Pre-Show Publicity

Yesterday I had this thought on that silly squirrel of a man who used to be the President’s press secretary. You know. What’s his name? The man who was invisible after he left the position. You know. The man who was beaten like a redheaded stepchild every time he opened his mouth. You know. The man, or should I say, silly boy dressed like a man, who is the darling of the press today because he is doing Finally! What they wanted him to do for all the time he was at the podium.

As far as I am concerned his book is nothing but a way to donate millions of dollars in advertising and propaganda to the DNC and avoid all those silly rules the rest of us have to follow. The publisher gives this guy who knows how much money and he spews forth all of the pent up garbage he has squashed since he was called fatso in the 3rd grade. He is wined and dined and on the news and seen as a “whistleblower” although it is long after the fact. He will be and has been on every news show morning noon and night. If he isn’t on personally someone will read some skanky tidbit of nothing but his insecure and poor me rantings that have no factual back up. Everyone will ooooh and aaaah about “Bush Lied” as if that hasn’t been disproved time and time again. The people who want to believe that still do. The people with an independent mind have done the research and know the truth. The release of this garbage is timed to carry the drumbeat through July and bring the convention into the world as the place where the Messiah will be announced. Like Kerry not many years ago, he will march to the podium, light will shine down upon his head and the world will breathe a sigh of relief that we will finally be free. Free at Last!!!

Oh Bother. What a load. Yawn. Get a new director. That show folded real fast the last time it came around.

Aches and Pains

Hit a bucket of golf balls yesterday. Last season my husband had a high ankle sprain that was delayed healing by his continuous stepping off curbs incorrectly and falling while carrying heavy loads of laundry and basically not wearing that huge boot that he was ordered to wear ALL the time. Couldn't golf without him as he would feel very bad so we both sat out the season. Now! He has been healed for the whole winter and we are ready. We went to the driving range with a buy one get one free coupon. I, as one would, went for the biggest bucket to get the most bang for our buck. Fortunately my husband was the voice of reason and talked me down to the medium size. I can't imagine how much pain I would be in now if I hadn't listened to him. We shared the coupon so we got two medium buckets for the price of one. We are so frugal. By the time we were almost to the bottom, the groans and moans from both of us as we bent down to pick up a ball and then bent down to tee it up. That was before the true muscle pain set in. Should have gone for the small bucket. Motrin!!! You should have been there last night.

Now I have to meet my friends for a 3 mile walk. In my case it might be called a shuffle. At least the sun is out, the sky is bright blue and all the dogwood trees are blooming. I will be the creaking groaning woman sneezing as I try to keep up with the others. Later.

No More Propaganda, Sorry I Mean News

I am fatigued by the manipulation of the ruling class which is composed of the elected legislators both federal and local. There is a pattern emerging, at least to me. . . read this from a biography of Leon Trotsky:

"Trotsky's perspective--which is also, in this case, Marx's--is that history is inevitably moving toward communism all on its own. The more the workers are exploited, the greater will be the number of people who side with them. Eventually, according to Marx and Trotsky, worker exploitation will become so bad that a critical mass of the people will see the "true face" of the for-profit economic system, and will take over the state in order to put in place a different economic system where everyone has ownership."

The system where everyone has ownership. Hmmmm. Now let's see which political party is more attuned to that system. Hmmmm. How are the gas prices? How are those profits at the oil companies? Is everyone feeling exploited enough? No? Well then turn on more restrictions and tax everyone more so that production might be reduced here as well. What a great way to exploit everyone. Yes! Not only will the prices increase but now? Man, what great fun, there will be a shortage. Lines at the pumps, reduced availability equals more costly freight, all products and most especially food will soar. Oh lets pay the farmers even more money to let their land sit idle. Throw in some food stamp money because there will be more peasants, sorry, make that citizens who will need them. Thank you George Soros for whispering in so many ears. Oh. Maybe not just George. But thanks anyway. We need that drumbeat of misery and the actual mess that Congress has created for us in order to seat the right person in November. Let's find one who can tell us how miserable we are with style and grace. Yes. We. Can.

