Thoughts For The Day July 2, 2009

I have been busy this time so I have an excuse for being irresponsible. 

At the risk of jinxing it, I seem to feel better. Physically, anyway.  So I’ve been pushing myself lately.  Not too much, just enough to feel it a little bit.  Usually when I feel good I push myself way too far and end up FUBAR’d all over again.  I’m trying to use a little common sense this time and push myself a little at a time. 

I go outside even when it’s hot.  Doesn’t seem like much, does it?  But for me it’s huge.  I don’t do heat well at all.  It scrambles my brain and my body.  It makes me feel like I’m suffocating.  It turns my face bright red, and I get dizzy.  My body feels weak and I can’t think right.  I hear words but I don’t understand them.  It takes about four repetitions before I can finally make them make sense.  The inside of my head sounds like helicopter blades….whoomp  whoomp  whoomp.  I know how to do things but the proper order escapes me, so I get bogged down in trying to figure out if I have it right or if I’m forgetting something.  I can’t start anything because I have to keep going over it and over it to make sure I have it right.  It’s never in the same order, no matter how many times I think it through, so I never know which one is right.

I do more things that require strength.  I have a garden.  I work in it.  I dug holes and mixed dirt and planted some plants.  The Buddha and Princess Bella planted alot of plants too.  Like I said, I’m trying to push without over doing it.  Whenever I do anything that requires muscle, I only have a limited amount of time and strength to do it.  After that it’s all I can do to haul my tonnage back to a chair.  I can do it again after I rest.  No matter how much I work at them, my muscles will burn and give out after only a little bit.  I’m trying to have more little bits now, so maybe I can build myself up some. 

I take chances again.   For instance, MDH and I went canoeing down the Dan River a couple of weeks ago.  I was really scared that I wouldn’t be able to pull it off.  But I’m tired of being left behind and never doing anything, so I went.  It was awesome!  Granted, the Dan River was way high, and way fast and mostly all we had to do was steer, but I went!  And, even though my wrists still hurt even after two weeks, I did it.  The satisfaction is well worth the price. 

I drive…..far away…..every week.  The Buddha’s new counselor is in Chapel Hill.  That’s an hour drive from here.  It kills me.  Did you ever make mud pies?  Remember how they would start to dry out, but you could pat them and they would get wet all over again?  Well, riding in a vehicle is like patting my brain.  It gets all mushy and starts to lose it’s form.  It’s a damn scary thing, driving that far away.  I’m never sure if I’m going to be making it home under my own steam or not.  And it is exhausting.  Every time.  It takes me days to get over it, but I DO it. 

I read more.  This should be the easiest thing in the world, right?  No stress, no strain.  It’s not hot, it doesn’t require strength.  However, it does require me to understand the words.  If I’m doing ok, it’s easy.  If I’m not doing ok, it’s hard work.  I have to re-read the same sentence over and over to get it.  I read every book at least four times the first time I read it. 

MDH built a fire pit in our yard.  I love that thing!  I love a campfire.  There was about a year or more after our house burned down when I would go quietly insane whenever I smelled smoke.  I had a raging case of PTSD whenever I saw a flame.  I woke up a bazillion times a night thinking we were on fire again and every time I did, the house looked smokey.  But, I don’t do that much anymore. 

Anyway, we cook on the fire pit every Friday night, weather permitting.  It’s all very cave girl.  Um, cave girl and pioneer I guess.  We have the big ol Dutch oven.  That little baby is a gem!  I can start the fire, keep it going until I have enough coals to cook using the Dutch oven, and feed it coals until the food is done.  Like I said, I love that fire pit.  Can you tell?  One of my favorite things about the fire pit is that I don’t heat up my house by cooking inside.  By dinner time, the heat starts to build up in the house and the last thing I want to do is heat it up even more by cooking.  (remember the heat intolerance thing?  riiiight!) 

We moved our picnic table from the back deck to the fire pit area.  It’s the perfect place for all of us to gather up and play games or just sit and talk.  It’s also nice to sit there in the cool of the morning and drink coffee and watch the day start.  Especially since the outside dogs have taken over the porch swing and now I need to get new cushions for it before humans can use it again. 

