Youth Deficiency

April 17, 2007

I suffer from a terrible, terrible disorder.  It affects millions of people the world over.  Sadly there is no cure.  *sob*

This horrible malady causes a melting effect of the face that is frightening to little children and disheartening to the sufferers.  It leaches all color out of the hair, and causes an extreme overgrowth of the skin that creates a sagging effect on the body of the afflicted.

Strange lines and grooves appear in the faces, hands, arms, even……yes, even the legs of these poor, poor individuals.  Tiny dark spots show up out of nowhere.  They bend over as if weighted down.  Yet no weight shows up on any photograph or scientific test.

But the most debilitating of all of the symptoms of this terrible disease are the mental ones.  Imagine putting on your glasses to hunt for your glasses because you can’t see to look for your glasses without your glasses on!  Oh!  How horrible! 

Try, if you only can, to imagine burning the hair in your nose because you tried to light a cigarette that you forgot to put in your mouth!  *gasp*

Sad……so sad.  😦

Imagine going to a fast food drive thru, taking your false teeth out and wrapping them in a napkin while you eat, then tossing them out with the trash.  *sigh*

This malady is the scourge of millions worldwide.  It has no cure.  Send no money.  There is nothing we can do but cry.

Youth Deficiency!  Damn You!  Damn You!  Da  Hey Look!  I found my hair brush!  I’ve been looking for that!………Uh…… What was I saying? 


Gay Marriage

April 17, 2007

It amazes me that in the the most advanced time that we know of on this earth, in one of the most socially, economically, and scientifically advanced countries on this earth, we still can’t manage to keep our asses out of each other’s bedrooms!

Who cares if gay couples get married?  How in the hell does that possibly have any contrary effect on heterosexual couples?  And don’t come thumping any Bibles at me either.  Let me just remind you that one of the main reasons this country was founded was the desire for religious freedom.  That means that you don’t get to pound your mainstream Christian beliefs down my throat. 

We no longer need to be fruitful and multiply.  I think it’s pretty plain for anyone to see that the human race has gotten that one down pat.  We might even be said to have been excessively successful at it.  So, other than procreation, what is the problem?  

Let’s just put it bluntly.  Because heterosexuals are in the majority, we can just refuse to allow anyone in a minority the same rights and protections as us because they are different.  I thought we took care of that kind of idiotic thinking with the civil rights movement.  I guess not quite.

It’s funny….I notice that when children are young, you have to point out to them the same lesson over and over.  They don’t have the ability to apply a lesson learned in one situation to a slightly different situation.  It takes a little bit of maturity and a little bit of intelligence for them to get the hang of it.  Sadly it seems that we haven’t reached that point as a country yet. 

Aside from the fact that I just don’t feel like someone else’s sexuality is my business, the problem I most have with the national feeling against gay marriage is this:  if it’s OK for the majority to tell gay people who they are allowed to marry, how long will it be before they can tell YOU who YOU can marry? 

That may sound alarmist to you, all comfy and safe in your bed with your husband or wife.  But what if your spouse is of a different faith than you?  What if that becomes politically incorrect?  What if the majority suddenly decides that interfaith marriages are a security risk?  What if they’re un-American?  What happens if you can’t marry the person you love because their faith is one thing and yours is another?

Not their business, you say?  What about the separation of Church and State, you ask?  Good question!  What about that?  There are plenty of churches ready and willing to marry gay couples.  The states won’t legalize the marriages.  Their reasons are all based on religious beliefs.  That is a pure, unadulterated violation of the rules governing the separation of Church and State.  Go figure.  Not the first example by far, and certainly won’t be the last.

Here’s the deal.  We let it slide that two people who love each other and are willing to make a legal binding commitment to each other, be told that they can’t do it because someone doesn’t like what they do in bed together.  We let it slide because it isn’t us.  We let it slide because we are ignorant, embarrassed, afraid.  We let it slide.  And the next thing that happens is, someone is standing in our bedroom door making judgements about whatever private things we do that are none of their damn business, and saying that we can’t do it because the majority says it’s wrong.

Couldn’t happen here, could it?  Not in America.  Not in the land of the free.  Well, it’s not really free anymore though, is it? 


April 15, 2007

I am at a total loss as to an explanation for sickness.  What possible purpose does it serve in the vast scheme of things?  Why should we become ill and then get well?  Why should we become ill at all?  What is the underlying cosmically necessary meaning behind it all? 

