Anne Burrell

What does Food Network's Anne Burrell have in common with Gumby and Flock of Seagulls? 

uhhhhhh..,.,. i dunno... derp

Who Cares? I'll Be DEAD

If you happen to have a couple of cocktails with friends and/or relatives ask the question about what they think their obituary will read.  After the influence of a couple of cocktails and in a relaxed environment you will get the depth of their soul (or lack thereof) speaking and not the PC Miss America conversation.

Beware the answer to the question of, "Who cares what my obituary will read!  I'll be DEAD."

That type of response indicates a narcissist who is only concerned about himself and has zero regard as to how his actions may impact others.  Proceed any further interactions with such individual with extreme caution.

The Obituary

Today my sister had to write her husband's obiturary.  This is not what she was planning on doing today.  I'm certain that after my sister and her husband parted company upon finishing breakfast that fateful day the last thing either of them were thinking was a fatal accident.  Somehow that never makes the "to do" list which we are all obsessed with.

The obituary.  It begs the question of all of us.   What are we going to leave behind?  The only thing that really lives after we are gone are the memories and impressions we made on others.  Notice I used the word "lives."  Leaving behind a pile of money or other material things does not qualify as living.

Which goes back to the obituary.  Which words are going to be used to describe you and your life?  What about my life?  Leaving behind a bitchy blog isn't good enough for me.  I want to try to make peace with everything and practice compassion and kindness.  I know that nobody has found the magic answers to rid the world of injustice, violence, and greed.  Even Jesus Himself was killed for trying.  I'm not going to even try to pretend I have any power.  It's all been tried and said before.

It goes back to my personal mantra of late of kindness, compassion, and forgiveness.  Even for the assholes who really piss me off and don't deserve it.

Day From Hell Part II

Now that the shock of my brother-in-law's death is settling in, it's time to think about the logistics of getting back there for the service.  My sister is in shock and I'm amazed she's functioining as well as she is.  But then again....she's emotionally much stronger and stoic than I will ever be.

I have to admit that this morning it took me a while to get myself together.  I spent much of the night tossing, turning, and once in a while heavy tears.  It got me thinking about everybody who has touched my life and WHAT IF I never got the chance to communicate with them ever again?  :(

The funeral service ought to be an interesting mingling of religious faiths as my sister is Catholic, and her deceased husband a devout Jahovah Witness.  I do know that a service has been scheduled at Kindom Hall, which I believe is the Jehovah place of worship.  I'll go, be quiet and respectful, and try not to offend anybody as I'm not familiar with Jehovah funeral customs.

This has been an emotionally charged year for my sister.  Her daughter got impregnated and gave birth by a registered sex offender.  Her husband died.  Let's see..... what else can we pile on her?  Oh yeah, the fatal accident that claimed her husband's life happened right at the end of their road.  Everytime she goes ANYWHERE she will pass by the scene of the accident.

Here's my buzzword as of late:  compassion, compassion, compassion.  Kindness and compassion.  Forgiveness, kindness, and compassion.  Love, forgiveness, kindness, and compassion.

Wow... I'm started to sound like the Dali Lama  or something.  Even Quiet Rage is really a softie underneath this harsh, bitchy blog.  I dump my frustrations here to make room for more important, healthier emotions like..... compassion.  I'll shut up now.

Oh, and my mammogram was cancelled due to flooding.  I'll have to wait to reschedule.  I'm thinking positive that it's a benign abnormality.  The doctor does not seem freaked out at all.  Here's to my friend, MRH, as she has gone through the breast cancer thing.  When I schedule my mammogram I always think of her as she stresses how important it is to catch this kind of thing early when it's treatable.   She probably just saved my life.

Day from Hell

I can't make this stuff up. 

Today I received a phone call stating that I needed to come back for more testing as my mammogram showed something.  Of course the mind wanders. 

In the fog of "what if I have cancer" played with my head and trying to decipher doctor reports and the next course of action, I received a phone call from my older brother. 

I was actually on the phone with my doctor when my brother beeped in.  My brother did not leave a message.  Weird.  When I finished speaking with my doctor I called my brother back.  I was teetering on whether or not to tell him about my lab results.  I'm glad I didn't.

My brother said that he had news.  He then went on to tell me that our brother-in-law (my sister's husband) died in a car accident on Highway 8.  WTF?????????????????????

I immediately called my sister and could tell that she was in shock.  Incoherent jibberish is basically all that she could mutter.  Who could blame her?  I got spotted details from my sister about their morning out together having breakfast and how they gone off in a separate cars as he had to go to work.  He never made it.  My sister had got word of a fatal accident on Highway 8 and texted her husband to ask if he was OK.  No response.

My sister is now instantly a widow and she has a heavy load.  I won't go into details about her two daughters and her granddaughter who is 5 months old.  

Lost at Sea

I had a dream last night where I was on a sailboat out on the rough waters.  The waves were HUGE and threatening.  I had no idea how to navigate a boat, but there I was out there alone knowing I had to figure it out quickly or die. 

Dating and Life Experience

I'm watching this cruel, brutal dynamic called dating.  It starts when we are about 13-14 years old and our hearts flutter, we become tongue tied, and butterflies enter our stomachs upon seeing someone for no reason.

Anyway, as life presents us with milestones such as marriage, kids, etc., many find themselves alone again and revert back to being 13-14 years old.  Dating is MUCH different later in life.  For starters, it takes more than passing notes in class with Jimmy with little hearts and check the box "do you like me yes or no."

After decades of dealing with being lied to, cheated on, and deserted there is a much more cynical air to this love game.  I guess it's a type of emotional defense mechanism. 

I suppose that's why it's so hard for people to date after age 40.  Life has taught that people are not always what they claim to be.  Those with true intentions will persevere on and still attempt to sift through the piles of sludge for the chance of finding a golden heart.  Those with impure intentions will just prey on somebody younger and weaker than themselves to save them from being alone. 

Colin Crabtree

Have you met Colin Crabtree?  I have not, but I heard he's a real asshole. 

Who names their kid Colin, anyway?  I suppose the same people who also name their kids Dick. 

Bored and Brave

Think of your life like this....  living on the midwest prarie.  Winters are long and hard.  There is NO chance of self-actualization, romance, or trips to the art gallery to spend your afternoon or other hopes of distraction.  It's just ugly us.  Even if we wanted to get out we probably couldn't because of wicked blizzard conditions.  Whatever. 

We are the "Bored and the Brave"  unlike the "Bold and the Beautiful." 

Are you tuned in?  Probably not as this is the Mundane Channel. 

Morton's Mud Hole: Dakota Prarie

Maybe it's just me being all meloncholy about the holidays and such that has me thinking about my family and roots on the North Dakota prarie.  No, it's not the glamorous place to be from, but it's where I am from.  I wish i could say that North Dakota/Minnesota is famous for>>>>>>>>>>>.  See what I mean?  Nothing really comes to mind.

Growing up, my summers were spent shoveling pig shit and hoeing sugar beats.  I was never happier.
At dusk we would then go to Morton's Mud Hole to bathe.  Yup.  It was a truck full of dirty farm kids with a couple bottles of shampoo and a bar of soap to jump into this pond/mudhole to wash off the top layer of grime so we could actually get back to the house to shower and clean up.  It was a multi-step process,  you know.  You had to get cleaned up before you got cleaned up.

At dusk Morton's Mud Hole was this wonderment of cross-cultures.  It was where the Whapeton Sioux tribe brought their kids/famlies to hang out.  It was also where the Norweigan settlers and their descendants also hung out.  In later years, it was also where Mexican migrant farm workers brought their families to hang out.

Something magical happened at Morton's Mud Hole.  For so many staunch cultural traditions to come togther in one place with no bias for each other was something that I will never forget.  The draw to Morton's Mud Hole was also magical.  As the sun was setting looking west there were mounds off in the distance.  It was a native burial ground for the Wahpeton Sioux that was rumored to come alive after dark.  I remember my cousin literally grabbing me out of the mud hole with shampoo still in my hair and throwing in the back of the truck stating we HAD to get out of here before the sun set below the priarie horizon because of the resltless spirits.

Now decades later I want to go back and try to listen to what the spirits have to say.

Medical Offices and Large Staff

....and I don't mean large staff as in lots of people doing little to nil.  I mean *LARGE STAFF* as in the proliferation of obese people working in the medical field.

I have a medical condition that has required lots of appointments, tests, surgeries, blah, blah, blah, over the years.  Hanging out at hospitals and doctor offices is somewhat the norm.  What I notice is that many of the medical assistants, technicians, and such are OBESE.  I'm not talking about carrying around a few extra pounds.  I'm talking fat.

Yesterday I needed blood work done.  While I'm waiting my turn at the vampire chair I overheard the two majorly overweight lab techs talking about what they were going to order at Super Burger for lunch.  And these people are supposedly trained and educated in health?  

I just find it so ironic that the stewards of our well-being display the #1 health issue in the United States. 