My hummingbirds are back this summer.  I have two feeders that hang on the front porch.  If they start getting low on food, the hummers will come and hover in front of the screen door, waiting for me to come fix it!  They are fascinating to me.  The males fight like cats and dogs.  There are four hummers all together.  Two males and two females.  The males spend all of their time chasing each other away from the feeders.  The females wait until they are zooming around the field, then they will swoop in and eat until one of the males comes back.  Then they go sit in a tree until it starts again, which is usually about six seconds. 

We have quite a few bluebirds.  They love to sit on MDH’s motorcycle mirrors and fight with their reflection.  It’s hilarious.  But every once in a while it reminds me that the ancient dinosaur birds were pretty mean fellas.  I forget what they are called……raptors?  Is that it?  Anyway, birds are definitely not serene by nature.  Those pretty little bluebirds are aggressive with those reflections.  And they are building up some new White Cliffs Of Dover on the handlebars, too!  MDH is not amused.

I am now the proud new operator of a riding mower that doesn’t give me vertigo.  I can mow until my heart’s content and still be able to walk upright back to the house when I’m done.  I love the instant gratification of mowing the lawn.  I also love the smell.

All in all, for summer, things are going pretty good.  I’ve knocked wood and rubbed The Buddha’s belly for luck to keep from jinxing myself here.  (you could have bought The Buddha for a nickel when I did that) 

P.S.   Artisan Bread In Five Minutes A Day – This book rules.  The recipes are easy, they really work, and it feels really good to make your own bread by hand without having to knead yourself into oblivion.  If you’ve never made homemade bread, you’ll be an old hand at it after the second time.  It sorts itself out in your head pretty quick, and considering MY head, that means it’s easy to do.  If nothing else, borrow it from the library and try it at least once.  New experiences are good for you.

Random Thoughts October 3, 2007

Life is perception.  How we perceive an event is our reality of it.  One man’s ceiling is another man’s floor.  One man’s trash is another man’s treasure.  What you perceive as meaningless, someone else might perceive as the most meaningful thing in their life.  Pay attention to how those important to you perceive the events in your lives.  It counts.

Inaction is an action all by itself.  It indicates indifference on a massive scale. 

Why in the hell would anyone in this country with even ONE functioning brain cell think that Hillary Clinton would make a good president?  This is a woman whose self esteem is so low that she stayed with a man who cheated on her in front of the entire world on more than one occasion.  This can only mean one thing:  He will pay in front of the entire world, and he will pay big!  So, let’s put her in the White House?????  Is she planning on giving her VP a BJ on TV during a State of the Nation Address?  (Do you think I used enough acronyms in that sentence?)  Women who stick around after being treated that way have one thing in mind: revenge.  If Bill is smart (I know, I know, but it’s only a figure of speech) he would do something searingly outrageous and destroy her chances.  It might save his life.  And speaking as a woman myself, I can tell you this: Hillary remembers every one of you who have screwed her over.  You might not even be aware that you did. *see paragraph one*  And you will not get away unscathed either.  Kenneth Star, I’m especially talking to YOU!  She will smile for the cameras while she is listening in her earpiece to them tell her that the “package” has been deposited.  That will be you in the East River wearing a pair of cement overshoes, going to sleep with the fishes.  But only after she has caused them to make you scream like a girl.  Think about it guys.  Women are by far more vicious than men will ever be.  And we never forget a slight.  We certainly never forgive one.  Putting Hillary Clinton in the White House is like dressing up Brittney Spears and putting HER in the White House.  Sounds good, don’t it?

I wonder if the people that Blackwater were hired to guard and protect in Iraq want them gone?  I haven’t heard anyone ask them.  I haven’t heard any of them say.  I would love to hear the answer to those questions.  I also wonder who it was that Blackwater had with them at the time of the last big incident that caused all this hooohaaa.  I hate magicians because I feel like misdirection is inherently dishonest.  So this last big deal over Blackwater makes me wonder who was there and why all the fingers are pointing in so many different directions, but no one is saying who was with them. 

Why are children always at their most obnoxious when my head hurts?#$%^&*

What parents say and what kids hear are two completely different things.  example: Me-“Hi Honey, how was your day?”

Them-“Why R U gettin all up in my KoolAid?”  That wasn’t a good exchange at all was it?  We had no exchange of information, no exchange of pleasantries at all.  That’s because what they hear is not what we said.

Me-how was your day       translation:  What did you do that was wrong or that I’m going to get a call from your school about before the day is through?

No wonder the response is so vehement!  I have no solution for this distortion as yet, however I am working on it and as soon as I perfect the formula, I will put it on a paid programming commercial at 4:45am and you too can have it for 6 easy payments of JUST $19.95 plus shipping and handling! 

