Those of you who know me personally know that I am about as girl as it gets. Almost everyone I know grew up camping with family on vacation or they grew to love camping as a young adult. Well, sorry, I think you're nuts. Trust me I know it's me. I get the nature thing. Nature is beautiful and wondrous, full of awe and things that can kill you. On the other hand a nice hotel is scary but less likely to give you that bacteria that makes your intestines swell to the size of a basketball. Not making this up. I know someone this happened to. We won't discuss what happened to someones testicles. Not my story to tell.
I love to walk through nature, hike a little, drive through nature, take a good, long, look-see at the magnificent vistas. They are not here in Texas so those of you who camp here.....you might want to see a doctor. It is hot and not that pretty in much of Texas. There is also humidity that would kill a southern belle. Houston is a steam vent from hell I am pretty sure.
We have a coast in Texas that I actually love. I don't get in the water as it stinks like dead things. But the hotels have real nice pools. I have seen both the Pacific and Atlantic coasts. I have seen both northern Cali and southern Cali. I have seen the Pacific in Alaska and Hawaii. Now THAT is some pretty water and dramatic coastlines. The Atlantic looked like water. To be fair I have only seen it from one spot. I have seen the Caribbean, gorgeous. South Padre is pretty. Malachite Beach, very nice. Still the water smells dead to me. Maybe it's oil?
In all these places when day is done and evening is nigh I want a room service menu and a hot bath. I can't imagine getting to camp, cooking dinner and crawling into a dirty sleeping bag after several days of stinking. This is why we have civilization. What used to pass for civilization. Civil is pretty much gone now.
When I drive or ride across any section of the nation I marvel at what the settlers faced. They didn't have roads or radios. No Cracker Barrels and not many Inns past a certain point of the trek. No Sonics to stop for a diet coke. They weren't even sure where water was. No flush toliets anywhere. I often wonder how I would have made it from the east coast to anywhere. The answer is of course I wouldn't have. I would have been killed or sold to the highest bidder or any bidder.
I would not have been a good companion on the Oregon Trail. Nope, I would have been the first one on the fire pit at Donner Pass. "Let's eat her first, she whines". I would not have been a good companion across The Hudson River. I've seen The Hudson. Big ass river. The Tappanzee Bridge is scary enough to drive across much less traverse the river. Yes, I would still be a Yankee.
Of course many people headed out from what was the edge of the nation. Many came here from Tennessee and Kentucky to avoid debt and legal issues. Why would anyone stop in Texas? After the first summer would you not move? I would. I would be on the first whatever out of here. I would head to "cool", wherever that might have been and lived there. My little cabin door would have a sign that read, "gone to find air".
Can you even imagine being a pioneer here on the prairie? A farm wife? I would be in prison day three or four after killing my husband for bringing me here. "Mama, go to the well and fetch the water for making the gruel today." "No". Bang...the end. I don't do well in heat. Can't see me in eighteen yards of skirt and stockings and bloomers outside fetching water more than once. No, once would have been enough to know that fetching wasn't my strong suit.
School teacher. Maybe. Probably not. I don't really think I could have kept all those clothes on. Seriously, what were women thinking? Not sure they would let you teach in your bloomers and a cammie. Pretty sure you can't even do that today. That only leaves prostitute or madam. I would have to be the madam as I don't like that many men. I like them but not THAT way. I would have doled out the customers to the ladies and chatted with Marshall Dylan at the bar. I would not have dressed up though. They would have referred to me as Madam Kimono.
My Native American name would have been, "Crying Ass Pain".
Southern Belles. My mama always fancied herself a belle. We let her as she had the pout thing down. I would have killed myself day one of the first summer of being a southern belle.
"Child, let's lace you in your corset before we put on the petticoats and the hoops and the skirts."
"Step away from me, I am the mad woman you can keep in the root cellar. I will never wear those clothes. Have you been outside?"
"That's why you carry a parasol".
"No, the parasol is to stab people with who try to get me to wear all these clothes."
Those women must have fainted every day. No wonder they had fainting couches. Hello?, take off some clothes! Don't lace your rib cage together. Insane. Thank heaven stilettos hadn't been crammed on women's feet yet. Those women would have fainted anchored in place by their heels. They would have fried to death in little rows.
Come October I will love Texas again. I will love it all the way through til the dog days of next summer. Those days start in May some years. Texas will be wonderful and beautiful and then one day everything will broil and I will hate this place. I start every summer reminding myself that I am not 20 or 30. I am not even 40 and now closer to 60 than 50. Short shorts, sleeveless or halter topped anything...let's just say the public should be spared. However, instead of giving in and wearing old lady clothes, slacks and sensible blouses that cover most of the flesh or long dresses and long skirts with a whatever I just don't leave the house.
It is so much better. It's too hot to eat. It's too hot to think. It's too hot to live much longer.
Please autumn, get here early this year. I promise I will go outside and marvel. I promise I will appreciate every single colored leaf. I will embrace that first cold north wind.
I will not, however, be camping. Unless I win an RV. A big one. With television and a nice bathroom. Or a cabin. A nice one. Maybe a pool on some acerage. In the mountains. With no bugs. And a chef. Nice music system or a live band.
Queen Wussy,
LBB
Monday, August 29, 2011
RAMBLING. Let's Just Call It What It Is. :)
Sunday is my favorite day of the week. A big, fat newspaper and CBS Sunday Morning with Charles Osgood. When I started watching this Sunday morning program Charles Kuralt was the host. I loved the sound of his voice. He looked like a bit like the Michelin man and his voice was amazing. He could, and did, make anything interesting. RIP Charles Kuralt. Charlie Osgood has now become the voice I hear after the opening trumpet. The show is still great. Like 60 Minutes without the venom.
I noticed this morning that, of course, the news everywhere was all about Irene. Major hurricane. Really, a minor hurricane all and all. I'm sure that if you rode her out it was plenty hurricane one way or the other. NYC Mayor Bloomberg was all over the news talking about the precautions NYC was taking. New Jersey Governor Chris Christie must have had a hard time keeping up with all his interviews.
Then it hit me. They are politicking. I can see keeping the locals informed, but the nation? When they talk about The Battery in New York I assume they mean something about the Bat Signal. I personally thought the cast of Jersey Shore should have reported on the storm. From the eye. And perhaps been the sad part of the story. Stupidity swept to sea....
The sad truth is no one wants another Katrina. At least not attached to their name. Obviously no one wants another Katrina but I mean no one wants to be the elected official where the big one hits. Those of us in Texas have been surviving one of the worst summers on record. The national news isn't here asking us how hot we feel. They don't stand in the blazing sun to demonstrate it's power. I would have taken some of the rain from Irene. The wind you can keep on the east coast.
This last week was bizarre. Earthquake and hurricane in Washington D.C. Why is Congress NEVER there when a natural disaster hits? Representative Cantor, Virginia, Bane-R Toadie, apparently couldn't wait to tell the people of Virginia that any federal relief money would be offset by spending cuts. There you go. Never show empathy for those injured and/or suffering. That is a sign if weakness. He flew in from Israel to check on his district and stated that the people of Virginia obviously need more earthquake insurance. Wonder whose pocket he is in?
SO, let's review insurance in general. Home owners is mandatory as long as your lender holds the title. Automobile insurance is mandatory in every state I know of. Flood insurance and apparently earthquake insurance is a good plan. Health insurance is socialism. Got it. It makes perfect sense. Property, important. You, not.
