Hello, I ate the old author of this blog. I'm the new owner and I know it's Monday, Monday, but I'm tired...
Therefore, I put some of those other videos in draft and posted myself in the backyard hanging out on my new hammock- Why? Because it's fun and I don't like being responsible...so I'm not. I'm the new author of this blog and I'll do what I want...
I wonder if I have any peanut butter? Or better yet, peanut butter swirl ice cream...Hmmmm
Anywaaaay, while I'm resting please enjoy my most recent or most popular posts linked in the sidebar and further down the landing page. That is, if you're not like the average bear...too tired to scroll down.
But, it's o.k. if you're a bit sluggish- sometimes I'm bit idle myself - besides, I think the best posts are linked in the sidebar...or maybe not, I don't know...
looks to me like she has posts all over the place...
Gotta go...
Video from Bear 3360 on You Tube
6/30/08
Just hanging out
6/25/08
I'm Gonna Wash That Man Right Out Of My Hair
I looked in the mirror after showering today and saw the first few strands of old lady hair, well actually, white grays that once were blond. I think of things out of the ordinary in the shower and today wasn’t any different. I sang the song, “Gonna Wash That Man Right Out Of My Hair” from the movie South Pacific, and thought about my past. And my past includes my ex-husband, who I think about every time I hear that song. I imagine washing him out of my hair then watching him swirl with the water down the drain in circular motion.
I considered other song titles that would have worked nicely for that South Pacific song, such as, "I ’m gonna cram that man right down the tub drain," or "toss his bags right out the front door"...I’ve come up with a few more, but I don’t want to bore you...
This morning, I contemplated how joyful it would be to have magical powers, like Samantha (Elizabeth Montgomery)Stevens had on the Bewitched Show. A few minutes with super power is all the time I need to shrink him to the size of Stuart Little, like "Endora" Sam’s mother did to Darin (Dick York) on the show. I laughed to myself at the thought of my downsized ex-husband.
Whose name I can’t use, by the way, because it's redundant and he may sue me for Simon. (My cat) Hence, I will call him "Dagwood", borrowed from Endora's incorrect use of Darin's name. Oh, it would be lovely to see Dagwood spin down the drain, shouting in a small voice....help me Annie, hon----ey, wha...in-the...Annie?
Only I can’t seem to wash any of the Dagwoods out of my hair, head, or heart. And I don't know why I would need Bewitched either, since this is my day or night dream but, I guess the show helped me create imagery.
I don't have dreams about past relationships often, or at least, I don't think I do, if I do, I don't recall them. So I whatever I dream at night sticks in a corner of my brain until morning, therefore when I awake it's a daydream. And although it's a daydream it still awakens my weary subconscious (a pushover anyway) which lets waves of nostalgia wash over me, and take me far away from now and tomorrow...to deal with wistful memories that belong to yesterday.
And yesterday is where my mind was this morning, when I was in the shower watching Dagwood twirl...After Dagwood and I split up, I remembered driving our two-year-old son to the park. And as I drove our baby, I pretended I was talking on his plastic toy phone in the car when we stopped at red lights- just to make him laugh. This was before cell phones, so people didn’t see each other using a phone in the car often, although, I’m sure all the super heroes and spies had phones, like Batman and Robin. My little boy loved to watch me talk on the phone in the car and I have to say a few grown-ups laughed too until the light turned green. Then, we went home to eat, read, and sleep- our golden retriever between us- but that was yesterday.
O.K. what was my topic? Oh yes, yesterday, and washing men out of my hair. I'm sorry, I was half awake when I started this post and I don’t think you ever get pass some loves; and sometimes more than one love will remain transfixed in your head awhile. I met someone I thought I may start over with but it didn’t work out, hence, I have to wash him out now too- I guess, I should replace my ex with him... a... let’s see, what should I call this one? - Dogwood- Yes, from now on the new small man going down the drain shall be Dogwood, the last man to bite the dust, spin in the wash, or go down the drain.
Although it doesn't matter, because I’m fine on my own- Also, I have Simon, my business partner (the computer) the fax machine and many friends. Although, they say married people live longer than single people, and that if you remain single too long...well...you begin to go cuckoo like a clock-
For example, if I began personifying objects and stuff like that I'm in trouble, but that’s not me...
I’m sorry excuse me a minute- my Microsoft Paper Clip just reshaped himself into what looks like a exclamation mark, then quickly acted as if he didn’t move...cheap trick- I wonder why the Paper Clip is mad at me now? I guess it’s just another way to attract my attention. "Hey you up there, I’m trying to write down here, some of us have to work, geez.."
You see Clippy Clip thinks I can’t write without him and gets mad when I ignore him. I remember writing the first draft of manuscripts in a notebook then typing the final draft on a typewriter. Where was Mr. Clippy Clip then?
