Well, I officially hate the Mayans. I know it's not right to hate, but really Ole Ancient Ones, I could have used you today. If the world is going to end (which surely it will), why could it not have happened today? This would have been a good day to do it. Really. Seriously.
Today I came the closest to having a full blown nervous breakdown as I ever had. And trust me, I have had plenty of reasons in my life to have one. But today broke me. Like really, seriously, FULL BLOWN. And here's why:
We have sold our family home. We close on the 28th. Which is great. I have wanted this for almost 2 years.
But it is now here. I sit in this house tonight with almost everything out of it and I still have palpitations because of the things left to do. Oh, and it's the Holiday season. So Merry Christmas everybody. For Christmas, I'm giving all of you an old, chipped knick-knack and a 30 year old towel set with tattered lace and sea shells. Enjoy!
I have no "official" place to live. I have had 2 places fall through, so hopefully the place I looked at today (which is not ideal, but I AM DESPERATE!) will come through. Because I MOVE on Wednesday. Wouldn't it be nice if I had a place to go? Oh well, wouldn't want to rush things.
And sadly, my 80 year old daughter, who I have been taking care of for the past 2 years, has taken a very serious turn for the worse in the past two weeks. She is now on Hospice care and virtually incoherent and lifeless. She is still here, but barely. She can't communicate, but I can tell she's scared and confused. And she still has the ability to show emotion. And that is emotion is sadness. She can still cry. And now, finally, so can I. And cry I have...all day today. (even as I write this) She has been on 24 hour Hospice care for the past week, but they called me today to tell me that would be ending it because she can still swallow and her vital signs are still good. They said it would be best to MOVE her to a nursing home or get a sitter (at $400 a day) to be with her. Luckily, I made a wise choice to put her in possibly the best assisted living facility in the world, and they have said that they wouldn't let that happen. If we MOVE her, it will be to the "more hands on" unit and they will take care of her to the best of their ability. There is still hope that Hospice will continue their 24 hour care, but only if things get worse. And I know this sounds bad, but it would be a blessing if they did. She is so miserable. I hold her hand, I rub her face and I pray that this nightmare will soon be over for her.
Add in a big project that I am working on and clients who will not pay and I HAVE HAD IT!!! HAD IT!!
[Other than that Mrs. Kennedy, how was Dallas?]
Readers, I haven't written in a long while. I wish I have, because now when I finally feel like it, it is a tirade of misery and raw emotion. I apologize. If you need a little humor from me, please refer to previous posts. (or just look at my photos from the 90's on facebook) On a brighter note, I was the recipient of two lovely acts of kindness today. One from my dearest friend in the world and one from someone I only know from the interwebs and whom I have never met. People are good. Well, some.
What would Betty say? She would cry and be very mad at me for making fun of her old crap. And then she would tell me that I needed to plan ahead. And then she certainly would tell me how bad her bowels are.
Friday, December 21, 2012
Friday, October 5, 2012
It's Snot Funny!
This week I have been suffering from a blinding sinus infection. I haven't experienced one of these in a very long time. And this time, Mr. Infection has decided to stay for an extensive visit. Just like a bad rash or a red neck relative with a cold sore, he just won't leave.
It all started Tuesday afternoon. I was having a late lunch with a friend and toward the end of lunch I felt him (Mr. Infection, not my friend) creeping in. By the time I got home, I figured I should go to the drug store and get provisions for a cold. My usual cure-all is my trusty friend, Alka Seltzer Night Time Cold Medicine. A couple of tablets in water and, pop pop fizz fizz, you are out like a light and you wake up ready to go. Since my throat was getting sore, I decided to get some mentholated cough drops as well. I like to drop one in some hot tea to make a little "hot toddy". So Tuesday night I took my cures and went to bed.
Unfortunately, my "cure-alls" did not cure all. Wednesday morning was horrific. So, I decided to add this new fangled sinus cleanser, the Netti Pot. It is a lovely device that squirts warm saline solution up one nostril and it exits through the other nostril accompanied by some nasty looking slime. I also added the Vicks VapoRub under the nose. Throw in a few dozen Tylenol and you pretty much have my day on Wednesday.