Then came Irene. I think maybe Mother Earth, Father Time and/or The Creator of the Universe might be upset. Not about people being gay as Pat Robertson said this week. Gay people cause all these problems with The Lord. Those people in Pompeii must have really been sexually open. I think it's us. We suck. Have you noticed? Not all of us, just the majority. Maybe not the majority, that could be a slight an exaggeration.
Maybe it is just me but it makes me ill everyday to realize how cheap life is. A human life is worthless. Collateral damage. Drive bys, gang wars, family squabbles, armed robbery gone wrong or just because. At least once a week in the Metroplex someone dies on the freeway system from hell. A trucker goes to fast, dumps a load, crushes a car, drunk driver going the wrong way, selfish driver thinks the road is theirs, gotta send that text or chat on the phone.
Just this week Dallas County saw a father kidnap his children and wife. He drown two of the children. We had the lovely couple who deprived their 10 year old son of water, he died too. The two year old left in the car in Irving. Also dead. There were other shootings and deaths and accidents but those few are the ones that stick out.
What else. Wall Street had GAINS and LOSSES. I thought that was called instability. Bernake asked that Congress insist there be hiring. Ben, no one will hire until Obama is out of office. It's an evil plan. Paranoid? Unfortunately, no. The GOP and the banks and the BIG Corps will not move until they have their own puppet in the White House. Oh, Ben, please. You have been around a long time. Nice try but we are doomed until 2013. THEN the rich will be getting even richer as there will be no regulation and the Supreme Court will make a decision that no company can ever be sued for any reason ever. The middle class will be taxed to death and the poor will disappear. "Are there no work houses? Are there no prisons?" E.Scrooge.
Dick Cheney wrote a book. He says, "heads in Washington will explode". You already made mine burst, Mr. Cheney. No offense. I hope your book is the first in history to sell zero copies. Go soak your head. Let us know how that feels. I was wondering if you actually cackle? You sure look like you would.
It's a beautiful nation. We are about to lose it to either our own stupidity or disaster. Man made or natural or both. If that doesn't get us some nut job with a gun, a grudge, a cause, a jihad will take us out. We've made our nation so safe. Our citizens are not people they are numbers. I love sentences like, "only 23 people died". Only? It used to take a village. That was cool. Apparently all we have left are the village idiots. And we keep electing them.
Sad all the way around.
LBB
I noticed this morning that, of course, the news everywhere was all about Irene. Major hurricane. Really, a minor hurricane all and all. I'm sure that if you rode her out it was plenty hurricane one way or the other. NYC Mayor Bloomberg was all over the news talking about the precautions NYC was taking. New Jersey Governor Chris Christie must have had a hard time keeping up with all his interviews.
Then it hit me. They are politicking. I can see keeping the locals informed, but the nation? When they talk about The Battery in New York I assume they mean something about the Bat Signal. I personally thought the cast of Jersey Shore should have reported on the storm. From the eye. And perhaps been the sad part of the story. Stupidity swept to sea....
The sad truth is no one wants another Katrina. At least not attached to their name. Obviously no one wants another Katrina but I mean no one wants to be the elected official where the big one hits. Those of us in Texas have been surviving one of the worst summers on record. The national news isn't here asking us how hot we feel. They don't stand in the blazing sun to demonstrate it's power. I would have taken some of the rain from Irene. The wind you can keep on the east coast.
This last week was bizarre. Earthquake and hurricane in Washington D.C. Why is Congress NEVER there when a natural disaster hits? Representative Cantor, Virginia, Bane-R Toadie, apparently couldn't wait to tell the people of Virginia that any federal relief money would be offset by spending cuts. There you go. Never show empathy for those injured and/or suffering. That is a sign if weakness. He flew in from Israel to check on his district and stated that the people of Virginia obviously need more earthquake insurance. Wonder whose pocket he is in?
SO, let's review insurance in general. Home owners is mandatory as long as your lender holds the title. Automobile insurance is mandatory in every state I know of. Flood insurance and apparently earthquake insurance is a good plan. Health insurance is socialism. Got it. It makes perfect sense. Property, important. You, not.
Then came Irene. I think maybe Mother Earth, Father Time and/or The Creator of the Universe might be upset. Not about people being gay as Pat Robertson said this week. Gay people cause all these problems with The Lord. Those people in Pompeii must have really been sexually open. I think it's us. We suck. Have you noticed? Not all of us, just the majority. Maybe not the majority, that could be a slight an exaggeration.
Maybe it is just me but it makes me ill everyday to realize how cheap life is. A human life is worthless. Collateral damage. Drive bys, gang wars, family squabbles, armed robbery gone wrong or just because. At least once a week in the Metroplex someone dies on the freeway system from hell. A trucker goes to fast, dumps a load, crushes a car, drunk driver going the wrong way, selfish driver thinks the road is theirs, gotta send that text or chat on the phone.
Just this week Dallas County saw a father kidnap his children and wife. He drown two of the children. We had the lovely couple who deprived their 10 year old son of water, he died too. The two year old left in the car in Irving. Also dead. There were other shootings and deaths and accidents but those few are the ones that stick out.
What else. Wall Street had GAINS and LOSSES. I thought that was called instability. Bernake asked that Congress insist there be hiring. Ben, no one will hire until Obama is out of office. It's an evil plan. Paranoid? Unfortunately, no. The GOP and the banks and the BIG Corps will not move until they have their own puppet in the White House. Oh, Ben, please. You have been around a long time. Nice try but we are doomed until 2013. THEN the rich will be getting even richer as there will be no regulation and the Supreme Court will make a decision that no company can ever be sued for any reason ever. The middle class will be taxed to death and the poor will disappear. "Are there no work houses? Are there no prisons?" E.Scrooge.
Dick Cheney wrote a book. He says, "heads in Washington will explode". You already made mine burst, Mr. Cheney. No offense. I hope your book is the first in history to sell zero copies. Go soak your head. Let us know how that feels. I was wondering if you actually cackle? You sure look like you would.
It's a beautiful nation. We are about to lose it to either our own stupidity or disaster. Man made or natural or both. If that doesn't get us some nut job with a gun, a grudge, a cause, a jihad will take us out. We've made our nation so safe. Our citizens are not people they are numbers. I love sentences like, "only 23 people died". Only? It used to take a village. That was cool. Apparently all we have left are the village idiots. And we keep electing them.
Sad all the way around.
LBB
Friday, August 26, 2011
MAY WE HAVE A CURE FOR STUPID?
Stunned every single day. We are going to die from stupid. Our own or someone else's. Stupidity never rests is normally what I call these mini-rants, however, we need a cure. I am pleading to whatever community to save us from ourselves and each other.
Pat Robertson once again has stated that God, The Alpha and The Omega, Creator of the Universe, King of Kings, is upset that we have gay people. This anger causes earthquakes. Yes indeed. Damn the gay people for raining hell on us for being what they are. Thank heaven for us that we have Pat to show us the way. The way to be stupid. Let's see mankind has been around for.....ever. Gay people have been here for.....ever. So, I see his point, clearly. God has been angry forever about the gay people that were created in his own image according to what I've read. We, that would be mortals, were created in His image. Maybe we should just go with that. He can sort all that out later about whether or not His mortals are flawed and in what ways.