I know you can't see him, but he's looking at me with his beady eyes because he realizes that people did write without him at one time, and it actually wasn’t that long ago- and I might add some still do- Moving on again, as I was pointing out, I’m fine and dandy, except that my undependable business partner (the computer) began to moan- groan- freeze and crash...this morning again. (His update said he was shutting down, because he didn’t feel good.) Hey, who does feel good, especially when they have three gray hairs…?
The Computer is such a baby; he will not even try to work through it when he feels bad- (some dedication) It’s sad, but my Computer, Clippy Clip, and the Scanner are my only co-workers and I believe two are males- I can tell that the scanner is a female because she can do more than one thing at a time.
That's another thing, if I did have another male here, he would probably be in my way, and my world would drive him bonkers. Besides, I'm not personifying anything yet, when that happens maybe I'll think about joining some kind of dating service.
Oh my gosh, Clippy Clip is rolling himself into a ball, like a doodlebug. All I see are eyes...oh he looks weird...now, it looks like he’s scratching his nose, and...wait...oh my gosh, what is he doing, oh I see, he’s putting on a pair of pants.
(I wonder if he is leaving because he's mad again?)
Have you ever seen your paper clip do this? O.k. now, I really do have to end this post, because Simon is squeezing his body through the window I left open upstairs- I can see his behind, but it looks as if the front of his body his halfway through... I better go get him….
Link to Dick York Image from google images.
6/16/08
Quack Attack
There were ducks at my front door this morning. No, it’s not a typo; I woke up to the sound of ducks squawking at my front door, and at the bottom of the stairs outside. Then my cat, Simon, began to growl his “protect his territory” moan, that sounds like the noise an under water creature from a lagoon would utter.
At first, I thought it must’ve been someone’s duck in a cage (because my neighbor is weird) only to discover I was wrong-
At least, I was smart enough to stuff Simon in his pet Taxi by my door before I opened it, because things could have taken a turn for the worse-
I say "stuff Simon" because he stiffened his front legs, and stuck them out as straight as a board; then he grabbed the outside of the cage with his claws, as he moaned and threatened me with revenge. If there's one thing I can say about Simon, I can always depend upon him in a crisis, always-
These animals, including mine, were disturbing the peace at 6:30 in the morning, but what could I do about it? Nothing, and that’s exactly why they get away with this type of behavior. In fact, one day, animals are going to take over the world, watch, and see- although; we can’t blame them because we keep getting in their way.
We wonder into their habitat all the time, and walk around as if we own the place, so I guess they wonder why they aren't allowed to do the same. What do they know about locked doors, and burglar alarms? Animals are not concerned with what we do with our homes, it is not their problem; animals get along fine without any of the fancy trappings we humans must have to survive. Therefore I suppose they think it's alright to roam around on our property. Although, they should understand about territorial rights and that is what was confusing this morning- why would a baby duck come to my front door?
Anyway after the melodrama of shoving Simon into his cage, I started toward the door, and without the slightest idea of what to expect, I opened it…
Barely awake, I opened the door, and found a baby duck standing as pretty as you please on my doormat- she wasn’t quacking after all and she didn’t even knock, she was just sitting there. Evidently, the larger duck at the bottom of the stairs was responsible for the rackety quacking- I assumed that was Mom.
This little duckling was so dignified, I wanted to ask her if she had come for a cup of coffee or tea...
Although, I can't say the same for her mother, who was quacking her head off at the foot of the stars leading up to my apartment. How the baby duck managed to walk or wobble to the top of the stars is beyond me.
Although it was clear that the baby must have inherited her brains from Dad, because her mother stood at the bottom of the stairs perplexed by the stack of bricks that lay before her.
And I felt sorry for Mom because she quacked and wobbled around in circles...and when she finally gathered enough courage to make a wobble for it...she slammed head first into the first step then rolled back to where she began...
The oddest thing about this scenario was the way the baby duck acted; I mean she could care less about Mom... Miss baby Duck walked into my living room with ease, whereupon Simon rolled the pet taxi over by tossing himself against the side.
Then, he lay moaning a deep-throated unsociable moan- he was tired of this little party- I could tell Simon was fed up, because every time I looked at him his eyes turned a different shade of green.
But, Miss Duckling walked right up to bars on the pet taxi and started cleaning her tails feathers as if she were in a thicket of grass by a pond.
What was wrong with this baby duck?
Was she running away from home or something? Did she think she could just waddle over to my apartment and move in- golly; did ducks also see me as the perfect mark?
Well, I’ll tell you one thing, I didn’t see any rent money in little miss duckadees flipper. Therefore, she was going to have to straighten things out with Mom, and go back to the pond across the fence from my apartment (which is where she lived) or she could find a roommate, but she was not cleaning her feathers in my apartment.
