Writing Wrongs

You said you want to meat me by the stares.
But I don’t no you that weigh or that well.
Don’t weight for me two long
I mite bee lost or confused.

You say yule give me your awl.
Butt I just want your hart, deer
And maybe your sole.
I just don’t want to loose ewe.

Our communication seams fatigued
Wee don’t always reed each other
In a way that nourishes or defends
But I like what I sea when ewe come around.

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Decorating Do’s, Dont’s, and Ne’er-do-walls

Have your ever shopped tirelessly for just the right piece of furniture or art for a specific spot in your home only to discover that upon finding the object of your search and placing it in that perfect spot that either the object is all wrong or the spot is all wrong? Yea, me neither. Ha. Ha Ha. Sob.

Actually, that’s my normal modus operandi. I wasn’t blessed with the decorating gene, so a lot of my style is by trial and error. After error. After error. Eventually I’ll wind up with something I like, and then, by golly, nobody better move it around.

Take this fun piece:

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I bought it to hang in my dining room for three reasons:

1) To tone down the formality of the room. The drapes are formal and the chandelier is so not us.

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2) To economically decorate a large white wall.

It almost meets that goal; although, it needs a little something to make it pop.

And,

3) The woman in the picture reminds me of my mom shown here with my dad circa 1957-ish.

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So, do I find another place for the picture and keep on searching for something that works, or do I leave it and rid myself of the drapes and chandelier?

I really like my table and server. I just need (free) help pulling it all together.

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Peace, People!

I Finally Saw “Saw”

For years I’ve heard about the “Saw” movies, but I’ve always avoided them on principle. How I wish I’d stuck to said principle. Holy crap! What sick, twisted mind came up with this stuff?

Just in case you haven’t watched them (don’t!), they all seem to feature this deranged clown character who sets up problems to be solved by ordinary people who face certain death if they are unable to solve said problems. Oh, and the deaths aren’t quick, merciful ones. They’re bloody, tortuous, scream generating affairs involving self-mutilations.

In one of the “Saw” vignettes I just saw, er, watched, a man was attempting to free his wife from being burned alive by placing hooks in his pectoral muscles and pulling himself to the top of the room in order to unite two electrical connections thus freeing his wife. Now, I love Studly, but there’s no way I am puncturing my pectorals to save him, nor would I expect him to do that for me. Oh, and the hooks tore through the man’s muscles, so it was all for naught anyway.

I didn’t intend to see “Saw,” but it seems that once seen, “Saw” cannot be unseen. Unspeakable. I say, don’t see “Saw.”

Happy nightmares.

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You can’t find what you can’t see

Ok, this is what I went through this morning. I got up extra early to go over the intervention lessons that I offered to teach for a friend today. Showered, dressed, ate breakfast, readied the house for the housekeeper, and then practiced the lessons. All was well. Then I realized I didn’t have my glasses on. Not only that, but they weren’t in any of the usual places. I checked and rechecked but it’s hard to find one’s glasses when one has lost one’s glasses.

I was quickly running out of time, so thinking quickly (stop laughing!) I grabbed my prescription sunglasses out of my motorcycle ditty bag. At least I could drive legally. Now, I had to decide if I had time to stop for my morning caffeine fix. The answer was a resounding “of course, you fool” so I ran into a convenience store, grabbed a cup, and promptly sprayed myself with Diet Coke. A little adjustment of the nozzle actually put some soda in my cup, but now I’m a mess. No time to go go home, so I mopped up with wet paper towels, paid for my soda, and hurried on my way.

The front parking lot at the school was completely full, so I parked far away in what I lovingly call the “back forty.” From here, it’s quite a hike to the office, but I was still at least 15 minutes early when I got to our little classroom. But the door which is never locked was locked. So I went in search of a key. That was fairly easy and only cost a couple of minutes, but I couldn’t get it to turn in the lock. Finally a nice teacher came by and used her key on the door. Great! I found a student to return the key I’d borrowed and went about setting up materials for the lessons with five minutes to spare. Whew! Wrong!

Just as I headed out the door to pick up my four students the custodian came by and said he needed to move me to another room. Since I’m a guest at the school I said, “Sure!” much more pleasantly than I felt.

Of course this new classroom was almost out where my car is parked. Quickly I got all my stuff arranged and went to pick up the kids. The intervention lessons proceeded smoothly in spite of it all, and even though we started late we managed to end right on time. Then I figured I had time to run home, change clothes, and look for my glasses.

The housekeeper (the most wonderful woman in the history of the world, next to my mom and my mother-in-law) had just arrived and she and I scoured the house from top to bottom. No glasses. I decided that the cats must have knocked them off the back of the dresser, but I’d have to wait until my hubby, Studly Doright, came home to move it for me.

I decided to grab a bottle of water out of the fridge before I left the house and wow. There were my glasses sitting next to a gallon of 2% milk. Now I know I’m getting old and forgetful, but how in the world did that happen? Never mind that, I needed to go to my next school.