Marriage is between a man and a woman. So is a divorce. I've had three. I am thinking let's just eliminate marriage as anything legal. It's a spiritual commitment so let's not bring in the law or the government. SOLVED. So easy. Everyone marry whoever you want or how many you want how often you want. Government, butt out.
The abortion question. Let's make sperm illegal. If you carry it you are suspect. If an unclaimed child is born around you, your DNA will be tested to ensure your own up to your responsibility. This solves the unborn children questions. Who will care for them? Baby daddies. Mothers have done enough. Abortion? Though I don't believe it is a birth control method, will soon be illegal because everyone is concerned about the unborn. Except the men who helped create them. Enough already. Get ready dads, here they come! Solved.
Wars. Nope. Sick of that. We will do the best four out of seven something. Like sports. Winner takes whatever they were after to begin with. Loser can demand a rematch in two years. OK. That's easy and much shorter.
There is a Republican Congressman from Second District Florida, Steve Southerland, who doesn't like his job. His $174,000 a year, with perks is not that much. He claims if you break it down to "by the hour" it is reasonable. The health care is not that good and he won't be vested for his pension for five years. WOW. I feel bad for him. OH, and he says they, Congressmen, get shot at. So do those soldiers deployed in the mid east everyday. So do citizens, stupid, every day people die at the hands of other citizens. You had security detail for your town hall meeting. Paranoid? Our health care sucks too. Although, he is not a D.C. "lifer", he is running for re election. Whiners should not apply, dude.
Rick Perry, Governor Hair, second dumbest man to ever be governor of Texas. W is first dumbest. He can't keep up with his own rants. He wanted to secede from the union cause we don't need the federal government or their money. Now her wants to run said country. Stupid. Shouldn't even be allowed. What a blowhard, and not in a good way. He can't keep up with the gay marriage question but he believes that children should be taught both creation and a little evolution, just to point out how ludicris it is.
There is a cure for everything. A pill, a surgery, an aide, a device. PLEASE, may we have one for stupid? I am starting to favor lobotomies for a certain segment of the world. That is probably wrong so if one of you pharmcos could come up with a little something to cure stupid? Of course that would cut into your profits once we learn we don't need all those products you currently sell. Some of them are live saving. Thank you. Some of them, well, it seems aspirin is still the miracle cure for so many things. Your products sometimes are miracles and then, oops, sometimes they might kill you.
Pharmcos, create the cure for stupid, then take them. I will willingly pay for some people to get a lifetime supply.
You're Welcome,
Lillybell Blues
Pat Robertson once again has stated that God, The Alpha and The Omega, Creator of the Universe, King of Kings, is upset that we have gay people. This anger causes earthquakes. Yes indeed. Damn the gay people for raining hell on us for being what they are. Thank heaven for us that we have Pat to show us the way. The way to be stupid. Let's see mankind has been around for.....ever. Gay people have been here for.....ever. So, I see his point, clearly. God has been angry forever about the gay people that were created in his own image according to what I've read. We, that would be mortals, were created in His image. Maybe we should just go with that. He can sort all that out later about whether or not His mortals are flawed and in what ways.
Marriage is between a man and a woman. So is a divorce. I've had three. I am thinking let's just eliminate marriage as anything legal. It's a spiritual commitment so let's not bring in the law or the government. SOLVED. So easy. Everyone marry whoever you want or how many you want how often you want. Government, butt out.
The abortion question. Let's make sperm illegal. If you carry it you are suspect. If an unclaimed child is born around you, your DNA will be tested to ensure your own up to your responsibility. This solves the unborn children questions. Who will care for them? Baby daddies. Mothers have done enough. Abortion? Though I don't believe it is a birth control method, will soon be illegal because everyone is concerned about the unborn. Except the men who helped create them. Enough already. Get ready dads, here they come! Solved.
Wars. Nope. Sick of that. We will do the best four out of seven something. Like sports. Winner takes whatever they were after to begin with. Loser can demand a rematch in two years. OK. That's easy and much shorter.
There is a Republican Congressman from Second District Florida, Steve Southerland, who doesn't like his job. His $174,000 a year, with perks is not that much. He claims if you break it down to "by the hour" it is reasonable. The health care is not that good and he won't be vested for his pension for five years. WOW. I feel bad for him. OH, and he says they, Congressmen, get shot at. So do those soldiers deployed in the mid east everyday. So do citizens, stupid, every day people die at the hands of other citizens. You had security detail for your town hall meeting. Paranoid? Our health care sucks too. Although, he is not a D.C. "lifer", he is running for re election. Whiners should not apply, dude.
Rick Perry, Governor Hair, second dumbest man to ever be governor of Texas. W is first dumbest. He can't keep up with his own rants. He wanted to secede from the union cause we don't need the federal government or their money. Now her wants to run said country. Stupid. Shouldn't even be allowed. What a blowhard, and not in a good way. He can't keep up with the gay marriage question but he believes that children should be taught both creation and a little evolution, just to point out how ludicris it is.
There is a cure for everything. A pill, a surgery, an aide, a device. PLEASE, may we have one for stupid? I am starting to favor lobotomies for a certain segment of the world. That is probably wrong so if one of you pharmcos could come up with a little something to cure stupid? Of course that would cut into your profits once we learn we don't need all those products you currently sell. Some of them are live saving. Thank you. Some of them, well, it seems aspirin is still the miracle cure for so many things. Your products sometimes are miracles and then, oops, sometimes they might kill you.
Pharmcos, create the cure for stupid, then take them. I will willingly pay for some people to get a lifetime supply.
You're Welcome,
Lillybell Blues
Thursday, August 25, 2011
WHY ARE WE CRAZY?
Crazy. Everywhere I look. Everything I hear. A few things I merely think. OK, here I go.
People are dying by the bucket load in Africa. Relief agencies cannot get aide through without rebels or thugs stealing all the goods. They apparently get very little help through to the starving, however, every news organization on earth can get teams of people there to film the suffering. That's crazy. Try putting the food on the planes and helicopters that bring the news people. Have you noticed this story is only covered on a slow news day? Dying people go to the bottom of the list if there has been a sighting of Casey Anthony.
There is a hurricane a comin'. What happens? All the news outlets send people to stand in the blowing wind and rain and talk about how dangerous it is. Same with a flood. "Here I am hip deep in rushing water, Gumby, this is dangerous....do not do this." We believe you. We get that it is dangerous. Gale force winds and flooding rain should be avoided. Mother Nature is not to be toyed with or tempted. If you are as jaded as I am you believe The Weather Channel secretly hopes some one is seriously injured or killed on the job and on camera. By the way, all that blowing and rain looks pretty much the same from hurricane to hurricane so just use some stock footage. We won't know the difference.
In Texas we have "weather watchers". These are people who drive around, find wall clouds and hopefully a funnel or two form. They contact the local weather channel and tell them what they see. "We have rotation, it's on the ground....coming this way. I am filming with my cell phone". "Good, send us that! Try not to die", (before you hit send). Of course the local channels send their crews out to describe the rain, hail, sleet, snow, ice, tornadoes, drought, heat and to prove driving conditions are bad. If it can kill you we want it on film. Me personally, I am good with a verbal description.
Yesterday Steve Jobs announced he was stepping down. As he himself stated, he stepped down when he could no longer do his job. He has cancer. It is obvious that he is leaving for health reasons. This morning the news was about how his stepping down was....not sad, it was going to be hard on the market. I swear they said that investors would be watching the market and they expected Apple shares to drop today. Sorry you are dying. We are worried about price per share.
