While I am as guilty as the next guy about being addicted to the Weather Channel's broadcasts about hurricanes, blizzards and tsunami's, I yearn for the days of old when you looked out the window and said, "Oh, it snowed last night we had better listen to the radio to see if school is off."
The forecasts are like watching a car crash. Let's face it. You want to look away. But you just can't! It all started for me when we lived in North Carolina and got two hurricanes in two months in an area that had not gotten a hurricane in 40 years. People had hurricane parties, mocking the forecasters. Being from New York, I thought they were all nuts and put my kids, my dog, my photos in our van and headed north. At the time I ran a daycare out of my home and mom's came with their children the morning the hurricane hit and left nasty notes on my door.
As I sat safely in my mother in law's home in upstate NY watching the town I lived in get plowed by Hurricane Bertha, I just couldn't believe that people mocked these warnings. But the old "cry wolf" story holds true. Hurricanes hit a particular area that is very small, but Mother Nature is a sick old broad and could change her mind any minute. So, no matter how many computer models we make she could still say, "Futt you and your computer models!! Here you go Wilmington - your turn. Hurricane Bertha!!"
So, my friend from PA stayed for the hurricane and said it was the biggest mistake of her life. They huddled in an inner hall of their home waiting for the driving rains and winds that sounded like a train to pass over their home. But that wasn't the worst. After it passed there was no electricity. It was 100 degrees out, 100 percent humidity and no way to get cool. The streets flooded from debris and the whole place smelled of rotten fish. So, I felt justified in my "yankee" decision to leave. But became addicted to watching weather news.
Now, we grew up in upstate NY and lived outside of Buffalo for many years. So, when we moved to Southeastern PA where they close school at the threat of a dusting of snow or if the temperature dips into the single digits, I thought I could kick my addiction. After all, where I grew up unless the school bus was pushing snow with the front bumper - there was school. My school's motto was, "Rain, snow, sleet or hail, Mohonasen District never fails." So, certainly the threat of deadly storms would be off my radar and I could walk away from the Weather Channel forever!
But, sadly, that is not the case. Now I watch it to see other people's misery and fear. I find I am disappointed when they are wrong and people don't get creamed with a blizzard or a hurricane misses us and goes off to sea. What kind of sick person am I?
Well, maybe it boils down to wanting the computers to be wrong and Mother Nature to be in charge. Maybe I just want to be able to tell what the weather is by looking out the window. Maybe I am darn tired of being warned all the time! Maybe, just maybe, I want to stick my tongue out at every computerized fortune telling computer model screaming out warnings about every gosh darned thing that might go wrong and just wanna live on the edge, not knowing, not being able to prepare.
I DON'T WANNA RUSH TO THE STORE TO BUY MILK AND BREAD EVERY TIME IT SNOWS! (Which is what they do here in SE PA ... I will never understand it since I would want candles, medicine, and an alternative heat source, having endured real blizzards, but that's just me.)
So, yea, I watch Weather Channel hoping for them to be wrong. I watch hoping the someone else will get hit by the blizzard so they can hone their survival skills. I watch routing for Mother Nature to futt someone up a little, not too much, but a little, so maybe just maybe we can all go back to walking out the front door and saying, "Hey, it's cold out today. I need a coat."
Tuesday, January 27, 2015
Monday, January 26, 2015
Thicker than Water
Started watching Thicker than Water on Bravo this morning. I was hoping for Salon Takeover and was making coffee so it was just on and sucked me in.
Not quite sure who Ben Tankard is, I googled him. Apparently, he was a pro basketball player who in retirement became a gospel singer and producer and preacher. This is his second marriage and he was never home when his children were growing up and they were abused somehow as kids. These kids are all grown now and in their 20s and maybe 30s and the whole family is dealing with a childhood without a dad because he was on the road making money.
The couple is so mentally healthy and his wife Jewel is the glue that holds the family together and gets Ben back on track when he slides into "throw money at it" mode. The grown kids were abused somehow as children. The one daughter blames her older brother for not "saving" her from the abuse and then finds out that while she was there on weekends and holidays being abused, he LIVED there and was being abused all the time. I do not know where this abuse came from but it apparently wasn't Ben who was the perpetrator. Yet, like most good parents, he feels guilty for his kids suffering. In his mind, if he was home more instead of making money on the road, the abuse would not have happened.
Given the fact that Ben's solution to problems is to throw money at it, I seriously doubt that he would have made a difference. That said, it brings up my age old peeve of parents who are successful, unbelievably successful, in their careers who get awards and accolades and who do NOT acknowledge their spouse, nanny, parents...whoever held their lives together, while they were off chasing their dream.
If you want to chase a dream, don't have kids. Kids require lots of time and one on one time with their parents. This whole "quality time" bullshit doesn't hold water with me. I am sorry if I am stepping on people's toes but kids would rather have you with them than have money. And not just physically with them, put your damn phone down!! When your kid has to say, "Daddy" or "Mommy", more than twice because you are on your phone then you are TELLING him/her that your phone is more important than they are.
Now, before you go all ape-shit on me I am not talking about people who HAVE to work to survive. I am talking about people who take promotions say, to be top of their game, when they KNOW it will require lots of travel, meetings and stress.
Once I was at a retirement party for a President of a University. He broke down in tears in the middle of his speech and turned to his children, "I am sorry! I am sorry I missed all of your ball games, chorus concerts, scout camps...your lives...to further my career. Please forgive me."
I think that about says it all.
So, if you have a good job, if you make a decent living and can pay your bills, if you have health insurance and food on the table and a roof over your head then keep that job! Don't take that promotion. It's OK!! Enjoy your family while you can. They will be grown before you know it.
In the end your co-workers won't be standing around your bed holding your hand as you die; your children will. In the end when you leave your company, no matter how much you did for them, they will have moved on to the next guy for all of their accolades and praises the day after you are gone. In a couple of short years all of your hard work will be forgotten because someone else will be doing the work your did in a better way. It's difficult to believe that a place you spend all of your time at for your whole life will not give two shits about you the day after you leave.
But, your family, your children, the people who love you, your real friends, friends that are family..they will be the ones who remember you always. THEY will be the ones who speak your name after you are gone, the ones who will tell your story for generations, the ones who will carry you in their hearts for always. They are your legacy, NOT your job.
OK, maybe if you are a brain surgeon who invents the cure for cancer this does not apply, but in general that is true.
Now, to get back to the old Tankard clan. They are trying desperately to make it work and move forward. I applaud that. One of my biggest faults is hashing things out, trying to fix old scars, make everything better. Over the years I have learned that scars heal stronger than the original skin. People can come to an understanding but that scar is always there, a symbol of that pain and how you got through it. One shouldn't try to fix that. It's a badge of sorts.
So, the Tankard clan has a better plan than I; talk about it a bit and move on.