Giving Rosa a hug I ran to the car and headed to my next school. It was only when I sat down that I realized I was still wearing my Diet Coke stained shirt. Have Mercy! Life is good and today is Friday.

Hope this made my readers feel super smart today!

Peace, People!

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Graphic Stupidity

Have you ever watched truTV? It’s filled with content such as “World’s Dumbest” and “Impractical Jokers.” Basically, it’s crap. Studly is entranced by truTV, ergo, crap entrances my spouse.

This evening’s viewing included a countdown of the world’s dumbest criminals. In spite of myself I watched to ascertain which criminals make the top 10. Will it be the naked guy who attempts to rob a convenience store saying he has a gun in his pocket, or will it be the woman who attempts to knock over a fast food place by pointing a gun through the drive in window?

I don’t know if I’m more disturbed by the content or by my willingness to watch it non-stop from 7 p.m. until bedtime. Granted, at my age bedtime is often 9 p.m., so that’s only two hours of mediocre programming.

I guess I pictured us watching quality television during middle age. Stuff with a purpose like “Planet Earth” or “Cosmos.” Yes, I could go into another room, but then I’d miss out on discovering the number one world’s dumbest criminal. I’m betting on the guy who wrote his bank robbery note, “Give me all your money” on the back of his own phone bill.

Peace, People!

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Fall in (Love With) Tallahassee

Our leaves don’t really do much in the way of changing here. So far I’ve seen no garnets or golds other than those on the clothes adorning the fanatical fans of Florida State football. The morning temps are much cooler, though, than they were just two weeks ago, and the afternoons are gloriously sunny and warm. If I had a friend, we’d sit out on the back porch and drink our coffee as we watched the light play across the lake. Instead, I watch Criminal Minds and CSI:Miami reruns and do laundry.

But I imagine adopting a certain languor while reclining in the early November sun, an SPF 50 or above on any exposed body part. Even in my imagination I must be skin conscious. My non-existent friend offers to fetch us a drink refill, but no, I insist on getting it. We’ve exchanged our coffee for tea now. Sweetened for her, unsweetened for me. I hang up some clothes while I’m inside the house and start another load.

When I return, Adam Levine is stretched out on the chaise longue. He tells me my other friend had to leave to do laundry of her own. I’m momentarily uncertain of my next step, but Adam accepts the tea and we continue talking as if nothing has changed. Adam begins singing a song he’s composed just for me. I might be in love. With Tallahassee.

Peace, People.

It Only Hurts When I Move

Friday night (Halloween, 2014) Studly and I, along with his sister, Angie and her husband, Steve, ventured into the frightening world of Universal Studios Halloween Horror Nights in Orlando.

Angie and Steve flew all the way from the panhandle of Texas to help me bring closure to my glorious birthday month. And how do I thank them? By dragging them through one terrifying haunted house after another.

Imagine, if you will, Halloween on steroids. The big draw for us this year was “The Walking Dead” house in which we had to negotiate the claustrophobic confines of the prison and then make our way to Terminus while keeping out of the reach of walkers and cannibals alike. It was absolutely everything I’d hoped it would be–heart stopping horror at every turn.

Studly played it pretty cool all night until we went through the “Dusk ‘Til Dawn” house. It had snakes. Dangling, coiling, lurking, slithering snakes. Fake snakes, but Studly’s worst nightmare nonetheless.

The Hard Way

Lessons I’ve learned through experience:

Potatoes have to be cooked before you can mash them.

Sometimes one margarita is one too many.

Good things don’t always come in small packages. (e.g. Bacon flavored gum)

Hot motorcycle pipes and bare legs are a painful combination.

Tissues make terrible bra stuffers.

Nothing tastes as good coming back up as it did going down.

Easter eggs begin to stink when hidden under a bed for a year.

Don’t expect to sleep well after a Walking Dead marathon.

Not everyone gets my sense of humor.

People get feisty over politics.

A smile won’t win over all your critics.

Time isn’t always on one’s side.

Riding a motorcycle while hungover is akin to having a raucous drum cadence played inside one’s head.

Just because one works better under pressure doesn’t mean one should leave projects to the last minute.

Peace, People!

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The Hard Way

Lessons I’ve learned through experience:

Potatoes have to be cooked before you can mash them.

Sometimes one margarita is one too many.

Good things don’t always come in small packages. (e.g. Bacon flavored gum)

Hot motorcycle pipes and bare legs are a painful combination.

Tissues make terrible bra stuffers.

Nothing tastes as good coming back up as it did going down.

Easter eggs begin to stink when hidden under a bed for a year.

Don’t expect to sleep well after a Walking Dead marathon.

Not everyone gets my sense of humor.

People get feisty over politics.

A smile won’t win over all your critics.

Time isn’t always on one’s side.

Riding a motorcycle while hungover is akin to having a raucous drum cadence played inside one’s head.

Just because one works better under pressure doesn’t mean one should leave projects to the last minute.

Peace, People!