Category: Life

What’s Your Function?

In the latter part of my fifth decade on this earth I learn of the existence of Functional Water. I sincerely hope I haven’t fallen prey to the non-functional variety of H2O all these years.  
And I don’t even want to dwell on the ramifications of New Age Beverages. Do such drinks strike yoga poses when no one’s observing them? Are they into transcendental meditation?

I must explore this grocery aisle again one day soon. The secret to inner peace undoubtedly lies on 6b somewhere between the mundane offerings of bottled tea and soft drinks. Ommmmm.

Peace and functionality, people!

How Short Is It?

My new haircut is so short…

…that it was completely dry before I stepped out of the shower.

…that the North Carolina potty police would eye me suspiciously were I to use the loo there.

…that polite children under the age of five will call me “sir.”

…that Dumbo is jealous of my ear size.

…that I’m thankful for my DD breasts.

…that having a cuter face would be nice.

…that I like it, while at the same time it needs to grow a bit before I love it.

  
No makeup, just me. Look at those freckles!!! Where’s my medal for bravery?

Peace, people.

What Do They Know That I Don’t?

There’s a trip to Disney World in my near future. I’m meeting my niece CB and her family in Orlando to join in on their fun for a couple of days. 

No matter how old and decrepit I get, Disney World will always be one of my favorite places on earth. When I’m too ancient to walk I hope they’ll just wheel me around the parks like a load of ripe cabbages. 

I’ve been to the Magic Kingdom and its satellite parks on more than one occasion, and the one thing I have yet to perfect is the carrying of money/tickets/lip gloss/sunscreen, etc. I need something that will allow me to stow all of the above without impeding my ability to spiral upside down multiple times on Rock ‘n’ Roller Coaster.

Someone suggested a fanny pack, that ridiculously non-glamorous fashion faux pas from the 80’s. So being the rabid fashionista I am, I immediately googled “cute fanny packs.” Surprisingly, there are some nifty designs, but this suggestion also came up in my search:

  
Attends? Really? Do they know something I don’t? Just in case, I sense a shopping trip in my future.

 Peace and continence, people.

 

Unrealistic Expectations

Fifty-nine is such an awkward age. In my mind I’m a slender twenty-something, long slender legs, perky breasts, etc., etc. In reality, I’m a slightly overweight, almost 60 year-old grandmother with an expanding waistline and flabby upper arms. 

Sometimes my mind orders clothes off the internet that my reality can’t wear. Take these lovely skirts from Darn Good Yarn:

   
 Made from recycled saris, they’re reversible and pretty much one-size-fits-all. My mind was so sure I was going to look like a bohemian darling. My reality said, “Nope. Nope. Nope.”

So now what? I guess I could take them to a consignment shop, but I’m not crazy about either of the ones I know about in Tallahassee. Maybe I could have someone make pillows out of them? 

Next time my mind tries to talk me into something like this I’m going to tell it to take a hike. But then, maybe it already has.

Peace, people!

59 Jumpy Street

Victimized, traumatized, taken for a fool, lessons in humility in a world shown cruel.

Innocent turned wary, bold turned meek, peace into conflict, strength became weak.

Now shadows come creeping in broad daylight; making for hesitance, a sad new plight.

Questioning everyone, every look, every move, proceeding with caution; so much to lose.

Fear can paralyze, dehumanize, diminish size. Close your eyes and realize it’s all been lies, 

Or fear can mobilize, energize, exorcise preconceptions in every guise.

Choice. It’s all choice. To go back into the water or to stay on the sand. Hold my towel. I’m going in.

Peace, people!

The Grinch Rides Again

http://m.dailykos.com/story/2016/05/05/1523543/-Republicans-introduce-improving-child-nutrition-bill-that-would-take-food-away-from-3-4-mil-kids?detail=facebook
The Grinch has a new persona in the form of Republican Representative Todd Rokita (IN-4). If you live in the U.S. I urge you to contact your congressional representatives to insist that this bill never pass the House. If your representative is a Christian you might use the following quote in your message.

Matthew 25:40 New King James Version (NKJV)

40 And the King will answer and say to them, ‘Assuredly, I say to you, inasmuch as you did it to one of the least of these My brethren, you did it to Me.’

Don’t let Republicans get away with this.

Peace, people.

Almost Fair

We learned young that there is no fairness to life, it takes money to make money, or

Something along those lines. I try to tell that to children who have nothing, 

Those whose families cannot provide medicine or proper health care. They listen

With big eyes, nodding. Their congressmen tell them they’re leeches.

Perhaps mum shouldn’t have had that one more mouth to feed. Sitting in their 

Judgement seats, deciding who deserves to be healthy, who gets birth control, 

Who thrives, who wilts. If one has the means the pearl has been pre-harvested 

From its calcified cocoon, sitting plump and pretty to be strung on a necklace of 

Achievement. While others dive deep, repeatedly, tirelessly in search of reward,

Often reduced to dashing their oysters against the rocks of their existence. 