I am laying off the news for a while. Baseball and basketball will fill me up thanks.

Nature or Nurture??

There's a picture of my Dad in the book case here. He is at the office and maybe he's in his fifties. He is wearing a suit but the jacket is off and his white shirt has the sleeves rolled up. He's a handsome dude, honestly, he is or was. He is leaning on a counter and has one hand on his hip. He is holding a cigar, he smoked them forever and when he had to quit he held on to one and never lit it up. Point of this is that the pose he is holding in that picture is one he assumed in another years and years before. He is standing next to a Model T or A or whatever, an old Ford from the 20's or 30's and he has one hand on his hip and the other on the car. My mother wrote on the picture "Little Man Big Car". She was, as they say a "buster". I just noticed that tonight. The pose not that mother was a "buster" I knew that forever and am told I have her qualities. Why? I wonder, did I just notice dad's pose?

I saw a special ages ago on the PBS channel and it concerned a group of kids that were filmed on the first day of nursery school and then 5 years later or so and then so much longer and the point of the special was that there are some things that never change. They showed the first film and the last tape over twenty years later and sure enough!!! The poses were so similar that, even if you couldn't recognize the faces you could certainly recognize the body language and the behaviors. Hmmmm! Nature? or Nurture???

I am going to try to scan those pictures of the handsome dude who was and is my father and you can see for yourself.....have to figure out that scanner first. Later 'Gater!

Just a Thought or two

Long week for sure. Next week probably the same but there is a baseball game on Tuesday and we will be there. Of course they, they being the Red Sox, are on a losing streak and my fervent desire is that they break that streak by or on Tuesday. The ride home with the hub will be so gloomy otherwise.

This week our niece graduated from nursing school. She is so dear to us. It's funny isn't it, how some kids have a really rough childhood, parents feuding and indulging in adult beverages or other things, shuttled off from time to time with relatives, barely enough money to survive - those things and yet some kids grow into such wonderful, beautifully mannered, goal oriented and disciplined adults. It is funny. Isn't it? Because other kids with some troubles turn into adults who behave like they were raised by wolves. I have all manner of that around me. This girl though? She is an amazing woman.

The graduation brought out that part of me that yearns for order and tradition. The graduating class was dressed in nurse caps, white dresses or in the case of the men suits, white hose and shoes and each carried a red rose. It was lovely. The graduates were all ages and sizes and came from any number of places and backgrounds. They were all joined by the determination they shared to make a change in their own lives and make a difference in the lives of others. As Joanne Woodward said in some movie that sticks with me for who knows what reason, "My heart was full."

Now I must off to the office, roll up my sleeves and plunge even deeper into the bowels of this business in which I find myself entwined.

God Loves Us

Woke up to the Word on radio as I do often. The message often gets garbled as I am half awake. Sometimes it turns into my dream and when I finally get to the awake part I have great confusion over the dream and the radio and ....I'm sure you get it. This morning I was listening to Nancy Leigh DeMoss (sp?) and she was talking about how, when times are challenging (I love that expression) and life is tough you don't often have time to do this but later, when the calm hits and it will, you discern the hand of God guiding you through the turmoil. I have to confess to this. It is true.

I came downstairs and made the coffee and prayed to not hate some people as I do often. I need my heart to be changed and opened by God and every now and then I think I've got it and I hear something or think something and WHAM!!! There it is. That blind consuming RAGE and I am almost out of breath because of it. Enough of that. I am praying and praying to God that the RAGE be reduced to rage and then changed to I don't care and then turned to I wouldn't throw them anchors if they were drowning and then to yeah okay we can co-exist and then love as is the command to do to thy neighbor.

Whew! See why I need to pray mightily? Back to the story. That one where later, after the crisis, you look back and see that God was there all along and that's how you got through it.

