That’s Not What I Meant to Say

Forgive me, but my language might get a little graphic here. Saint Helen, don’t read this one, or if you do, read it with your eyes closed.

I engaged in a verbal battle with a Trump supporter on Facebook. I would have ignored him, but he called Hillary the “c” word, and I don’t mean “Clinton.” My intention was to call him “An asshole with typing capabilities” but autocorrect kept changing it to “ashore.” 

The sentence, “apparently you’re an ashore with typing capabilities” isn’t witty repartee. Heck, it doesn’t even make sense. I finally gave up and told him to piss off,  which Autocorrect changed immediately to “pus” off. And that’s just gross.

While I’m speaking of autocorrect, has anyone besides me ever noticed that when you’ve mistyped a word and replacement options are given often they don’t even vaguely resemble the word you had in mind? I once was offered the word “Illinois” when trying to type “loving” in a poem. Granted, I’d gotten the word started with an i instead of an l, but in what context does “His Illinois arms” make sense?

Ok, I feel better now. I’m going to go give that Facebook troll a pizza of my mind. 

  

The Sound of Silence aka The Grandkids are Gone

For almost two weeks we entertained two of our five grandchildren here at Doright Manor. It was the first time Dominique and Jackson have been alone with us for that length of time, and heading into the first week I felt some trepidation.

Would they get bored? Would I be patient with them? Could I train them to cook and clean like small indentured servants? 

As they prepared to leave on Saturday morning I asked them each if they’d had fun, and the answer was a resounding “Yes!”

They rode motorcycles.

  
Fished:


   
Helped Poppa with yard work:

 

Visited Poppa at the office:
 

Chopped down saplings:  
 

Created bird feeders:
   
Rode crazy rides at Wild Adventures:

    
  

That blur is Jackson.
  
   

Rode motorcycles again:  
Enjoyed Japanese stir fry:

 
Helped Poppa and me build a fairy house:

   
    
    
    
Created paracord bracelets for every member of the family:

    
And climbed trees.

 They also rode go karts at a local arcade, but the resident documentarian (me) came down with a nasty head cold and stayed at home for that adventure.

Apparently there was no boredom involved. I never even came close to losing my patience–a true miracle. However, the plan to have the kids take over the cooking and cleaning was for naught. Two out of three works for me. 

Now to enjoy the sound of silence. 

  
 Peace, people!

The Voyage to Magical North (Accidental Pirates #1)

Worth a read! More at yourdaughtersbookshelf.wordpress.com

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The adorable cover captures the story inside perfectly. Who wouldn’t want to sail aboard a pirate ship and battle sea monsters to find endless magic and treasure? Especially on a charmed ship called The Onion? (Some pirates don’t spell so well).

12-year-old Brine Seaborne was found floating in a boat at sea when she was just a young girl. She has no memory of how she got there, or where she comes from. Claimed by a mediocre magician as his servant, she has grown up in a house of magic, serving the magician and his apprentice, Peter. Which is a bit of an issue, as she is allergic to magic.

One day, Brine and Peter overhear the magician making plans that will change their lives for the worse, so they steal the magician’s source of magic and flee in the middle of the night. Through one misstep after another, they get lost…

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Age of Innocence

He walks a limb, unconcerned, undeterred, master of his own destiny.

Alone at the top of the world, competent, exuberant.

Dangling meters above the earth, unafraid, unhampered.

Innocence in motion, carefree; nonchalance as an art form.

My heart climbs with this fearless child, for my body no longer can.

May he know this joy for the entirety of his life.

  
   

Trumpty Dumpty

Trumpty Dumpty so filled with gall

Trumpty Dumpty called for a wall

None of his minions 

Or sycophants

Were able to discern Trumpty’s arrogance.

  

One Ring to Rule Them All

My precious!

 
I must have been a much better wife than I imagined! Thank you Studly Doright!

My Husband is no Poet

Married young
my high school love
nearly forty years ago

Romantic novels
formed expectations
of how our lives should go:

Every day a poem
written in honor of
my beauty and my style,

Long conversations
about my attributes
all to make me smile.

Instead I got
this grounded man
no poetry in his soul

Who works so hard
to care for me, my
well-being is his goal

And if that isn’t
poetry of a sort, I reckon
it should be

The poetry of keeping
one’s hands on the wheel for
his woman’s sake

The verse of tending
to her every physical need in
sickness and in health

Maybe this man is the
poet I longed for in days
long past

Or perhaps he’s the muse
who fills my pages with tales
enough to last.

Happy anniversary Studly!

  

Ego

I
need
love like
flowers need
rain.

I
seek
comfort as
babies seek
succor.

I
crave
peace in
a violent
world.

I
deserve
the respect
that every human
seeks.

I
believe
we are better
than our politics
portray.

Manipulation

turn the key
speak the words
play the patriot card
make America great? again?
terrorize our collective psyche
make us fear
make us dread
make us suspect
anyone who looks
anyone who worships
anyone who loves
differently.
fish do not ken
that they are wet.
easily led
easily fooled
easily angered.
let me tell you
you are drenched.

Hillary for President

  
A couple of days ago I posted the following essay on my Facebook page. As essays go, I’ve written better, but several friends asked me to share my thoughts with a wider audience. So, here you go. 

I’m a Liberal. I haven’t always been. In fact, I once was a staunch Republican. I voted for both Bushes, Poppa and W. 

I did not support Bill Clinton, but, I was always impressed by Hillary. Her fight for health care reform sparked something in me. You see, I’d always been fortunate to have access to good insurance through my husband’s job–until his job was “excessed” during the deregulation of the natural gas industry and we found ourselves at the mercy of a health care system that doesn’t value those on the fringes. 

Now, I wasn’t ready to leave the GOP then, but I was beginning to notice the blatant inequities between the “haves” and the “have nots.” While my family had never been wealthy, until those bleak days when we didn’t have access to good insurance, I’d never had to worry about falling ill and losing everything we’d worked for. Still, I believed I could work within the party to fight for women’s rights, for equal pay, for health care reform.

Sadly, it took Sarah Palin for me to see what a backwards institution the GOP had become. Not all Republicans believed the stupid things she spouted, but enough that I became certain that I could find a better party in which to place my trust. 

I voted for President Obama in 2008 and I’ll never regret that decision, even though I suffered heart palpitations while doing so. I voted for him proudly in 2012, convinced that he was the best man for the job, and he has never let me down.

Now, on the verge of the Democratic Party nominating the first female candidate for the highest office in the land, I’m so very proud to say I’m a Hillary supporter. I cannot believe that the party I once supported has devolved into one that embraces racism and hate, but the GOP’s nomination of Donald Trump has proven that to be true. Trump will not make America great. He only knows how to make Americans hate.

This is me, and I approve this message.

Peace, people.