Just be there for each other because you should be there for each other. You do not have to like your family but you do have to love them. Love means putting your pain aside for the good of the family. It means family over everything you want, you need, you desire for yourself. It means being content with what you have and not always seeking peace from outside sources. "Peace" sits next to you at the dinner table.
The Tankards are learning this lesson on national TV, a very brave thing. I just have one hope...I HOPE TO GOD THIS IS ONE REALITY SHOW THAT IS NOT ALL SCRIPTED!!! Please be real, please be real....LOL.
Ehhhh, even if it is scripted it still makes me feel good, sparks decent conversation and blogs and I am OK with that.
Not quite sure who Ben Tankard is, I googled him. Apparently, he was a pro basketball player who in retirement became a gospel singer and producer and preacher. This is his second marriage and he was never home when his children were growing up and they were abused somehow as kids. These kids are all grown now and in their 20s and maybe 30s and the whole family is dealing with a childhood without a dad because he was on the road making money.
The couple is so mentally healthy and his wife Jewel is the glue that holds the family together and gets Ben back on track when he slides into "throw money at it" mode. The grown kids were abused somehow as children. The one daughter blames her older brother for not "saving" her from the abuse and then finds out that while she was there on weekends and holidays being abused, he LIVED there and was being abused all the time. I do not know where this abuse came from but it apparently wasn't Ben who was the perpetrator. Yet, like most good parents, he feels guilty for his kids suffering. In his mind, if he was home more instead of making money on the road, the abuse would not have happened.
Given the fact that Ben's solution to problems is to throw money at it, I seriously doubt that he would have made a difference. That said, it brings up my age old peeve of parents who are successful, unbelievably successful, in their careers who get awards and accolades and who do NOT acknowledge their spouse, nanny, parents...whoever held their lives together, while they were off chasing their dream.
If you want to chase a dream, don't have kids. Kids require lots of time and one on one time with their parents. This whole "quality time" bullshit doesn't hold water with me. I am sorry if I am stepping on people's toes but kids would rather have you with them than have money. And not just physically with them, put your damn phone down!! When your kid has to say, "Daddy" or "Mommy", more than twice because you are on your phone then you are TELLING him/her that your phone is more important than they are.
Now, before you go all ape-shit on me I am not talking about people who HAVE to work to survive. I am talking about people who take promotions say, to be top of their game, when they KNOW it will require lots of travel, meetings and stress.
Once I was at a retirement party for a President of a University. He broke down in tears in the middle of his speech and turned to his children, "I am sorry! I am sorry I missed all of your ball games, chorus concerts, scout camps...your lives...to further my career. Please forgive me."
I think that about says it all.
So, if you have a good job, if you make a decent living and can pay your bills, if you have health insurance and food on the table and a roof over your head then keep that job! Don't take that promotion. It's OK!! Enjoy your family while you can. They will be grown before you know it.
In the end your co-workers won't be standing around your bed holding your hand as you die; your children will. In the end when you leave your company, no matter how much you did for them, they will have moved on to the next guy for all of their accolades and praises the day after you are gone. In a couple of short years all of your hard work will be forgotten because someone else will be doing the work your did in a better way. It's difficult to believe that a place you spend all of your time at for your whole life will not give two shits about you the day after you leave.
But, your family, your children, the people who love you, your real friends, friends that are family..they will be the ones who remember you always. THEY will be the ones who speak your name after you are gone, the ones who will tell your story for generations, the ones who will carry you in their hearts for always. They are your legacy, NOT your job.
OK, maybe if you are a brain surgeon who invents the cure for cancer this does not apply, but in general that is true.
Now, to get back to the old Tankard clan. They are trying desperately to make it work and move forward. I applaud that. One of my biggest faults is hashing things out, trying to fix old scars, make everything better. Over the years I have learned that scars heal stronger than the original skin. People can come to an understanding but that scar is always there, a symbol of that pain and how you got through it. One shouldn't try to fix that. It's a badge of sorts.
So, the Tankard clan has a better plan than I; talk about it a bit and move on.
Just be there for each other because you should be there for each other. You do not have to like your family but you do have to love them. Love means putting your pain aside for the good of the family. It means family over everything you want, you need, you desire for yourself. It means being content with what you have and not always seeking peace from outside sources. "Peace" sits next to you at the dinner table.
The Tankards are learning this lesson on national TV, a very brave thing. I just have one hope...I HOPE TO GOD THIS IS ONE REALITY SHOW THAT IS NOT ALL SCRIPTED!!! Please be real, please be real....LOL.
Ehhhh, even if it is scripted it still makes me feel good, sparks decent conversation and blogs and I am OK with that.
Saturday, January 24, 2015
Government Cheese
Back in the day...people who didn't have a lot of money would get to go down to some local
community center or church in their town and get government cheese. My husband and I used to get
it from a friend who worked at a blind camp.
He used to bring hams and turkeys and government cheese to us because "we wuz po". I guess the blind people couldn't see the expiration date...ha ha
...no I did NOT just go there. AHHHHHH.
A friend of mine looked at me with fond memories wafting through his head the other day, "Ahhh, I
remember when my mom used to tell me we were going down to get it! We would all go wait
for hours in line in this vacant lot next to a church. Man, that stuff was so great!"
Even great rappers like JayZ have eaten government cheese...
Government cheese distribution started in the Reagan administration. The production of said cheese began in the early 1900s. That will tell you how indestructible this stuff was.
...no I did NOT just go there. AHHHHHH.
A friend of mine looked at me with fond memories wafting through his head the other day, "Ahhh, I
remember when my mom used to tell me we were going down to get it! We would all go wait
for hours in line in this vacant lot next to a church. Man, that stuff was so great!"
Even great rappers like JayZ have eaten government cheese...
“After that government cheese, we eating steak/After the projects, we on estates.”
It's basically what we now call American Cheese, or processed cheese product and was invented by Kraft in 1916.
In the 1980s the government used to pay farmers not to make it because we had stockpiled so much of it in the ole US of A could have eaten processed cheese forever. Then in the 1981 President Reagan said, hey guys lets give this shit to the poor!! They eat anything!
Guess what year I got married...yup 1981. And had Amber in 1982 so we qualified!
Macaroni and government cheese was the best we ever had. And Peter was so happy not to have to eat tuna noodle casserole again that he almost voted for Reagan in his second term...I said almost!
Even free cheese can't make one forget about trickle down economics!
Wednesday, January 21, 2015
The Emergency Broadcast System
I was just speaking to my daughter about Government Cheese and trying to get some answers to questions that have plagued me all my life concerning said cheese, and she says, "You know what bothers me? Fourteen years ago when we really needed it where the hell was the emergency broadcast system?"
And you know she is right!
How many times in my life time have I had to listen to that stupid AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
noise right in the middle of my favorite song, and then beeep beep beep. "This is a test of the emergency broadcast system. This is only a test. If this were a real emergency you would be instructed ..." blah blah blah...I know it by heart! I swear I did not look it up. THAT is how many times I have heard it.