On Facebook a friend and I were discussing food insecurity in the U.S. I related the following true story:

When I taught sixth grade one of my students, Charlie, was caught stealing from another teacher’s file cabinet. He only took candy bars, even though she had money in her purse. When we began questioning him we learned he was hungry. 

His stepdad had gotten a raise and they no longer qualified for free or reduced lunch. 

My principal was pretty astute. She brought Charlie’s little sister in and learned that the family decided she’d get to eat lunch. 

I kicked myself for not noticing that Charlie wasn’t eating. 

It turned out that Charlie was being neglected. He went to live with his grandmother in another state. Sent me a photo of himself smiling, with chubby cheeks. 

Until that experience I just didn’t have a clue.

Every time I hear that a politician wants to cut food stamps or do away with the free or reduced lunch programs in schools I think of Charlie. Our current Speaker of the House, Republican Paul Ryan, would have us believe that the free lunch programs in schools are a drain on our society. I say, let him try living the life of a hungry sixth grader for a year. 

“In 2014: 48.1 million Americans lived in food insecure households, including 32.8 million adults and 15.3 million children. 14 percent of households (17.4 million households) were food insecure. 6 percent of households (6.9 million households) experienced very low food security.” From Child Hunger Facts and Statistics.

  

Drama In Illinois

One of my best friends in this old world lives near Champaign, Illinois. She and her husband are in the process of relocating to the east coast. This morning I received the following email from her and laughed so hard I snorted coffee out of my nose. With my friend’s permission, I’m sharing with you. Enjoy.

Do you need a laugh? If so, read on. . . Last Friday morning at 6 a.m., I went out in my bath robe (fairly short – with nothing underneath since I had just taken a shower and hadn’t bothered
to go to my drawer to pull out undies. After all, I’m on my own in the house!).

Anyway, I tried to open the front door after getting the paper only to discover that I was locked out! The Realtor had been in the house the day before and must have locked both locks. We usually only lock the dead bolt. No problem! We have a keyless pad to open the garage door. However, since I’ve been living alone, I’ve been locking the door between the garage and house at night. Why didn’t I ever hide a key in the garage?!?

Needless to say, I was locked out at 6 a.m. with no undies, no phone, no car keys, no clock. . . I waited what seemed to be an hour (but was really about 1.25 hr.) before knocking on the neighbor’s door (our State Farm Agent). I didn’t want to wake anyone up at 6:00 a.m.

I used the neighbor’s phone to call the number on the For Sale sign in my yard. However, that was the real estate office number and the message stated that the office would open at 8:00 a.m. I put in an emergency plea anyway for someone to help out a client in a bath robe.

Then the neighbor remember that the dad of their daughter’s friend in Mahomet was a real estate agent. They gave him a call and he came over at 7:30 to let me in. Luckily, the lock box with a key was still outside the house, so any realtor could access the key. Yes, I sat in my garage for 1.5 hours in a bathrobe! Good thing I didn’t have to pee! Seriously, that would only happen to me. However, any chance this sounds like something that would happen to you?  

She knows me well. It’s a miracle I haven’t had this happen to me.

Peace, people!

Sitting on the Deck in the Company of Cats

Sunday morning wake up call, a pair of paws pat my face

Up, hurry up, we need a treat and then they’re off in heated race.

Pull on favorite Sunday wear, faded sundress and flip flops,

Splash some water on my face, run a brush through my mop.

Stumblebum into the kitchen, set coffee on to brew,

Putter bleary-eyed to the place where the felines sit and mew.

By their urgency one would think they’d not eaten in days,

Their respective weights dispel that lie in unambiguous ways.

Coffee’s perked, a cup is poured, I grab my current book,

And slip outside to honeysuckle’s welcome in my sheltered nook.

Ripples slide across the lake, while a tiny lizard scampers,

My cats examine its every move in hopes that they can batter.

And I sit and sip my coffee with a splash of Irish cream,

As breezes rustle through the pines and invite sweet daydreams.

  
Peace, people.

Feeling Surly

  

Normally I’m a Pollyanna sort, but the events of this past week have me feeling more like Maleficent. Let me count the ways:

My car window was smashed in while I was swimming at a local park.

My favorite handbag, the one I bargained for entirely in Spanish on my visit to a mercado in La Antigua de Guatemala, was stolen.

My credit cards were used in questionable locations. At least the thieves are interesting.

My passport is gone, along with my driver’s license, insurance, and prescription cards, etc. 

I’ve made more phone calls in the past four days to take care of this stuff than I’ve had to make in the last four years. I could have built and furnished a three story treehouse in the time I’ve spent on hold.

I had day surgery which, while not related to the robbery, sure didn’t make me feel like a princess. 

I have enough intestinal gas to power a small fleet of cars.

My completed “buy ten massages, get one free” card was in my stolen handbag. This might piss me off more than all the other losses combined. I NEED that massage.

I just dropped a 32 oz. diet Dr. Pepper in the driver’s side floor of Studly Doright’s pickup truck. He’s already angry at me for the loss of my purse, so I need to go and clean up my mess.

I know Pollyanna is still in here somewhere, but I might need to exorcise the villain first.

  
Peace, people!