In this nation every single day someone kills a loved one or lures someone away to be killed. How do they decide which ones to make national news? The most salacious of course. If a pretty, blond, white woman is missing this is news. Big news. If she has done something like have an affair, or her husband/boyfriend, lesbian lover has had an affair, it is worthy of an hour long special. What happened to Pretty Blond? She went to an island with a stranger and now she is missing, presumed dead. The "person of interest" is always on the news. They look concerned and worried about themselves. They are stunned that people think they would kill their wife/girlfriend/hottie when, after all, they were merely the last one to see her. And there is that huge insurance policy. OR it was an unusual situation where she dies or goes missing while the husband/boyfriend/lover is out in the middle of the night to run to the ATM, eat a burger or go camping. The entire family and set of friends get on the TeeVee and talk about every single detail and angle. "She is so full of life and she just trusts people too easily". "She was a trollop who deserved whatever happened her, she practically had a Coin Star in her bedroom". Doesn't find the women. Doesn't do anything except makes us drool a little. Why?
Who decides what gets "studied"? Yesterday's big news was released about working women. Not parents. Women. Why? Because. The study involved married, working moms and I guess non working moms because the women who stayed home had more depression. Really? I have worked and not. I have never had kids. I am lucky that I do not have to work. I can assure you it does not depress me in the least. Working on the other hand made me insane. Now life can still make me depressed. I have very sick parents and I am the only child on site. I take care of three people's lives, four counting the husband, though he is pretty self sufficient. It can be difficult and sad. However, working for a corporation was like being in a cage all day locked up with complainers and braggarts. At least I can curl up and want to die at home if I need to. That is freeing. So you working women dealing with all that guilt about your career and your children I am glad you aren't depressed. It's because you don't have time.
CRIME: I do not understand how we handle crime in this country. I understand the foundation of a trial by a jury of your peers. I understand innocent until proven guilty. I do not understand why having cameras everywhere prevents crime. NO, it records crime. That is very different. I don't understand why all the laws protect the accused. I don't understand how anyone caught in the act can even be given the option to plead not guilty. They arrested you in the act of _________. You are guilty. Sorry daddy/mommy was mean. Mine was just irritating. Then, we support these people for the rest of their lives or the duration of their sentence. Lawyers get rich. The innocent get convicted or the guilty go free in some cases. We need a new system. This one cannot be fixed.
American Idol. I say this as someone who has been a singer forever. I was born with some song on my mind. I am not a great singer, I never have been. I am a great harmony singer. I am willing to bet that in a four mile square area I can find a better singer than anyone on American Idol. Except maybe Jennifer Hudson, who as I understand it didn't win. None of the "winners" have had anything but minimal success. They interpret songs. It ain't that hard. Yet the nation is captivated. It's crap people. I'm sorry, it is. You want to see talent? Watch The Sing Off. Acapella groups from around the country, actually other countries participate, in competition. These people have talent that will amaze you. I don't care that it's geek, or gleek. It isn't show choir. It's incredible talent. If you can stomach the host and the judges you will be entertained.
The Bachelor/Bachelorette. Why?
Any program where someone is "alone". No, they aren't. They have a camera crew and probably lighting people, a producer maybe. Alone can't be recorded from three angles.
People who put their lives on television. Hoarders, weird sex preferences and practices, 27 children, multiple wives. Ew. Please save us from all of your whatever it is. One "star" of these shows doesn't want to use her last name. She let cameras in her house to show how disturbing her life is and record constantly but don't use her last name. Alright then. That is completely reasonable.
What is crazy about all of this? We support it. In some cases we crave it. Or we shake our heads about it and go about our little lives like we are the center of our own universe. We are. Let's clean up the galaxy a bit. Let's raise the bar for everyone. America has been dumbed down culturally and academically. Don't give me that look. Any society that reveres people for their foolish, outrageous behavior and puts them on a pedestal for bad behavior is in decline.
Or if you are reading this,
Lillybell Blues
People are dying by the bucket load in Africa. Relief agencies cannot get aide through without rebels or thugs stealing all the goods. They apparently get very little help through to the starving, however, every news organization on earth can get teams of people there to film the suffering. That's crazy. Try putting the food on the planes and helicopters that bring the news people. Have you noticed this story is only covered on a slow news day? Dying people go to the bottom of the list if there has been a sighting of Casey Anthony.
There is a hurricane a comin'. What happens? All the news outlets send people to stand in the blowing wind and rain and talk about how dangerous it is. Same with a flood. "Here I am hip deep in rushing water, Gumby, this is dangerous....do not do this." We believe you. We get that it is dangerous. Gale force winds and flooding rain should be avoided. Mother Nature is not to be toyed with or tempted. If you are as jaded as I am you believe The Weather Channel secretly hopes some one is seriously injured or killed on the job and on camera. By the way, all that blowing and rain looks pretty much the same from hurricane to hurricane so just use some stock footage. We won't know the difference.
In Texas we have "weather watchers". These are people who drive around, find wall clouds and hopefully a funnel or two form. They contact the local weather channel and tell them what they see. "We have rotation, it's on the ground....coming this way. I am filming with my cell phone". "Good, send us that! Try not to die", (before you hit send). Of course the local channels send their crews out to describe the rain, hail, sleet, snow, ice, tornadoes, drought, heat and to prove driving conditions are bad. If it can kill you we want it on film. Me personally, I am good with a verbal description.
Yesterday Steve Jobs announced he was stepping down. As he himself stated, he stepped down when he could no longer do his job. He has cancer. It is obvious that he is leaving for health reasons. This morning the news was about how his stepping down was....not sad, it was going to be hard on the market. I swear they said that investors would be watching the market and they expected Apple shares to drop today. Sorry you are dying. We are worried about price per share.
In this nation every single day someone kills a loved one or lures someone away to be killed. How do they decide which ones to make national news? The most salacious of course. If a pretty, blond, white woman is missing this is news. Big news. If she has done something like have an affair, or her husband/boyfriend, lesbian lover has had an affair, it is worthy of an hour long special. What happened to Pretty Blond? She went to an island with a stranger and now she is missing, presumed dead. The "person of interest" is always on the news. They look concerned and worried about themselves. They are stunned that people think they would kill their wife/girlfriend/hottie when, after all, they were merely the last one to see her. And there is that huge insurance policy. OR it was an unusual situation where she dies or goes missing while the husband/boyfriend/lover is out in the middle of the night to run to the ATM, eat a burger or go camping. The entire family and set of friends get on the TeeVee and talk about every single detail and angle. "She is so full of life and she just trusts people too easily". "She was a trollop who deserved whatever happened her, she practically had a Coin Star in her bedroom". Doesn't find the women. Doesn't do anything except makes us drool a little. Why?
Who decides what gets "studied"? Yesterday's big news was released about working women. Not parents. Women. Why? Because. The study involved married, working moms and I guess non working moms because the women who stayed home had more depression. Really? I have worked and not. I have never had kids. I am lucky that I do not have to work. I can assure you it does not depress me in the least. Working on the other hand made me insane. Now life can still make me depressed. I have very sick parents and I am the only child on site. I take care of three people's lives, four counting the husband, though he is pretty self sufficient. It can be difficult and sad. However, working for a corporation was like being in a cage all day locked up with complainers and braggarts. At least I can curl up and want to die at home if I need to. That is freeing. So you working women dealing with all that guilt about your career and your children I am glad you aren't depressed. It's because you don't have time.