Top the day off with the Presidential debate on Wednesday night, where we learned that Mitt Romney is truly a pathological liar who wants to kill Big Bird, and President Obama, evidently, was, perhaps, on Alka Seltzer Night Time Cold Medicine.
To make a long story short, it is Friday and I am still in the "NettiPot-VicksVapoRub-Tylenol-HotToddy-AlkaSeltzerNightTimeColdMedicine" regime. I have a few moments of clarity, but not many. As I have learned from taking care of my almost 80 year old daughter, being sick is crappy. Sometimes literally, and sometimes just figuratively.
Some people think it's funny. But it's snot.
What would Betty say? "You better get to the doctor. Your sinuses could rot out and you'll lose your nose!"
It all started Tuesday afternoon. I was having a late lunch with a friend and toward the end of lunch I felt him (Mr. Infection, not my friend) creeping in. By the time I got home, I figured I should go to the drug store and get provisions for a cold. My usual cure-all is my trusty friend, Alka Seltzer Night Time Cold Medicine. A couple of tablets in water and, pop pop fizz fizz, you are out like a light and you wake up ready to go. Since my throat was getting sore, I decided to get some mentholated cough drops as well. I like to drop one in some hot tea to make a little "hot toddy". So Tuesday night I took my cures and went to bed.
Unfortunately, my "cure-alls" did not cure all. Wednesday morning was horrific. So, I decided to add this new fangled sinus cleanser, the Netti Pot. It is a lovely device that squirts warm saline solution up one nostril and it exits through the other nostril accompanied by some nasty looking slime. I also added the Vicks VapoRub under the nose. Throw in a few dozen Tylenol and you pretty much have my day on Wednesday.
Top the day off with the Presidential debate on Wednesday night, where we learned that Mitt Romney is truly a pathological liar who wants to kill Big Bird, and President Obama, evidently, was, perhaps, on Alka Seltzer Night Time Cold Medicine.
To make a long story short, it is Friday and I am still in the "NettiPot-VicksVapoRub-Tylenol-HotToddy-AlkaSeltzerNightTimeColdMedicine" regime. I have a few moments of clarity, but not many. As I have learned from taking care of my almost 80 year old daughter, being sick is crappy. Sometimes literally, and sometimes just figuratively.
Some people think it's funny. But it's snot.
What would Betty say? "You better get to the doctor. Your sinuses could rot out and you'll lose your nose!"
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
Kitty Porn
The other day my sister and I were having a conversation. She is the Executive Director of a community clinic for low or no income children. She was telling me that one of their 13 year old patients was pregnant. The father of the child, another 13 year old, has fathered two other children in his Middle School. What does one do about this? How can this happen? I, certainly not naive, am dumfounded about this. I know that children today are much more, for lack of a better word, stimulated than we were back in the day before computers, cell phones and computer and cell phone porn. But 13 year olds??? Really?? What does one do to this boy to keep him from impregnating young girls? Can he help support the children? What are you going to do, take 50% of his lunch money?
The very next day, something occurred in my back yard that made me have faith in the male species once again. You all know that I have the custody of my 79 year old daughter's brain damaged cat, Elsie. Well, along with her I have inherited 2 to 3 feral cats, depending on the day. One is a female white cat that I have named Blanca. One is a large orange male cat that I have named The Big Orange Mo. Occasionally a beautiful blue Tabby shows up and his name is Jet Blue, and like the airline, he is rarely on time and not very friendly.
But, I digress... the other morning I was working in the front yard. I headed toward the back to put a bag of trash in the garbage cans and I heard a loud, dare I say, CATterwalling. Cat screams so loud I bet they heard them 5 or 6 houses down the street. Senorita Blanca and The Big Orange Mo were gettin' busy. REAL BUSY! I must admit, and I am proud to say, that I have never seen two cats doing the nasty. But, I was fascinated. And by the time I could get in the house to get my phone to take a photo of such copulating, they were done.
