger deli is impressive, but it isn't love), and cleaning dirty baby bottoms is love. (although, i must admit, i would no doubt gladly push a button for that!)
there isn't enough love in the world anymore. if, in fact, there ever was. (actually, there was. i think it's called "before they eat that fruit.")
i remember my grandmother spending an entire day doing laundry. for a family of 4 - not that many people. in between doing laundry all day, she cooked all day - using the stuff from her garden that she grew all day. when it was all over and she could finally collapse in her chair at night, she would always sigh (happily) and say the exact same thing:
"work is love, nancy. and love is work. don't you ever forget it."
"besides", she would say, with a soft light in her eyes, "the privilege of burying my nose in freshly laundered grandchildren's laundry is a whole lotta "work," too."
:)
i disagree.
i wash and dry - and fold - abby's and eli's and the twins' and the triplets' laundry every day. the washing and drying part requires practically zero effort on my part. basically, i dump it in, pull it back out, dump it back in, and pull it back out. that's what amounts to "the chore of laundry" in 2012.
the only part that requires any effort at all (and "effort" is an extreme over-statement) is the folding. if they invent a button for that (and they will), i will be able to look God in the eye and say, "yesSir. i did help my fellow man. i pushed i-don't-know-how-many-buttons in my lifetime. all on somebody else's behalf. now, let me into heaven."
laundry is love, people. buttons aren't. (unless you're sewing them on.) laundry is love and cooking is love (the kroger deli is impressive, but it isn't love), and cleaning dirty baby bottoms is love. (although, i must admit, i would no doubt gladly push a button for that!)
there isn't enough love in the world anymore. if, in fact, there ever was. (actually, there was. i think it's called "before they eat that fruit.")
i remember my grandmother spending an entire day doing laundry. for a family of 4 - not that many people. in between doing laundry all day, she cooked all day - using the stuff from her garden that she grew all day. when it was all over and she could finally collapse in her chair at night, she would always sigh (happily) and say the exact same thing:
"work is love, nancy. and love is work. don't you ever forget it."
"besides", she would say, with a soft light in her eyes, "the privilege of burying my nose in freshly laundered grandchildren's laundry is a whole lotta "work," too."
:)
Thursday, July 12, 2012
here's what my friends think i should do with my pickle.
the judge in my divorce matter said yesterday that my husband has left me in a "pickle." ya think?
a pickle is a cucumber, brined. i would give anything to be brined. right now, brined sounds like a caribbean cruise, all expenses paid.
without going into all of the details, none of which are sordid and all of which are bi.zarre., i am going through hell. if, in the process of brining cucumbers, one needs to send the cucumbers to hell, then yes, i am in a pickle. otherwise, faggedaboudit.
yesterday, after i returned from court, i posted on facebook what the judge said about me and my husband and the pickle. and, as they always do, my friends came through for me - with wonderful, creative, and best of all, vindictive suggestions:
one friend aptly pointed out that since my husband is swedish, the judge should have said pickled herring, not just plain pickle. lol! and true.
another, knowing about my personal challenge to grill something everyday from memorial day through labor day, suggested that i, well, grill the pickle. or, better yet, the pickle maker. lol! and true.
a dear friend from childhood made reference to the color of pickles and the color of money. and how the judge should give me a lot of the latter and to hell with the former. lol! and true.
still another friend remarked that if a supreme court judge can talk about broccoli, a domestic court judge oughta be able to talk about pickles. lol! and true.
everyone was supportive. some with funny suggestions about what to do with my pickle and some with hugs and sympathy.
in the pickle jar of life, friends are the chubby, slender, nail-polished, dirt-stained, faithful fingers that pull you out.
lol!
and true.
a pickle is a cucumber, brined. i would give anything to be brined. right now, brined sounds like a caribbean cruise, all expenses paid.
without going into all of the details, none of which are sordid and all of which are bi.zarre., i am going through hell. if, in the process of brining cucumbers, one needs to send the cucumbers to hell, then yes, i am in a pickle. otherwise, faggedaboudit.
yesterday, after i returned from court, i posted on facebook what the judge said about me and my husband and the pickle. and, as they always do, my friends came through for me - with wonderful, creative, and best of all, vindictive suggestions:
one friend aptly pointed out that since my husband is swedish, the judge should have said pickled herring, not just plain pickle. lol! and true.
another, knowing about my personal challenge to grill something everyday from memorial day through labor day, suggested that i, well, grill the pickle. or, better yet, the pickle maker. lol! and true.
a dear friend from childhood made reference to the color of pickles and the color of money. and how the judge should give me a lot of the latter and to hell with the former. lol! and true.
still another friend remarked that if a supreme court judge can talk about broccoli, a domestic court judge oughta be able to talk about pickles. lol! and true.
everyone was supportive. some with funny suggestions about what to do with my pickle and some with hugs and sympathy.
in the pickle jar of life, friends are the chubby, slender, nail-polished, dirt-stained, faithful fingers that pull you out.
lol!
and true.