CRIME: I do not understand how we handle crime in this country. I understand the foundation of a trial by a jury of your peers. I understand innocent until proven guilty. I do not understand why having cameras everywhere prevents crime. NO, it records crime. That is very different. I don't understand why all the laws protect the accused. I don't understand how anyone caught in the act can even be given the option to plead not guilty. They arrested you in the act of _________. You are guilty. Sorry daddy/mommy was mean. Mine was just irritating. Then, we support these people for the rest of their lives or the duration of their sentence. Lawyers get rich. The innocent get convicted or the guilty go free in some cases. We need a new system. This one cannot be fixed.
American Idol. I say this as someone who has been a singer forever. I was born with some song on my mind. I am not a great singer, I never have been. I am a great harmony singer. I am willing to bet that in a four mile square area I can find a better singer than anyone on American Idol. Except maybe Jennifer Hudson, who as I understand it didn't win. None of the "winners" have had anything but minimal success. They interpret songs. It ain't that hard. Yet the nation is captivated. It's crap people. I'm sorry, it is. You want to see talent? Watch The Sing Off. Acapella groups from around the country, actually other countries participate, in competition. These people have talent that will amaze you. I don't care that it's geek, or gleek. It isn't show choir. It's incredible talent. If you can stomach the host and the judges you will be entertained.
The Bachelor/Bachelorette. Why?
Any program where someone is "alone". No, they aren't. They have a camera crew and probably lighting people, a producer maybe. Alone can't be recorded from three angles.
People who put their lives on television. Hoarders, weird sex preferences and practices, 27 children, multiple wives. Ew. Please save us from all of your whatever it is. One "star" of these shows doesn't want to use her last name. She let cameras in her house to show how disturbing her life is and record constantly but don't use her last name. Alright then. That is completely reasonable.
What is crazy about all of this? We support it. In some cases we crave it. Or we shake our heads about it and go about our little lives like we are the center of our own universe. We are. Let's clean up the galaxy a bit. Let's raise the bar for everyone. America has been dumbed down culturally and academically. Don't give me that look. Any society that reveres people for their foolish, outrageous behavior and puts them on a pedestal for bad behavior is in decline.
Or if you are reading this,
Lillybell Blues
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
L.A., HOLLYWOOD, DISNEYLAND, FOREST LAWN, LAS VEGAS
L.A., Hollywood, Disneyland, Forest Lawn. Dad pointed them all out as we went driving by on a freeway. WHAT?
"Aren't we stopping anywhere?" I asked dumbfounded and suffering from whiplash as I tried to take in a sight of anything. "No, we really don't time." We need to get to Las Vegas and then up to Utah tomorrow". This was news to me. No one had actually said we were stopping in L.A. but what on earth is the point of driving through and seeing NOTHING? None. No point at all.
That was the L.A. part of my trip. Then to Vegas where people under 21 couldn't even walk on the casino floor. The trip sucked. The whole stupid trip, except for the very, very cool ranch in Tucson. The rest of it was an exercise in misery. MISERY. I was quiet. No point in being angry with dad in the car. I would just get the angry eyes in the mirror lecture. Stupid parents, stupid bridge, stupid dad's family. I didn't care if we ever got to Utah. Grrrrr.
The drive from L.A. to Vegas is some form of punishment no matter what. It is some ugly territory. Purgatory before Sin City. There might be naked people in Vegas. I had no idea what to expect but I assumed I was going to be blindfolded at some point. This was going to be so grown up. We finally hit the strip. WELCOME TO LAS VEGAS.
Everything was so over the top I was in mouth open heaven. This was still afternoon, it wasn't even dark and I couldn't believe what I saw. I started watching all the people. There were gamblers and drunks and whores there. I knew that. I had never seen any of those things that I knew of. I learned later that I had indeed seen drunks, not gamblers or whores. Not cheap ones anyway.
We stayed somewhere on the strip but I don't remember where. I know we went to Caesar's Palace. We might have stayed there but I cannot see my dad spending that kind of money on anything. When we walked into Caesar's I was stunned and amazed. And followed by security. They were very serious about 21. I was barely 14. You were not allowed inside the casino areas. Period. Couldn't even walk through or look very long.
Brother and I were going to be taken to a dinner show then we were to stay in the hotel room where one or both of us could be killed by strangers or die at the hands of one another. Mom and dad were going to gamble. Dinner and a show. The Supremes were there. Diana Ross and The Supremes. I could do that and everything was even. No Disneyland, no Hollywood, no fun. Diana Ross could change all that.
We went to see Danny Kaye. That was fun but no Diana Ross. Brother refused to go. He was always the smart one. Although I did eat my first twice baked potato the rest of the food was ho hum. After dinner and Danny Kaye, who was really entertaining, I was taken to the room. Mom and dad went gambling. Dad lost. Mom won eighty dollars. That was a small fortune.
The next morning we headed to Utah. I wasn't feeling very well. Kind of tired and feverish but nothing specific. I was cranky I remember that. I also learned how to mix a martini for my dad in the backseat while he was driving. Different times, perfectly legal. We were not stopping until we reached Brigham City.
I felt crummy by the time we got there. "Stretchy", my mom called it. That low grade fever, blah discomfort. I didn't say anything. I liked going to a doctor not quite as much as having wild animals tear my flesh. I didn't want to go to a strange doctor in a strange city. Nope. I would suffer. Unfortunately for everyone, I did not suffer in silence. I whined loudly and constantly. Mother finally told me I looked feverish. I begged her to wait until we got home to take me a doctor IF I still needed to go see him. She agreed.
I thought the agreement was that she would be quiet about my being ill until we got home and I would be bitchy. That wasn't her plan. Her plan was to tell dad and worry that I had some horrible deadly desert born illness. Then follow me around asking me how I felt constantly.
I don't remember too much else about the Murphy's that visit. We went to the family bar, Murph's Inn, now owned by my dad's sister Doris and her husband Bert. Aunt Doris made the world's best cheeseburgers on the grill in that little hole in the wall. She was also a pool hustler of sorts. The back of the bar where the pool tables were located displayed every naked centerfold in the world best I could tell. This was this first time I had been allowed back there. This was so different from Calhoun. Beer and boobs. And neatly covered nether worldly parts of women. Mom, dad brother, me Uncle Bert, Aunt Doris and 500 naked women. This was was nastier than Vegas.
This one day made my entire vacation, along with the Ranch in Tucson. Aunt Doris gave me an old Olympia Beer sign. Electric with a waterfall and a beer mug that bubbled when the light was on. I was the coolest kid in Fort Worth. Still have the beer sign, still works, still love it.
This was 1967. The Summer of Love. I had my beer sign. We were heading home to Fort Worth after two grueling weeks. I still felt crummy. I mixed martinis for my dad through the days home. I complained and whined about being hot and cold. Hungry and not. Sleepy and not. I got the rear view mirror lectures about not being the only person in the car and the please keep my misery to myself.
There is no place like home. I was so glad to see my room. Sleep in my bed. Go to my doctor. Faint dead away in his office while my fever climbed to 103. I had mono. It took a few days to find out. Mother acted like I should be somehow embarrassed. She was mortified.
Two more vacations with my parents that I remember until I was 40 years old. One to Utah, One to Calhoun.