When we were kids our dad used to wake us up every morning and whip us before he went to work.  He did this because he knew that before he got home that night we would have done something to deserve it.  He was right.  I’m thinking about reviving that old tradition.  Either that, or take up drinking.  I’m not really sure which way I’m going to go yet.  I’m leaning towards the whipping, but I’m not sure I could stand all that whining and crying.  But after the first time or two, I’d probably cowboy up and stop doing that.  On the other hand, drinking would be so much less work for me.  *sigh*  decisions, decisions

Random Thoughts 9/28/07

Don’t say yes if you mean no, then get all pissed off later.

If you have something to say, say it.

If you have nothing to say, say nothing.

If your significant other asks you a question, answer them as honestly as you can.  Do NOT expect them to read your mind.  That’s just stupid and unfair.  If they could read your mind, they would have already got the Pick 6 number and you’d be filthy rich and boppin the pool boy/girl.  Give them some information they can use.  Play fair.

Keep in mind that it is not being mean if you hang up on someone who has called YOU.  Especially if you don’t know them. 

When someone calls you and starts asking questions, your automatic response should NOT be to answer, but to start asking questions of your own. 

example:  Riiiiiiing.  Hello.  

Is Mr. Whoozit in? 

 No, may I take a message? 

Who am I speaking to?   

That’s not really your business.  Who am I speaking to? 

This is Mr. Soanso from Suchandsuch.  Do you have a number where Mr. Whoozit can be reached in an emergency? 

IS this an emergency?  If you’ll give me your number I’ll get in touch with Mr. Whoozit and give it to him and I’m sure if it’s an emergency he’ll be sure to get back in touch with you as soon as humanly possible. 

*SIGH* Nevermind, I’ll just try back later.  CLICK!!!! 

Seriously, it is NOT someone else’s place to be asking you questions on your phone and it is not rude, mean, or socially unacceptable to refuse to answer them. 

Listen to your instincts.  Human beings are still alive today because of them. 

Pay attention.  To Everything. 

Be careful what you say.  You can’t unring a bell, and you can’t unsay an unkind word or undo the hurt it causes.

Care.

Reunions

Our oldest daughter came home yesterday.  It’s been three years since I’ve laid eyes on her.  My heart has seen her twenty-four/seven but my eyes have hungered for her non-stop.  Going long periods of time between physically seeing her is normal.  She is a natural born gypsy.  She comes by that honestly. 

I never seem to be prepared for just how overwhelmingly happy I am to see her.  I kept poking her on the arm.  She kept looking at me.  Finally, the last time I did it she said, “Believe I’m really here yet?”  There seems to be a Birdie shaped hole in my being when she isn’t with me that immediately fills up when she comes home. 

It’s like that with all my family and to a lesser degree with my friends.  I’m like a puzzle.  I’m this huge picture.  I know what it is, I know what it looks like.  But I’m only really complete and the whole big picture when everyone is together.  I almost had it this Labor Day. 

Labor Day marked the one year anniversary since the house burned down.  All in all things have progressed fairly splendidly since then.  We moved into what seems to us to be the perfect house in which to finish raising the kids, finish growing old, hobble around awhile, become a burden to said kids, make them change our diapers just like we did theirs, and eventually be remanded to an old folks home, there to linger and molder away, forgotten and neglected while the aforementioned kids are happily enjoying the life of Riley back at the old homestead.  So we decided it was time to conduct a good ol fashioned throw-down. 

The icing on the cake was that my mom (you remember her, I am now the proud owner of her hands) and my brothers and my sister(in law) and my niece(my GOD I love that kid) all came up from good ol FLA to attend! AND My Dearest Husband’s Grandma came from 250 miles away along with his mom.  Most of our closest friends were able to attend.  The few that weren’t were in our thoughts.  Our new neighbors were here.  We had just the best time ever!  The best count we could get was approximately 47 people.  Not bad. 

The kids all played and didn’t fuss and fight.  The grownups all played and didn’t fuss and fight.  Even I was nice! (I think) It lasted from around noon until way, way late.  Actually it lasted until way early the next day.  We had two chefs that cooked on the grill for us.  OMG  They ruled!  My Dearest Husband’s Aunt and Cousin brought some kick ass goodies.  We cooked.  I say “we” as if I actually helped any!  LOL  I didn’t!  Don’t let me fool you.  I was absolutely NO help of any kind at all.  My help consisted of staying out of the way and trying not to talk too much.  Because by the day of the party I had been off my meds for a fair amount of days ( another story for another time) and I was having major difficulties even saying words.  Mostly I just wandered around aimlessly.  But at least I wasn’t destructive.  That in itself was helpful.

