Snapshot #183

Today’s snapshot is of a collection of photos taken on our recent visit to DisneyWorld in Orlando, Florida. Studly and I joined his sister, Angie and her family for a couple of days of their vacation. Angie took some of the photos that Studly and I were in and had them made into a collage for us. 

Neat idea, right? I call this one, “Family Fun.” Many thanks to Angie, Steve, and their kids for asking us to tag along.

Egg or Turd?

Wednesday as I sat typing at the kitchen table I caught movement in my peripheral vision. Just outside my window a turtle seemed to be laying an egg or eggs.

As soon as she moved away, having covered the fruits of her labor, I went outside and placed an empty flower pot atop the disturbed earth in order to protect the eggs from scavengers.

Of course now I’m wondering if she was indeed a she. If not, I’m most likely protecting turtle turds. Good times at Doright Manor. 

Peace, people!

Prime the Pump

Our president plays fast and loose with the truth. It’s his calling card, and Americans have almost become accustomed to discounting the lies that spew from his ridiculously thin lips. 

One of the most amusing (for we have to be amused lest we slit our throats) lies he’s told is that he coined the term “prime the pump,” to be used in an economics context, telling a journalist from The Economist that he came up with the phrase. 

A quick google search of the term reveals that it’s been around at least since the early 1930’s, meaning one has to spend money to make money. 

In the 30’s, government money was lent to banks and industry in hopes that it would spur growth, and yes, trickle down to the little people. Whether it works or not is a moot point. Trump didn’t coin the freaking term.

So, did he lie or is he, the president, that damned ignorant? 

I’m thinking of coining a few phrases of my own. How’s this one: “holy crap we are being led by a freaking idiot!” I know, it’s a bit long and probably won’t catch on. But you never know.

My Babies

Several years ago my daughter, Ashley, put together this collage of pictures of her and her brother, Jason, and presented it to me on Mother’s Day. It remains one of the best gifts I’ve ever received and makes me feel more than a little nostalgic for the days when they were little. 

I’m so fortunate to be their mom, and they make me incredibly proud every day. I just hope I’m forgiven for sharing their bathtub photo! 

Love you, my babies. 

No Passport Required

Thanks to my Fitbit I’m just four pounds shy of my pre-Ireland trip weight loss goal. I’m not sure if the Irish will fully appreciate the lengths to which I’ve gone for my visit to their fair shores, but Fitbit seems proud of my efforts.

Just a couple of days ago the fine folks at Fitbit awarded me this prestigious badge. I’ve walked 1,600 miles since slapping the precocious pedometer on my wrist, a total equal to the length of Australia’s The Great Barrier Reef. Perhaps Studly and I should visit down under instead of Ireland.

Peace, people.

The Writing on the Wall

King Belshazzar summoned Daniel when these words first appeared:

Mene, Mene, Tekel, Upsharin, their meaning wasn’t clear.

Daniel knew when first he read the writing on the wall 

Trouble was a’coming and a kingdom sure to fall

He predicted a Babylon at war, their people overcome

Death and destruction raining down; the end of days for some. 

Where, oh where is Daniel now to interpret what’s been writ,

By greedy politicians, lacking compassion and/or grit?

A document that few have read, still fewer comprehend,

Has power over life and death; what suffering it portends!

No, we have no need for Daniel to show us what seems plain:

Rich white men aren’t worried about your suffering or your pain.

The phrase “the writing on the wall” refers to Chapter 5 of the Book of Daniel in the Bible when King Belshazzar sees a hand appear to write the words Mene, Mene, Tekel, Upsharin on a wall. Belshazzar summons Daniel to interpret the writing, which Daniel translates as “Numbered, numbered, weighed, divided.” Daniel tells Belshazzar that the writing means that Babylonian kingdom will be invaded and divided among the Medes and the Persians. The term “writing on the wall” has since been used to refer to any omen that predicts a bad outcome.

The Vagina of the Future

I had my second of three Mona Lisa treatments on Wednesday afternoon. If you need to know what that entails read this post:

The first treatment went really well, and the discomfort was minimal. And while the second treatment was more intense it wasn’t any worse than having my eyebrows waxed. Of course, I have only two eyebrows, and the Mona Lisa laser makes multiple forays into my vaginal area. I might’ve said, “ouch!” but didn’t curse even once. 

My gynecologist is the bomb. Before he started the treatment he noticed my Kindle and asked what I was reading, so I gave him a brief synopsis of Kim Stanley Robinson’s novel, 2312. Turns out my doctor is a sci-fi fan, as well; although, he’s old school: Heinlein, Bradbury, etc. 

While he switched equipment around I told him about John Scalzi’s, Old Man’s War series. In it, septuagenarians can sign up to go into space where they fight for a confederation of planets. The old warriors are given brand new, highly efficient bodies, while maintaining the wisdom they’ve accumulated in their seven decades of life.

Before the doctor left me he said, “You know, we’re doing science fiction type work in this room.”

I agreed, “Yep! Thanks for giving this old broad a vagina for the future!”

“To infinity and beyond!” 

Did I mention that he’s the bomb?

Peace, people!

Note: We are very pleased with the results of the Mona Lisa treatment! 

An Unfinished Game

Politics connected us, provided conversation.
We’d never met, and still, I wept the day
That Richard died.

I became friends with a fascinating man on Facebook through a Liberal group we’d gravitated to before this past election. Richard was smart, funny, and upbeat. I learned that he’d lost his wife a few months before we “friended” each other, and he was fighting through his grief while dealing with a grave illness of his own.

As he prepared for a round of chemo Richard asked for volunteers to play against him in Words With Friends, figuring it would be a great way to distract him from the rigors of chemotherapy.

I volunteered and we played one game after another. He was a novice player, and I beat him soundly every time. We didn’t chat much on the app; although, he promised he’d come out the winner eventually. 

A couple of days ago Richard posted on FB that he was going to take some time away from the computer to concentrate all his energy on feeling better. We all wished him well and figured he’d be back in no time, not knowing how very sick he was. The man never complained.

This morning, though, a post from Richard’s brother let us know that our friend had succumbed to complications from pneumonia. All of those who’d befriended him in our political group are devastated, and I cried all morning for the loss of this friend.

We never met in person. Chances are our real world paths never would have crossed, but I valued his friendship. And I mourn his death. Rest easy friend. 

Peace, people.