In addition, the last time I checked (never) ducks didn’t have squatting rights, and the ducks that lived in the pond next door, lived a more glamorous life than the rest of us in the community- who paid their rent- these ducks were supposed to be an amenity, for laughing out loud.
I did not know what to do; there I was barely awake in my living room staring at a runaway duckling brat, whose mother was squawking and smashing her head against the concrete downstairs, while my cat tumbled around moaning in his pet taxi.
I had to do something fast or Momma Duck was going to have a concussion and I don’t know what the apartment association would say about that- probably that I killed a duck and wasn’t fit to live in the community anymore-then I might have to ask the ducks for help...
On the other hand, I could let miss priss live with me until her and Mom worked things out, although my cat would probably die of cardiac arrest.
I was stuck in a no win situation in my pajamas, without one sip of coffee, with a baby duck whose mother was probably quacking obscenities at me.
Then it hit me, I was being a mark, and I was not going to let the mother duck keep ramming her head against the step, and Simon continue to roll around the living room in his pet taxi.
Hence, I picked up the narcissist duckling and started to bring her down the stairs to her mother, whereupon she started squawking so loud it sounded like I was trying to kill her... however, when I started to place her on the ground, I saw what the duckling and her Mom were trying to avoid...
In front of my entire neighborhood, I was holding a little squawking duckling in my pajamas, that was apparently scared to death of the garbage truck blocking her and her mom from going back through the gate to their pond.
I placed the little duck by her mother, who at least wasn’t banging her head against the step anymore, said hello to my neighbors in my pajama’s, and climbed the stack of bricks back into my apartment, frustrated that we can't communicate better with animals.
Plus, I was thinking about what I said about the baby duck inheriting her brains from her father, since her mother had trouble with the stairs. Well, I wonder where I inherited my overactive imagination? Or maybe, I just needed some of the fancy trappings we humans must have to survive that morning- a hot cup of coffee.
6/10/08
That Calf Is Back Again
That calf is back again. Therefore, I'm going to have to postpone Tuesday's Question until tomorrow. (which is Wednesday here in the States)
Please forgive me, this is just a strong animal, so it'll take some time for me to free myself, but free myself I will...don't you worry about that- and I will post in the A.M.--watch and see, you know I will. :))
Thanks for stopping by, especially my regular group of Tuesday's Question commenter's, and I promise, I will have a question posted in the morning.
I wish this calf would put my hat on...
(P.S. I'm not going to moderate my comments, so please enjoy my other posts and feel free to leave a comment- I promise, I'll reply as soon as possible. Oh come on, I know you haven't read everything I've written.) :))
5/9/08
Louisiana's Stars
I heard a u-haul moving a family next door to me yesterday, and I wasn't looking forward to it, because you never know what type of people your new neighbors will be.
They could end up being enemies or friends for a lifetime, it’s just the luck of the draw, and whenever my cards were dealt for this deal, I was day-dreaming somewhere because I don't remember the occasion.
By the way, the image above is not a picture of my new neighbors, although the man may resemble the father; I didn’t meet the rest of the clan. I would have taken a picture of the Dad moving his furniture out of the U-haul as he yelled, “Hey, what do you do?” Although, I said; "I'm a photojournalist at the local paper” (Since I was taking pictures of my cat Simon) and I thought if I said the local paper it would discourage him, but he didn’t respond.
This guy looked like the kind of person who moved as slow as a worm most of time, but had the energy of a grasshopper when it came to a greenback dollar. Although his disposition leaned more toward Mr. opportunity than Mr. industrious as far as I was concerned.
Now that my son is grown I have a smaller nest (hence logo) or a one size fits all apartment, so I’m used to having people come and go, although I guess I’ve been lucky.
Or like I said, I 'm not exactly observant about people in my apartments, so I may have not noticed my neighbors in the past. Because, I mainly keep to myself writing, writing, saying hello, good-bye, and blah, blah, blah…
In fact, normally I would have blown Mr Opportunity off when he knocked on my door at
Therefore, I looked through the peephole to make sure he was o.k., and in just the nick of time, because otherwise, I would've missed my opportunity to see him spit tobacco an inch away from my door.
At least his spit looked a half an inch from my door, it was hard to see through the peep hole, but I could see him trying to smear it into my doormat before knocking on my door- “Hel-lo, anybody home?” I could smell his breath from the sound of his voice, and taste the liquor that swirled over his tongue turning his syllables into jumbled up slurs...
I wished I had a fake barking beast dog with anatomically correct teeth, like one of those anatomically correct women.
I would have done anything to get out of this situation. It’s funny, because what I had imagined would be terrible experiences didn’t seem so bad anymore…for example, a jump from a riverboat into the mighty Mississippi, walking on nails, listening to my faucet drip all night, etc… any of those options would have been better, but unfortunately they weren’t available.