In 1993 I went to Connecticut to visit my brother's family with my mom and dad. I was newly retired, anxious to see my niece and nephew and did not want my dad driving all that way by himself. Mother driving was out of the question.
Time to see if traveling with your parents as an adult was different. Time to see if the family dynamics were still the same as when were kids.
It is wonderful in some ways, being with your family on vacation. It also leads one to want to kill people.
Your family.
"Aren't we stopping anywhere?" I asked dumbfounded and suffering from whiplash as I tried to take in a sight of anything. "No, we really don't time." We need to get to Las Vegas and then up to Utah tomorrow". This was news to me. No one had actually said we were stopping in L.A. but what on earth is the point of driving through and seeing NOTHING? None. No point at all.
That was the L.A. part of my trip. Then to Vegas where people under 21 couldn't even walk on the casino floor. The trip sucked. The whole stupid trip, except for the very, very cool ranch in Tucson. The rest of it was an exercise in misery. MISERY. I was quiet. No point in being angry with dad in the car. I would just get the angry eyes in the mirror lecture. Stupid parents, stupid bridge, stupid dad's family. I didn't care if we ever got to Utah. Grrrrr.
The drive from L.A. to Vegas is some form of punishment no matter what. It is some ugly territory. Purgatory before Sin City. There might be naked people in Vegas. I had no idea what to expect but I assumed I was going to be blindfolded at some point. This was going to be so grown up. We finally hit the strip. WELCOME TO LAS VEGAS.
Everything was so over the top I was in mouth open heaven. This was still afternoon, it wasn't even dark and I couldn't believe what I saw. I started watching all the people. There were gamblers and drunks and whores there. I knew that. I had never seen any of those things that I knew of. I learned later that I had indeed seen drunks, not gamblers or whores. Not cheap ones anyway.
We stayed somewhere on the strip but I don't remember where. I know we went to Caesar's Palace. We might have stayed there but I cannot see my dad spending that kind of money on anything. When we walked into Caesar's I was stunned and amazed. And followed by security. They were very serious about 21. I was barely 14. You were not allowed inside the casino areas. Period. Couldn't even walk through or look very long.
Brother and I were going to be taken to a dinner show then we were to stay in the hotel room where one or both of us could be killed by strangers or die at the hands of one another. Mom and dad were going to gamble. Dinner and a show. The Supremes were there. Diana Ross and The Supremes. I could do that and everything was even. No Disneyland, no Hollywood, no fun. Diana Ross could change all that.
We went to see Danny Kaye. That was fun but no Diana Ross. Brother refused to go. He was always the smart one. Although I did eat my first twice baked potato the rest of the food was ho hum. After dinner and Danny Kaye, who was really entertaining, I was taken to the room. Mom and dad went gambling. Dad lost. Mom won eighty dollars. That was a small fortune.
The next morning we headed to Utah. I wasn't feeling very well. Kind of tired and feverish but nothing specific. I was cranky I remember that. I also learned how to mix a martini for my dad in the backseat while he was driving. Different times, perfectly legal. We were not stopping until we reached Brigham City.
I felt crummy by the time we got there. "Stretchy", my mom called it. That low grade fever, blah discomfort. I didn't say anything. I liked going to a doctor not quite as much as having wild animals tear my flesh. I didn't want to go to a strange doctor in a strange city. Nope. I would suffer. Unfortunately for everyone, I did not suffer in silence. I whined loudly and constantly. Mother finally told me I looked feverish. I begged her to wait until we got home to take me a doctor IF I still needed to go see him. She agreed.
I thought the agreement was that she would be quiet about my being ill until we got home and I would be bitchy. That wasn't her plan. Her plan was to tell dad and worry that I had some horrible deadly desert born illness. Then follow me around asking me how I felt constantly.
I don't remember too much else about the Murphy's that visit. We went to the family bar, Murph's Inn, now owned by my dad's sister Doris and her husband Bert. Aunt Doris made the world's best cheeseburgers on the grill in that little hole in the wall. She was also a pool hustler of sorts. The back of the bar where the pool tables were located displayed every naked centerfold in the world best I could tell. This was this first time I had been allowed back there. This was so different from Calhoun. Beer and boobs. And neatly covered nether worldly parts of women. Mom, dad brother, me Uncle Bert, Aunt Doris and 500 naked women. This was was nastier than Vegas.
This one day made my entire vacation, along with the Ranch in Tucson. Aunt Doris gave me an old Olympia Beer sign. Electric with a waterfall and a beer mug that bubbled when the light was on. I was the coolest kid in Fort Worth. Still have the beer sign, still works, still love it.
This was 1967. The Summer of Love. I had my beer sign. We were heading home to Fort Worth after two grueling weeks. I still felt crummy. I mixed martinis for my dad through the days home. I complained and whined about being hot and cold. Hungry and not. Sleepy and not. I got the rear view mirror lectures about not being the only person in the car and the please keep my misery to myself.
There is no place like home. I was so glad to see my room. Sleep in my bed. Go to my doctor. Faint dead away in his office while my fever climbed to 103. I had mono. It took a few days to find out. Mother acted like I should be somehow embarrassed. She was mortified.
Two more vacations with my parents that I remember until I was 40 years old. One to Utah, One to Calhoun.
In 1993 I went to Connecticut to visit my brother's family with my mom and dad. I was newly retired, anxious to see my niece and nephew and did not want my dad driving all that way by himself. Mother driving was out of the question.
Time to see if traveling with your parents as an adult was different. Time to see if the family dynamics were still the same as when were kids.
It is wonderful in some ways, being with your family on vacation. It also leads one to want to kill people.
Your family.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
SAN DIEGO
My grandmother Murphy used to visit us once every few years. She took the train from Salt Lake to Fort Worth. Then she decided she would fly. We drove to Love Field in Dallas to pick her up and she announced, "Well, helldamn, that wasn't so bad...I might fly again". Miss Forrest must have rolled in her grave. She had met my dad's family early in their marriage. I believe the Murphys thought the Leachmans were snooty and the Leachmans thought the Murphys were heathens. Grand dad Murphy owned a BAR. That must have made Miss Forrest sweat just being in the same town.
The trip Grandmother Murphy flew to visit she had just been to San Diego on the train. She went to see Max and his "new" wife. This was news to me. Max had been married to Ruth for as long as I had heard of them. FAMILY SECRETS! Apparently Uncle Max had married a lovely woman in San Diego when he was still in the Navy. They had a baby girl who died shortly after her brith. The marriage didn't survive. Uncle Max married Ruth, many years older, more than 10 years older, and raised her two sons from her first husband, also dead. Grandmother called them and announced she was coming to visit.
Apparently one afternoon Grandmother called a cab to pick her up at Max's house. She was going to have a visit with Max's first wife. They had apparently stayed in touch and Grandmother really liked her. When the cab brought her back to Max's house grandmother's luggage was packed and on the front porch. Ruth kicked her out. Grandmother never wanted to see her again.
This should be fun! Wonder if we would get kicked out too. Don't mention the first wife....got it. We crossed the state line. We were in California! It looked like a desert. Where is the Pacific? Beaches? Cool cars and surf boards. "When we get to the coast, Linda. California is like every other state until you get to the edge of the continent." I muttered something under my breath. My dad gave me the look in the rear view mirror. I hated that. Getting a lecture from angry eyes in a mirror.
