I cannot write of
Nepal’s anguish without tears
For thousands’ lives lost.
Anguished cries echo
Across continents and seas
Mother Earth heed them.
Enough suffering
Enough pain for a lifetime
Mother Earth heal them.
Heartquakes
Category: Life
Life’s Little Lessons
With Nana Noyes
Dropping an empty Tylenol bottle on one’s foot hurts like hell, and may result in a need for more Tylenol.
Sticks and Stones
neither sticks nor stones
or catapulted pavers
can sever one’s soul.
only words spoken
in anger wield that power;
ever guard your tongue.
worthwhile advice yet
spoken much too late to save
me from my nature.
Peace, people!
Coulda Been
Studly and I were chilling out at Doright Manor on Saturday evening, binge watching the comedy series Last Man Standing, and the same commercial played at every break.
In this commercial an actress delivered the line, “My name is Cookie ask about me.” No pause, no comma. I took exception to her delivery.
After the fourth time I said, “It sounds like she’s saying her name is Cookie Askaboutme. The line should be, ‘My name is Cookie. Ask about me'” And I said it in a drop dead perfectly sexy voice.
“Isn’t my delivery better?” I asked Studly. Wise man that he is, Studly nodded his head in agreement.
“I coulda been an actress,” I said. “All I needed were good looks and talent.”
Building on that theme I continued, “I coulda been a boxer if I’d had muscles and strength!”
“I coulda been a singer if I’d had a good voice and rhythm.”
“I coulda been a model if I didn’t weigh so damned much.”
Studly just kept nodding his head sagely at each declaration. Finally I prompted him to contribute.
“I coulda been a loser,” he said, “if I weren’t so damned talented.”
What a negative Nellie. I coulda been a rich woman, if I’d married someone with a positive outlook….
Peace, people!
Eternal Love (or the next best thing)
As a modern, open-minded and sexually-awakened (whatever the hell that means) woman, I thought I’d seen just about everything. But nooo! As I was browsing my Facebook page today I came upon this little gem:
Because love never dies: Put your loved one’s ashes in a glass dildo
In 1901 Dr. Duncan “Om” MacDougall began a series of experiments wherein he placed elderly, terminal tuberculosis patients on massive industrial scales, hospital bed and all. MacDougall weighed six subjects before and after death, and concluded from the postmortem weight loss that the human soul weighs 21 grams—hence the name of designer Mark Sturkenboom‘s “memory-box.”
With 21 Grams Sturkenboom has managed to create an opportunity for a truly libidinalmourning experience. The “kit” comes in a sleek, Jobsian case, openable only with a key that doubles as a lovely pendant necklace. Inside you find an atomizer bulb (to spritz your beloved’s perfume), a set of internal speakers to amplify music from the iPhone dock in the back, and a blown-glass dildo containing a tiny urn of ashes—21 grams of ashes, to be precise. Sturkenboom describes the project thusly:
21 Grams is a memory-box that allows a widow to go back to the intimate memories of a lost beloved one. After a passing, the missing of intimacy with that person is only one aspect of the pain and grief.
This forms the base for 21 Grams. The urn offers the possibility to conserve 21 grams of ashes of the diseased and displays an immortal desire. By bringing different nostalgic moments together like the scent of his perfume, ‘their’ music and reviving the moment he gave her her first ring, it opens a window to go back to moments of love and intimacy.She is able to have an intimate night with her sweetheart again.
Before you go all Social Justice Warrior on Sturkenboom for the heteronormativity of “widow,” (for who wouldn’t want to be penetrated by a loved one’s earthly remains, regardless of gender or marital status?!?), the inspiration for 21 Grams” is actually an elderly widow—he sometimes helps her carry her groceries. Sturkenboom noticed the urn containing her husband’s ashes, remarking, “she always speaks with so much love about him but the jar he was in didn’t reflect that at all.”
Sturkenboom has not said whether or not his muse is flattered by his tribute.
Yes, should Studly Doright precede me in death I can take steps to insure that he is with me always. I hope my second husband, Bradley Cooper, is okay with this arrangement.
And if I should precede the Studmeister? Maybe they’d construct a fitting receptacle from my ashes. Too much? Dahling, puhlease!
Peace, People!
Why I Like This Photo
I am perhaps the least photogenic person on this planet, so there are very few photos of me worth sharing. And, it’s not that I look particularly great in this photo, but it appears that someone is looking at me in an admiring manner.
Lest anyone think that was the case, let me reassure you that shortly after this was snapped my “admirer” asked politely if he could please cross in front of me to go to the restroom.
Yep, I have that effect on men.
Peace, People!
Surprise and Grace
A couple of days ago in the restroom at Whole Foods I noticed that the person in the stall next to me had on the same Sanuk sandals that I was wearing. So, of course, being the chatty person I am I said, “Hey! Nice sandals!” Silence ensued.