And he kept knocking…then started talking through the peep hole, and I knew he knew I was on the other side of the door…"Heloo? Is you the lady I seen earlier, the blowd hare lady ?"
Now, the whiskey on his breath really was seeping through the peep hole. My heart pounded, and I knew if I opened the door, the humid night air would stick to my lungs and attach them to my paralyzed rib cage- I was petrified.
Then, as if he couldn’t think of a better time, my cat Simon decided to Meow and let the stranger know that he was threatening him behind the door, so now, without the fake dog, I thought we might as well surrender.
Although instead, I held my breath and watched the stranger through the peephole, as he looked at his boots move back and forth across the doormat.
He mumbled something about how he was sorry for making so much noise… that all he needed was his car so he could “get hisself home" because he was probably already"in hot water with the wife”
I know I should have been worried about how this man drove in his condition, and I did, but I was so relieved he wasn’t going to be my neighbor that I felt total freedom.
The kind of freedom you would feel if you dove in a deep spring of water, then turned and swam toward the Louisiana stars; with your arms stretched forward as you burst from the water as confident as a golden eagle sailing through a clear night sky.
He said he put his car behind the U-Haul earlier and now it was in front of my car, and he should have gone home with the rest of the guys, but he wanted to visit his sister, (supposedly) and would I mind moving my car.
"So, were you working or moving for someone else?" I asked, from behind my barrier of protection.
“Well, yessip, what did you think I was going to do move my family in an apartment down here?" He said as he laughed .
I opened the door and called his sister to come and pick him up, which she did along with the entire family- his wife drove their car home.
Then, the whole family drove out of my complex at 4 a clock in the morning, hoping to get home in time to feed a household of
As I watched them drive away, I realized why the birds in my empty nest(logo metaphor) keep telling me to get lost; because birds of a feather like to be together...and all nests are not the built the same.
And I finally knew what had been "flying around" in my head lately...I guess it was the Blue jays testing my tolerance, much like people do- it's how we react to others behavior that determines our character, not the other way around. I thought about this as I watched the family drive home under the Louisiana stars and I was glad it was under a clear night sky ...
Then, I'm not sure if I fainted or fell asleep~
4/17/08
Shh...Don't Wake Her!
That's my roommate Frassie in the video- she shared a room with me in the hospital. Frassie is sleepy because we couldn't sleep in the hospital, and sense we've returned home all we want to do is sleep. Although, I have to say, the hospital had someone looking over us. But in the middle of the night, it could get annoying, because the nurses or someone was either knocking over the litter box, or cutting off the circulation in my arm with "vital sign" machines.
I was just there for testing, and I've been home for several days, and I still can't hold my eyes open.
I know it sounds weird, but my mother took me to a movie the other day and I fell asleep in the middle of it- I also wrote a few incoherent posts that I decided were better left in draft.
It's getting to the point where I can relate to Rip Van Winkle and Sleeping Beauty who both slept for a hundred years. I believe Rip Van Winkle was being taught a lesson, whereas a curse was placed upon Sleeping Beauty, so what do you suppose might have happened to me? I'm sure I have a nice fairy god mother and I'm a nice person, although I'm certain Rip and the Sleeping Beauty were also nice people.
All I know is I can relate to feeling so tired that you could sleep for a hundred years, I just wouldn't want to look in the mirror when I woke up, or for that matter, wake up at all.
Also, I wonder what Sleeping Beauty's real name was...and I don't think the story ever tells us. Believe it or not, I never studied Children's Literature so I'm not sure...However, people do name their children all sorts of different names, for example (Tree, Wheat, Sunlight)therefore, I suppose Sleeping Beauty and Rip would have fit in with their peers.
However, Beauty's parents didn't know she would be put under a curse by a mean fairy, and forced to sleep for a hundred years when she was born. Hence again, I ask, why her parents named her Sleeping Beauty? (Oh, you don't suppose they could have had something to do with the fairy's evil plan, do you? O.K. I'm putting my hands over my ears, and shouting (blah, blah, blah) and I refuse to let myself think that again- I'm sorry.)
However, Mr. and Mrs. Sleeping Beauty or whatever her parents names were, did know that something bad was going to happen to her at the age of sixteen, but they didn't know she would be cursed at the time of her birth, therefore, what was the child's name? (Alright, again I'm not thinking it- blah, blah blah)
And what was the deal with Rip Van Winkle? In addition, how did these characters go to the bathroom all those years? The author or illustrator does refer to the passage of time in Rip Van Winkles story, because Rip has a long white beard and mustache when he awakes.