Well I checked through the Web spots that I do and there is a story about how not religious these people are but they were raised to be. Adolescence and life pulled them from their respective churches and now religion? Not so good for them, they say. They want to enroll their children in school and there is a long waiting list but if you are a member of the local church then? You get on a priority list. Their children mean the earth to them. The school is a wonderful school. You got it. They are going to church. I mean to tell you God knocks on that door and hunts you down and will find a way to get to you. Don't ever tell me that God is not in charge of this universe. Call that what you will but He found a way to get them to church now, didn't He? I would leave a comment on that blog but she would hunt me down and do me in. I feel safe here. Silly me.

I am back to praying now. I know He will get me there. Have a nice day.

Dopes

Woke up this morning and maybe it's the weather, maybe not but I am in a "What the *&#?" kind of mood. That **&)%? fill in the blanks to use whatever you may normally use.

First I read that UMass has been asked to rescind the honors they granted to that Mugabe horror. They have been dragging their feet because they have no precedent to fall back on. It's never been done before. What do we do???. And these are the educators we rely on to train our young. I guess researching the guy's character before honoring him had never been done before either. I guess opening your eyes to see the horrors he has inflicted on the people in his country was something unheard of. I guess we just honor any true dictator that comes our way. I guess total destruction of a healthy economy is a skill we admire and want to encourage in others. Thus, we grant honor and distinction to all we can find who fit our mold. Blech!!! Send those administrators more money. It's for the children.

My blood pressure is rising and I must off to the medicine cabinet. What a mess!

Happy Mothers' Day - What Else?

Happy Mother's Day Mom. I lost you on May 9, 1999 and have ever since reached for the phone to call you at various times since that's what I did for as many years as I can remember. I called you every single day if I didn't see you. Talk about enmeshed! But somehow it wasn't that at all. You were my friend finally after years of mothering and smothering. We laughed and cried and had these little differences of opinion which anyone in the world would have called a fight but since you told the world that you and your daughter never ever fought, what else could those discussions have been called? Debates? Sharing ideas? Oh well, never the less, we always apologized if necessary and you never really had to now did you?

On Mother's Day you were always in Florida. Dad eventually had the year down to Florida and here. You would leave in October and return mid-May thus always missing Mother's Day. That is why I always called you on Mother's Day and I feel the need to do so now. For those of you who checked the calendar for 1999, you will take note that in that year May 9th was Mother's Day. Yes, the one year she was here she decided not to be.

My mother always told the story of how, on Mother's Day at her church when she was a child, the kids would be given carnations, either pink or white. One color meant that your mother was alive and the other? Not. She was always so sad for the children with that color and she was so glad she had her mother and the moral of that story was that we should be glad too. We were. Really. She just had some trouble accepting our limitations in telling her. Somethings are said with actions as well as words and I spent all of my life loving her and trying to convince her that I did. She was a powerful lady in my life and she is in my mind and on my mind.

Most of our "differences of opinion" revolved around the actions I took to have a life separate from hers. She certainly wanted me to since that is the goal of parents. She knew that was the goal. It was just a very painful thing for her to achieve. Achieve it I did, in some cases with her blessing and in others not so much. In the not so much cases I usually regretted tossing her cautions aside but as most of us do, I had trouble letting her know. As I got older and we became more friends than not, I would go back over some of those moments and she was so thrilled to hear that her words made an impression. I'm glad I did that. Those confessions were gifts of untold value to her.

I could go on and on and suppose I have in the past and will in the future. Suffice to say that I wish the color of my carnation were the other and Mom, I love you and wish I could pick up the phone and tell you so.

Hope everyone with the other color carnation is either with Mom today or telling her they wish they were. Happy Mother's Day to all.

Moving to Goal

I'm on a roll here. I have a pile of old, and I mean OLD, magazines that I put together and have promised myself that I will peruse each, rather than buy any new, pull any very special articles, recipes, instructions for name tags and place settings, you know, things I will never do but think I will some day. After pulling said articles I will walk to the garage with the OLD and now useless magazine and I will, I promise I will, put that now useless bunch of slick paper into the recycle bin. From there it and all of it's kin will off to the dump and my house will be one more step to clutter free. Good plan? Seems so. That pile however has been sitting on the couch near my chair since maybe February. We have no company so the couch has only had the magazines sitting on it. We are approaching the season of week end visitors and so.......the pressure is on.