Arabian Coffee

For years the phrase "Arabian Coffee" was a dance segment in the Nutcracker ballet in which my daughter participated in for many, many years.  I think I hold the world's record on seeing every version of the Nutcracker imaginable.  Dancers are catty.  We spent a lot of time going to different productions of the Nutcracker and then compare notes on their dancers and their interpretation of the music.  We would comment on their "Clara" whether she was en pointe or not.  We would also comment on performances of the Snow Queen and the Sugar Plum Fairy as those two are usually competing roles.  Meow.

The Nutcracker Prince????  Any guy who does ballet has incredible strength, coordination, flexibility and stamina.  I want to smack people who put down male dancers thinking it's only something flaming gay guys do.  Let me rephrase that.  Being a flaming gay guy these days is actually hip, cool and trendy so that's not even a put down.  But it is a put down in the eyes of the those with limited understanding on how demanding dance really is and how "in" it is to be gay.   Sigh. 

I'm getting off track again.  I was talking about Arabian coffee.  For a long, long time I had the reference of the ballet segment.  Thanks to my son, it now has a totally different reference.

I love hanging out with my son when I get the chance, which is not very frequently:(  He is very adventurous and is willing to try just about anything.  He brings me out of my shy, little limited shell of an existence and introduces me to new places, foods, and cultures.  This last week it was Arabian coffee.  My son recommended a restaurant that I would have never gone into on my own.  The decor was like something out of an old movie set with lots of reds and golds with the heavy draperies, tasseled pillows and "I dream of Jeanie" bottles and such.  Everything was very ornate.  The food menu was incomprehensible to me, but my son gave me his infamous 'look' ordered for me and said, "Trust me."

Lo and behold I ended up trying something way out of the ordinary and loved it.  Don't ask me what it was as I could not pronounce it, anyway.  We finished the meal with Arabian coffee which was unlike anything I've ever had before.  Now I have a completely different reference and experience. 

Head Games

I went out with a friend tonight to go dancing.  She is divorced and non-plussed on the dating scene.  Her 17 year marriage was filled with her husband playing sadistic head games with not only her, but their kids, too.  She finally got tired of it and booted him out.

Now it's the dating scene for her.  All she wants is a guy who won't lie to her.  She's having a very difficult time.  She doesn't want to spend her time trying to decipher what's true and what isn't.  Her head and heart have been messed with so badly, starting with her father who was also a liar, she has no reference to what a healthy relationship is. 

My friend is a cute, bubbly blonde woman and men are always flirting with her.  As much as she wants to find a relationship she is so gun shy she's scared to death.  She's scared her heart is closed and she won't ever be able to open up again to trust.

I've been trying to think of guys I know to set her up with.  To be blatantly honest, none I know would be good enough for her.  It's not that she's stuck up and high maintenance.  She is quite the opposite.  She has a heart of gold, down to earth,  has a great personalty, and is soooooooo loving and giving.  Plus, she's an excellent cook.  She WANTS to take care of a man.  She doesn't even care if the guy has kids from a previous relationship/marriage.  She's the type who would embrace them like they were her own and nurture them.

My friend's five-words-or-less take on the dating scene, "So few Richards, and so many Dicks." 

The 100 Days of Christmas

My own little Christmas carol.... here goes
Set to the tune of "The Twelve Days of Christmas"  
la la la la la la la la laaaaaaaaaaa (clears throat)  a-hemmm

On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me
Christmas decorations Labor Day weekend at Costco

On the second day of Christmas, my true love gave to me
Halloween with a fully decorated tree

On the third day of Christmas, my true love gave to me
A mailbox full of catalogs

On the fourth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me
Special deals through email


On the fifth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me
flashy cars and diamonds..........

On the sixth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me
Shoppers on Thanksgiving Day

On the seventh day of Christmas, my true love gave to me
Black Friday Psychos

On the eighth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me
Cyber Monday hackers

On the ninth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me
Black Friday deals extended

On the tenth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me
Cyber Monday deals extended

On the eleventh day of Christmas, my true love gave to me
Treats no one eats

On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me
maxed out credit cards

....it's only December 3rd and I've been sick of Christmas since November 8th.  This is my little way of coping...i know it's dorky but wrote it in less than 5 minutes just for the purpose of venting

Mother Nature's Tears

It seams whenever I have a really good cry, mother nature cries as well with torrential rain.

Bill Cosby: Pervertius Maximus

Oh yeah, there's no shortage of men out there masquarading themselves as Mr. Nice Guy whilst grabbing the asses of teen girls and subjecting them to encounters they are not ready for or not even sure they want.  The biggest offenders usually wear the biggest smiles.  Of course the devil comes in the form of a handsome, charming, funny, intelligent man.  Otherwise you would be instantly afraid of him..

Anyway, now it's the accusations galore coming in from three decades ago from women claiming they were victims.  This is where women are their own worst enemy.  It's so hard to distinguish the painful, true stories of victims who were told to "hush up" for one reason or another -- usually to avoid shame and humiliation, and the stories of copy-cat-this-is-my-2-minutes-of-fame-on-E! Channel.

As a victim of sexual abuse I know first hand the shame and disbelief we face -- mostly from our own families when we finally dare to speak up.  Sometimes getting the courage to speak up takes 20 years or longer.  We don't need some spotlight seeking betches discreditng and casting doubt onto a social issue that is soooooooooo huge!

Ray Rice?????  There are millions of guys like him.  The camera just happened to be in the right place at the right time.  Still, the stories spin on "how she deserved it."

Big Butt

I live in the wrong country/culture.  In Brazil the most common cosmetic surgery is for breast reduction and butt implants.

I'd be a rock star there;)   No surgery required.

Motherhood: Now or Later?

I'm still in the adjustment phase not having kids at my house 24/7.  In reading my past posts from about 5 years ago, I was on the edge of insanity pining for a moment of quiet and solitude in my own home.  I ran an orphanage and animal shelter for 25 years.  I totally wrapped my existence around taking care of others not even giving thought about who I was or what I was doing.  I suppose it's a side-effect of being a mother at barely 21 years of age.  I did not know anything else, nor did I even experience adult life without the responsibility of kids.  What's better?  Having kids while you're young or waiting until later? 

Flip a coin.  Is it better to be a mother at a young age while you have the energy but not necessarily the monetary resources to raise your kids?  Is it better not even to know what adult life sans kids is like living foot-loose-and-fancy-free-only-need-to-think-about-me  to have to suddenly change gears?  It's quite an adjustment going from expensive fashion clothing to wearing puke and poop.

Each 'age of motherhood' choice has it's advantages and disadvantages.  One thing I know for certain:  Babies/young kids don't care what you're wearing, if you're hairstyle came from SuperCuts, or whether or not you're wearing make up.  The things babies and young kids need can't be bought.

Believe me.  They will turn into teenagers and turn into fashion fascists.  That's when you need the $$$$$$

Tannenbaum

Yes, I've been more than emotional the past couple of months.  Today was the first time in 28 years I went to get a Christmas tree without one (or both) of my kids.  Pulling into the Christmas tree lot I witnessed young families with babies and toddlers in tow excitedly running around looking for the PERFECT tree.  Pangs of jealousy ravaged me.  The tantrums, bickering, and squabbles involved in tree selection escaped me this year as there was nobody to argue with. 

ahhhhhhhhh. memories.  I remember hauling the Christmas ornaments down out of the attic with one kid on my hip and the other clinging to my leg and still managed to put lights on the tree, decorate the house, and still get the kids fed, bathed, and into bed before 8:00 PM -- and still have the energy to prepare for the meeting of the board of directors the following morning.

Which now brings me to Christmas Past.  When I first moved to California back in the 1980's my aunt, who was a farmer/rancher in North Dakota, made me a manger scene as a gift.  It's something that I cherish and would save in a fire.  Every year I cry when I put it up, and I cry when I take it down.  Over the years I've had incidents involving the manger scene that included my son playing ball in the house (when I told him not to) and breaking the head off the little drummer boy.  I was SUPER angry, but managed to salvage the little drummer boy's head with strategically placed super glue.

It was not the only mishap my manger scene endured.

Then there was Sophie the cat.  I loved Sophie.  She was dark, charcoal grey with big green eyes.  She was an abused kitten who found her way to my doorstep and I took her in.  However, she HATED everybody else and was more protective of me than a pitbull.  She had an attitude.  She would hop up where the manger scene was and knock down the Three Wise Men.  Thankfully, they did not break to pieces upon hitting the floor.

Then there was my daughter's friend, Alexa.  Alexa and my daughter werethisclose during elementary school.  Alexa came from an Irish Catholic family (the dad was actually FROM Ireland and the mother with Irish ancestry).  Alexa practically lived at my house for about 2 years when the girls were in 4th - 6th grade.  Christmas time came.  Alexa helped us decorate the house for Christmas.  We get to my manger scene.  I explained to the girls while we were putting it up why it was so special to me.  Alexa and my daughter were eating up my stories of my North Dakota aunt and how the manger scene came to be in my possession.

The next day I came home to a missing baby Jesus from the manger scene.  Alexa and my daughter were sitting humbly on the sofa watching Sponge Bob, Hillary Duff (Lizzy McGuire), That's So Raven, and other Nicoledeon/Disney tv trash.  No, I don't believe in media censoring.  Censoring only heightens the attraction and mystique and drives them TO IT.   I do, however, believe in watching it with them and asking them questions about WHY it's trash without chastising or belittling them.