However, when Sleeping Beauty is awakened, she is as pretty as a model on the cover of a magazine. After all, why do you think the prince was anxious to kiss her after she sleep for a hundred years? Golly, she must have been quite a woman...
I don't know about anyone else but I always wondered about these characters names, etc... and so did my son when I read the stories to him- although, I'm ashamed to say, I never tried to find the answers.
But, I think I will investigate this issue tomorrow...because I'm sleepy again- even though I'm afraid to go to sleep- what if I don't wake up for a hundred years?
Then the whole city will walk through my house and see me sprawled out on my bed, my hair draped over my face, and my arm on top of my latest unfinished book. I can see it now, a good looking fireman checking my pulse, while he looks around my room at my pictures, books, and the rest of the gigantic mess.
And another thing, I won't have on any make up and instead of pajamas I will be wearing one of my ex-husbands oversize button down shirts because I haven't had time to wash clothes.
And now, I'm having trouble keeping my eyes open, although I know I can believe in my fairy god-mother. I never dreamed my writing career would be ruined by a mean fairy, with nothing better to do than place a spell on my sweet roommate and I at the hospital. All I know is if I don't wake up for a hundred years I hope they title my story...
Shh...don't wake her!
4/3/08
Hospital Gowns
Before her death, I used to imagine what my Golden Retriever "Wendy" may be thinking when she laid down and smiled; this is what I envisioned we may say to one another one day. You may recognize part of the phrase...
Wendy and I at the park~
Wendy: "I dream of laying in the clover above the bunny rabbits burrow; a nice place in the sun where it's safe and warm; where a hound dog can rest her weary head."
Me: and I wish to lay there with you, my friend, with a Bloody Mary in my hand.
My post:
I’m sorry about postponing another Tuesday’s Question. I've been practicing the violin therefore, I haven't had time to do much in the way of writing. I think until I get past whatever I need to do to get well I should rename Tuesday’s Question, The Unpredictable Question or the Question is…
I like both titles so if you read either of them on a Tuesday as a title to a post it’s really Tuesday’s Question in disguise...or something like that,- Actually, this is Thursday isn’t it? I'm apologizing for Tuesday's Question because I thought it was Wednesday, I'm sorry, for some reason I missed a day…
I'm not sure if I’m coming or going lately - golly, being sick is a full time job...it requires effort, like keeping up with the days and time. I feel I need to hurry to get dressed each morning, fix my hair, find my pumps, and pick up my clothes from the dry cleaners, etc… all hard adjustments for a writer, especially a sick one.
But, I guess I’m exaggerating a little, because the most I ever did to get ready for work was put on make-up and scream at my hair on my way out the door while I put the rest of my make up on in the rear view mirror.
And I’ve had trouble wearing pumps (a style of high heels guys) all my life, I fall over and walk on the side of my ankles, and wobble as if I've had too much to drink- it's not a pretty sight. I hate it though, because I really like how the shoes look and I would've liked to have had the patience to manage them at some point, if not anymore-
One time, I wore a pair of pumps for a boyfriend I adored, all the way through the French Quarter in New Orleans. Although by the end of the night, my date had to carry me to the car, and not because I had to much to drink. Consequently, our relationship soured soon after, which was for the best because the young woman I was that evening disappeared long ago, and I have a feeling he would have liked the other one better- Oh the things young woman do for the illusion of love, especially us romantic types.
Anyway, at the risk of switching the subject, guess who knows I’ve been playing my violin? If you are a regular reader you will quickly guess, if not, read these posts about Simon, my cat (he is also a songwriter) when you have a chance, and you will know more about why it’s a problem for him to know I’m vulnerable. (I also have a picture of him posted with the link.)
I don’t know how this cat knows when I feel powerless, frustrated, or scared out of my wits, but he does...
In fact, Simon wasted so much time Tuesday; I hold him partially responsible for the postponement of Tuesday’s Question. Because, while I was on the phone trying to set up appointments on an outpatient basis, and avoid being admitted to the hospital, Simon strolled along the kitchen counter gently tapping random objects on the floor.
Then the cat looked at me and meowed, as if he were playing Eeny, meeny, miny, moe, tell me dear owner which item will go...
Then I resorted to his level, “You evil little monster, I don’t care if you are a songwriter, you are a goner. The next time I have the chance you’re going to the pound –period.”
Anyway, I continued trying to find out about outpatient medical testing because according to my mother, I’m too hardheaded to just go in the hospital, and she's right, as usual.
Although my mother often says I’m “too hard-headed” when we disagree, which we were doing on the phone that afternoon, with my stepfather litigating her case in the background and Simon glaring at me with a “say chicken or else” look on his face and a defiant curl in his tail.
I could hear my stepfather saying as I watched Simon, “Ann, why don't you just go in the hospital and get those tests over with?"