Well, what did I expect? What kind of person starts conversations between bathroom stalls? Only crazy people, right?
I finished my business and left my stall to wash my hands. The other person came out of theIr stall and gave me a shy smile. That’s when I realized that she was a he in transition. No wonder s(he) didn’t respond–probably didn’t want to freak me out, and for that I was grateful.
Now I’m an open-minded person, but even so I must admit that the presence of a man in the women’s bathroom caught me slightly off guard. I hope I didn’t let that show on my face.
We exchanged smiles, and I reiterated my admiration of our common good taste in sandals. “Oh,” she said, “Don’t you love how comfortable they are?”
I agreed wholeheartedly. She noted that we had similar toenail colors, a pretty coral. Awkwardness dissolved. 😊
She was not a beautiful woman, physically speaking. Her poor face showed the ravages of hormonal changes, no doubt brought on by painful injections. But, she was dressed in this crazy colorful, stylish dress and non-matching turban, and as we left the restroom, she walked slightly ahead of me–head held high, a wiggle in her walk, fierce.
And I thought, “Yes! You go girl!”
Peace, people!
Trivia Tonight
Studly and I are going out tonight. It’s Trivia Night at his golf club. Normally I’d be chomping at the bit, but I’m a little draggy this evening.
I spent the morning sitting at a too small table in a too small chair working with adorably energetic two and three year olds. Then I spent the afternoon organizing my kitchen drawers. The goal was to create a bar space that looked organized and decorative. In the process I planned to also organize the infamous, ubiquitous junk drawer.
Somehow one junk drawer turned into three junk drawers, and I still have leftover junk.
I ask myself, “Do you really need nutcracking tools?” Well, in 38 years I’ve never actually used them, but who knows what tomorrow might bring?
I ask myself, “Why do you have six pairs of scissors, five rolls of packing tape, and 57 individually-wrapped toothpicks?” Probably in case of an impending toothpick shortage or a packing emergency.
I ask myself, “Why is there an undeveloped roll of film in this mess?” Mainly because we never develop our film. It must be against our religion or something.
At the end of my afternoon of organizational frenzy I am no more organized than I was when I began.
I ask myself, “What have you learned from this exercise?” Junk happens.
With any luck one of the trivia questions tonight will deal with the proper number of individually-wrapped toothpicks one should keep on hand. The answer: 57.
Peace people!
Artsy Fartsy
Every now and again I am struck by the need to create a work of art using my keen eye and able hands. On those occasions I’m usually walking through a Michael’s craft store with a couple of extra bucks in my pocket and a good case of amnesia.
Because no matter how often I purchase paints, or pencils, sketchbooks, or canvases, I am totally incapable of drawing anything more complex than a primary yellow sun with a happy face and straight rays poking out all around.
Yet I conveniently forget this simple fact over and over again.
There is something about a blank piece of paper that fills me with the burning desire to create. All that’s missing is a bit of talent.
Here’s my newest purchase: 
Notice the beautiful sketchbook? Oh, the possibilities!
Notice the color pencils? They are not sharpened, and I have no sharpener at home.
So, for at least tonight the sketchbook is safe from my fumbling attempts at creating art. I think I just heard a papery sigh of relief.
Peace, people!
Swing Batta
Bottom of the
Ninth.
Pitcher’s team has a
One run lead.
He spits.
Sunflower seeds,
Shells fly,
On the mound
Surveys the bases
All around
Steps down and
Spits again.
Runners on
First and second.
No outs.
Top of the order.
No outs!!
Pitcher takes the
Mound.
Fire in his eyes.
Catcher signals 1,
Moves his glove
Low and inside.
Pitcher nods.
First pitch–
Batter tees off
Catches ball’s
Bottom, pops it
Straight up.
“Infield fly!”
Yells ump,
“Batter’s out!”
Ball dribbles to
Mound.
Pitcher catches
Runner off second,
Tags him
Trying to get to
Third.
Runner from first
Caught in rundown
Between one, three, and
Six.
Triple play
Saves the day.
Good game, good game!
Let’s go to Dairy Queen!
Studly and I coached Little League softball and baseball teams for many years. One of the most difficult aspects of the sport for kids to understand is the infield fly rule.
It took me awhile to understand it, too, but I think I’ve got it now:
If there are fewer than two outs with runners on first and second, or first, second, and third, and a fly ball is hit that can be fielded by a player in the infield, the batter is automatically out and runners advance at their own risk. Basically it’s protection for the runners, but try explaining that to an 8-year-old batter whose ball goes uncaught and is called “out!” Tears often ensue.
In the words of Tom Hanks,
Peace, People!
Praying for Eyebrowz 