Yet, we get attacked on 911 and I do not remember even once hearing the damn emergency broadcast system. Do you?
I remember everything that happened that day. My daughter was deploy-able, just getting back from all of her Army training, so let me tell you my ears and eyes were open to everything all day long!!! And, no emergency broadcasting system type "computer voice" ever came on the radio or TV.
So, if you ever find out what the hell the emergency broadcast system is for please let me know. Cuz it sure as hell wasn't for the biggest emergency this country has seen since WWII!
Tomorrow I will be blogging about government cheese...stay tuned.
And you know she is right!
How many times in my life time have I had to listen to that stupid AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
noise right in the middle of my favorite song, and then beeep beep beep. "This is a test of the emergency broadcast system. This is only a test. If this were a real emergency you would be instructed ..." blah blah blah...I know it by heart! I swear I did not look it up. THAT is how many times I have heard it.
Yet, we get attacked on 911 and I do not remember even once hearing the damn emergency broadcast system. Do you?
I remember everything that happened that day. My daughter was deploy-able, just getting back from all of her Army training, so let me tell you my ears and eyes were open to everything all day long!!! And, no emergency broadcasting system type "computer voice" ever came on the radio or TV.
So, if you ever find out what the hell the emergency broadcast system is for please let me know. Cuz it sure as hell wasn't for the biggest emergency this country has seen since WWII!
Tomorrow I will be blogging about government cheese...stay tuned.
Monday, January 19, 2015
Allergies
My son in law is allergic to shell fish. He wants to eat shell fish. So, he came up with this brilliant plan to see if he is still allergic to shell fish. He wants his wife, a former combat medic from the Army, to drive him to the parking lot of an ER and watch him eat shrimp.
Now, this idea was borne from a real life incident that happened while my daughter was serving in the Army. This Lieutenant or sergeant or Colonel, I forget which, in the army used to make my daughter come to his big wig meetings at this fancy sea food restaurant and give him an injection of Benedryl before he ate and be ready to save his life should he eat too much shell fish.
It's kinda a great idea. People DO out grow allergies. So, when I heard about this story and my son in law's idea, I said, "Well, OK, but I wanna be the one who gets to video it."
I figure if it goes well and he doesn't die we can make a million with the video. If it goes badly and he dies he has a great life insurance policy with the military. Either way, it's a win win.
So, we will keep you up to date if he ever gets the nerve to do it. In the mean time, I accept no responsibility for anyone who chooses to use this idea to test their own allergies.
But if you do decide to be this much of a dumb ass........please video it for us!!!
Now, this idea was borne from a real life incident that happened while my daughter was serving in the Army. This Lieutenant or sergeant or Colonel, I forget which, in the army used to make my daughter come to his big wig meetings at this fancy sea food restaurant and give him an injection of Benedryl before he ate and be ready to save his life should he eat too much shell fish.
It's kinda a great idea. People DO out grow allergies. So, when I heard about this story and my son in law's idea, I said, "Well, OK, but I wanna be the one who gets to video it."
I figure if it goes well and he doesn't die we can make a million with the video. If it goes badly and he dies he has a great life insurance policy with the military. Either way, it's a win win.
So, we will keep you up to date if he ever gets the nerve to do it. In the mean time, I accept no responsibility for anyone who chooses to use this idea to test their own allergies.
But if you do decide to be this much of a dumb ass........please video it for us!!!
We really are kinda sick
Have you heard of the new game, "Cards Against Humanity"? Well, it's basically "Apples to Apples" but with really sick shit answers.
"And the Academy Award for ________ goes to __________." is an example of one of the cards you need to answer. You have the answers in your hand and you submit an answer to the person with the question card. He/She picks the one they think is most fitting or sick or demented and if it's your card you win.
Win...a term I use loosely considering you have won the award for being the sickest mother futter.
Some of the answers include; dead babies, Hitler's dead body, and several sex acts that even I did not know what they were and had to Google them: let's just say it included body parts and orifices that really should NOT have anything to do with sex.
My point is that you really have to be kinda sick to think this is funny, which we are! And not for nothin', but my family has been playing our own version of this game forever. It's called "What would you do for a million dollars" and gets very graphic and sick.
The prompting for this game is not from cards but from each other. One person egging the other person on creates an environment mold could live in. It started with, "Would you have sex with _________ for a million dollars?" and has escalated from there. The price has gone up too. We all said we would do just about anything for a million so our family could be financially set forever ten years ago.
Now, we are like, "No way, a million ain't enough!"
So, it has become what would you do for a billion dollars. Questions arise about ethics and how long you would spend in jail, what state you are in because some have the death penalty and legal questions about whether you would get the money if it's a crime.
All of this is good interaction for adults. But it gets pretty heated and loud and bleeds into dinner time and it is not Sunday dinner table talk!!! So, it has been banned from Sunday dinner along with Monopoly and Risk, two board games that have wreaked such havoc in our home my grown, intelligent, loving children are no longer allowed to play them.
Can you spell COMPETITIVE?
Anyway, I never get involved in all of this stuff because I am very ZEN of late. I am unbelievably honest, to the point of thinking that trying grapes in a super market is stealing. So, the fact that I love this game has me very concerned. It's sick! It's demented! And almost as fun as the time I cheated at Risk, stealing people's armies while they were arguing over deals made and broken, until at some point I had so many armies in North America someone said, "Hey MOM, are YOU cheating?"
I took over the world that night and no one suspecting me because I am such an honest person. There is something to be said for that. All angels have a little bit of devil ...even ME.
And "Cards Against Humanity" is one of the best games I have ever played! Let your sick side rock!
Sunday, January 18, 2015
I have two really good blogs coming...
I have two really good blogs coming...but for today
Cancer sucks!
Cancer sucks!
Saturday, January 17, 2015
According to the bible...You're being watched by sex addicted aliens. Help me with the questionaire to decide if you are related to one.
We were watching Ancient Aliens the other night on History channel and the evidence is so overwhelming that aliens have been on this earth forever and are still here watching us it is crazy. The show starts it's systematic proof of this with the BIBLE! But there are stories of the "Watchers" across cultures and centuries. Basically, the story is a bunch of angels fell from God's graces and came to earth to have a orgy with the humans. They are suppose to hang out and help us and watch over us but they find some human chicks and dudes that are so HOT they can't help themselves. They had a bunch of kids and the half breeds are here watching us and reporting to the "higher ups" about our progress and stepping in when necessary. Guardian angels, alien watchers...you decide.