Couldn’t there have been some other teeny tiny prey for a virus to pounce upon that didn’t live in my body?  You would think that either the Higher Power(s) or evolution would have hit upon something!  Seriously!  There could have been herds of little cow like creatures roaming around in snotty stuff for viruses to feast upon and we would never have been the wiser.  Or how about little rodentesque critters scampering around hiding in obscure places for viruses to ferret out? 

The viruses could have banded together and made little slaughter houses to deal with the varmints they caught!  And for those vegan viruses there could have been little plant stuffies for them to eat.  Nutritionally sound if consumed in the proper quantities.  Why would that have been a problem?  Why didn’t it develope that way?  Instead we’re stuck with viruses and an immune system!

The way I see it is this:  My body wouldn’t need an immune system if there wasn’t anything for it to be immunized against.  So, why sickness?  What is it’s purpose?  Why not just be well until we die?

We should live long healthy lives until the very moment that we keel over dead.  Or at least not get sick until it’s time to die.  Yeah!  That’s it!  We’ll be totally well for all our lives!  The only time we get sick will be the one and only time in our lives we will ever be sick.  Then……kaplooey!  Yer dead. 

Sounds good, doesn’t it?  Until you’re skipping down the street having the time of your life, and suddenly……ACHOOOOO!

Uh oh!   *gulp*

Free Speech

April 11, 2007

If you have a problem with people saying what they think, you might want to stop reading right here.  Because unlike Imus, I won’t be coming back later to apologize for saying it.  As far as I know we still live in America.  I still have a right to free speech.  If you don’t like what I say, you still have a right not to listen to it. 

I understand why a politician will apologize for making a remark that most intelligent people will naturally notice is remarkably stupid, like Imus did.  They have a future riding on their ability to appeal to a majority of the people in their districts. 

Entertainment personalities, especially “shock jocks” like Imus, on the other hand, are supposedly making their living by saying incredibly stupid things on a regular basis.  Why should they bow to the pressure of public opinion and apologize for saying it?  Hell, why bother apologizing for it at all?  It’s out there for all time now anyway.  You can’t put the toothpaste back in the tube, dude.  All you’re gonna do now is smear it all over the counter.

Imus has a right to say whatever stupid thing he wants to say.  As long as he doesn’t violate any FCC rules and regs he can say anything he likes and we have no right to censure him.  If we don’t like what he says we have the option of simply turning him off.  As long as Imus keeps his dumb ass off my property, he can say all of the backwardly stupid, inbred thinking, family-tree doesn’t branch kind of stuff he wants to and I’ll defend his right to say it to the death.

I don’t have to agree with him, what he says, how he thinks, or even the fact that in some areas he obviously can’t or hasn’t thought.  It doesn’t matter that I believe that he is probably making remarks like this out of some sort of self hatred.  He has a right to be an idiot on the air if he wants to and he doesn’t have to apologize to anyone for it!  He owes no one an apology for being less than a decent human.  Being a creditable, decent, humane individual isn’t a requirement for having your rights protected in this country.

We in America need to remember that we are guaranteed the right of free speech.  We don’t need to apologize to anyone for the things we say.  Whatever stupid, ignorant, ill thought out, uneducated, pitiful opinions we might have, we are free to state them to the world if we want to and we don’t owe apologies to anyone for them. 

We are free in this country to be idiots, racists, bigots, and fools if we want to.  It’s a free country.  So, I say:  Go Imus!  Talk it up!

Just make sure you stay away from my house because your right to free speech ends at my property line.  I have no problem with temporarily seceding from the Union and kicking your sorry ass from here to next week. 

Barring that, talk on, ya idiot!  I’ll defend your right to do so on the public airwaves until America isn’t America anymore.  Which could be next year if we keep on in the same way we’re going now.

I’ll put the coffee on the for the Homeland Security guys, just in case.  If having sex on an airplane is in their domain, defending Imus’ right to be an idiot might be too.  *sigh*


April 10, 2007

My dearest husband and I have the best friends.  Wow!  This one is going to be harder than I thought.  See, it’s really hard to say exactly how great our friends are.  It’s easy to tell about the kind of friends who come over on Saturday and drink a beer and hang out.  Or the kind of friends who watch the Superbowl with you. 

But our friends are so much more than that.  If you’ve read much of this site you might know that last September our house burned down.  In the minutes, hours, days, weeks, and months since then we have been firmly in the palm of our friends’ hands.  They have kept us with them, safe and sane. 

