Stairway to Heaven

Transportation by boat is common in northern Minnesota.  When the boat docks all I know is that I have my own personal version of Stairway to Heaven.  At the top of the steps is the coven cabin where the seven of us gather and laugh our butts off.  What happens at TYD's cabin STAYS at TYD's cabin.  I'm so lucky to have a tight circle of friends since before kindergarten. 

Mud Slide Surfin'

This is exactly why 60 year-old guys should NOT drop acid and smoke pot. 

Heart, Heart, Give Me Your Heart

Only those who truly know me have any real clue what the above two items are.  The items may seem to hold no monetary value, but that's not how I roll.  The two items belong together, much like those "best friend" necklaces you've seen people wear.  You know, when you put them together it says something like "I love you" or "best friends forever."

My personal version is way more private and subtle than that.  The red heart represents my own heart.  The keeper of the arrowhead is to protect my heart.  In essence, they belong together. 

The arrowhead doesn't go to just anybody..... it's sacred. 

Facebook Hospital Posts

Now that I'm pretty much off of Facebook due to gross negligence on providing any real privacy policy, or even thinking they really have any legitimate privacy policy at all, I still go on there from time to time to see what the clueless attention whores are freely feeding corporate and government data mines. 

I'm still bewildered at what people post.  The ones of late feature pictures of their kids in hospital beds.  Why would a parent post something so private and personal?  Tonight there was a Facebook post of a kid who was banged up from jet skiing lying half conscious in a hospital bed.  Mom decides to take a picture and post it on Facebook. 


We all fought so hard for HIPAA about 10 years ago (Health Insurance Privacy Accountability Act) which abolished the marketing and sales of our personal health information for profit purposes.  It was basically the anti-blabbermouth-mind-your-own-business legislation protecting our health information and personal dignity. 

Now all it takes is mom with an iPhone and a Facebook/Instagram account to blast information to all.  Do you even have your kid's permission to post this stuff?  Oh, due to the concussion and mummy-medical wrapping he is unable to speak for himself.

Talk about a privacy violation.......

Karma's Assistant

The other evening I was hanging out at a friend's house chatting and drinking wine.  This friend knows me for better and for worse.  Our conversation meandered around our usual topics.  I had just finished my story of the week when my friend set down her wine glass, looked me squarely in the eye and said, "Do you think your role in this incarnation is being Karma's assistant?"

I never thought about that.

She went onto say that for some unexplained reason I end up in situations where I'm involved in somebody elses MAJOR f**** ups and they have nobody to blame but themselves as much as they try otherwise.  I'm usually around for the aftermath as well to serve as a reminder of the lesson the universe presented. 

Now, just how to I put Karma's assistant on my resume? 

My Brothers

I grew up in a family of four kids.  It went:  oldest sister, brother, me, baby brother.  I grew up between two brothers.  My sister was naturally ordained queen babysitter and basically could not be bothered with us younger siblings.  We were nothing but a source of annoyance. 

I was pitted against the god-almighty-son all parents pine for and the baby of the family who is naturally coddled.  My birth order sucked.  So what. 

Vivid childhood memories include being held down and having the brothers fart in my face.  I was told I was ugly and that I was adopted.  Hurtz Donuts (hurts, don't it) were frequently bruises on my arms and thighs.  I was ruthlessly teased and pushed around.  Crying to mom did no good.  I was told, "Of course they tease you... it's because they love you."

Really? 

I can't remember one instance where anybody stuck up for me and said that what was going on was over the line.  Whatever.  It made me a strong person. 

Paying for College

Paying for college is the buzz topic as I fall into that parent category.  My social circle is economically diverse.  I have friends with tons of money, and I also have friends watching every dime. 

Interestingly enough, I have one friend who happens to be quite comfortable financially.  Sure, her finances are strong, but she's no hot-shot, flashy ka-bilionaire.  She does not pretend to be.  She's worked her butt off for what she has.  Nobody handed her anything.

Her son now wants to attend Money University.  Her son has no clue what he wants to major in, nor has any clear career goals. 

This is where my friend cuts to the chase.  She tells her son, "Why should I keep working until I'm 95 and sacrifice retirement so YOU can have fun and party?"