I'm getting off track.  I came home and my baby Jesus was missing from the manger scene.  It was only my daughter and Alexa in the house.  WHERE WAS BABY JESUS!!!!!  I'm psyCHO about my precious manger scene.  EVERYBODY WHO KNOWS ME KNOWS NOT TO MESS WITH IT!!!!!  Alexa meekly piped up and said, "Baby Jesus isn't born until Christmas Day.  I hid him."

Of course.  It makes perfect sense in Alexa's culture.

In loving memory of Aunt Emmy - and that's not just a sappy Hallmark sentiment.  I really mean it.

Facebook: The Book of the Dead

One more thing I forgot to mention earlier in my previous blog about Facebook and death.  Anybody who knows ANYTHING about being cool, hip, and trendy have known for a while that only OLD people use Facebook.  Duhhhhhh. get WITH IT.  You are all, so, like, LAME.  Facebook went out with the dinosaurs.  I guess that's why the Facebook encounters with death are more and more frequent.  It really is the 'book of the dead.' 

Keep note of the advertisements embedded in your news feed.  Assisted living, life insurance, living trusts, life alert 911 buzz line.... the "young" and the "hip" abandoned Facebook long ago.  It's only us pathetic old farts left (and bored moms on prozac). 

Facebook: Dead and Still Posting

Facebook has been around for about a decade now.  Lots happens in ten years.  What started out as the perpetual, braggie Christmas card has now had to deal with evolving ettiqette in subject matters of death, illness, etc.

I have a love/hate relationship with technology and its applications, such as Facebook.  On the plus side I'm able to keep in touch with a lot of people.  On the down side I'm able to keep in touch with a lot of people.

Here's where it gets weird for me.  My California best friend's mom died suddenly this week.  Of course, she was my "freind" on Facebook.  Now my Facebook notifications are dinging constantly with people "posting" on mom's wall -- like she can read it!

The other weird thing is that I have had other Facebook "freinds" die and yet they are still able to post and comment on my wall.  Sorry, but it's just weird to read a post on my wall knowing the person died three years ago.

I know I'm sensitive and pick up on vibes of the unseen, but I highly doubt that Facebook is being used as a medium to communicate from beyond the grave.

Black Friday: Sunny and Warm

Yesterday I texted my close friends to wish them a Happy Thanksgiving.  Granted, I have friends that cross every socio-economic background and then some.  Yes, I even have friends who fall into the "bored moms on prozac" definition.  

At the end of a long day cooking for a crowd (my labour of love) I paused at about 9:00 PM to text a few more friends I had not had a chance to connect with earlier.  One friend of mine told me that she left Thanksgiving dinner at her in-laws early to go out shopping with her daughter.  She texted me while she was standing in line at Target waiting for some tech product to come on the floor so she could be one of the first in this motley horde of people to grab it for a Christmas gift.  

Wait.  Let's see if I have this straight.  Leave a family function to stand in line to BUY something that somebody else had to bail on a family tradition because they were called into work on a holiday that is suppoosed to be about giving thanks for non-material things like family and friends to make the materialistic shopping transaction happen.  The irony.  

My friend has a soul that needs nourishment.  Seriously.  If standing in line at Target at 9:00 PM on Thanksgiving evening is something she CHOOSES to do, it is a sad state of her psychological state and inner compass.  

I REFUSE to participate in the white-trash world of shopping this weekend.....and I am white trash.  Only morons beat each other up for cheap junk made in China that will be thrown out and/or fogotten before the Christmas decorations come down.  

Granted, my inner compass and psychological state needs help, but standing in line anywhere to buy anything on Thanksgiving or the days immediately following is not my way of coping.  

Today was spent on the waterfront simply walking in the sunshine.  It was warm, sunny, and beautiful.  Thanks to global warming and climate change there is plenty more of that to come;)

Thanksgiving: THANK and GIVE

Happy Thanksgiving.  I know I use this blog as free therapy to dump frustrations.  No, I'm really not this bitchy in real life.  If by chance I do have any actual readers, it's completely by your own volition.  

This last year has thrown me some curve balls.  You all know the old saying that life is what happens while making other plans.  However, life has thrown some very prescious people in my life curve balls that they could not hit.  Sickness, death, divorce, job loss, and tragic accidents seemed to have happened at an exponential rate this past year to some people who in my book did not deserve it.  We truly do underappreciate and take for granted our creature comforts of good health, full bellies, and a decent place to live.

Which brings me to today.  It was on Thanksgiving Day 1986 that I packed my car with my wordly possesions and $500 to make a new life for myself leaving Minnesota behind for California.  I could have easily been a statistic in so many ways.  It was such a gamble.  My mother was not even there when I pulled out of the driveway the day I left.

So many things could have gone wrong as a young girl leaving home but didn't.  The stars just happened to be in my favor and I did not end up as a truck stop hooker in Nevada. 

I ended up having a good life in California.  I'm thankful for the lucky breaks I got along the way to be able to raise two kids who had a solid base of unconditional love and stability and also knew they were loved and valued NO MATTER WHAT.  

We are all vulnerable souls.  Anything can happen at any time to any of us.  Compassion, compassion, compassion -- even for the assholes who irritate the living shit out of us.

The Appointment with Death

No, you will not receive an email, intagram, nor Facebook post that you have an appointment with Death at 2:18 AM on Sunday. 

What?  An appointment with DEATH?  I don't have TIME for that!!!!!  I have to shuffle papers at 1:45, pay my bills at 4:30, and then meet my friends for dinner at 6:00 where they will toast me and tell me how WONDERFUL I am!  I will then need to fly off to (fill in the blank location) and show off to the world how IMPORTANT I am.  I then need to attend the Blah-Blah-Blah Institute of Egos Convention and reiterate how SMART and WORLDLY I am.  Did you SEE my WORK in the latest edition of EGO WRITE-UP? 

Really?

Let's put this in true perspective.  You're leaving here with nothing other than the selfish karma you created and the obligation to return to learn from it.  Me?  My plan is to try to get out of this plane of existence ASAP.  Hoping this life time is the last.  I've seen enough of you all.  Done.  

 

Marin Dog Party

What's with Paris Hilton starting the trend of everybody bringing their dogs everywhere?  I know it's cute and trendy to wear a little yappy mutt like a fashion purse, but this is just dog-gone ridiculous.  Now it's people bringing their giant poodles, greyhounds, and pit bulls to private functions like house parties and weddings.

I can't make this stuff up.

Tonight I went to a party at a private home.  The host is an Italian wine broker and he has been hosting this party the Saturday before Thanksgiving for the past 15 years.  Of course, he now lives in Marin.  Host can't help he was born of privelege and was sent to the  snobbist, private schools in Pebble Beach. He is actally a very nice guy and does not advertise his background or think that he is "all that"  That's why I like him.

Anyway, his guests did not get the memo.  They show up at his house acting like they own the place  bringing their obnixious little kids and dogs in tow.  Then there is the old lady crew who showed up with their obnoxious husbands and dogs in tow.

Unlike years past, there was a "tip jar" on the kitchen bar for the Marin Humane Society.  I don't know who put it there, but there it was.  As the evening went on, the little kids got cranky, the old man husbands got cranky, and the many dogs there started to growl, bark and yip at each other gunning for alpha male status.

Sorry, but I don't believe in bringing small children, dirty old men, nor dogs to an adult wine party. We want to relax, too, and don't want to babysit your little kid, nor shoo off your horny old huband and/or dog while you make social rounds laughing and eating oblivious to your responsibilies.

Of course, I have no filter and can't help myself in situations like this.  I exclaimed, "Wow!!!!  There sure is a lot of money in the jar for people wanting to bet on the dog fights that are about to happen."

It was sooooooo politically incorrect to say.  That's why I said it.

Car-ma

Car-ma.  I can't make this stuff up.  I'm so stunned that people can't see their own life lessons.  Life has a way of handing back your own shit over and over again until you get it right.  Sometimes it takes more than one lifetime until you, as a soul in progress, finally gets it and can progress to the next level of divine consciousness.  Are you open and aware?  My guess is no.  Most people are wandering blind, closed, and confused on this plane.

In some religions it's known as car-ma.  I know it's really karma, but in this instance it's car-ma.  You'll see why in a minute.

I have a freind who has two children.  The older one is in college out of state against the child's will.  My friend was adament that her kids go to a 4 year college right out of high school....and far away, for that matter.  There was a teary protest from Daughter when it was time to pack her bags and head off to school in Colorado.  She loved her life in Sonoma County and was not quite ready to head off.  No matter.  Mom said she was going.  That was that.

My friend's other child has vision issues and there has been a constant battle with the DMV in kid #2 getting his driver's license.  Mom is fighting the DMV tooth and nail because she believes Sonny has a god-given right to get his license -- although he's legally blind.

The driver's license issue was one where my friend and I butted heads.  Big time.  My friend was griping on the DMV rules and why they were making it so hard for 16 year-old Sonny to get his license.  She spent countless hours trying to fight the rules and regulations at the DMV as she believed them obtacles in place to personally make it hard for Sonny to drive.