Dad always wanted me to straighten up, be quiet, stop talking, quit complaining, stop asking to change the radio station, etc. The days of the cow game were long gone. I wanted him to think of something FUN to do along the road. I wanted to stop at every single tourist trap. No, not going to happen. Miles, gotta get miles behind us. All through either New Mexico or Arizona or both were huge billboards, "THE THING...come see it". "Is it from outer space?" "Is it HUMAN?"
"Dad, can we stop and see the THING?". "No, takes too long to stop. It's just something silly anyway".
"Dad, can we stop at the next Stuckey's?". "No, too expensive, they don't have gas, no green stamps, don't need that candy and junk".
"Dad, can we see the grand canyon?" Eyes in the mirror, "do you even know where that is?" "No since I have never been anywhere but Calhoun and Brigham City." "It is in Arizona, we are in California." "Yes, but we were in Arizona".
"HUSH".
Whatever. I could out pout anyone. I pouted. California was ugly and stupid. We stopped at a service station. Still ugly. Not at all happy with dad. Then again I should be nice. I wanted my day in L.A. It was going to be the coolest day of my life!
By the time we got to Uncle Max and Aunt Ruth's I was the sweet, little daughter. Polite and nice and bored.
I wasn't sure what to expect. Uncle Max and Dad said hello. Max and mom obviously really liked each other. She thought of him as dad's little brother. I thought of him as a Coroner. Brother and I made some polite conversation then Uncle Max gave us sage advice. "Never ride on a motorcycle, that is really hard to clean up. We just call that goo". And, "never ride in the passenger seat in a VW bug. That is the crispy critter seat".
So far this was fun. Very vivid images. Goo and crispy critters. Lord, could I please have a relative in the FUN business? Someone who entertains children for a living or knows the Beatles?
Then there was Aunt Ruth. She was tiny. She couldn't have weighed 80 pounds. She looked pinched all the time. She acted like Uncle Max was her daddy. He cut her meat for her. In public. Really. She was charming and I could not imagine her kicking my grandmother out of her house. Nor could I see my grandmother not telling her off. Maybe she did and I just don't know that part of the story. She reminded me of a Troll Doll or as we called them Dam Dolls. Coroner and a Troll Doll. Creepy.
Day one in San Diego. The bridge table was already set. The grown ups were going to play bridge. The kids were going to do nothing. Great.
Uncle Max kept saying, "I think we can get in another rubber". I assumed that meant something I didn't want to know about or after a rubber we were going to DO something. We did. We had dinner. Little chickens as my dad called them. Cornish game hens. Why? That is a lot of work for very little food. Stupid. I was bored to death.
Day two. Bridge. All day. I wanted to go to L.A. I began to complain to either parent when I could catch one alone. Mom was starting to cave. She didn't love bridge like my dad. "We will do something fun tomorrow". Thank heaven. L.A. tomorrow. That's all there was to do that was fun.
NO. Sea World. This was when they had an aquarium and Shamu. Then Point Loama Light House. Right on the coast. Beautiful. "Who wants to climb the stairs to the top of the lighthouse?" Dad, Max, Brother, Me. I was having some fun at last. Then we got closer to the top of the light house on the spiral stairs that circled up the inside of the structure. The risers are steep and the treads short when you get to the top. Then you step out and see the Pacific Ocean at your feet. Rolling toward you. You can't see the ground, just the rolling ocean.
I learned about vertigo. I had it. Plastered against the wall of the lighthouse I was going nowhere, ever. I couldn't move. Everything was spinning. The ocean waves made the entire earth seem like it was moving under me. GET ME DOWN! Dad and Max talked to me forever about just backing down to the first step. NO. CAN'T MOVE. REALLY. Dad finally sent Max with Brother and he said to me. "I can't leave you here. Turn around, hold the wall. Slowly step here. Just a few little steps and then we will be on the big steps and you can lean against the wall the entire way". I looked at Dad. He wasn't mad. He was worried. He could tell I was not being difficult. I was paralyzed.
He told me later, years later, that he had no idea my eyes could be so big or my face so pale. He was afraid I would faint and he would have to carry me down that staircase. Still can't do tall places unless I am surrounded by a building.
We were leaving San Diego the next day. We were going directly to L.A. then to Las Vegas! Finally fun and decadence. I couldn't wait.
There is just no end to disappointment sometimes.
The trip Grandmother Murphy flew to visit she had just been to San Diego on the train. She went to see Max and his "new" wife. This was news to me. Max had been married to Ruth for as long as I had heard of them. FAMILY SECRETS! Apparently Uncle Max had married a lovely woman in San Diego when he was still in the Navy. They had a baby girl who died shortly after her brith. The marriage didn't survive. Uncle Max married Ruth, many years older, more than 10 years older, and raised her two sons from her first husband, also dead. Grandmother called them and announced she was coming to visit.
Apparently one afternoon Grandmother called a cab to pick her up at Max's house. She was going to have a visit with Max's first wife. They had apparently stayed in touch and Grandmother really liked her. When the cab brought her back to Max's house grandmother's luggage was packed and on the front porch. Ruth kicked her out. Grandmother never wanted to see her again.
This should be fun! Wonder if we would get kicked out too. Don't mention the first wife....got it. We crossed the state line. We were in California! It looked like a desert. Where is the Pacific? Beaches? Cool cars and surf boards. "When we get to the coast, Linda. California is like every other state until you get to the edge of the continent." I muttered something under my breath. My dad gave me the look in the rear view mirror. I hated that. Getting a lecture from angry eyes in a mirror.
Dad always wanted me to straighten up, be quiet, stop talking, quit complaining, stop asking to change the radio station, etc. The days of the cow game were long gone. I wanted him to think of something FUN to do along the road. I wanted to stop at every single tourist trap. No, not going to happen. Miles, gotta get miles behind us. All through either New Mexico or Arizona or both were huge billboards, "THE THING...come see it". "Is it from outer space?" "Is it HUMAN?"
"Dad, can we stop and see the THING?". "No, takes too long to stop. It's just something silly anyway".
"Dad, can we stop at the next Stuckey's?". "No, too expensive, they don't have gas, no green stamps, don't need that candy and junk".
"Dad, can we see the grand canyon?" Eyes in the mirror, "do you even know where that is?" "No since I have never been anywhere but Calhoun and Brigham City." "It is in Arizona, we are in California." "Yes, but we were in Arizona".
"HUSH".
Whatever. I could out pout anyone. I pouted. California was ugly and stupid. We stopped at a service station. Still ugly. Not at all happy with dad. Then again I should be nice. I wanted my day in L.A. It was going to be the coolest day of my life!
By the time we got to Uncle Max and Aunt Ruth's I was the sweet, little daughter. Polite and nice and bored.
I wasn't sure what to expect. Uncle Max and Dad said hello. Max and mom obviously really liked each other. She thought of him as dad's little brother. I thought of him as a Coroner. Brother and I made some polite conversation then Uncle Max gave us sage advice. "Never ride on a motorcycle, that is really hard to clean up. We just call that goo". And, "never ride in the passenger seat in a VW bug. That is the crispy critter seat".
So far this was fun. Very vivid images. Goo and crispy critters. Lord, could I please have a relative in the FUN business? Someone who entertains children for a living or knows the Beatles?
Then there was Aunt Ruth. She was tiny. She couldn't have weighed 80 pounds. She looked pinched all the time. She acted like Uncle Max was her daddy. He cut her meat for her. In public. Really. She was charming and I could not imagine her kicking my grandmother out of her house. Nor could I see my grandmother not telling her off. Maybe she did and I just don't know that part of the story. She reminded me of a Troll Doll or as we called them Dam Dolls. Coroner and a Troll Doll. Creepy.