I have gotten through, almost, one magazine so far. It is a 2001 edition of Shape and I am on my 33rd quest to determine whatever happened to the success stories they wrote about. They had an article about weight loss and Courtney Rubin was the victim, no make that volunteer. She evidently wrote for each edition and in 2001 she had been dieting for 18 months and had lost 24 pounds. She sounded very positive and hopeful....does anyone know whatever happened to her. Here we are 7 years later....is she still moving toward goal?, maintaining?, getting back on track after backsliding? What??? You see my issue. I cannot rest until I find the answer. That pile of magazines? They will have to wait.

I did select these helpful hints from the earlier pages of the magazine. The Editor in Chief, Barbara Harris wrote 5 tips to boost your chances to become a success story. Let me detail them since I want to work on a couple.

1. You will do a lot of dumb things before you "get it". Don't despair

2. None of your attempts is a failure. All are a necessary part of the process.

3. Once you get it right, don't expect it to always stick. We all backslide and loop back
relearning lessons

4. Our biggest mistakes are our best teachers.

5. Persist and you'll succeed at much more than the task at hand.

I know. I know. Nothing earth shattering here but honestly. Trying to break a habit or establish a new one or solve a problem or work on a relationship, whatever it is that you have going on it makes sense to review these five items as you work on it. I am going to use them as I try to de-clutter. See ya.

Love You Mom

Here's a thought. Yesterday I was talking with a friend and the conversation turned to some gossipy item about a couple in her neighborhood. I don't know them but through previous conversation I know of them. She commented that the woman had him whipped and jumping through hoops and it's such a damned shame that she blah blah blah. I put my two cents worth in by thanking her for a visit from my mother. We do that to each other as she or I remind each other of our mothers. Now mind you, I didn't know hers and she didn't know mine but from all the discussions, we are convinced that we had the same mother with different bodies.


The discussion of that couple reminded me so much of my mother and I have been thinking of that ever since. My mother favored my brothers and just about every other young man on the face of the earth. She thought they all deserved spoiling and were so fun and entertaining and they lit up the room when they entered. I, as the daughter and sister should feel honored to run and fetch for the brothers and father and uncles and of course she didn't treat them better than she treated me. She was fair and balanced and get over your pouty spoiled self.!!

At the same time, I realized that in discussion of any couple, the female in the combo was a tryrannical witch who had the man bamboozled into doing whatever she wanted whether he wanted to or not and if he balked, his life would be a living HELL!!! Eventually, as I grew much much older and braver and had my own house, I would open the discussion up further by questioning why she thought that the male half of whatever the combination we were discussing was such a moron. Doesn't he have a mouth or a brain or two feet that could walk out the door?? I would plant my flag in that hill and say that the two of them, whoever they were, must get what they wanted and needed from each other or else why stay together?


So mulling over the puzzle that is mother so that I can get closer to the puzzle that is me, I thought that my mother's feelings about men were so complex and contradictory. On the one hand she deferred to them, on the other hand she questioned their mental abilities and independence of mind. I think that if you think men are not strong or smart then that submission thing is done with a really resentful and bad attitude.

My Eyes!!!!!

Barbawa Waltehs, Ed Brooke, get me my eye drops and bring me my blinders eeeeegads! Couldn't she have found someone without an R in his name? What is it with these old used to be power sources? They can never slip out gracefully can they? I just read a blurb about this woman's revelations and the question "Why would she do it?" was asked. The answer given was "it's all about the money" and that works. Someone I knew or read said that when it comes to money remember MINE and that means More Is Never Enough! That is so true but in this generation, and I refer to Babawa, that MINE thing, I think, is the spotlight. Bye bye is not a word for them. Look at Dan Rather, no, don't. Jimmah Carter, hell Bill Clinton. These are not go softly into the nowhere kinds of folks. When the spotlight dims, rev it up with a more outrageous story.

I have to put my aching back into a different position. Oh Gads! Why did I say that?