The bros and the hubbie knocked out a couple horse shoe pits and everyone threw some shoes.  Down here in Carolina you ain’t had a party if you haven’t threw the shoes.  After everyone left, my little brother, Pony, got out my guitar and he and my older brother, Pork Chop, and I sat out on the front porch and sang all the old songs while the dogs lay around under our feet.  Pork Chop said it was like being in Mayberry. 

The puzzle was mostly put together that day.  Only a few missing pieces.  It was good to have everyone here.  It’s been awhile since we’ve been able to do that. 

Big party, lots of people, food, beer, family, friends, no bloodshed = success. 

*sigh* (insert big sappy grin) I love reunions.

It’s Been A While…..I’ve Missed You…..Sniff Sniff

Okay, that’s it for the sappy emotion. 

 I’ve moved.  I’m now living in a house on top of a hill.  It’s harder than I thought it would be, this not being a slob and all.  When you have a nice house you sorta feel like you should keep it nice.  My own expectations are exhausting me. 

But it’s all bright and white and neat and shit.  And it’s out in the open and the sun shines on me all the time.  Except when the sun doesn’t shine on me.  Then it’s only partly light.  Or else it’s dark.  That happens at some point every day.  Go figger.  Still, it’s very……(I’m searching for an appropriate word here)…..happifying!  That’s a word, right?

I’ve started walking in the mornings after I put Miss Bella and His Highness the Buddha on the bus for school.  *giggle*  School.  I love school.  Anyway, I’ve been trying to get some exercise.  It seems to be working pretty well.  If you don’t count the fact that for the past 3 or 4 days I haven’t really been able to walk.  My hip ballooned up and my jaw on the same side did the same thing.  I had a tooth cut out there recently.  Seriously, you’ve missed a lot.  But I seem to be um, infected.  EW!  I KNOW!  It’s all gross sounding to me too. 

I’m thinking that I might just be allergic to all that healthy crap.  Honest.  See, I wasn’t brought up that way.  We were brought up to be filthy dirty little heathens!  That’s right, Mom!  I’m tellin all the family secrets right here!  We didn’t use hand sanitizer!  We drank sodas ALL THE TIME!  We ate the fat on our meat!  OH YES WE DID!  We ate bacon OFTEN!  I SMOKE!  We drank!  And…..you might want to sit down for this one….sometimes we still do!  We used copious amounts of salt on our food.  We played in dirt.  We played with our friends when they had colds.  We did not know our physicians and their office personnel on a first name basis because we went so often.  As a matter of fact, we went to the doctor’s office so seldom, that a visit there frightened us to bits!  Uh huh that’s right. 

I had my first X-ray when I was 14 years old!  And I was so terrified that I thought I would puke!  I have had many broken bones that were not set.  I have had broken bones that I never went to the doctor for at all.  We ate burgers from Louie’s!  We followed the 5 second rule.  We drank from water fountains, not water bottles.  Sometimes we drank from water hoses too.  If our ice cream fell out of the cone, we picked it up, scraped off whatever trash we could see, and plopped that bad boy back on the cone and ate away!  No sense wasting the perfectly good part of a cone over a little bit of trash!  Sheesh! 

We ate food handled by people who never wore gloves except in the winter when it was really really cold.  But never when they were touching our food.  We sometimes faked washing our hands before we ate.  We walked barefoot from the first snow until the first thaw.  And truth be told, if it wasn’t for caffeine and nicotine I would be in a coma. 

But until I started trying to be more “healthy” I was in fact healthy as the proverbial horse.  The healthier I tried to live, the unhealthier I became. 

I developed……….(insert doomsday music here) MS.  My theory is this.  As I started to live a more healthy lifestyle, my hyped up immune system had less and less legitimate work to do.  Being an honest hard working system, it couldn’t bring itself to just lay around and do nothing.  So it decided to attack something, anything.  Knowing me like it did, it had a meeting and came to the conclusion that it would attack the most useless part of me……my brain.  (wink)  So it rolled on up in there and went to work. 