According to the website http://www.deliriumsrealm.com/fallen-angels/ , "“In those days, when the children of man had multiplied, it happened that there were born unto them handsome and beautiful daughters. And the angels, the children of heaven , saw them and desired them; and they said to one another, ‘Come, let us choose wives for ourselves from among the daughters of man and beget us children.’ And Semyaz, being their leader, said unto them,’I fear that perhaps you will not consent that this deed should be done, and I alone will become (responsible) for this great sin.’ But they all responded to him, ‘Let us all swear an oath and bind everyone among us by a curse not to abandon this suggestion but to do the deed.’ Then they all swore together and bound one another by (the curse) And they were altogether two hundred;” – 1 Enoch 6:1-7
"The Book of Jubilees gives another account of how the Watchers fell that is similar to 1 Enoch. It explains that the Watchers originally descended to the earth to teach mankind and do what is just, but they ‘sinned with the daughters of men because these had begun to mix with earthly women so that they became defiled.’ (Jubilees 4:22)"
So, Ancient Aliens posits that these angels were really aliens sent here to watch over us who couldn't keep it in their pants.
Talk about mixed marriage...geesh!
The bigger picture is THIS...Assuming this is true it suggests that some of us are descendants of really horny rapist aliens and for me THAT EXPLAINS ALOT!
All of you who have never been quite right, never fit in; who have always felt like you were on
"THE OUTSIDE LOOKING IN" or "WATCHING" life...well now, do I have news for you!
You know that DNA test that tells you your ancestral heritage...umm...well...I wouldn't waste my money cuz that DNA connection ain't happenin'.
So, some of us are related to aliens. What does this mean to you? How can you find out if you are one of the watchers or worse MARRIED to a watcher and your kids are half breeds?
Knowing all of you who follow me...I would imagine we could come up with some pretty interested questions to ask on a questionnaire to decide who is and who isn't a watcher.
Leave a comment here with a couple questions YOU think would ferret out our alien ancestor relatives and let's see where this takes us. I will post the questionnaire in its entirety in another post.
Happy HUNTING, but remember they are WATCHING YOU!!
According to the website http://www.deliriumsrealm.com/fallen-angels/ , "“In those days, when the children of man had multiplied, it happened that there were born unto them handsome and beautiful daughters. And the angels, the children of heaven , saw them and desired them; and they said to one another, ‘Come, let us choose wives for ourselves from among the daughters of man and beget us children.’ And Semyaz, being their leader, said unto them,’I fear that perhaps you will not consent that this deed should be done, and I alone will become (responsible) for this great sin.’ But they all responded to him, ‘Let us all swear an oath and bind everyone among us by a curse not to abandon this suggestion but to do the deed.’ Then they all swore together and bound one another by (the curse) And they were altogether two hundred;” – 1 Enoch 6:1-7
"The Book of Jubilees gives another account of how the Watchers fell that is similar to 1 Enoch. It explains that the Watchers originally descended to the earth to teach mankind and do what is just, but they ‘sinned with the daughters of men because these had begun to mix with earthly women so that they became defiled.’ (Jubilees 4:22)"
So, Ancient Aliens posits that these angels were really aliens sent here to watch over us who couldn't keep it in their pants.
Talk about mixed marriage...geesh!
The bigger picture is THIS...Assuming this is true it suggests that some of us are descendants of really horny rapist aliens and for me THAT EXPLAINS ALOT!
All of you who have never been quite right, never fit in; who have always felt like you were on
"THE OUTSIDE LOOKING IN" or "WATCHING" life...well now, do I have news for you!
You know that DNA test that tells you your ancestral heritage...umm...well...I wouldn't waste my money cuz that DNA connection ain't happenin'.
So, some of us are related to aliens. What does this mean to you? How can you find out if you are one of the watchers or worse MARRIED to a watcher and your kids are half breeds?
Knowing all of you who follow me...I would imagine we could come up with some pretty interested questions to ask on a questionnaire to decide who is and who isn't a watcher.
Leave a comment here with a couple questions YOU think would ferret out our alien ancestor relatives and let's see where this takes us. I will post the questionnaire in its entirety in another post.
Happy HUNTING, but remember they are WATCHING YOU!!
Thursday, January 15, 2015
What NPR radio, Barack Obama, Colon Powell, MLK and picking up chicks in a bar have in common
I listen to National Public Radio every morning just like all of you. So I am sure you all heard the story about the study pertaining to people's perception of African Americans on Martin Luther King Jr. Day vs. other days of the year.
So, people of all races on MLK day think of Martin Luther King Jr., a black male who was in politics and educated, and think of all the other black males in politics who are educated as slackers in comparison to Martin Luther King Jr. on that day because he is being honored on that day.
Ok, THAT makes alot of sense to me and if you don't understand the MLK comparison maybe this will help...picking up chicks in bars.
Everyone knows that when women and men are in a group out at a bar there is a pecking order. A woman may say, "Hey that guy over there is HOT!"
If she has good girl friends, they will say to her, "Is he REALLY hot or is he just the hottest guy in the group?" She looks closer, talks to him longer before making her decision and may even look at the others to determine who is the best guy. She is holding all other men in that group to the standards of the small group. And one guy seems great. Until her friends question it...then she opens the group up to other men in the bar, comparing "hot guy" to other men in the larger group in the bar...
Now is he REALLY hot in the bigger group? He may be MLK or he may just be Barack Obama or Colin Powell when compared to MLK.
If he is MLK she will choose him, get married, have a bunch of kids and live happily ever after. If he is only Obama or Powell...not so much.
Same goes for men choosing women. Children deciding who to play with on the playground. Every relationship in life falls into the... Is this person MLK? rule!
So, next time you go to a bar to meet people you can tell your friends to remind you to decide if he or she is REALLY as good as Martin Luther King. No one will know what you're talking about but you and you will avoid going home with some dog face, good for nothin', drunkard derelict.
And you can thank those professors who got the big million dollar grant to study why people like Martin Luther King on his day more than the day before or the day after.... yea they could've just gone to a bar for free to find it all out but what fun is that?
SHANKAR VEDANTAM, NPR radio correspondent interviewed Sara Konrath of Indiana University. "Well, you know, like most people, David, I'd intuitively assumed that on MLK Day, most people would have an elevated view, not just of the Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr., but of African-Americans in general and prominent Americans in our midst, people like President Obama or former Secretary of State Colin Powell. I recently spoke with Sara Konrath at Indiana University. And she told me that she and her colleagues William Chopik, Ed O'Brien and Norbert Schwarz - they decided to test this intuitive belief that I thought many of us share. They had volunteers describe their feelings about African-Americans in general and a prominent African-American like Colin Powell. She told me that she was surprised by what she found."
According to Konrath, " People see Powell in a negative light on MLK Day compared to how they see him on days that are before or after. But on MLK Day, people actually see African-Americans, as a group, more positively." NPR website
The story goes on to say that African American women like Oprah are safe on MLK day. It's just black guys. She describes the phenom as a comparison. If someone in her department won the Nobel prize and they had the same qualifications as she did then people would say, Hey how come SHE didn't win the nobel prize too.So, people of all races on MLK day think of Martin Luther King Jr., a black male who was in politics and educated, and think of all the other black males in politics who are educated as slackers in comparison to Martin Luther King Jr. on that day because he is being honored on that day.