It is certainly not rare for a feral male cat to get a little "pussy". But what happened next was what I think is rare for the male species. The deed was done and I expected The Big Orange Mo to run along, grab a cigarette, get a beer and brag to all the other cats about how he nailed Blanca. You know, like most men do. But in an unpredictable turn of events, I looked out in the back yard and there were Blanca and The Big Orange Mo lying face to face basking in the after glow. And they stayed there for about an hour. They even let me get closer than 30 feet from them. And The Big Orange Mo is no "Run Away Mo", the two of them have been seen together ever since. It won't surprise me if he is in the delivery room with her and even dips into the "kitty" and helps out with kitten support payments. He's a stand-up Cat, that Big Orange Mo.
Yes, of course, the humane thing to do would be to try to catch them and get them spayed and neutered. However, it is virtually impossible for these two wild "kits". On the other hand, I bet we could catch that 13 year old boy and cut his nuts off. That also would be very humane!!!
What would Betty say? "Those girls need to keep their legs closed". And then she would go on about me spending to much money feeding those cats.
The very next day, something occurred in my back yard that made me have faith in the male species once again. You all know that I have the custody of my 79 year old daughter's brain damaged cat, Elsie. Well, along with her I have inherited 2 to 3 feral cats, depending on the day. One is a female white cat that I have named Blanca. One is a large orange male cat that I have named The Big Orange Mo. Occasionally a beautiful blue Tabby shows up and his name is Jet Blue, and like the airline, he is rarely on time and not very friendly.
But, I digress... the other morning I was working in the front yard. I headed toward the back to put a bag of trash in the garbage cans and I heard a loud, dare I say, CATterwalling. Cat screams so loud I bet they heard them 5 or 6 houses down the street. Senorita Blanca and The Big Orange Mo were gettin' busy. REAL BUSY! I must admit, and I am proud to say, that I have never seen two cats doing the nasty. But, I was fascinated. And by the time I could get in the house to get my phone to take a photo of such copulating, they were done.
It is certainly not rare for a feral male cat to get a little "pussy". But what happened next was what I think is rare for the male species. The deed was done and I expected The Big Orange Mo to run along, grab a cigarette, get a beer and brag to all the other cats about how he nailed Blanca. You know, like most men do. But in an unpredictable turn of events, I looked out in the back yard and there were Blanca and The Big Orange Mo lying face to face basking in the after glow. And they stayed there for about an hour. They even let me get closer than 30 feet from them. And The Big Orange Mo is no "Run Away Mo", the two of them have been seen together ever since. It won't surprise me if he is in the delivery room with her and even dips into the "kitty" and helps out with kitten support payments. He's a stand-up Cat, that Big Orange Mo.
Yes, of course, the humane thing to do would be to try to catch them and get them spayed and neutered. However, it is virtually impossible for these two wild "kits". On the other hand, I bet we could catch that 13 year old boy and cut his nuts off. That also would be very humane!!!
What would Betty say? "Those girls need to keep their legs closed". And then she would go on about me spending to much money feeding those cats.
Saturday, May 12, 2012
Pee and Sympathy
Yesterday, I made my tri-weekly trip to see my 79 nine year old daughter at the "I've Lost My Mind And I Can't Get Up" Camp and take her laundry to her. I went early in the morning so I could get on with the rest of my day. I usually don't go early, but yesterday I needed to.
I walked into camp and looked to the right and there were about 15 campers doing their daily chair exercise class. I was compelled to stare. I couldn't keep my eyes off all the campers attempting to lift their arms in rhythm. It reminded me of a toddler "Mommy and Me" exercise class minus the pacifiers but including the diapers. Mrs. Langston had obviously used her Jane Fonda tapes in the 80's because she was quite adept. My daughter, however, not so much.
I went to her room to start unloading laundry and the room smelled of pee. Seems she had wet the bed the night before and possibly the night before that. She soon returned. She was in a "mood". As I was hanging up her polyester pants and putting away her floral pajamas, she started muttering about going home and how she didn't want to live there. This is usual, but yesterday it had a mean, bitter edge to it. Usually when she goes on about this I ignore her and try to change the subject. And I did. But, there was such a sadness to her this day.
Suddenly there was a voice of an angel in my head. It was St. Oprah of the Television Set. I remembered what she said on her final telecast. She said that all people want is to be heard. So, I sat on the daughter's new walker with cushioned seat and listened. I let her ramble. Same ole lines she usually recites that start to repeat after 5 minutes. But I sat there and listened through a couple of cycles and nodded. And finally, I said what I always say which is "I am so sorry, but the doctors say you have to stay here". And I grabbed the load of dirty laundry and started my pee scented trip down the hall to the car.