Sunday, July 8, 2012
difficulties
as many religious leaders and philosophers have taught us, life is difficult - but it can be made less difficult if we accept the fact that it is difficult. likewise, we can make it more difficult if we fight the fact that it is difficult.
there have been a lot of difficulties around here lately. chief among them are the people who have struggled through immense heat with no electricity as a result of a number of powerful, dangerous storms.
the heat, in and of itself, even if you are among the lucky (and i am) who have had power throughout it all, is daunting. when you can see the heat and smell the heat and touch the heat - and practically eat the heat.......it's hot.
before leaving for a few days (that ended up being cut short by one) for cedar point with abby, eli, and the kids, i challenged myself not to complain even once about how hot it is. i wanted to accept the fact that scorching heat is difficult, thereby making it less difficult. i did not succeed. i complained. not incessantly and not even a lot, but i complained. and, when i wasn't complaining out loud, i was often complaining silently.
my little experiment has taught me a coupla things. one, that although it might be possible to accept the fact that life is difficult, thereby making it less difficult (or even not difficult at all), it is so difficult to accept the fact that life is difficult that trying to accept that it's difficult just makes it more difficult.
and two,
it's hotter 'n hell out there.
there have been a lot of difficulties around here lately. chief among them are the people who have struggled through immense heat with no electricity as a result of a number of powerful, dangerous storms.
the heat, in and of itself, even if you are among the lucky (and i am) who have had power throughout it all, is daunting. when you can see the heat and smell the heat and touch the heat - and practically eat the heat.......it's hot.
before leaving for a few days (that ended up being cut short by one) for cedar point with abby, eli, and the kids, i challenged myself not to complain even once about how hot it is. i wanted to accept the fact that scorching heat is difficult, thereby making it less difficult. i did not succeed. i complained. not incessantly and not even a lot, but i complained. and, when i wasn't complaining out loud, i was often complaining silently.
my little experiment has taught me a coupla things. one, that although it might be possible to accept the fact that life is difficult, thereby making it less difficult (or even not difficult at all), it is so difficult to accept the fact that life is difficult that trying to accept that it's difficult just makes it more difficult.
and two,
it's hotter 'n hell out there.
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
you do the 4th your way, i'll do it mine.
last night was "red, white, and boom," arguably one of the country's best fireworks display, here in columbus. it was red, white, and boom's 30th. it was olivia's first.
as dazzling as the display was, olivia thought she could do a better job. "watch my moves!" she kept saying- to anyone who could hear her over the din. she twirled and break danced and cartwheeled herself into fourth of july oblivion. (which is pretty much what she does every day of the year.)
she was impressed by the pink stars that exploded over our heads, though. "gammy! they're pink! i love pink!"
"i know you love pink, olivia, i....."
watch my moves, gam!
as dazzling as the display was, olivia thought she could do a better job. "watch my moves!" she kept saying- to anyone who could hear her over the din. she twirled and break danced and cartwheeled herself into fourth of july oblivion. (which is pretty much what she does every day of the year.)
she was impressed by the pink stars that exploded over our heads, though. "gammy! they're pink! i love pink!"
"i know you love pink, olivia, i....."
watch my moves, gam!
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
what will they not have been able to grow up without?
i wonder what the kids of today will look back on and say they could never have grown up without it. cell phones.......sure. the internet? duh.
i couldn't have grown up without captain kangaroo.
without my three sons
lucy
beaver
couldn't have done it without gunsmoke.
bonanza
i couldn't have grown up without to tell the truth.
truth or consequences
hollywood squares
i couldn't have grown up without walter cronkite.
i dream of jeannie
man from u.n.c.l.e.
mod squad
not without the brady bunch
or mary tyler moore
or m*a*s*h
i couldn't have grown up without wagon train.
lassie
the wonderful world of disney
not without as the world turns
or carol burnett
laugh-in,
ed sullivan,
or ozzie and harriet
could never have done it without johnny carson
or flippo
or lucy's toy shop
howdy doody? essential.
i could never have grown up without the dick van dyke show
or please don't eat the daisies or
the monkees
i could never have grown up without andy.
nobody could.
i couldn't have grown up without captain kangaroo.
without my three sons
lucy
beaver
couldn't have done it without gunsmoke.
bonanza
i couldn't have grown up without to tell the truth.
truth or consequences
hollywood squares
i couldn't have grown up without walter cronkite.
i dream of jeannie
man from u.n.c.l.e.
mod squad
not without the brady bunch
or mary tyler moore
or m*a*s*h
i couldn't have grown up without wagon train.
lassie
the wonderful world of disney
not without as the world turns
or carol burnett
laugh-in,
ed sullivan,
or ozzie and harriet
could never have done it without johnny carson
or flippo
or lucy's toy shop
howdy doody? essential.
i could never have grown up without the dick van dyke show
or please don't eat the daisies or
the monkees
i could never have grown up without andy.
nobody could.
Sunday, July 1, 2012
HALLELUJAH
(i post this opinion as someone who thinks that obama is gonna KILL this country. i dance for freaking JOY at the prospect that this analysis might be correct. on the other hand, i doubt very much that our founding fathers intended for the supreme court to be playing such games.)
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