Ok, THAT makes alot of sense to me and if you don't understand the MLK comparison maybe this will help...picking up chicks in bars.
Everyone knows that when women and men are in a group out at a bar there is a pecking order. A woman may say, "Hey that guy over there is HOT!"
If she has good girl friends, they will say to her, "Is he REALLY hot or is he just the hottest guy in the group?" She looks closer, talks to him longer before making her decision and may even look at the others to determine who is the best guy. She is holding all other men in that group to the standards of the small group. And one guy seems great. Until her friends question it...then she opens the group up to other men in the bar, comparing "hot guy" to other men in the larger group in the bar...
Now is he REALLY hot in the bigger group? He may be MLK or he may just be Barack Obama or Colin Powell when compared to MLK.
If he is MLK she will choose him, get married, have a bunch of kids and live happily ever after. If he is only Obama or Powell...not so much.
Same goes for men choosing women. Children deciding who to play with on the playground. Every relationship in life falls into the... Is this person MLK? rule!
So, next time you go to a bar to meet people you can tell your friends to remind you to decide if he or she is REALLY as good as Martin Luther King. No one will know what you're talking about but you and you will avoid going home with some dog face, good for nothin', drunkard derelict.
And you can thank those professors who got the big million dollar grant to study why people like Martin Luther King on his day more than the day before or the day after.... yea they could've just gone to a bar for free to find it all out but what fun is that?
Wednesday, January 14, 2015
Karma isn't always a bitch....
Karma, ahhhhh, the most misunderstood word not in the English language. Karma is a bitch...when it comes back around to bite you in the ass, but karma is "da bomb" when some great thing happens to you because you did some great thing before with no expectation of any kind of reward.
Case in point, my new blog and the fact that it took me an entire day of crying, yelling at my husband about what a failure I was and trying again and again to make myself relevant by starting a blog to no avail. I finally get it all to work. I am so happy! Then I research how to make money from it and find out about ad sense! Oh yea,ad sense! I have heard about that before, I say to myself. So, I apply.
EHHH. Negatory. Not happening, No. Nope...you get the picture. Apparently, I signed up for it when I first started this blog three years ago. Then I didn't blog enough, not knowing someone was watching, expecting "clicks" and I was DEEENIED for negligent clickatude. I did fill out the appeal form and hopefully I wasn't woefully negligent about clickage and they will reinstate me. But...I cried and cried about THAT road block.
Here is where Karma comes in...years ago when my in-laws got a computer I set up a facebook account for them. Loading pictures from all of their children's pages onto their page and connecting them with art clubs and loading them up with friends. We went up to Schenectady to visit and I spent two days teaching them about it. We go home to PA.
I get the call. Something happened on the Facebook.
In the back ground, "Tell her you broke it."
In the foreground, "I didn't break it. One of the grand kids broke it."
In the background, "Well it wasn't ME!!"
In the foreground, "Are YOU a GRANDKID???"
So, a five hour session over the phone with me signed in down here in PA and them trying to sign in in NY resulted in 26 lock outs from them pushing "enter" a thousand times. Me changing the password the same amount of times. A call to the help line to explain that no one was trying to hack their account. A reinstatement. A promise on a bible from them to me that they would NOT under any circumstances hit enter more than once. And them finally understanding how Facebook works.
My husband told me I earned my way into heaven that day!
Later, my father in law asked ME how to look up porn on the internet, ME, not his four sons...ME! But that is a whole other story. I think it's cuz he and I used to sneak cigars on the back porch...but I will never know.
So, with my ad sense woes in front of me, I asked for help. My daughter said, "Ask Ermina. she knows all about that." And so I did and offered to pay in cash or babysitting or homemade pasta. She chose the last two and will be over soon to save this old broad's non-techy ass.
But I think we all need to be a little gentle with my generation. We grew up with three channels on the TV. One phone in your house which was often a party line...you shared the number with several other families and had a special ring for your house...and yes you could listen in to other people's phone calls - my grandmother was the queen at not getting caught picking up the receiver and wrote the local gossip column for many years based on this skill.
The phone was tethered to the wall or was on a stand. There was no way to communicate with others except letters and long distance phone calls. Making this call was a big occasion in my house because my sister lived in Texas. My dad had put a phone in my bedroom illegally (you had to buy or rent your phones from the phone company; but he worked for GE and got one at the company store and installed it illegally in my room so he didn't have to pay for the extension) and I wasn't allow to pick up the phone until my mom called up the stairs, "It's saaaaaaaaaaafffffffffffe. You can pick up the phonnnnnnnnnne!" after the operator was for sure not on the line. If I accidentally picked it up before this I was sure I would have been sent to the gas chamber.
These calls lasted THREE minutes. After that your parent cut you off when the operator came on the line and said, "Your first three minutes are up. If you want to continue you will be charged..." I don't know what came after that because my father had always hung up by then.
This is how I grew up. My generation are the people who have had to learn to operate machines, computers, digital music, phones and GPSs that were on the Jetson's cartoon on Saturday mornings when we were little. We have had to learn this in just 10 short years, more or less.
Karma requires you to remember this day as you help ME, your mom, your dad, with computer skills so that when the day comes and you have to learn how to teleport to Oregon from YOUR CHILDREN... YOU too receive the same gentle education from them....
Yea, karma is a bitch sometimes. But sometimes it's a sweet bunch of young people helpin' you out.
Case in point, my new blog and the fact that it took me an entire day of crying, yelling at my husband about what a failure I was and trying again and again to make myself relevant by starting a blog to no avail. I finally get it all to work. I am so happy! Then I research how to make money from it and find out about ad sense! Oh yea,ad sense! I have heard about that before, I say to myself. So, I apply.
EHHH. Negatory. Not happening, No. Nope...you get the picture. Apparently, I signed up for it when I first started this blog three years ago. Then I didn't blog enough, not knowing someone was watching, expecting "clicks" and I was DEEENIED for negligent clickatude. I did fill out the appeal form and hopefully I wasn't woefully negligent about clickage and they will reinstate me. But...I cried and cried about THAT road block.
Here is where Karma comes in...years ago when my in-laws got a computer I set up a facebook account for them. Loading pictures from all of their children's pages onto their page and connecting them with art clubs and loading them up with friends. We went up to Schenectady to visit and I spent two days teaching them about it. We go home to PA.
I get the call. Something happened on the Facebook.
In the back ground, "Tell her you broke it."
In the foreground, "I didn't break it. One of the grand kids broke it."
In the background, "Well it wasn't ME!!"
In the foreground, "Are YOU a GRANDKID???"