Good question, and if I would just agree this would be over I thought, but I wanted to stay home surrounded by my books in my blue jeans, rather than go in a hospital and lay around in one of those awful gowns.
How am I supposed to feel secure having my spine operated on by a team of surgeons who tolerate such ludicrous hospital sleepwear?
I mean, Gee whiz... is it too much to ask for a decent nightgown? Nowadays you can have your hair, boobs, face, behind, everything virtually changed...you can be stuffed, tucked, plucked- and wrapped as tight as a Christmas present. These are exciting times, medical science has even found a way to defy gravity~ but not one soul can invent a decent hospital gown, not one...come on.
The hospital staff makes you wear those night gowns too, because last time I was in the hospital I brought my own pajamas and they would not let me wear them, although by the second day I was so doped up all I wanted was a giant lollipop.
And another time I was visiting the emergency room, the nurse said, “Put this gown on and the doctor will be right in, (you know the drill) but I didn’t feel well so I put the gown over the top part of my body and clothes, and hid my legs under the covers. That way the nurse couldn’t see my pants under the sheets, especially with my purse and hands on top of my legs.
This was an idea I actually thought was clever at the time, because after all, the gowns in the E.R were just routine anyway, and the doctor wouldn’t care, right?
Well, I was wrong, about the clever part anyway, because the nurse could tell what I did and she wasn’t too happy when she returned. She insisted that I take off my clothes right then and there, and put on the stupid gown with the butt open in the back- (talk about feel like a child)
Which reminds me that if I have to go kicking and screaming into the hospital you might not hear from me for a few days, but when I escape, I’ll have new material, so do come back, and know I always appreciate hearing from you ~
Plus, I thank you all for giving me what I suspect gives us all courage- the knowledge that people care - or in some cases, they're at least willing to stand by you and fight for your right to have decent hospital attire~ or hear you complain about it anyway~
I’ll keep you posted on my hospital stay, if in fact, there is one~
Until my next post~
Love and thanks~
Ann
3/28/08
Celine Dion - Misheard Lyrics
My son gently presented this video to me as proof that I've been singing the wrong words to Celine Dion's hit song from the movie Titanic,My Heart Will Go On-
It's funny how people misunderstand the words to songs, especially people who are as picky about lyrics, as I am. But I suppose it's a common mistake and I shouldn't be embarrassed. Although, when I think of how many times I sang this song (and others)in the car, shower, walking down the street, outside the car window, and in the grocery store, I cringe.
Many times I belted it out on the front of the ferry boat that crosses our part of the Mississippi River after the movie was released. I imagined Leonardo DiCaprio's arms wrapped securely around my waist, as I belted out the lyrics, my arms stretched toward the sea like a song bird. Although, every time I sang on the ferry, I should have known something was wrong when I heard people laughing and clapping-
That is, most people laughed and clapped, the rest stared at me with a motionless gaze, as if they had never seen anyone like me before, and now I know why... how embarrassing. :))
3/3/08
What is humor?
A note to readers I hope this video wasn't too bizarre for my usual readers and new readers, because my son made it- but what is humor, right? His band sounds more like sixties rock,(an influence from Mom's Beatles records)so don't be afraid to visit him at his bands site,(or maybe you should) The Melters just stay away from the rowdy language. I'm just a A Mom trying to show some support here, plus I loved the video. Although, I'm still a family centered humorist who loves to write for children, so you're not on the wrong blog.
But maybe, I'm just a nervous Mom. If you're a parent you know how it feels watching your child publicly. My son has been an entertainer all his life but I never get used to it. He is in a popular local band and I've seen lots of shows and now they have an album coming out, but I'm nervous about a silly video he did for fun. I'd never live through it if he made it big~
O.K. I feel better now...here is my regular post~
What is humor? What is a joke?
Wikipedia defines humor as "the ability of people, objects, situations or words to evoke feelings of amusement or happiness in people."
Taylor (my son) and a group of local musician friends are making their attempt at humor in this video, as well as searching for an answer to the question, What is Humor? Taylor made the video with his friends in an attempt "to evoke feelings of amusement and happiness in people" in addition to asking a friend (an expert in the area of humor)for his opinion. The video has become locally popular...so now it is on You Tube entitled Humor joke.
If you would like to hear more from Taylor's band you can visit their web siteThe Melters and hear a few songs from their demo.
I hope everyone finds the meaning of humor from the video, and after my dental appointment (I'm late for) I'm going to give out some awards. In addition to finally visiting my buddies blogs. I'm sorry I haven't visited as much lately. The dentist seems to own my time lately, although I promise you will (see?) hear from me today. And thank you all for your comments on my other posts~
Be back shortly and thanks for watching~
3/2/08
Has It Really Been A Week?
Has it been a week?