Years from now, when you speak of this, and you will...be kind. (20 points and a case of Depends to those of you who get the literary reference)
What would Betty say? "Jane Fonda said those hateful things about the war. But she had pretty hair."
I walked into camp and looked to the right and there were about 15 campers doing their daily chair exercise class. I was compelled to stare. I couldn't keep my eyes off all the campers attempting to lift their arms in rhythm. It reminded me of a toddler "Mommy and Me" exercise class minus the pacifiers but including the diapers. Mrs. Langston had obviously used her Jane Fonda tapes in the 80's because she was quite adept. My daughter, however, not so much.
I went to her room to start unloading laundry and the room smelled of pee. Seems she had wet the bed the night before and possibly the night before that. She soon returned. She was in a "mood". As I was hanging up her polyester pants and putting away her floral pajamas, she started muttering about going home and how she didn't want to live there. This is usual, but yesterday it had a mean, bitter edge to it. Usually when she goes on about this I ignore her and try to change the subject. And I did. But, there was such a sadness to her this day.
Suddenly there was a voice of an angel in my head. It was St. Oprah of the Television Set. I remembered what she said on her final telecast. She said that all people want is to be heard. So, I sat on the daughter's new walker with cushioned seat and listened. I let her ramble. Same ole lines she usually recites that start to repeat after 5 minutes. But I sat there and listened through a couple of cycles and nodded. And finally, I said what I always say which is "I am so sorry, but the doctors say you have to stay here". And I grabbed the load of dirty laundry and started my pee scented trip down the hall to the car.
Years from now, when you speak of this, and you will...be kind. (20 points and a case of Depends to those of you who get the literary reference)
What would Betty say? "Jane Fonda said those hateful things about the war. But she had pretty hair."
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
Raise the Roof!!
It's been a week since a tornado blew through my town. I could say that it took me a week to come out of hiding and that is the reason why I haven't written about it. That would not be true, but trust me, I was spooked enough to stay in my closet for a year. (insert your jokes now, so we can move on)
The day began as my days usually do. I woke up. I checked facebook, email, and then played 5 games on AnagramFever. (As I recall, I didn't play very well that day, as if it were a sign of things to come) I then took a shower, got myself together and headed out for my morning chores. That day, they included picking up my 79 year old daughter's new glasses at the Walmarts, taking them to her at the dorm, picking up her laundry, changing her bed linens, eating my regular at Arby's (#4 combo) and stopping off at the Home Depot to buy some paint. I live a full and rich life.
When I walked out of the Home Depot I noticed that "a cloud" had come up that wasn't there when I went in.
By the time I got home it was starting to look bad. I turned on the TV and there was nothing on about the weather. And then it happened. Suddenly, God spilled a huge bucket of water and it was POURING down rain. About 10 minutes later my satellite went out. Then about 3 minutes after that the electricity went off. I thought to myself "Oh, this is, perhaps, not good". I logged on to local news websites before my computer died to see what was happening. Nothing. I called my sister. She had heard nothing. Then she suddenly said, "There's a tornado over your head". FREAK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I looked out the window and it was jet black outside. And the rolling thunder started. And the storm sirens blared. I immediately ran and got all the pillows off my bed and grabbed a blanket. I looked for the Coleman lantern flashlight that my Aunt Kay had given me for Christmas and noticed that I had not put the batteries in it. I grabbed the flashlight and batteries, two bottles of water, my man purse, my phone and my cigs (just in case). I got in the empty hall closet and shut the door. In the dark, I opened the battery package and put them in using the flashlight app on my phone. I pulled out my driver's license out of my wallet and kept it in my hand the whole time. (This was a flashback from the Lancaster tornado of 1994 when poor Raebel Cobb was found a half mile away from where her house use to be. She was found dead, still in the bathtub with her driver's license in her hand for easy identification) All of this was done in about 42 seconds.