But, being MY immune system, it couldn’t just attack like normal.  Oh no!  It had to do it in a bizarre fashion.  So it went for my cognitive centers.  My memory centers and pathways.  Smart-ass immune system.  On the other hand, it sometimes goes after me in the normal ways too. 

As a result of all this I have decided to go back to my unhealthy ways.  I’m back to eating the fat on my meat.  I’m gonna go barefoot in the summer until it’s just too darn cold to do it anymore.  I’m drinking water out of the faucet and if I’m in the yard I’m drinking it out of the hose.  Maybe I won’t eat the ice cream off the ground though.  I mean, I am almost 50, after all. 

Do you see what happens when I’m away too long?  I babble.  I start on one topic and end on something not even remotely related.  But I have this really cool built in excuse.  I have drain bamage.  Yeah baby!  That’s what I’m talkin bout!  *sigh*  Unfortunately, everyone I know, knows better.  *giggle*  Oh well, it was a nice try. 

But it’s good to be back.  I’ll fill you in on what you missed later.  Not allof it.  Don’t be so nosey!  Sheesh! 

Teenagers

Teenagers …………..  *sigh*  ……………..  nuf said.

Buddha’s Missing Body Part

Buddha came wandering in the room Sunday evening about 7:00 pm with the news that he had been throwing up all day and his legs were cramping and his stomach hurt.  You may think that the fact that I was so far behind on this information means that I don’t pay attention.  Let me disabuse you of this notion.

First of all, Buddha is secretive in his personal habits in the extreme.  He got this way when he was living at home.  I’m not sure exactly what survival instinct led him to that particular behavior, but you will almost never catch him doing anything in the way of personal habits at all.  He does do all those things like brush his teeth, take a bath, use the toilet, etc.  He just does it all on the sly.

Second, his sister is the twin of the Tasmanian Devil.  Being in her proximity is like being inside of a tornado that consists of blond hair and tiny bits of paper and chap stick and fingernail polish and puppies and shards of glass and blue eyes and bug juice and questions and clothes and makeup and arguments and chewing gum and an incessant stream of words and movement.  It’s hard to see past her sometimes.

Also, on the weekend, His Highness The Buddha, does not like to be disturbed when he is resting.  So I leave him to his own resources to decompress and do as he pleases unless I hear screaming or see blood pooling underneath his bedroom door.  Flames, smoke, the sound of breaking glass……these will also capture my attention. 

So, he tells me that he had been throwing up since morning.  *sigh*  I figure he’s dehydrated.  I give him water with a few grains of salt.  It all comes up immediately.  I smell a trip to the ER coming up.  I pack up the Tasmanian Devil, a few waiting room supplies, and Buddha.  Off we go to the ER for a quick IV of fluids to re-hydrate him and then we’ll be home and that will be that. 

Not so much. 

After about a gallon of drawn blood, about three gallons of IV fluids drained into him, a multitude of tests, and a CAT scan, we find out that he has appendicitis.  Wow.  Into the hospital he is admitted.  The surgeon will be there in the morning to talk about what we will do.

(insert ominous music here)  The surgeon comes in and tells Buddha that he must have the appendix out.  The instant Buddha realizes what the means he says, “Cut me?!!  OH NO!  I’m outta here!”   It’s everything we can do to keep him in the bed.  We talk and cajole and do everything but chase him down the hall and tie him to the bed.  By this time his belly is hurting him considerably.  We convince him that having the surgery will make his belly feel better and he finally agrees.  Whew!

It all happens quite quickly.  He’s in surgery in a matter of minutes.  They tell us he’ll be back in an hour and a half, be in the room.  When they bring him back up, he’s awake.  I ask how he’s feeling.  He rares up on the bed and yells, “THEY CUT ME AND IT HURTS!!”  We kinda forgot in all the excitement to tell him that the surgery was going to hurt pretty bad right at first.  Our bad.  *grimace* 

Once he was in bed and settled and the morphine set in, he informed me that people who were in the hospital get presents.  He would accept a video game, thank you.  Then whenever anyone called or came by, he would dutifully inform them of the same thing complete with his order.  I figure that he’s already calculated what his appendix was worth.