I can't believe it's been a week since I posted Saturday’s Favorite Movie moment. I feel like I've been roaming the city with amnesia or something, it's an awful feeling...
When I woke up last Monday and couldn't find one slipper, I should have known something was coming, not that all mornings are a bed of roses, but waking up to just one slipper is a sign that somethings amiss. I do not have a dog, and my cat Simon can't understand why people and dogs find slippers resourceful anyway, so I knew it wasn't the cat- therefore where was the slipper?
I will give one hundred dollars to the person with the answer- well, never mind, because someone else probably knows- that person is just not me. Hence, before I was awake I was looking for one slipper with one eye open and the other eye refusing to budge, probably because I could hear what sounded like the low moaning of an angry or frightened cat.
It was "Monster" my cat Simon’s nemesis at the door. When Monster's hungry, he comes to call, and Simon have this same fight through the front door when he does. I decided to ignore the cat drama, and got out of bed ignoring the fact that I had one slipper, at least I had coffee. I felt a warm feeling wash over me at the thought of coffee, so I jumped out of bed ready to go make myself a cup when a pain almost as bad as childbirth hit me.
Suddenly, the side of my mouth felt like boy scouts were building a fire on the top of a tooth.
I wanted to shout at the campers, "go find someone else's mouth to build a fire in, o.k.? This persons mouth you're in should be last in queue for infuriating situations, it's not my turn... In fact, I'll give you names of other people whose mouths you haven't visited in awhile, if you would please just camp out in someone else's mouth, preferably one who doesn't have a busy week."
However, my pleading brought no comply, with the exception of what felt like another log hitting the fire, and the beginning of a long hot dog roast. Therefore, before I had my first cup of coffee or found my other slipper, I had a toothache, a moaning cat, the telephone ringing, and my son calling, "Mom, can I look at something on your computer for a minute?"
Although, this was before he saw my face, because later in the day, he paused with an inquisitive look on his face and said, "Wait a second, what is wrong with your face? It looks like you've swallowed a whale or something."
I tried to mumble a "Goo mornin'" and an explanation, as I walked through the living room to make a cup of coffee in the kitchen, holding the side of my face, and wondering what in the world could happen to a slipper in the middle of the night. I got an ice pack out of the freezer with one hand, and the coffee can with the other, still wondering about my slipper, and listening to Simon getting louder...
"Moan...nnnn.” I guess he is afraid Monster might get a morsel of the food in his bowl he is didn't plan on eating anyway. I don’t know why I call Simon's nemesis Monster, it should be the other way around, but sometimes life is just backwards.
Or at least I hoped today would be a backwards day, because the beginning was so bad, backwards would have been a welcomed relief. I mean if it began at the dentist office, and went backwards I should be winning the lottery by the afternoon, right?
However, when I was in line at the drug store to get antibiotics for my tooth my foot slipped off the break pedal and tapped the car in front of me. I was in a daze from the pain, so the tap barely fazed me, but I could see my victim surveying the damages through his rear view mirror- no doubt pondering his chances to claim whiplash. To be fair there was a small scratch under the license plate, so we had to call the police, and wait for them for two hours to give me a ticket for hitting someone from behind in line at the drug store.
After the police left, I sat in the parking lot and looked toward the sky. Half of my face was swollen and my tooth hurt so bad I wished heaven would drop a rope for me to hold onto while I was pulled among the stars to Gods cradling arms again... where I could forget about toothaches, moaning cats, unlucky days, and cars...
But first I have to try to understand how a slipper can walk away by itself in the middle of the night...plus I have to write for local magazines, get my books published, and keep trying to write A Nice Place In The Sun, so that others will have a place to get away from their toothaches, cars, moaning cats, etc...
Therefore thanks for keeping me going, and coming to visit, I hope I didn't miss too much- has it really been a week?
Note:
As it turned out I had a tooth that abscessed and I’m not kidding the days between Monday and today have been one long blur...except for the dentist, which I have to go back to next week... I mean this week....but there will be a Tuesday's Question, in addition to some awards this week~
Unless of course the slipper and the computer have concocted a brilliant escape plan~
2/22/08
2/13/08
You Cannot Count On Anything Anymore
You cannot count on anything anymore- not even your horoscope. Now, I understand that typos are a problem these days, but there are some things you should be able to count on...like your horoscope...
For example, here is my astrology report for today- which by the way, I clicked on out of curiosity~
"Your mind is kind of stuck in the past, though it may not be such a bad thing. Nostalgia can be as good ass it is bad sometimes, so indulge yourself in a little stroll down memory lane."
What am I supposed to do with that? I don't understand what it means, let alone know what I'm supposed to do with my day. You cannot count on anything anymore...
Authors note: Stayed tuned today for readers comments to yesterdays Tuesday's Question.