I kept hearing rolling thunder about 15 seconds apart. Then, it was no longer rolling thunder, it was THUNDER for about 45 seconds. The house rattled and I was in the fetal position covered in pillows and a blanket. I am not sure, but I suspect that I soiled myself. I'm not sure. Depends. Anyway, there was about a minute and a half of complete stillness and quiet. And then all hell broke lose. Firetruck sirens and police sirens started blaring. I called my sister and she said it hit on Wintergreen Road. A half a mile from my house! I crawled out of the closet and looked outside. The sky was a pinkish-yellow color. I ventured outside on the back covered porch. Elsie, the brain damaged cat, was so scared, she, for the first time, jumped in my lap. I walked around the back yard and not one bit of damage. Not a tree limb down, not a shingle off the roof. Nothing.
I continued talking on the phone with my sister and finding out about the devastation that was a mere half a mile away from me. And about 45 minutes later I look outside... and here we go again. POURING rain. Darkness. Rolling thunder and lightening. I pulled out the driver's license and got back in the closet. After 20 minutes there was quiet again. And nothing out of place.
I still had no electricity, but no damage. Except for my one last nerve!
What would Betty say? "That's why I give you underwear for Christmas!" And then she would go on and on about how she would always get in that same closet and that her bowels were runny.
The day began as my days usually do. I woke up. I checked facebook, email, and then played 5 games on AnagramFever. (As I recall, I didn't play very well that day, as if it were a sign of things to come) I then took a shower, got myself together and headed out for my morning chores. That day, they included picking up my 79 year old daughter's new glasses at the Walmarts, taking them to her at the dorm, picking up her laundry, changing her bed linens, eating my regular at Arby's (#4 combo) and stopping off at the Home Depot to buy some paint. I live a full and rich life.
When I walked out of the Home Depot I noticed that "a cloud" had come up that wasn't there when I went in.
By the time I got home it was starting to look bad. I turned on the TV and there was nothing on about the weather. And then it happened. Suddenly, God spilled a huge bucket of water and it was POURING down rain. About 10 minutes later my satellite went out. Then about 3 minutes after that the electricity went off. I thought to myself "Oh, this is, perhaps, not good". I logged on to local news websites before my computer died to see what was happening. Nothing. I called my sister. She had heard nothing. Then she suddenly said, "There's a tornado over your head". FREAK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I looked out the window and it was jet black outside. And the rolling thunder started. And the storm sirens blared. I immediately ran and got all the pillows off my bed and grabbed a blanket. I looked for the Coleman lantern flashlight that my Aunt Kay had given me for Christmas and noticed that I had not put the batteries in it. I grabbed the flashlight and batteries, two bottles of water, my man purse, my phone and my cigs (just in case). I got in the empty hall closet and shut the door. In the dark, I opened the battery package and put them in using the flashlight app on my phone. I pulled out my driver's license out of my wallet and kept it in my hand the whole time. (This was a flashback from the Lancaster tornado of 1994 when poor Raebel Cobb was found a half mile away from where her house use to be. She was found dead, still in the bathtub with her driver's license in her hand for easy identification) All of this was done in about 42 seconds.
I kept hearing rolling thunder about 15 seconds apart. Then, it was no longer rolling thunder, it was THUNDER for about 45 seconds. The house rattled and I was in the fetal position covered in pillows and a blanket. I am not sure, but I suspect that I soiled myself. I'm not sure. Depends. Anyway, there was about a minute and a half of complete stillness and quiet. And then all hell broke lose. Firetruck sirens and police sirens started blaring. I called my sister and she said it hit on Wintergreen Road. A half a mile from my house! I crawled out of the closet and looked outside. The sky was a pinkish-yellow color. I ventured outside on the back covered porch. Elsie, the brain damaged cat, was so scared, she, for the first time, jumped in my lap. I walked around the back yard and not one bit of damage. Not a tree limb down, not a shingle off the roof. Nothing.
I continued talking on the phone with my sister and finding out about the devastation that was a mere half a mile away from me. And about 45 minutes later I look outside... and here we go again. POURING rain. Darkness. Rolling thunder and lightening. I pulled out the driver's license and got back in the closet. After 20 minutes there was quiet again. And nothing out of place.
I still had no electricity, but no damage. Except for my one last nerve!