While Bella was in the hospital, our friends kept Buddha and Possum with them, bought them clothes, school supplies, etc.  They bought us clothes.  They taught the grand-kids that when bad things happen, their world will pull together instead of explode apart like it had always done in the past.  Our friends changed the way they looked at their world and its possibilities.  They changed the kind of world our grandkids live in. 

We are their grandparents, giving them a safe place to land comes with the job description.   Our friends are a different story.  They didn’t have to do that.  They didn’t have to do any of the things they did and they would have still been our friends and we would have still loved them just the same.  But they did do it.  They made a circle around our kids, all three of them, that made them feel safe and secure in a way that we could never have done because we were in the same boat they were in and at the time we couldn’t do it. 

Now, our friends are the most eclectic group of people you could ever hope to meet.  No two of them are even remotely alike.  We couldn’t have gone out with the intention of picking completely different people for friends and done as good a job.  And yet, they are all remarkably alike in several respects.  They are all fantastic people.  They are all interesting.  They are all interested.  They are all intelligent in the extreme.  They are all fun and funny.  They are all thoughtful and kind.  They all have remarkably different personalities.  Some are shy, some are extroverted, some are hyper, some are laid back, some are psycho, (ok, I’m in that category) some are insanely sane. 

But when push comes to shove, we move like a well oiled machine.  We have gone from single, to married, job to job, dating to parents, and now to grandparents.  And we are still here, still together, still a unit.  Sometimes we see each other more often, sometimes less, but we are always in each others thoughts and we are always in each others hearts. 

We all have our faults and our quirks.  We like that about each other.  It’s those very things that make us all unique and intriguing to each other.  We have differences of opinion.  That’s what makes a horse-race.  We like that too.  We’ve all made mistakes.  That’s why they put erasers on pencils.  That’s just one more way we’re all alike.  We learn from each other.  I can learn more from one night with my friends than I can from 6 days on the Internet.  And that’s saying something.  I’ve been to the end of the Internet and back several times now. 

I’m the oldest of everyone.  The youngest of our friends is about 30 years younger than me.  That gives a pretty broad range of perspectives. 

I wouldn’t trade our friends for anything on the face of this earth.  Not one thing.  Because as long as we have them and each other, there is nothing else we need, and nothing we need that we won’t have.  And as long as they have us and each other, if we have a dime, they have a nickel.

There needs to be a word between friend and family.  Framily.  That’s what they are.  Our Framily.  And if I had tried to invent them I wouldn’t have done as good a job.

The Day I Knew I Was Me

April 7, 2007

I remember the first time I realized that I was me.  That I was a real person.  That I was separate from everyone else. 

I was about 5 years old.  I woke up in my bed with the sun shining just like every morning.  I was coming downstairs to find my mom, just like every morning.  When I got to the bottom of the stairs and started across the living room, I saw my shadow on the wall. 

It hit me then.  I was a person.  You can’t have a shadow if you aren’t a person.  I stopped.  My shadow stopped.  I moved.  My shadowed moved.  I looked at my hands.  They moved, they opened, closed.  They did everything I told them to do.  I was a real person.  All by myself.  Totally enclosed and complete!  I was somebody!

When I looked up from my hands the entire room looked different.  The sun was brighter.  It almost blinded me.  It was very hot.  I couldn’t remember feeling it so hot on my skin before.  I could see a bajillion dusties floating around in it.  I wondered why they never made me sneeze and if they could clog up my new lungs.  That was how I felt.  New.

I had just been made into a real person.  I had just been made into me and turned on.  I said my name to myself over and over.  I danced in the living room, I danced in the dining room, I danced in the kitchen where my mom was at.  I wondered if she knew that I was a person. 

She didn’t seem to notice.  I thought that maybe she was too busy to see it.  I would just keep it a secret for now.  I wanted it for myself for a while.  I wanted to be me all to myself just for now.  I would tell her I was me later.  It might hurt her feelings to find out that I wasn’t her anymore.  I didn’t want to hurt momma’s feelings.  I was too happy right then.

I spent that whole day watching my feet walk, my hands make mud pies, my mouth chew, my hair fly in the wind, my eyes move in my head.  I saw me running in other peoples’ windows.  I felt the sidewalk hit my feet.   I concentrated all day long on what it felt like to be me.  It was pretty heady stuff, that being me all by myself.

And, I kinda liked the secret.  I decided to keep it for a while longer.  I giggled to myself for days.  I watched everyone with my secret self eyes.  No one else would know but me, because I was the only one who was me, now. 