1/24/08
A Disobedient Chicken With Attitude
This little One On The Egg Carton Is My Chicken Choice
Here is my chicken for Speedcat Hollydale's wordless chicken Tuesday. I found the others too , but I don't like them, they lack character. (Please don't let this be the day when someone I'm trying to impress stops to read my page.) Anyway, I guess most chickens lack character, they're always too chicken to stick up for a friend, or admit when they're wrong, in addition, they're either clucking and ducking an issue or bossing each other around... I suppose that's why we started wringing their necks in the first place. But, I do like chickens with an attitude, and this little chicken on the egg cartoon's display of civil disobedience is my kind of chicken.
Do you think I made the right choice? I mean the little chicken on the egg carton is a rebel, which suggests brains, and well look at the other poultry? One is ignoring her eggs and the other looks as if she is lecturing her little blank faced chick with a two word vocabulary ...
Sort of like Fog Horn Leg Horn's lectures, "I said, I said, I said... Boy?"
His name is Fog Horn Leg Horn isn't it? Because after this post, I may need to look up the creator or producers of the show and see if they need any writers !
1/4/08
The Power Of A Perfect Phrase
My father sent me this e-mail yesterday, and I liked it so much I decided to pass it along to you. I hope you enjoy reading the following quotes as much as I did, if not, you will still note a comparable difference in the way we phrase our arguments today.
E-mail begins here:
"There was a time when words were used beautifully. These glorious insults are from an era when cleverness with words was still valued, before a great portion of the English language was boiled down to four-letter words!"
The exchange between Churchill and Lady Astor:
She said, "If you were my husband, I'd give you poison," and he said,
"If you were my wife, I'd take it."
"Sir, you will either die on the gallows or of some unspeakable disease."
"He has all the virtues I dislike and none of the vices I admire."
"A modest little person, with much to be modest about."
"I didn't attend the funeral, but I sent a nice letter saying I approved of it."
"Cannot possibly attend first night, will attend second... if there is one."
span id="fullpost">
"I feel so miserable without you; it's almost like having you here."
"I've just learned about his illness. Let's hope it's nothing trivial."
"He is not only dull himself, he is the cause of dullness in others."
"There's nothing wrong with you that reincarnation won't cure".
"He has the attention span of a lightning bolt."
"They never open their mouths without subtracting from the sum of human knowledge." - Thomas Brackett Reed.
"He loves nature in spite of what it did to him."
"Why do you sit there looking like an envelope without any address on it?"
"His mother should have thrown him away and kept the stork.
"Some cause happiness wherever they go; others, whenever they go."
"I've had a perfectly wonderful evening. But this wasn't it."
A MAN MARRIES A WOMAN EXPECTING SHE WILL REMAIN THE SAME; SHE DOESN'T.
anonymous
12/28/07
Holiday Update
This is my cat Simon, refusing to jump off the office chair Santa gave me for Christmas this year. If you're a regular reader you know that Simon and I fight all of the time, although we go way back. I was ill a few years ago and Simon lay at my feet and nursed me back to health. Now, he feels I'm in debt to him and I sort of agree. Animals are amazing, and this one did a good turn for me, so -as my regular readers know- I've put up with a lot from him, particularly this past year when I started writing again. For some reason he hates for me to sit at my computer and write. I think maybe he just became accustomed to laying beside me most of the time and he wants my constant attention.
Anyway, due to Simon's combative nature, and obvious disdain for anything attracting my attention, it looks as though my office chair will the new subject of our fights. I told him as I snapped this picture, that I was taking it in case I need evidence of his behavior. Because he moaned a mean moan when I tried to make him jump off the chair, then turned his back which meant to just leave him alone- brat.
Plus now that Simon's discovered the chair he's invented new ways to interrupt me when I'm working. For example, he knocks something down or over and when I get up to correct him he quickly jumps in the chair. He thinks this is sneaky when it's so transparent what he's doing...
Anyway, I wanted to write a quick update to say that Simon hasn't knocked me down again. I'm alive and kicking and sorry for the sluggish holiday posting. I'm taking it easy during the holidays- or trying to anyway- writing and saving posts, in addition to making surprise plans for the coming year.
I hope everyone is having a happy and fun holiday season. If you're a new reader who is unaware of what the last year was like living with my mischievous, yet remarkable feline, here are a few links to posts about his tyrants...
My Cats Taking Over My Life
An Update On Simon Cat
My Cat Simon Will Not Let Me Write
Silly Spills And The Results (my silly spill was caused by Simon)
12/21/07
A Christmas Plum Pudding
A faint coat of pollen blanketed the top of my grandmother’s front porch throughout my childhood. The pollen on the porch was a constant source of aggravation for my grandmother, who apparently declared war on the pollutant long before any of us w