I spoke up and said, "Driving is a privelege, not a right.  The rules are there for everybody's safety."

Well, Friend just about tore my head off.  How DARE I advocate for people having decent vision in order to DRIVE A CAR!!!!  We got into a heated debate about drivers and safety of others.  She is a strong-willed person, but so am I if pushed.

Fast forward 6 months.

On Halloween night we received a tragic phone call.  My friend's daughter was hit by a car in Colorado and thrown 30 feet.  She landed on her head and has multiple skull fractures.  Recovery will be slow and will require several months of hospital/rehab.  All my friend's daughter wants to do is to COME HOME (she never wanted to go away that far in the first place).  Of course, because of her delicate physical state, she can't be transported.  My friend and her husband are now on a tag-team taking leave from their jobs flying back and forth from San Francisco to Denver to be bedside with
Daughter while she makes her recovery.

Who was the driver who hit their Daughter?  A young man who "did not see" her.

If that's not car-ma, I don't know what is.

MORTIMER!!!!!!!

Yes.  I'm ready to be sent right into the looney bin.  My office ghost acted up on me again this afternoon.  My office ghost has been awfully noisy and mischievous lately. Today was another weird trip.

San Mateo Charlie, a colleague of mine,  came up to personally deliver some company workers'  compensation insurance checks to me this afternoon that I handle.  It's not uncommon for him to hand me over $75,000 - $100,000 per visit.  I track this and apply the WC premium for each employer.

Anyway...... after he dropped off the checks and left I began to process them.  I have my set routine.  I scan, enter, obtain verification signatures, blah, blah, blah, blah, until I have the set of records I need in place.  When complete, I set the checks in a specific place so I can make the bank deposit.

Today I was doing my set routine until I got to the last workers' compensation premium check.  I turned to my right to reach for the other checks that I had already processed and they were gone.

I freaked.

Wait.  Where did they go?  I did not leave my office.  Nobody was IN my office.  How could something like that disappear?  I began to tear through the garbage, outgoing mail, tracing my steps and turning filing cabinets upside down trying to figure out where the checks went!!!!  they were JUST THERE.  In front of my EYES.  Am I going batshit crazy?????

I called San Mateo Charlie in tears saying that I lost $100,000 worth of checks.  I've never lost checks in my life and I've been doing my job for 27 years.

Just as San Mateo Charlie would do, he tried to talk me down from the ledge.  He's so practical and German.  I retraced my steps three times over with him whilst on my cell phone.  Garbage.  Check.  Recycling, check.  Behind my desk.  Check. Under today's mail.  Check.  Recently opened files.  Check.  I went to my secretary's office to scour her area although I was not near there. 

I was upset and realized there was nothing I could do at this point but to go home, get a good night's rest, and come back in the morning to resume the search.  It's dark at 6:30 in the evening.  I began to make 'rounds to turn off all the lights and to lock up.

That's when I went back to my office to turn off all remaining lights only to see the missing checks I was looking for directly under my right computer monitor in plain view where I always place them after processing.  I swear they were not there 1 minute ago.

Maybe I should START drinking on the job.

Granted, my office was built in 1886 and has a known history of harboring ghosts.  Still, I don't like to be the subject of their practical jokes.  

4H and FFA vs Yuppie Wanna Be Farmers

I never thought I'd live to see it.  The next Cold War will NOT be between the Russia and the United States.  Rather, it will be between the long-established 4H/FFA (Future Farmers of America) and the 'johnny-come-lately-type' Yuppie Urbanist Farmer Wannabes who think they can sustain on a few roof top garden plots located in an industrialized area consisting of radishes and cabbage.

News Flash:  Farming ain't glamorous. 
Double News Flash:  There *is* a difference between gardening and farming.
Word to the Wanna-Bees

Yeah, stop with the "organic" and other buzzwords that just makes all authentic farmers want to kill  you Yuppies while you're sipping your latte, flying off to Europe for an extended stay, and texting on your cell phone.   Real farmers don't have time/resources for that.  How could they when calving season is happening?  What about harvest?  What about the rain that could ruin the entire crop if it's not done in time?  What about hail/snow/tornadoes?  What about the new "bug" that is eating up all healthy crops but pesticides can't be used?  What about an early frost? 

Sure.  The two dirt beds for your rooftop garden are great.  Don't think for a minute you're a real farmer.  It's nothing but a trendy-feel-good-pass-time for you.  If your garden goes to hell in a hand basket, as it most certainly will at some point, you'll be the first in line at the grocery store buying produce from REAL FARMERS.

The difference between farmers and gardeners is that farmers do this as a livelihood.  Farmers have no other job or source of income.  It's their life.  They live or die with the grace of nature's kindness.  Gardeners have other jobs and it's not their livelihood.  Gardeners work all day at a "city job" and come home to tinker in their gardens and be *in* the elements.  Farmers toil all day in the fields and come in at evening time hoping to finally get the dirt washed off of them and get *out* of the elements. 

Know the difference.

Yahoo Mail and Internet Viruses

I'm so sorry I ever YaHOOOOOOOOOOO'd.  You know, the internet search engine and mail provider that has the most inept security EVER? 

I'm tech savvy enough to know that any "free" internet mail and search engine isn't free.  Your information is bought, sold, and traded multiple times via the "cloud" which is the modern day version of dealing under the table. 

I do need to make an exception for Firefox. 

I'm getting off track.  Back to Yahoo.  Like I said, I 'm tech savvy enough to be very skeptical of "free" internet mail.  I do have a Yahoo mail account that I use for junk correspondence and transactions.  I can't tell you how many times my Yahoo account has been compromised due to:  hacking, phishing, spoofing, high-jacked, etc.

Yes, it's a frivolous email account.  However, it's a major inconvenience when some techno-hijacker attempting to implant the dreaded Crypto virus posing as me and I need to notify everybody in my address book to NOT OPEN UNSOLICITED WEB ADDRESSES OR ATTACHMENTS!

Remember back in the 70's and the awkward embarrassment of notifying previous sexual partners that you had herpes or some other sexually transmitted disease?  (or at least people with a conscience did).  Forget that.  Now it's the awkward embarrassment of fessing up to spreading computer viruses. 

The Apple and the Tree

Remember the old saying 'the apple does not fall far from the tree'? Sure you do. Do you believe it? Sure I do. When my sister was getting married to her first husband, there was the mandatory couples counseling prior to the marriage. Catholic priest leading the sessions told my sister to take a hard, long look at Beloved's father, as that is what he will turn into. The same for Beloved, that my sister will eventually turn into her mother. Talk about free advice that went in one ear and out the other. At the time of this wise Catholic counseling Beloved's father, Bud, was living with my sister and Beloved in their townhouse in Fremont. Bud could not hold a job, never had any money, and liked to sit around the house all day drinking pots of coffee, watch TV, and leaving dirty dishes for my sister to clean up. "Oh NOOOOOOOOOO!!! Beloved will NEVER turn into his father," my sister exclaimed to Catholic Priest. Beloved has too much ambition and sense! Beloved is almost through his training to become an air traffic controller at the Oakland Airport. He's NOTHING like Bud!!!! Well, as it turns out Catholic Priest was right. It took less than 5 years of marriage for the apple to fall in a direct, perpendicular decent from the tree. Beloved took to the addiction and high of meth. Beloved lost his job at the Oakland Airport and is now living with HIS son dealing meth -- sans teeth. Now, about my sister turning into my mother. That's fodder for a subsequent blog. Being we both share the same mother it scares the living you-know-what out of me. Seriously.

English Beat: 80's Flashback

OK... so I went to go see my English Boy Crush tonight.  Yes, he's still "all that" along with his black sidekick.  Yup.  They both still look damn good.

What made me dance and sing with delight was when these songs were played I knew the lyrics, and knew when to clap/pose/dance mid song (revealing MTV 80's hey day).  Most people there were slightly unsure of what music was even being played let alone what to do with it.  They were in their 20's and early 30's dressed like they were going somewhere refined wearing heals and nice shirts.  All they knew was that it was the place "to be."

Enter us rusted out 40-50 somethings who knew what we were getting into.  Yeah, our clothes/style *rocked* the younger set who secretly wished they could be confident enough to wear what we wore.  The youngsters were trying too hard to impress and make a statement.  We 40-50's were comfortable, but yet classy, and most of all FUN.  I guess it's because we did not take ourselves so seriously.  We were there simply to reminisce good times, dance, and have a cocktail or two.   We owned the concert:)  A little bit of free advice to the younger set:  Never wear heals to a music/dance fest.  Even if you decide to kick off your shoes, the floor is sticky with spilled beer and chances are your shoes will never be found. 

Identity Crisis: Empty Nest - MidLife

Even my own mother and sister are freaked about me calling them on the phone and crying as of late.  I never call them and cry.  I never really cry in front of others.  I may bitch a lot about useless stuff, but to actually cry??????  Granted, my mother and sister are of very stoic Germanic stock and my emotions are met with puzzlement and confusion and their three-words-or-less attempts at "fixing" me (which is the goal of all Germans.  We are machines.  If something is wrong, fix it. Damn it.  And shut up about it.)  My mother and sister are like Spock on StarTrek and totally oblivious to emotions and feelings. 