So, a five hour session over the phone with me signed in down here in PA and them trying to sign in in NY resulted in 26 lock outs from them pushing "enter" a thousand times. Me changing the password the same amount of times. A call to the help line to explain that no one was trying to hack their account. A reinstatement. A promise on a bible from them to me that they would NOT under any circumstances hit enter more than once. And them finally understanding how Facebook works.
My husband told me I earned my way into heaven that day!
Later, my father in law asked ME how to look up porn on the internet, ME, not his four sons...ME! But that is a whole other story. I think it's cuz he and I used to sneak cigars on the back porch...but I will never know.
So, with my ad sense woes in front of me, I asked for help. My daughter said, "Ask Ermina. she knows all about that." And so I did and offered to pay in cash or babysitting or homemade pasta. She chose the last two and will be over soon to save this old broad's non-techy ass.
But I think we all need to be a little gentle with my generation. We grew up with three channels on the TV. One phone in your house which was often a party line...you shared the number with several other families and had a special ring for your house...and yes you could listen in to other people's phone calls - my grandmother was the queen at not getting caught picking up the receiver and wrote the local gossip column for many years based on this skill.
The phone was tethered to the wall or was on a stand. There was no way to communicate with others except letters and long distance phone calls. Making this call was a big occasion in my house because my sister lived in Texas. My dad had put a phone in my bedroom illegally (you had to buy or rent your phones from the phone company; but he worked for GE and got one at the company store and installed it illegally in my room so he didn't have to pay for the extension) and I wasn't allow to pick up the phone until my mom called up the stairs, "It's saaaaaaaaaaafffffffffffe. You can pick up the phonnnnnnnnnne!" after the operator was for sure not on the line. If I accidentally picked it up before this I was sure I would have been sent to the gas chamber.
These calls lasted THREE minutes. After that your parent cut you off when the operator came on the line and said, "Your first three minutes are up. If you want to continue you will be charged..." I don't know what came after that because my father had always hung up by then.
This is how I grew up. My generation are the people who have had to learn to operate machines, computers, digital music, phones and GPSs that were on the Jetson's cartoon on Saturday mornings when we were little. We have had to learn this in just 10 short years, more or less.
Karma requires you to remember this day as you help ME, your mom, your dad, with computer skills so that when the day comes and you have to learn how to teleport to Oregon from YOUR CHILDREN... YOU too receive the same gentle education from them....
Yea, karma is a bitch sometimes. But sometimes it's a sweet bunch of young people helpin' you out.
Tuesday, January 13, 2015
"Take me to church"
So, I am driving to work last week and I hear this song on the radio...Take Me To Church. I was listening to this local morning show called Rick and Lisa. They are the lamest morning show in the world. I am used to Howard Stern and Elvis Durrand in the Morning. Rick and Lisa rarely play music you haven't heard 500 times before and they NEVER tell you who sang the songs or what the name of the song is. They just talk about themselves and their kid Jonathan and their lame-o boring life. Oh yea, they are married. The only GOOD thing they ever did was interview this old woman they called Grandma, who wasn't really their grandma. She was a hoot. Then she died... But I digress.
Take Me To Church is such a dynamic, powerful song. It made me cry the first time I heard it and I couldn't wait to hear it again and tell someone about it. I wanted to know the lyrics. So, the next time I heard it I listened very carefully to the words, because, unlike you youngsters I depend solely on the radio for my listening pleasure and did not think to look up the lyrics on one of those sites on "the line" aka internet.
The next time I heard it I belted out the song at the top of my lungs while driving with my husband and my daughter in Maryland. "Take me to church, I'll treat you like a dog who barks in the night, then I'll lay you down and make you my wife. I'll keep you in my life forever, da da da da, Take me to church."
Yea, I know those aren't the words...and my daughter says, "Hey ma, ya know you can look those up on the Internet." Before I can get two more words out my husband turns to me, all serious and says, "Teena" (now that is a thing with us. When he uses my name in an argument for instance, I scream, "Don't say my name!" Because to me that is very condescending), so he says, "Teena, remember the Who!"
I am driving so I can't look at him very long, but I see he is very serious and not teasing at all, which is an issue with him because he is the biggest tease on the face of the planet and has been known to torture the ones he loves with his relentless "busting". But this time he is serious and only a man who has been married to a women for more than half of her life would know to say, "Don't look up those lyrics!"
When we were kids the only way to find out what a song lyric REALLY said was to buy the whole album, not just the 45, and read the lyrics in the jacket of the album IF you were lucky enough to have them printed there. This did not always happen and for years all of us thought that many song lyrics were something totally different than what they really were and, to tell you the truth, were sorely disappointed when we found out the real lyrics.
Case in point, yours truly and The Who song "Who are you whoot whoot, whoot whoot...I really wanna know." For years I sang that song at the top of my lungs, "New Orleans, whoot whoot, whoot whoot, I really wanna go!" Yup! We even had arguments about it. But he was right, as usual. And now that song makes me do the sad ole "wonk wonk" every time I hear it.
I also thought the Chipmunk song said, "Me, I want yahoo yahoo." Like he wanted to cheer for Christmas, ya know. It is Alvin. Alvin's always a little wacky. When it really says, "Me I want a hoola hoop." Which caused relentless teasing from the grown children when they found out... teasing that continues to this day...so there are scars people!!!
So, to get back to Take Me To Church...I listened closer and there is something about a knife and sins...I just don't wanna know. I prefer to think he is saying... his lover is who he worships on Sunday mornings because in the eyes of the church they are sinners. And for him THAT is OK and BETTER than real church.
The most ugly, talented, sexiest man in the world, Steven Tyler, of Aerosmith fame, once commented on music videos, I am paraphrasing, but he said ...he hates them. The reason: then everyone knows what the song is about and can't think about what it means to THEM.
He is a wise wise, ugly, sexy man, Steven Tyler! Never tell me the real words to Take me to Church, NEVER!!!
Take Me To Church is such a dynamic, powerful song. It made me cry the first time I heard it and I couldn't wait to hear it again and tell someone about it. I wanted to know the lyrics. So, the next time I heard it I listened very carefully to the words, because, unlike you youngsters I depend solely on the radio for my listening pleasure and did not think to look up the lyrics on one of those sites on "the line" aka internet.
The next time I heard it I belted out the song at the top of my lungs while driving with my husband and my daughter in Maryland. "Take me to church, I'll treat you like a dog who barks in the night, then I'll lay you down and make you my wife. I'll keep you in my life forever, da da da da, Take me to church."
Yea, I know those aren't the words...and my daughter says, "Hey ma, ya know you can look those up on the Internet." Before I can get two more words out my husband turns to me, all serious and says, "Teena" (now that is a thing with us. When he uses my name in an argument for instance, I scream, "Don't say my name!" Because to me that is very condescending), so he says, "Teena, remember the Who!"