In the end, I’m not sure I ever did tell momma that I wasn’t her anymore.  My daughter never told me that she wasn’t me anymore either.  Maybe we all end up being kind enough not to tell our momma’s that. 

The older I get, and the more I talk to my momma, I sometimes wonder if not being your momma is something that gets reversed as we age.  Because, unbeknownst to any of us at the time, my mom, I, and my daughter all taught ourselves to tie our shoes with our left  hand, you know, just in case we should ever need to know how to do that.  (insert innocent “what????” face here)

Y’all all do that too, right?………….RIGHT????????

Red vs The Steam Roller………..Or, No, Red, It’s JUST YOU!!!!

April 6, 2007

I used to live on a very busy corner in town.  (see Great Quest For The Head Of The Possum post)  The house was at the bottom of a very steep hill, ” A very steep hill”.  When it snowed,  all you had to do was look at that bit of road and you could tell how much because no one would drive up it. 

One nice summer day I was sitting on the couch in my living room reading, while my dearest husband was sleeping.  He worked night shift then and he slept during the day.  It was a normal day.  As much as you can call any day with me in it normal.

It slowly came to me that something wasn’t right.  I wasn’t sure exactly what it was.  I looked up, I looked around.  I didn’t see anything wrong in the house.  I looked back down and started to read again.  Then it seemed like the couch was beginning to vibrate…..but no, it was the house that was beginning to vibrate.  Now that was odd. 

I got up, pulled aside the curtain on the door and looked out just in time to see a steam roller knock one of the brick supports out from under my porch roof, ride up onto the porch, hit the house, and then fall through the porch floor into the hole underneath it.

Well howdy!  I turned and walked halfway into the bedroom, turned and walked back to the door to look again, walked halfway back to the bedroom again, back to the door.  I realize that I have absolutely NO “a steamroller just hit my house” etiquette.  I have no idea what to do.  I am saved by my dearest husband’s voice calling from the bedroom inquiring as to what the !@#$%^ just occurred. 

I walked into the bedroom to explain and he is halfway out of bed and halfway into his pants.  I told him a steamroller hit the house.  He asked if I was OK.  I said yes.  He said OK.  He then proceeded to add to my already vociferous bad word vocabulary by leaps and bounds.  I was impressed!  And pleased.  You can never have too many bad words to choose from.  Especially in a situation like this. 

We went back to the door and gingerly went outside.  Not easy since the door bumped the part of the steamroller that was still above the porch floor when we opened it.  As we came off the porch a very pale, agitated, wet and odoriferous gentleman scampered up to me asking if I was OK.  Not quite in full grip of all my faculties yet, and not realizing who he was, I simply told him that I was fine.  Turns out he was the man driving the steamroller. 

People began showing up fairly quickly.  As I said in a previous post, the entire world passed our door 3 times a day at this house.  A steam roller sitting where the porch used to be drew a fair amount of attention. 

It just so happened that our landlord had a business just across the street and he saw the whole thing.  Bless his heart, I believe he nearly had apoplexy on the spot.  Everyone was very excited.  Especially that poor smelly fella that was driving the thing.  Eventually he began to explain to my dearest husband what happened.

He had driven the steam roller to the top of the very steep hill to use it paving a parking lot that was located just below the top.  As he got near the driveway to the parking lot, the brakes gave way on the steam roller.  He tried the emergency brake, but that gave way as well.  By that time, the steam roller was well on its’ way down the hill.  He decided that he would turn the roller towards the curb, with the idea that rubbing against the curb would stop it, or at least slow it down.  No such luck. 

By the time he realized that it was getting away from him and he wasn’t going to be able to stop it, he was fast approaching the intersection.  He couldn’t see beyond our house to see what was coming andhe was very frightened, so he bailed out.  The odoriferousness came from the fact that after he bailed out, he realized that what could have been coming was a bus load of children.  The imagery was too much for his bowels. 

When the steam roller was rolling down the hill scraping against the curb, I felt it shaking the house.  When it reached our driveway, it turned slightly and ran up into our yard, crushed a bush, abolished the brick porch post, broke through the brand new 2 x 6 flooring of the porch right before my eyes, hit the house about 3 feet to the left of me and the rest is history.

We made the front page of the paper.  The insurance put a new porch on the house and bought us a new table and chairs to put on it.  And we were known for years afterwards as the people who’s house got hit by the steam roller.

I ask people this all the time……….Is it just me, or do things like this happen to you too? 

 The answer is always………No, Red, It’s Just YOU!!!!!

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