Which begs the question of what about dad and my brothers.  Dad is super-intuitive/psychic and his abilities were squashed and inhibited by the 1930's WASP Midwest farmer mentality of 'that freaky hippie crap does not exist.'  I think my older brother is incredibly intuitive and psychic and my younger brother has the ability as well, but they are suppressed by their culture and immediate environment so they try to push it down and ignore it.  Ok, so they are warped, too.

Then there is me.  The rebel from birth.  Whatever.  I just don't fit in anywhere.  I wear my heart on my sleeve and never fail to express emotions. 

Anyway, back to identity crises, empty nest, and midlife crisis.  I've had anticipated quasi-freedom for about 2 years when my youngest graduated from high school.  I knew on the superficial level that things were about to shift.  However, my youngest being a homebody she stuck around close to home and close to mom after high school ended, and junior college began.  I should add that I spent the last decade as a travel sport parent, so being home on the weekends is still a foreign concept to me. 

I was only too happy to oblige her.  I'm such a co-dependent.  I was needed.  I love providing for others. 

Now that she has moved away and her visits home are now sporadic and brief I'm left trying to figure out what to do with myself.  For real.  Sure, I toyed with the ideas of finding my own interests but my daughter was still around to sabotage my long-term goals of joining a choir, dance team, or orchestra. 

Not anymore.  It's just me, myself, and I.  Now that I *really* have the time and resources to do what *I* want it's weird. 

Thank Goddesses that my Sonoma County bestie, MSS, is taking me out to get my wimpy-English-dude-fix by getting tickets to English Beat :)

Tesla: Envirornmentalism for Snobs

If I see one more Tesla car I'm going to puke.  The only people who drive them are monied environmentalist wanna-bees.  They think that because they "buy" a $150,000 car that is so-called friendly to the environment, they can justify their hillside McMansions and other gross, materialistic crimes of overboard consumerism that are strangling earth's resources.

Hypocrites.   pffffffffft

Perfect Mess

I would say that my life is the perfect mess right now.  I've been teetering on the edge of "what's next" and suddenly along comes a huge gust of wind that just pushed me into uncharted territory.  
I've been mentally bracing myself for transition for a few years now.   I knew it was coming.  Denial is a wonderful aid, and busying myself with surface noise and distractions also works well.   It's so much easier not to think too deeply or deal with our inner issues. 

It's a strange feeling now that the house is eerily silent and nobody is around.  I craved silence and solitude for 27 years, as I never had a moment for myself.  Ever.  For years I just wanted everybody OUT of my house. 

Be careful what you wish for. 

Another Weird Evening

I'm in my office doing my Friday paperwork shuffle when at about 4:00 PM my cell phone rings.  It's my Sonoma County bestie, MSS, asking what my plans were for the evening.  To be honest, I had no plans.  I was just going to go home and cry as that's been my pattern as of late.  MSS knows this and wants to bring me out to get me out of my rut.  I agree to accompany her to a dive bar in Petaluma and then to Sebastopol for live African music/dance. 

Talk about a weird twist of events.  Upon entering the African music/dance party, I see a guy I used to work with YEARS ago.  The story is too long and complicated, but the gist of it is that I saved his life arranging a liver transplant for him that the insurance coverage did not want to cover nor deal with.  To this day he has no idea what I went though to make the liver transplant happen.  Fast forward 15 years.  There he is tonight sitting a table huggy/kissy with his new lady love DRINKING A BEER.  I went to the ends of the earth trying to make this guy well from his alcoholic liver.  I pass by him.  He does not see me.  He has no idea I'm there.  After a little bit, there he is out dancing to the music enjoying life.  It took every ounce of my being not to beat him over the head in front of everybody and scream, "If it weren't for me, you'd be DEAD -- ASSHOLE." 

I digress.  I did refrain myself, but it was difficult.  On another note, I immersed myself in the rhythm of West African drums and music.  There is something that speaks to my primitive, tribal soul that moves my body.  For the band on stage comprised of black guys to take note of my dancing and comment, "You move pretty good -- for a white girl" is a compliment I will never tire of. 

The Rhythm of Seasons - Lost

Nature is producing some pretty strange things.  No.  Strike that.  Reverse it.  We are producing strange things to nature.  No wonder Mother Nature is so confused. 

Mother Nature had it all planned and operating perfectly.  We had our seasons of both human life and nature.  There was a definite spring, summer, autumn, and winter.  Each season served its purpose and our ancestors, also creations of nature, tuned into the rhythm and patterns with awe and respect. 

There is no rhythm anymore to anything.  No rhythm to our lives and decreasing amounts of rhythm to nature.  Seasons are blurred.  Roses bloom in January.  Our arrogance as humans thinks we can out smart Mother Nature.  Nice try.  Once Mother Nature gets tired of us trying to fool her and poison her and the confusion lifts, she will respond with anger.  We deserve it. 

It reminds me of the corny margarine commercial from the 1970's that said, "It's not nice to fool Mother Nature."

Sonoma County EDD: Dr. Chris Thornberg

I went the the republican breakfast on Friday at the Hyatt.  Why?  I'm not sure.  I just wanted to check it out.  I have my pulse on the business world and every once in a while I want to compare my intuitive hunches to the charts and graphs presented.

At my job, I'm anonymously down in the trenches actually managing cash, payroll, and benefits hands-on for several entities both public and private.  Charts and graphs don't mean diddly when there is no money in the bank and payroll is due at 2:00 PM.  Slide shows and statistics don't mean much when business owners snipe each other in back room deals over lucrative contracts with governments and side step labor laws to maximize profits for themselves all in the name of "free market economy." 

The speaker, Dr. Chris Thornberg, is nice to look at and a vibrant speaker.   However, I just had an unsettling feeling there is a disconnect between the information presented and reality.  It's almost like we are being purposely placated and led to believe that all is well.  That much I believe to be true -- for the rich -- and for the immediate future.  Dr. Thornberg was like the captain of the ship getting on the public address system and telling people "don't panic -- we have it all under control" as the Titanic is sinking.

At the end of the presentation, the audience was invited to write questions on a card.  Dr. Thornberg went into lengthy detail about many of the questions asked.  The one question that was asked that I believe will impact us all more than anything and was quickly pushed under the rug was, "What about climate change and anticipated impact?"

It was the most important question asked -- as none of the other issues and questions will matter -- was met with the glib response of, "It's getting warmer."

That, my dear friends, is the elephant in the room.

Tomorrow: Election Day

I'm about to delve into the piles of election material(s) for tomorrow.  Here in Sonoma County, California, we have lots to ponder and choose.  In actuality, I'm not really certain how my individual vote really changes anything.  Things are just as messed up as they always have been.  What does it all mean when God is supposedly in charge, anyway? 

It Happened -- Again

I must have opened up something as more psychic hits keep coming.  It's frustrating because I can NEVER predict when and how they happen, nor the frequency.  They just do.  I have no control over it.  I wish I did.  I can go months without anything, and then suddenly I get a stream of back-to-back gut feeling hits that feel like a *knowing* that I can't explain that are confirmed.  Then there are my dreams.  Because of my vivid dreaming I can't always predict which ones are premonitions -- some dreams are premonitions and some are not.   Sometimes I'll get a single, random psychic hit out of the blue.

All I know is that there is not an established pattern but when it happens, it happens. 

Halloween and the Day of the Dead

No wonder I feel like jumping off the Golden Gate Bridge lately.  The rhythm of nature is now signalling the season of death.  Since ancient times Halloween has been when the veil between the physical and the spiritual is at it's thinnest.  Even those who are not usually "sensitive" experience visits from the beyond this time of year. 

Tomorrow I will celebrate with my pagan sisters doing what, I don't exactly know...  We may set up in my haunted office to see what Mortimer really wants and why the spirit is hanging around.  I guess during all these years nobody has genuinely bothered to ask.  As it stands right now the plans are to either contact Mortimor from beyond or go hit the bars/clubs and dance. 

Choices.

2:27 AM Wake Up: Elton John

I was so restless last night.  I woke up at exactly 2:27 AM to this old Elton John song that was half dream/half wake state.  I actually caught myself trying to sing along in my not-quite-consciousness.  I can still hear my sister playing this on the piano as kids, and my soul can still process the lyrics.  Fast forward 40 years and the same lyrics haunt me now in a totally different realm. 

Selfie: Narcissists

Our culture has even become more narcissistic with technology (if that's even possible).  It's as if everybody now feels the need to document their daily events over social media -- complete with the dreaded "selfie" where the only purpose is to convey, "Look at MEEEEEEEEE!"

 Is that how now we value our worth as a human?  Do we measure ourselves by how many posts, tweets, twits, instagrams, whatever we generate? 

Why do we feel the need to disclose painfully private information and should-be-private-intimate-moments between family and friends?  Why do we feel the need to announce the obvious to the free world like, "I love my boyfriend!!!  My life is now complete."

Are we so self-absorbed we feel the need for an audience for every little thing or we will be forgotten?  Are our egos that pathetic?  I had no idea narcissism could be taken to another level, but we managed it. 