I am driving so I can't look at him very long, but I see he is very serious and not teasing at all, which is an issue with him because he is the biggest tease on the face of the planet and has been known to torture the ones he loves with his relentless "busting". But this time he is serious and only a man who has been married to a women for more than half of her life would know to say, "Don't look up those lyrics!"
When we were kids the only way to find out what a song lyric REALLY said was to buy the whole album, not just the 45, and read the lyrics in the jacket of the album IF you were lucky enough to have them printed there. This did not always happen and for years all of us thought that many song lyrics were something totally different than what they really were and, to tell you the truth, were sorely disappointed when we found out the real lyrics.
Case in point, yours truly and The Who song "Who are you whoot whoot, whoot whoot...I really wanna know." For years I sang that song at the top of my lungs, "New Orleans, whoot whoot, whoot whoot, I really wanna go!" Yup! We even had arguments about it. But he was right, as usual. And now that song makes me do the sad ole "wonk wonk" every time I hear it.
I also thought the Chipmunk song said, "Me, I want yahoo yahoo." Like he wanted to cheer for Christmas, ya know. It is Alvin. Alvin's always a little wacky. When it really says, "Me I want a hoola hoop." Which caused relentless teasing from the grown children when they found out... teasing that continues to this day...so there are scars people!!!
So, to get back to Take Me To Church...I listened closer and there is something about a knife and sins...I just don't wanna know. I prefer to think he is saying... his lover is who he worships on Sunday mornings because in the eyes of the church they are sinners. And for him THAT is OK and BETTER than real church.
The most ugly, talented, sexiest man in the world, Steven Tyler, of Aerosmith fame, once commented on music videos, I am paraphrasing, but he said ...he hates them. The reason: then everyone knows what the song is about and can't think about what it means to THEM.
He is a wise wise, ugly, sexy man, Steven Tyler! Never tell me the real words to Take me to Church, NEVER!!!
Monday, January 12, 2015
My Big Fat Fabulous Life??!!! "Futt" me!! I call Shenanighans!!
This is among the millions of ideas that have made someone a millionaire that I THOUGHT OF or have lived through!! Included in this list is basically Kathy Griffin's entire standup routine and Early Childhood Intervention for special needs children! In this case it's fat chicks feeling good about themselves.
I have been fat my whole damn life and this chick does a dance on You Tube with her fat self hangin' out all over the place and she is the "face" for fat! I think not.
She just said on a NBC Today Show interview that she was prom queen and did not get fat until college when she was diagnosed with Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome, which I feel bad about because that is a horrific disease. But...
PROM QUEEN????
She is not allowed to be the poster girl for fat chicks unless:
Despite all of this pain she did NOT endure, I am with her on the liking yourself aspect. Somehow, despite all of the torment concerning my fat self, I always liked who I was as a person and felt pretty. Alot of that self confidence was because of my mother who always told me how great I was. She also would say things like, "Do you really want to wear THAT?" and "See those dancers have fat legs like you. You should be a dancer when you grow up." But I wrote that off to her being an old lady and not knowing anything about dancing or style.
Living with fat is one of the hardest challenges in our society. Being fat is one of the last prejudices that is still acceptable across cultures.
Just because you're fat doesn't mean your not healthy. It doesn't mean your lazy or out of control. It may mean those things but it is not a universal definition that can be applied to the fat population. It doesn't mean you're jolly or unhappy with how you look.
Being fat is just like having blonde hair. You can do something about it if you want or be happy with what you have: dye it brown or go on a diet; leave it blonde or rock your fat self. That's all...nothing more.
As for me, it turns out I had thyroid cancer and have been healthy ever since I had that taken care of 20 years ago - fat and healthy. I work out, eat right most of the time, drink too much some of the time, and make an effort every single day to live a healthy, centered life.
It's more than alot of people even try to do.
I am strong, smart, powerful, peaceful, centered, fat, and BEAUTIFUL!!
I hope this fat girl and her jiggly dancing can help young people change their mind about beauty. But we really need to get a new face on this show...it's like casting an Italian guy as a Native American in those B westerns or a straight guy in Brokeback Mountain...really? (There weren't ANY gay actors who could play those guys in Brokeback Mountain? ) Find a fat chick who deserves to be "the face" of the Big Fat Fabulous Life.
I would be more than happy to give them a couple of names...:)
BTW, I was a size 14-16 in high school and wore a size 10 M shoe. The principal laughed so hard he almost peed and told me to sit in the waiting room for a little while then go back to class. The school nurse whispered my height and weight to the woman writing it down, it was 146 pounds and 5 feet 6 inches - I was in third grade. My friend came out when he was in his 30s. And the hot guy...he had a very small problem that could NEVER be fixed...and that's all I will say about THAT!
I have been fat my whole damn life and this chick does a dance on You Tube with her fat self hangin' out all over the place and she is the "face" for fat! I think not.
She just said on a NBC Today Show interview that she was prom queen and did not get fat until college when she was diagnosed with Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome, which I feel bad about because that is a horrific disease. But...
PROM QUEEN????
She is not allowed to be the poster girl for fat chicks unless:
- she went to at least one high school dance with "the gay guy who wasn't out yet"
- she bought men's shoes and clothes because they didn't make fat girl clothes
- she sewed her own clothes because they didn't make fat girl clothes
- she wore sandles in the NY winter that were a size too small so you could fit in at a disco because they didn't make fat girl shoes
- she had the entire Elementary school stop talking in the gym when it was her turn to get weighed
- she had a song about fat people sung to her like..."Teena Teena two by four, can't get through the bathroom door, so she peed on the floor."
- she has had to ask for the extender on an airplane seatbelt
- she has sat for a 5 hour plane, train or taxi, ride; or a baseball, basketball, football, hockey game with her arms folded across her chest so as not to blub over into the next person's personal space because she didn't have a way to sit "fat, skinny, fat, skinny" with the people she came with
- she had a hot guy ask her out on a date, pick her up and take her directly to his apartment expecting sex cuz she is the fat chick who can't get laid
- she was told by a gym teacher that she really did a nice job on the balance beam for a heavy girl and then got sent to the principal's office for telling the big busted gym teacher she did a really good job not falling over for a women with such a big chest
- and...drum roll please...she had a teenage boy working at an amusement park climb onto the safety bar at the roller coaster to make it close, saying, as he jumped up and down on the bar, "Don't worry we'll get you on this ride." in front of a crowd of people waiting their turn. It didn't close and she had to get off!
Despite all of this pain she did NOT endure, I am with her on the liking yourself aspect. Somehow, despite all of the torment concerning my fat self, I always liked who I was as a person and felt pretty. Alot of that self confidence was because of my mother who always told me how great I was. She also would say things like, "Do you really want to wear THAT?" and "See those dancers have fat legs like you. You should be a dancer when you grow up." But I wrote that off to her being an old lady and not knowing anything about dancing or style.