By the time he’s fully recovered, I’m going to have to watch out on eBay because he’ll be trying to sell his kidney for a Volkswagen.  A cornea for the downpayment on his college tuition.  😦  *sigh*

He’s home and feeling fine.  He disappeared from the couch about two hours after we got him home.  My Dearest Husband went looking for him, he wasn’t in the house.  Bella said he was up the drive.  Um…….up the drive???  Yeah, she says, riding his bike.  We walk out on the porch and sure enough, he comes slowly riding back down the driveway.  Just over twenty-four hours after his surgery.  We’re standing there with our bottom jaws resting on the tops of our shoes, staring at him.  He says, “What?”

Kids, ya gotta love em.

Louie

I see hand sanitizer all over the place now.  People are fanatically clean these days.  Times have changed since I was a kid.  We never really thought about that kind of stuff when I was young. 

Don’t get me wrong, we had to wash our hands before we ate.  We had to take our bath.  Occasionally an aunt or someone (usually Southern) would make a comment about being able to “grow taters in those ears” to one of my male relatives.  But hand sanitizer in travel sized bottles?  *giggle*  Not hardly. 

As a matter of fact, I had an older cousin whose mother kept him so clean when he was young that he got sick.  His doctor finally told his mom that she had to let him go outside and get dirty.  She was not to clean him up!  He was to get dirty and stay that way until evening and only then was she to bathe him!  It was excruciatingly hard on her, but she did it for his sake.  He got better….physically.  Funny thing, he ended up crazy as a bed bug.  But that is neither here nor there.  (Yes, it does run in the family, smart aleck!)

My grandson, Buddha, used to be such a neat freak that when I gave him a sloppy joe for lunch he couldn’t eat it!  He would pick it up, get sauce on his hand, put it down, wipe off his hand, pick it up, get sauce on his hand, put it down, …….you get the idea.  Finally, I took pity on the poor little thing, cut it up and gave him a spoon.  Sheesh! (Now, he could grow taters in those ears *wink*)

When I was coming up, those things never came into consideration.  If they had, we would have never eaten a Louie burger.  At this point it is my duty to warn any of you with a weak stomach not to read further.  Mom, this means you. 

Louie lived and worked next door to the service station that my dad was part owner of.  We would go down to “help” dad at the station and he would send us next door for a burger.  Louie and his wife, I never knew her name, lived and worked at their house.  Louie cooked burgers on the stove in his kitchen.  They were GREAT burgers.  They were locally famous.  Everyone went to Louie’s for a burger on a regular basis.  This was good because at some point Louie apparently had a stroke or something and this is how Louie and his wife made their living.  His wife would take the orders, give them to Louie, who would shuffle back to the kitchen and cook them, and his wife would chat with you up front until he shuffled back with your greasy bag.  Louie couldn’t talk.  His wife knew what he meant when he made his noises, but no one else did.  She would tell you Louie said thank you and come back again.  I used to wonder if Louie was actually saying something that ended in “and the horse you rode in on”, but who could tell? 

The reason I believe that Louie had a stroke is that Louie shuffled when he walked and he had this other little thing that he did that was kinda telling.  He drooled.  Yeah, I know, right?  Louie probably kept the handkerchief people in business because I never one time in my whole life ever saw Louie without one.  He held them up to his chin to catch the drool.  But the handkerchiefs were never wet.  It was Louie that cooked.  Not Mrs. Louie.  Louie cooked.  Hopefully with one hand. 

Weren’t no hand sanitizer going on in Louie’s kitchen, I can tell you that.  And no one ever thought one thing about it.  It makes my mom gag when we talk about it now.  Louie and his wife wouldn’t have a prayer of making a living on their own now.  They’d have to depend on Social Security and Alpo now-days.  But back then, they were independent and self sufficient.  Proud people with a product to sell that people wanted and liked.

Maybe it was the drool that made Louie’s burgers taste so good?

OK, I’ll stop.  My mom says I take this one too far. 

We didn’t have flesh eating virus in those days.  Or Ebola.  And if we did, it was very well contained.  We didn’t have AIDS, or Hanta Virus or HIV, or any of the new stuff that’s come along lately.  There weren’t as many people in the world back then and mother nature wasn’t trying so hard to thin the herd. 

We had stronger immune systems then.  And the generation before us had even stronger ones.  But, I digress.

I probably wouldn’t buy a burger from Louie today.  But not for the reason you might think.  It would just be too creepy to buy a burger from a 160 year old guy who’s too dried out to drool but who keeps on holding that dang old white handkerchief under his chin!  Yuck!

Note to self:  Nice girls don’t blog after they’ve taken their meds!  Think about it!