Canada: America "nice"

"Now what" I ask of my sister country to the north after the killings in Ottowa.

Growing up in Minnesota I got plenty of the "Canada is just like the USA -- only better, nicer, and less violent."

A personal pet peeve of mine is the bragging by Canadians (usually ones who are living in the USA) of their non-violent, the-world-loves-us-more-than-you, and pious snobbery of being uber liberal and how they are not like us nasty, gun-loving, knuckle-dragging, ignorant Americans.   Canada is portrayed as a type of social Utopia of how they are beyond senseless bloodshed and killings. Too bad their weather sucks so much and many of them leave.

Which now goes to my first statement now that they are experiencing attacks on their own turf of, "Now what?"

Canada is not immune to attacks by whack-o extremists, either.  It will be interesting to see how Canadians react. 

Ghosts in the Office

I work in a historical building.  It's long been rumored that it's haunted.  For years, I've been blaming misplaced files on Mortimor the Ghost. About 15 years ago I was getting new carpeting in the office and the carpet layer looked at me strangely and said, "Who is that man standing in back of you?"

Huh?  There was not anybody in my office.  I shrugged it off.

My building is really creepy sometimes.  I could go on and on about weird instances over the years, but I will refrain.  The past year or so I've been visited more and more frequently by a male, shadowy figure that walks past my office door.  Even my assistant notices and has said something -- and she is NOT somebody who believes. 

This shadowy figure is now getting noisy.  Yesterday shortly after 5:00 a loud, forceful knock was at my door and the mail slot opened, but nothing came through.  I thought perhaps it was an UPS delivery or something of the like so I jumped up to catch the delivery person before s/he left.  My office is at the end of a hallway.  There is NO way s/he could have left that quickly.  There was nobody there.  I even jogged down the hallway hoping to catch whom I thought the delivery person to no avail.  I even called out loud. 

No mail note, no UPS note, no FedEX note.  Nothing.

Mecury Retrograde

Oh yeah, Mercury is retrograde for most of this month.  Expect to feel frustrated, stuck, and have technical glitches galore.  Expect to be agitated, annoyed, and want to punch somebody. 

I think there may be something to astrology and energy.  I know that belongs to woo-woo science, which many dismiss as pseudo-witchcraft, but whatever.  I'm not one to sell my worldly belongings and follow the Hale-Bop Comet and commit suicide with like-minded fellows in matching sneakers with Heavens Gate devotees. 

What the connection is or isn't I can't prove nor explain.  I can attest to personal "a-HA" moments that defy all measurable scientific theories.  I don't expect anybody to believe me.  I don't preach, either.  All I know is that time is in my favor while I silently sit back and wait for technology to catch up and "measure" to satisfy the masses.  

The world was flat 900 years ago, right?   Germs did not exist 600 years ago.... or did they?  We were not able to quantify it down to human comprehension and measurement.  So we dismissed what actually was, but did not (at the time) have the ability to measure to satisfy our limited human brain. 

Ebola: The only thing spreading is ignorance

Let's put this entire ebola thing into logic, shall we?  I know that is contradictory to manufactured media hype and panic -- the thing that sells papers and draws viewers.  So sad that humans fall for this 'fear and panic' tactic time and time again.  Sigh.

Anyway, I'm really trying to understand how the ebola virus spreads.  This is what I have thus far:

1.  Close contact with an infected, contagious person.  Close contact meaning feces or vomit;
2.  The spread of the virus in West Africa is due to handling infected, contagious corpses by mourners.  Apparently, in their culture handling of the corpse (kissing, hugging, tossing into the air) is part of their funeral.  Sanitation in that part of the world is less than desirable by Western standards;
3.  The virus is not easily spread by what Westerners consider " public, social contact."

This is where it gets murky for me to follow.  There must have been a breakdown in communication somewhere with the Texas nurse who contracted the disease.  I don't think it was disclosed by hospital protocol what she was really dealing with and the hospital did not want go on record of harboring the virus until it was too late.  Something is greatly amiss there. 

Bottom line:  You are more likely to die of the flu than the ebola virus. 

The Pictures

This weekend I'm visiting my active military son.  I have not had a chance to *really* talk with him for 9 months.  Since I've seen him last, he has traveled to Asia and the South China Sea.  Last night I finally got to see pictures from his Asia adventure.

He was scrolling through photos on his phone.  One caught my eye.  I asked him to stop and go back as I wanted to get a better look at the picture.  It looked like a cave.  There was nothing descript about the picture.  For whatever reason I got a sudden rush of sadness and despair.  I asked him what the picture was.  He drew a deep sigh and said it was a picture of an assasination site of American POW's on Wake Island.  I know nothing about the history of Wake Island.  I then got a rush feeling of the irony of being on this beautiful, heavenly island and being tortured to death.

I can't explain how, when, or why I get unpredictable waves of undeniable psychic energy.  All I know is that it happens.

O0h-OO0hhhhhh

Look closely above.  Is that a numeric zero, or an alphabetic O?

O00h-ooo0Oh???  How do we tell the difference?  

Great question... as I'm sure you've all been caught in the "is that a zero or an O" game in submitting codes, passwords, etc. 

Every self-respecting-code-specific-computer-geek-engineer ALWAYS puts a slash through a numeric zero to tell the difference...kind of like Europeans putting a slash through sevens to distinguish them from ones.

Sonoma County History Lesson:  About 20-25 years ago, when Highway 12 was first going through major growing pains, one of the first planned intersection revamps just west of downtown was slated for major construction.  The engineer did marked either what could be interpreted as a 7 or a 1 on some blue print construction plans (I'm going back to pre-computer everything).  The construction crew interpreted incorrectly.  Mess.

Moral of the story... always draw a slash through your sevens and through your zeros.  Expensive, time consuming, mishaps happen.  

Next Generation: Family DysFUNction

Yes.... my family put the FUN in dysFUNctional.  This weekend unloaded a lifetime of latent emotions that have been lingering since I was small.  I finally got sick of it.  What are they (meaning my family) going to do to me?  Take away my birthday (I wish).  Cut me out of the will (I have my own financial plan).

The point of no return was when I learned my barely 18 year-old niece, who recently gave birth in June, was turned in by her boss to Child Protective Services because she was showing signs of being physically abused  by her boyfriend - and also her infant daughter was showing signs of abuse.  A court ordered hearing was set.

No, the boss is not some hate mongering busybody who wants to ruin my niece's life.  She was also a teen mom hooked up with an abusive asshole (she eventually dumped him and now runs a multi-million dollar business) trying to show my niece there is a better way.

I'm sorry, but this pattern of accepting abuse as LOVE was leftover from at least three generations that I can attest to.  It has infiltrated its way through and around to to contaminate at least two more generations of females who render themselves stupid, unworthy, and unable to truly understand what unconditional love really is.

Yup.  I spilled my guts.  My niece hates me now because I dared to tell her how I was tangled up with an abusive asshole who pretty much is the clone of the father of her  child.  I told her how lies were told as truth, promises were unmet, and sucking up my money for his bills/wants/toys/DUI's was the norm, only to be rewarded with physical/emotional abuse and anger that I could not produce MORE to bail him out and cater to HIS needs.  Typical co-dependent.  I actually felt shitty that I did not produce more.

Well, I also dared to tell my niece that the father of her child is a registered pedophile/sex offender who spent 2 years in prison.  Wake the FUCK UP.  Anybody in their right minds would run.

My niece is not in her right mind.  Why should she be?  She has been subject to another generation of Family Bullshit.

My sister (her mother) and her husband have had a lifetime of fucking up my niece and controlling her like she was living in a POW camp.  Now they scratch their heads in disbelief when their daughter rebells.  Duh.    Gee, maybe my niece really did not WANT to spend the weekend at isolated religious camps trying to cram Jahovah Witness bullshit down her throat?  What else were they trying to cram down her throat?

Parenthood: Little Moments of Pride

When my kids were younger I often wondered if my efforts were all in vein.  I never slept.  I was either working at my job, or working at trying to be a good parent.  That was my existence.  Period. 

I know some parents like to measure their parenting skills by test scores, athletic achievements, jobs attained, blah, blah, blah, or other external attributes they can point to. 

Not me.

I had confirmation last night while chatting with my college-age daughter over dinner.  Somehow, we got on the subject of relationships and how some girls her age get caught up in an abusive situation and how they struggle to get out -- if they ever do.  My daughter said, "I have high standards and I'm extremely picky about who will get close to me."

She has a healthy sense of self-esteem and a strong sense of what a balanced, healthy relationship should look like.  With that being said, I do have to give her father credit.  He made it very clear from her birth that she's of worth, and deserves to be shown respect from guys. 