Living with fat is one of the hardest challenges in our society. Being fat is one of the last prejudices that is still acceptable across cultures.
Just because you're fat doesn't mean your not healthy. It doesn't mean your lazy or out of control. It may mean those things but it is not a universal definition that can be applied to the fat population. It doesn't mean you're jolly or unhappy with how you look.
Being fat is just like having blonde hair. You can do something about it if you want or be happy with what you have: dye it brown or go on a diet; leave it blonde or rock your fat self. That's all...nothing more.
As for me, it turns out I had thyroid cancer and have been healthy ever since I had that taken care of 20 years ago - fat and healthy. I work out, eat right most of the time, drink too much some of the time, and make an effort every single day to live a healthy, centered life.
It's more than alot of people even try to do.
I am strong, smart, powerful, peaceful, centered, fat, and BEAUTIFUL!!
I hope this fat girl and her jiggly dancing can help young people change their mind about beauty. But we really need to get a new face on this show...it's like casting an Italian guy as a Native American in those B westerns or a straight guy in Brokeback Mountain...really? (There weren't ANY gay actors who could play those guys in Brokeback Mountain? ) Find a fat chick who deserves to be "the face" of the Big Fat Fabulous Life.
I would be more than happy to give them a couple of names...:)
BTW, I was a size 14-16 in high school and wore a size 10 M shoe. The principal laughed so hard he almost peed and told me to sit in the waiting room for a little while then go back to class. The school nurse whispered my height and weight to the woman writing it down, it was 146 pounds and 5 feet 6 inches - I was in third grade. My friend came out when he was in his 30s. And the hot guy...he had a very small problem that could NEVER be fixed...and that's all I will say about THAT!
Sunday, January 11, 2015
On death and such things
Death is such an odd thing. Most things in life only profoundly
affect you and maybe your immediate family. But death does not affect
you at all. YOU are dead. Yet death is one of the most discussed events
in a person's life.
Your death, while YOURS, really belongs to the living. Your death really belongs to everyone you love and everyone you touched throughout your lifetime. It also affects all of the people who love or are connected to the people who love you. And while your death is one of the most important events in your lifetime, you are really not affected by it because you are dead. With one exception...
People who get old or have a near death experience and are forced to think about their death and the rituals that surround it way before the time of their death.
The conversations usually start when someone attends a funeral. They will make comments to their children, "If you ever let some mortician seal my holes up with super glue and suck my blood out replacing it with embalming fluid so that people can look at me 'one last time' I will haunt you until the day you die and probably after that! I want to be burned up and put in a wine bottle, my favorite place to be! And if you spend a lot of money I'll bring you right along with me. Money is for the living!"
Or, the conversation could go like this, "If you don't give me an open casket funeral so everyone can have some closure I will haunt you till the day you die and probably after that! I don't want to be burned up like someone's old trash. And I want a nice casket too, with lots of flowers. I didn't spend my life working hard to not have a nice send off! AND..if you don't give me a nice headstone, I will take you right along with me!"
There is so much pressure on the living to make sure the dead person is happy it is unbelievable! For goodness sakes YOU ARE DEAD!!
If you have ideas about your funeral might I suggest going and making your plans before you die and PAYING for it. That way no one will be stuck with the bill or any of the decision making that comes with it, sometimes tearing families apart!
As for me, I am the wine bottle, celebrate my life girl mentioned above. I do want a headstone that mentions I was here for future generations and to indulge those who share my love of exploring old cemeteries. I want my headstone to say I was here and I was a wife, mother, grandmother and friend and that I hope I was a good person more or less. I also want it to have my favorite saying, "It is far better to raise children than to repair adults."
As for everyone else's wishes for their funeral. Talk it over with the people you love but do them a favor and plan it for THEM before YOU die.
Blessings to all, LIVE it UP while you got a chance!
Teena
Your death, while YOURS, really belongs to the living. Your death really belongs to everyone you love and everyone you touched throughout your lifetime. It also affects all of the people who love or are connected to the people who love you. And while your death is one of the most important events in your lifetime, you are really not affected by it because you are dead. With one exception...
People who get old or have a near death experience and are forced to think about their death and the rituals that surround it way before the time of their death.
The conversations usually start when someone attends a funeral. They will make comments to their children, "If you ever let some mortician seal my holes up with super glue and suck my blood out replacing it with embalming fluid so that people can look at me 'one last time' I will haunt you until the day you die and probably after that! I want to be burned up and put in a wine bottle, my favorite place to be! And if you spend a lot of money I'll bring you right along with me. Money is for the living!"
Or, the conversation could go like this, "If you don't give me an open casket funeral so everyone can have some closure I will haunt you till the day you die and probably after that! I don't want to be burned up like someone's old trash. And I want a nice casket too, with lots of flowers. I didn't spend my life working hard to not have a nice send off! AND..if you don't give me a nice headstone, I will take you right along with me!"
There is so much pressure on the living to make sure the dead person is happy it is unbelievable! For goodness sakes YOU ARE DEAD!!
If you have ideas about your funeral might I suggest going and making your plans before you die and PAYING for it. That way no one will be stuck with the bill or any of the decision making that comes with it, sometimes tearing families apart!
As for me, I am the wine bottle, celebrate my life girl mentioned above. I do want a headstone that mentions I was here for future generations and to indulge those who share my love of exploring old cemeteries. I want my headstone to say I was here and I was a wife, mother, grandmother and friend and that I hope I was a good person more or less. I also want it to have my favorite saying, "It is far better to raise children than to repair adults."
As for everyone else's wishes for their funeral. Talk it over with the people you love but do them a favor and plan it for THEM before YOU die.
Blessings to all, LIVE it UP while you got a chance!
Teena
Starting a blog sucks!
OK, so this not so old broad, who has been published in several
magazines and newspapers; has edited more than her fair share of
articles written by freelance Pennsylvanian's who do not know how to use
the words "to be" properly; who took a little detour from writing when
life hit the fan and who is quite talented, if I do say so myself, has
spent most of the day trying to figure out how to be relevant in the
world of publishing. Apparently, one has to have a "presence". A web
presence to be precise. This presence includes blogs, and tweets, and
Facebook and other social media. Well, let me tell you...it ain't easy.
What ever happened to a nice cover letter pitching your article, a nice rejection letter telling you that you are a horrible writer and chocolate and wine while you cry to your significant other about the woes of the artist inside you...those days are gone!
My eyes are sore, I cried more than once today just trying to set up all of this "presence" and my creative juices have turned into vinegar. But, I have to stay relevant so here I am blogging, facebooking and getting myself presented.
I have this great book to pitch at some point, which is the end product of all of this gut wrenching work. So, if you will all bear with me I will eventually have something of substance for you to read in the end. But for now the let the blogging begin!
Follow, like and tweet away so I can someday have a lucrative career once again.
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