Day one in San Diego. The bridge table was already set. The grown ups were going to play bridge. The kids were going to do nothing. Great.
Uncle Max kept saying, "I think we can get in another rubber". I assumed that meant something I didn't want to know about or after a rubber we were going to DO something. We did. We had dinner. Little chickens as my dad called them. Cornish game hens. Why? That is a lot of work for very little food. Stupid. I was bored to death.
Day two. Bridge. All day. I wanted to go to L.A. I began to complain to either parent when I could catch one alone. Mom was starting to cave. She didn't love bridge like my dad. "We will do something fun tomorrow". Thank heaven. L.A. tomorrow. That's all there was to do that was fun.
NO. Sea World. This was when they had an aquarium and Shamu. Then Point Loama Light House. Right on the coast. Beautiful. "Who wants to climb the stairs to the top of the lighthouse?" Dad, Max, Brother, Me. I was having some fun at last. Then we got closer to the top of the light house on the spiral stairs that circled up the inside of the structure. The risers are steep and the treads short when you get to the top. Then you step out and see the Pacific Ocean at your feet. Rolling toward you. You can't see the ground, just the rolling ocean.
I learned about vertigo. I had it. Plastered against the wall of the lighthouse I was going nowhere, ever. I couldn't move. Everything was spinning. The ocean waves made the entire earth seem like it was moving under me. GET ME DOWN! Dad and Max talked to me forever about just backing down to the first step. NO. CAN'T MOVE. REALLY. Dad finally sent Max with Brother and he said to me. "I can't leave you here. Turn around, hold the wall. Slowly step here. Just a few little steps and then we will be on the big steps and you can lean against the wall the entire way". I looked at Dad. He wasn't mad. He was worried. He could tell I was not being difficult. I was paralyzed.
He told me later, years later, that he had no idea my eyes could be so big or my face so pale. He was afraid I would faint and he would have to carry me down that staircase. Still can't do tall places unless I am surrounded by a building.
We were leaving San Diego the next day. We were going directly to L.A. then to Las Vegas! Finally fun and decadence. I couldn't wait.
There is just no end to disappointment sometimes.
EARTHQUAKE IN D.C. never when you need one
Dear Creator of the Universe, Maker of Heaven and Earth, Spirit of all the Earth, Spirits of Saints and Loved Ones, Gods and Goddesses,
Why couldn't the earthquake hit D.C. when Congress was in session? It was the perfect time to make a statement from the universe that Congress needs to be shaken up. It isn't that I think I know better or more than you Deities but really, it would have been GREAT to see that building full of nay sayers and complainers shaking. Watching people who know what God wants trying to figure out what to do. OH, so disappointed.
I feel certain Bane-R would have cried. I mean first. I am sure many of them would cry thinking that their time had come. It would be like my favorite scene from Almost Famous when the band thinks they are not going to survive in the airplane and they confess their most personal secrets and sins. THEN the plane survives and oops, it is all out there. Every one knows everything. That changes things completely.
Can you see every representative pleading with God to forgive them for taking money for that and sleeping with them and lying about this and cheating on that? Then the earth settles and everything has been recorded on CSPAN. Oh, please. How did we not get this opportunity?
That entire Obama being Muslim or Christian could have been resolved at that moment. Was he calling for God or Allah? See, when you think you are dying RIGHT NOW, you don't have time to process anything. You just let it all out. Whatever that may be.
We have all had those slow motion moments when you know you are dead. That car coming straight at you, the plane plunging 1,000 feet in turbulence, slamming on the brakes when you realize you are the only one moving and those little red lights are brake lights. Those moments where your heart leaps to your throat and everything is S L O W and nano-seconds become an eternity. I would have so loved to see our leaders then. We would have known who is really a leader, who is a crier and who is a bed wetter.
Driving through the Metroplex or as I call it, "the drivers test from hell", I had a, "what is that in the road?", moment a while back. No room to move, no lane open. Suddenly I could see what "it" was. "It" was a rack off of a pick up that carries ladders. Big, square, metal and pointy. That 15 seconds lasted forever. A man in a big van next to me realized at the same time what "it" was and that I was going to be skewered. He pulled to the shoulder and gave me enough room to live. Thank you, sir. I, by the way, am a screamer not a crier or bed wetter. I was most assuredly begging God for many things very loudly. I was sorry for every single thing and really pissed at the same time.
Divine Ones, next time could the timing be just a little better? Please? I don't often beg, however, I do make exceptions. I will give up chocolate for a year, (not the hot, drinkable kind, the eating, yummy kind), if we could please have another 6.0 in D.C. while Congress is there in the building, holding the nation hostage about something. I don't want to see anyone hurt or anything just scared straight to the truth. OH, a citizen's _ _ _ dream.
Do consider the above request, please?
Lillybell Blues
Why couldn't the earthquake hit D.C. when Congress was in session? It was the perfect time to make a statement from the universe that Congress needs to be shaken up. It isn't that I think I know better or more than you Deities but really, it would have been GREAT to see that building full of nay sayers and complainers shaking. Watching people who know what God wants trying to figure out what to do. OH, so disappointed.
I feel certain Bane-R would have cried. I mean first. I am sure many of them would cry thinking that their time had come. It would be like my favorite scene from Almost Famous when the band thinks they are not going to survive in the airplane and they confess their most personal secrets and sins. THEN the plane survives and oops, it is all out there. Every one knows everything. That changes things completely.
Can you see every representative pleading with God to forgive them for taking money for that and sleeping with them and lying about this and cheating on that? Then the earth settles and everything has been recorded on CSPAN. Oh, please. How did we not get this opportunity?
That entire Obama being Muslim or Christian could have been resolved at that moment. Was he calling for God or Allah? See, when you think you are dying RIGHT NOW, you don't have time to process anything. You just let it all out. Whatever that may be.
We have all had those slow motion moments when you know you are dead. That car coming straight at you, the plane plunging 1,000 feet in turbulence, slamming on the brakes when you realize you are the only one moving and those little red lights are brake lights. Those moments where your heart leaps to your throat and everything is S L O W and nano-seconds become an eternity. I would have so loved to see our leaders then. We would have known who is really a leader, who is a crier and who is a bed wetter.
Driving through the Metroplex or as I call it, "the drivers test from hell", I had a, "what is that in the road?", moment a while back. No room to move, no lane open. Suddenly I could see what "it" was. "It" was a rack off of a pick up that carries ladders. Big, square, metal and pointy. That 15 seconds lasted forever. A man in a big van next to me realized at the same time what "it" was and that I was going to be skewered. He pulled to the shoulder and gave me enough room to live. Thank you, sir. I, by the way, am a screamer not a crier or bed wetter. I was most assuredly begging God for many things very loudly. I was sorry for every single thing and really pissed at the same time.
Divine Ones, next time could the timing be just a little better? Please? I don't often beg, however, I do make exceptions. I will give up chocolate for a year, (not the hot, drinkable kind, the eating, yummy kind), if we could please have another 6.0 in D.C. while Congress is there in the building, holding the nation hostage about something. I don't want to see anyone hurt or anything just scared straight to the truth. OH, a citizen's _ _ _ dream.
Do consider the above request, please?
Lillybell Blues
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)