Chicago and the Curse

....or should I say blessing?  There is definitely something going on with my industry and the unexplained coincidences surrounding their annual national convention.  In the recent past, the annual convention (which is planned 7 years out) has been crippled due to:
1.  September 11, 2001:  Host city Washington, D.C. - terrorist attacks;
2. August 23, 2005:  Host city New Orleans - Hurricane Katrina;
3.  October 1, 2013:  Host city Washington, D.C. - government shutdown;
4.  September 26, 2014:  Host city Chicago, IL - All flights grounded due to fire at air traffic control center.
I was reluctantly packing my bag last night and contemplating what time I should leave for SFO to catch my flight to Chicago's O'Hare Airport.  This morning I awoke to a breaking news story just as the alarm clock was going off saying that all flights in the Chicago area have been grounded due to a fire in the Aurora, IL control center.  Nobody is going into or out of O'Hare or Midway Airports. 

This was breaking news at the time and I'm skeptical of media embellishing stories to attract viewers.  I hopped on the airline website and my flight still showed that it was departing on time.  Hmmmmmm.....  I'm also skeptical of airlines as they will string you along for all eternity with "just another 20-30 minute delay" while mum about details.

I'm ping-ponging between live television reports showing hideous chaos, cancellations, and lines at airports around the nation -- including SFO -- and the airline website still claiming that it's only a "slight delay."  

I'm left with the choice of deciding which report is as close to the truth as possible.

Today the television media wins my credibility vote.  I know... it's a rarity.... but today I think it's closer to the truth as I'm *still* on hold with the airline after 37 minutes after their recorded greeting said the wait time was 5-10 minutes.  

Truth is.....

......listen carefully.... the truth is being spoken all around you.  You know when you hear a comment from a friend or perhaps even a stranger and the words ricochet through your soul and hit your heart?  That's what I'm talking about. 

The truth is everywhere if we are open to receiving it.  The problem is that many people 'dismiss' these diving opportunities for learning and growth.  The black-and-white-two-dimension people will stay stuck in their egos.  To quote Sting, "There is a deeper wave than this." 

Raffle Prize!!!!!! WINNER

My industry hosts a lot of golf tournaments.  It seems like every other week there is one somewhere.  For YEARS i have passed on participating as golfing is not my god-given talent and I always felt guilty about ditching the office and family responsibilities to travel and spend company money/time at some luxury resort and course. 

I'm figuring out that guilt is a useless emotion.

I'm also figuring out that being responsible with company money is also useless.  If I don't spend it, they will.....  and it will not be for my enjoyment nor benefit. 

Sooooooooo..... off to the "prestigious" snob-a-torium courses I go.  I'm sure a hacker like myself makes the pros and wannabes cry.  They spent years hob-nobbing and ass kissing to get to play on a specific course, and here lowly me, the newbie, shows up like it's no big deal.  Cuz it isn't. 

No, I did not walk away with a score to brag about.  I did, however, win $1,000 worth of stuff off of $40 of raffle tickets despite others around me with strings and strings of purchased of tickets that they must have spent at least $200 on.  

The secret?  Don't care!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  It will come to you.  

24 Hour Pharmacy

There are 24 hour fast food establishments, gyms, and grocery stores.  There are even pharmacies within the 24 hour grocery stores.  WHY IS IT THAT YOU CAN PURCHASE LIQUOR 24 HOURS A DAY -- BUT NOT GET A PRESCRIPTION FILLED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

Sorry, but that means you must staff the pharmacy.  I know pharmacists are way more expensive than your self-checkout stations in regards to overhead, but Safeway would have a gold mine.  I discovered that the only two pharmacies open 24 hours were located in Santa Rosa and San Francisco.  The place had a line a mile deep on a Saturday night with desperate people in need of whatever it was they needed. 

Sorry, but not all ailments can be self-medicated with a bottle of vodka.  Why is it that vodka is available, but antibiotics and other things that actually start the healing process are not? Medical situations don't neatly fall into 9-9 during the week and 10-6 on the weekends. 

Magical Weekend

Words can't describe how this weekend went.  My homie, JLB, was here.  We picked up exactly where we left off.  We always do.  Neither time nor space can sever our friendship.  It's no accident we were born a month apart and three houses down from each other.  I don't even remember the first time I even met JLB.  It doesn't matter how much time lapses in between our visits.  It doesn't matter if we NEVER talk on the phone (we read each other telepathically, anyway). Some people and relationships in this go 'round of life are without boundaries. 

There were so many magical things that happened this weekend.  Our psychic senses were definitely at work and I was honored to witness some really cool "energy" that most people are blind and oblivious to.  The weekend went better than we could have ever planned.  We met up with others who are on our same wave length and it was like a bunch of old souls gathered together for a happy reunion. 

JLB: The Road Trip

My bestie, JLB,  from back home is due to arrive sometime tomorrow afternoon.  She is driving all the way from Minnesota to Sonoma County just to SEE ME!  I feel so honored.

Seriously, JLB has had some serious life changes in the past year.  Her only kid graduated from high school.  Her mom has severe health issues that requires JLB to be an advocate/nurse 24/7.  I could add to the pile of demands only to tell you that she has been laid off from her full-time job she has held for the past 16+ years. 

Whoa.

For somebody who has NEVER been unemployed since age 16 to suddenly be catapulted into "involuntary retirement" is not something to be taken lightly.  This girl is a work horse and knows NOTHING of sitting around and watching TV or dinkering with art projects thinking that money will  automatically fall out of the sky to pay the bills and other life expenses. 

I'm getting off track.  Upon getting her pink slip I suppose she thought it was in her best interest to get out of Dodge.  I don't blame her.  Best to get the message out early that just because JLB is currently "unemployed" does NOT make her anybody's on-demand servant.

Love ya, JLB.  xxoo

Airlines and Reclining Seats

We've all been there.  We are crammed in like sardines.  The person in front of us reclines his/her seat back and now their head is in your crotch.

Solution:  Smile demurely and with a hushed tone of embarrassment tell the inconsiderate crotch sniffer that you suffer from a spastic gastronomical syndrome that has a name too long to pronounce.  Sudden blasts of uncontrollable flatulence will likely escape.

....i bet seat will be up in .02 seconds. 

Ding DONG!!!!!!!!

WTF????  The front doorbell rings yesterday.  It's a sweaty San Francisco fireman who was out on a bike ride donning his tight bicycle shorts.  He stopped by unexpectedly to say "hi" as our daughters went to school together. 

I may have to rethink my stance on drop-in company. 

Drug/Alcohol Addiction

It's happened again.  The kid of somebody I work with overdosed and died.  It's soooooooo sad as this kid seemed to have it all together. 

The one pattern I'm putting together is that there is no pattern with how people become addicted to drugs/alcohol.  There is the argument that there is a genetic tendency.  There is the argument that it's environmental.  There is the argument that if you were only strong enough you could rid yourself of such demons -- which is where addicts develop shame, self-loathing and sometimes get even worse. 


What I find so amusing is another guy I work with is a 'dry drunk' as he combated his alcohol addiction only to become a workaholic and an all-purpose asshole.  He is super preachy and self-righteous to others who have not conquered their demons yet.

Now HIS son is in the hospital for almost killing himself via alcoholism. 

You love brother/sister MORE

After giving birth twice in my lifetime, each time I was handed this completely dependent infant to guide its life for the next two decades -- without instructions or guarantees of parenting skills.

Many, many times I second guess myself when I'm handling a situation with one of my kids.  Each of them has their own temperament and personality.  What works with one kid does NOT work with the other one.  This is not a one-size-fits-all deal.  Each kid watches the parental repercussions of the other sibling and just waits for the right moment to throw out the infamous, "But you let my brother/sister do X so WHY CAN'T I?  You love brother/sister MORE THAN ME."

Kids LOVE playing siblings against each other with the parents.  They love playing parents against each other with the kids.  It's their own chess game using family members.  They are natural geniuses at it.

I only had two kids for a multitude of reasons -- one of them because I did not want to have a middle child as they can't help but get lost in the family dynamic shuffle.  It's just the way it is.  However, having two kids creates an automatic polarity.



 

Invisible Me

One of the wonders of being born into a large family as an ignored female middle child is noticing  how we are *not* noticed.  We are invisible.  This is not necessarily a bad thing.

Growing up, weeks would go by and nobody would ever say my name.  Truth be told, I did not even know my real name when I went to kindergarden.  You think I'm kidding.  I am not.

All of this made me an astute observer.   I just learned to shut up and silently sit in the background.  It's amazing what people divulge voluntarily.  I don't have to do anything except just sit there and listen.  They are not even aware of my presence.  People have big mouths.  They have even bigger egos when it comes to social media.  They voluntarily post excruciatingly personal information and then get wigged out when it's used against them.

Being a nondescript, anonymous nothing has worked out incredibly well for me.  I'm so happy that "nothing" amounts to "something."

--Anonymous

The Quake

Yes.  We live in earthquake country.  I was starkly reminded of that at 3:20 AM on Sunday morning.  In retrospect, I should have sensed something.  That night my cat was acting stangely.  He jumped up onto my bed, but did NOT want "love-enz" and jumped down.  About five minutes later, he jumped up onto the bed again, gave me a pathetic "meeeeee-ow" and jumped down.  That pattern continued until I fell asleep.

About 2:00 in the morning I was awakened by critters scurrying across the deck outside my bedroom.   It was like a party of rats and raccoons were line dancing.  I was on the border of getting out of bed and turning on the back light to see what was going on, but I was too lazy.  I listened to the ruckus and fell back to sleep.