Used To

I used to sing.  I was pretty good at it.  My ex played guitar with several bands and we were together for 10 years before he ever heard me sing.  I never sang in front of people in those days, so I really did sing like nobody was listening because …..nobody was.  I think it’s fair to say he was pretty much stunned when he heard it the first time. 

It was on a tape player. (Can you say “LONG TIME AGO?????)  I had been messing around with a new song I had heard and I forgot to erase it.  He heard it by accident.  He asked who in the hell that was.  I said it was me.  He didn’t believe me for one second because as far as he knew I couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket.  Eventually he got me drunk enough to sing in front of him and prove it was me. 

Back in the day we always had music.  Everything was accompanied by music.  People coming over to hang out always brought guitars, amps, harmonicas and whatever other instruments they had and we jammed.  We went to other people’s houses and played.  It was alright.  And, back in the day, we had beer.  I’ll be kind to my momma and leave it at that.  So, we started gettin me all drunked up and I started to sing with them. 

They came to the conclusion that I sounded like a cross between Stevie Nicks and Bonnie Raitt.  With a slight quiver.  That was pure terror.  There was not enough alcohol invented to take that away.  But they gave me songs and booze and I sang.  Then one evening out in someone’s barn a sneaky varmint turned on a hidden tape recorder and taped me singing.  A few weeks later we were at another guys house hanging out and playing.  When I started to sing a song he jumped up and hollered, “You’re the girl on the tape!”  I couldn’t figure out what he was talking about. 

You have to remember that: 1. I was drunk. 2. I didn’t know about the tape.

So he played it and sure enough it was me.  Have you ever heard yourself on tape?  I really can’t stand it.  I don’t mind hearing myself through my own ears inside of my head, but I hate hearing it from outside in.  I almost spit up.  But they all seemed to love it.  So they hatch this plot.  The guy who managed the local newspaper at the time was having a Christmas party at his house and had asked the guy who’s house we were at to get together a band and play at it. 

Now I’m really thinking I shouldn’t have had those last couple of beers.  They want me to sing.  In front of people.  A bunch of people.  Maybe I’ll rethink that beer thing and just have a few more.  Cuz those guys are really excited and happy and wanting this to happen.  And deep inside of my alcohol induced haze I’m kinda thinkin this might be kinda cool, too.  If I can keep from spitting up, that is. 

So we practice.  We practice a lot.  We practice and we practice and I sing and I sing.  I’m well on my way to becoming a raging alcoholic.  Because there is no way on God’s green earth that I can sing in front of anyone without it.  I’ve only been singing in front of my ex for about 3 or 4 months at this time.  But it feels good to have people telling me that I can do something well.  And everytime we practice more and more people show up to watch us.  It’s all really new and exciting. 

So, the fateful evening comes.  Let me set the stage for you. 

This was about 25 years ago.  I was young and hot as a two dollar pistol.  Long wavy chestnut brown hair, slender, an ass that looked like two puppies fighting under a blanket when I walked.  They get me there and we’re in the back room.  It’s almost time to go out.  The plan is to keep me in the back of the group until it’s time for me to sing.  That way I can get used to the atmosphere and I won’t be so nervous.  They brought me a bottle of gin.  All the quicker to schnocker you with, my dear.  And I knocked that baby back as fast as I could.

Then we went out to the stage.  It gets a little hazy around here.  There were many people, pretty lights, music, clinking, talking, and then they brought me to the front and set me on a stool and started playing my music.  I think I had my eyes closed because I was ok at first.  I just started to sing and I was having fun for the first few lines.  Then I noticed that it was very quiet in that place.  I opened my eyes.  Everyone was standing there with their drinks in their hands and they were all looking at me!  I immediately stopped singing.  I thought I had messed up really bad.  I turned around and looked at the guys in the band.  They said, “Keep singing, they love it!!”

I turned around and looked at all those faces again and they were nodding their heads yes!  Holy Crap!  The band started playing again and so I started singing again.  They sang with me and they clapped and sometimes they just stood there and listened to me.  It was probably the most incredible thing ever.  I sang every song we practiced.  Somewhere along the line I forget the rest of what happened.  It all just sort of melts into one big good ol time. 

We played alot of other places and I got to sing alot of other times.  It was always a big surprise to me.  And it always felt really great.  But that first time will always be my favorite.  I don’t do that anymore.  But, once upon a time, long long ago………

I used to sing.

Youth Deficiency

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?