Just as I was falling asleep things began to rock and shake.

Initial radio reports moments after totally dismissed the man who called in from lowly Sonoma to report real damage.  The radio station was more interested in reports from San Jose, San Francisco, and Oakland.  Little did the station know at the time was that the epicenter really was in the North Bay and they blew off reports from rural wine hicks.

Message to the  KCBS radio host:  My apologies if the epicenter of the earthquake was not more centrally located in the larger metropolitan areas to draw a larger listening audience for your pre-dawn radio show.  Somehow, I don't think Mother Nature gives a you-know-what.  The only plus side is that the skittish tourists who invade Sonoma/Napa will leave!  THANK YOU EARTHQUAKE GODS.

Can I now get to Napa with a little less traffic?????????

Just Popping In: Please don't

I live in a fishbowl.  I have relatives who live up my ass and around the corner, knock three times and come on in. 

Seriously, I need to barricade myself in my own home with garage door shut and blinds closed.  If I don't, the nearby relatives take it as an invitation to walk in through the garage (unannounced) with others thinking that I will happily drop what I'm doing to converse with them. 

Today I was a mode of cleaning and had my rhythm going.  I had furniture polish in one hand, a dust rag in the other, my hair pulled back, and wearing my grubby cleaning clothing.  I was NOT in a mood to receive guests. 

Three knocks.  Before I could even answer the door swung open -- instant company coming into my kitchen -- thinking I'm sooooooooo happy they are rescuing me of my mundane chores to hear all about what's going on in THEIR lives. 

Not really.  I just wanted to be left alone to tackle messes that have been driving me crazy as I rarely have a Saturday to accomplish such tasks.  I made the mistake of leaving the garage door open and they took it as a cue that they could barge in unannounced. 

I did not let them get far beyond the doorway.  I did not offer for them any refreshments.  I did not offer for them to even sit down, which if  I *knew*  I would never rid of them.  Still, well over an hour passed as they chatted on mindlessly as I'm watching the clock as I had my "chore" work planned.  Gripping the furniture polish and dust rag the entire time did not deter them. 

Please don't pop in on people and STAY.  It's rude. I think I'm going to start cleaning the house stark naked.  I will stand there as if nothing was wrong not even running for a robe.  If they pop in on me and shriek in embarrassment perhaps they will wait for an invitation or at least call before hand.  

Costco: Dating Hot Spot

I don't *^#@!% believe it.  I was hit on while shopping at Costco in Rohnert Park.  I was there this afternoon with shopping list in hand maneuvering the wide shopping cart through the aisles that was already overflowing with a 40 pound bag of dog food, a new dog bed, coffee, beer, and wine. 

The end caps are always congested with carts and people hovering and swooping like vultures devouring the "free samples" that are coming out of the microwave.  I had to carefully make my way through the perched food predators to get to the next aisle.  Out of sheer politeness, I yielded to a guy who also had a shopping cart full of goods and gave an apologetic smile while passing through. 

I was already an aisle or two over when the same guy approached me and asked me if my name was Geraldine from Pleasanton.  I said "no" and he then went onto say that I had a twin.  He then blurted out the question inquiring whether or not I was available and wanted to asked me out. 

I was dumbfounded.  I was flattered.  I was creeped out. 

Let's see...... I'm at Costco doing a routine shopping excursion.  A strange man approaches me from out of the blue.  Like I'm actually going to hook up with a strange guy I met at the canned goods aisle at Costco?   No. 

He must be *really* desperate.  I'm hoping by the time he got to the dairy aisle his unorthodox, clumsy approach hitting on women landed him luck with somebody else as he did not follow me out to my car. 

The Birthday

Today marks the 46th birthday of my cousin had she lived to see it.  Unfortunately, she died in a rural roll over car accident on a gravel road when she was 15.  In North Dakota, farm kids are allowed to drive at a young age because of the large, open space and the logistics of just getting to school and operating the farm trucks getting the harvest in. 

Maybe driving laws have changed in North Dakota since 1983, but that's what it was back then.

Anyway, I knew a couple days before her death something was "off."  I could not pin point it.  The day she died I did not go to school that day knowing something was wrong.  I wore a shirt that both we both bought together to be Bop-sy Twins.  I did not even like the shirt.  I wore it because my cousin liked it and thought we should own matching shirts.

When the phone rang later that evening and my mother answered it, I instinctively knew what the news was.


However, there are things that I dream and that happen I can't explain.  My cousin has not abandoned me.  There have been situations and messages I can't reason away. 

Kid Birthday Parties

I'm so glad I'm done.  Nothing stressed me out more than child birthday parties.  The Bored Moms on Prozac have determined your child's worth as to whom was invited and how much money you spent indulging their obnoxious, spoiled brats at your expense. 

When the party is over the Bored Moms on Prozac secretly give you and your kid a "score."

The following morning coffee klutch will be all about what you and your kid did wrong and how "they would NEVER allow such and such to happen at THIER kid's party." 

They will lament about how much sugar was contained in the birthday cake, and how Janie was heard using a 'bad word' when she finally stuck up for herself against the passive-aggressive Lily who pushed Janie pretending it was an accident. 

Mean Girls is not limited to a movie.  They are everywhere.  They drive SUV's and are in a neighborhood near you. 

Personality Bell Curve

I think people personalities are like the bell curve.  Remember the bell curve from statistics?  It never is 100% on anything -- just like people.  Nobody is perfect; however, there are varying degrees of goodness. 

There are people like Hitler and Charles Manson who are obviously waaaaaaaay down on the bell curve, but even people like them have their moments of goodness.  Then there are people like Mother Theresa who are saints, but just being human exempts them from perfection. 

The rest of us are muddled somewhere in between.  I guess the big cosmic question we all need to ask ourselves when dealing with people and relationships is what ratio of asshole:goodness is tolerable. 

The Mirror

Sometimes the hardest place to look when things go awry is in the mirror.  We all want to place blame on other people and external reasons -- much of the time it's us. 

We are all part of our problems. 

Media Maggots

I suppose the media thinks they are exempt from respecting the wishes of the family. 

Robin Williams: Dead

GUESS WHAT!!!!   NFS!!!!!!!!  HEY!!!!!  ROBIN WILLIAMS DIED!!!!!!!

enough already

Because he grew up and lived around here just about everybody has a "personal story" about their knowing Mr. Williams.

enough of that, too

I'm already over-saturated with the news coverage of the Bored Moms on Prozac who met him once at a gala fundraising event and comment (on camera of course) saying 'what a nice, thoughtful guy he was.'

Really?  I'm waiting to for somebody to get on camera and say, "He was a bi-polar, had ADD, and was addicted to drugs and alcohol.  He was a complete asshole to be around."

With all due respect to Mr. Williams, I do feel for the tortured souls in this world.  People like him understand the delicate state of the human condition.  He was not impressed with people and or society.  He gets it.  That's why he wanted out of here. 

Unwanted Advice

Thank you.  I never knew you understood my deepest thoughts and life experiences.  You are an automatic wizard at my family dysfunction and dynamics.  You don't even really know me.  In fact, you don't know me at all.  But yet, you are an ordained judge on my life.  You think you know better than I on how to run my life.  Oooooooh YES!  You are the freelance busybody/psychologist I *know* who will save MY LIFE.  THANK YOU...... (gag) ....You think that you can diagnose my human condition and freely blabber unsolicited advice over the BUNKO dice with all the other 'bored moms on Prozac.'

.....i knew deep down there was a reason I want to kill you all in your sleep....

Please stop.  Freelance Busybodies are the bane of the universe.  Ironically, you are all the 'bored moms on prozac' who smile at PTA meetings while serving oven-fresh, warm cookies and simultaneously poisoning the tea.

Seriously, there is a reason the PTA is targeted as a domestic terrorist group.  You all think I'm kidding.  I'm not. 

 

My Sister and the Death of an Old Flame

I was on the phone last night to my sister for about 2 hours.  She's got a heavy load and I do not envy her life.  On the outside it all looks so perfect and normal.  Growing up I was always envious of her.  She always had a following of beaus who were more than willing to jump through hoops for her. 

Anyway, she had this boyfriend in high school who was extremely good looking.  He loved my sister and I always thought they made a beautiful couple.  He was 1/2 Native American and together would have had the most gorgeous kids.  Life pulls people in different directions and they ended up parting ways but I *know* they always held a flame for each other. 

Time passes 35 years.  Old Flame looks up my sister on Facebook.  Time was not kind to Old Flame.  He did marry, but divorced.  He had a chronic disease that left him unable to walk.  However, he rode his "scooter" down to the corner bar everyday. 

My sister told me last night that Old Flame died on Thursday.  I can tell she's bothered.

In my possession I still have a bracelet that I wear to this day that Old Flame gave to my sister. 

There is also a song that reminds me of Old Flame from the days he courted my sister and we'd all drive down Central Avenue (me being annoying little sister in the back seat) and this song would come on the radio while Old Flame was chugging a beer and smoking a joint.  So much for parental supervision in the 1970's!!!!!  It's a great song, so scroll down, hit play....toke....and think of Old Flame.