What would Betty say? "That's why I give you underwear for Christmas!" And then she would go on and on about how she would always get in that same closet and that her bowels were runny.
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
The Bachelor: Assisted Living
I don't watch "The Bachelor". I think it is televised prostitution. It makes me squirm and throw up in my mouth a bit. I have, however, seen this season's bachelor and clips from the show on talk shows. First of all, he needs a haircut. And, he is icky. Call me Rush Limbaugh, but of course he chose the "slut" who went skinny dipping with him. He is stupid man and ruled by his penis. Just like Rush. And who can really find the "love of their life" in a few weeks of "speed dating"? That's not reality. What's the rush? (pun intended)
Now, if ABC wanted a true reality speed dating show, they should bring the cameras into an assisted living facility. The ratio of males to females are about the same as on "The Bachelor". It's a fact that women out live men. And now with the magic of the "little blue pill", anything can happen. (if you know what I mean)
And the stakes are really high. When you're 80, the need for "speed dating" brings on a new meaning.
In the first episode we would meet our bachelor, for this purpose let's call him Mr. Peterman. Mr. Peterman meets his Bachelorettes as they stroll up in dining room wobbling on their walkers. They all toast with a glass of Ensure and the battling begins. Mrs. Harvey makes a mad dash for the door, but the attendants catch her before she gets to the traffic light and just in time for her one-on-one time with Peterman. It gets a little awkward when unexpectedly Mrs. Harvey mistakes him for her son and tries to burp him. At the end of the night (and before the sun goes down) Mr. Peterman has narrowed the choices down to three. It would have been more but Mrs. Langston stuffed most of the roses in her purse. (She has a problem with hording, which will be highlighted in episode 4 when Mr. Peterman tries to go into her room and trips on all the empty Metamucil bottles and stacks of old AARP magazines)
We cut to episode 6 when Mr. Peterman and Mrs. Ellis have a private date. They spend the day playing private Strip Bingo and the scene fades as we see the them from behind sharing a walker clad only in their Depends as they head for the theraputic hot tub. The two other remaining Bachelorettes are appalled and brand Mrs. Ellis a "hussy".
Episode 7 begins with Mrs. Ellis doing the "Walker of Shame" as she heads to her room from the hot tub. We also see Mr. Peterman in the hall trying to figure out who and where he is.
Sadly, the series ends early due to fact that Mr. Peterman was unexpectedly found in Mrs. Wilson's room stark naked in the bathroom twirling in circles singing the theme song to "The Donna Reed" Show. He was then taken to Memory Care Lock Down never to be seen again.
Now that's a reality Reality Show!!
What would Betty say? "I don't need an old man! All they want is a nurse or a purse!"
Now, if ABC wanted a true reality speed dating show, they should bring the cameras into an assisted living facility. The ratio of males to females are about the same as on "The Bachelor". It's a fact that women out live men. And now with the magic of the "little blue pill", anything can happen. (if you know what I mean)
And the stakes are really high. When you're 80, the need for "speed dating" brings on a new meaning.
In the first episode we would meet our bachelor, for this purpose let's call him Mr. Peterman. Mr. Peterman meets his Bachelorettes as they stroll up in dining room wobbling on their walkers. They all toast with a glass of Ensure and the battling begins. Mrs. Harvey makes a mad dash for the door, but the attendants catch her before she gets to the traffic light and just in time for her one-on-one time with Peterman. It gets a little awkward when unexpectedly Mrs. Harvey mistakes him for her son and tries to burp him. At the end of the night (and before the sun goes down) Mr. Peterman has narrowed the choices down to three. It would have been more but Mrs. Langston stuffed most of the roses in her purse. (She has a problem with hording, which will be highlighted in episode 4 when Mr. Peterman tries to go into her room and trips on all the empty Metamucil bottles and stacks of old AARP magazines)
We cut to episode 6 when Mr. Peterman and Mrs. Ellis have a private date. They spend the day playing private Strip Bingo and the scene fades as we see the them from behind sharing a walker clad only in their Depends as they head for the theraputic hot tub. The two other remaining Bachelorettes are appalled and brand Mrs. Ellis a "hussy".
Episode 7 begins with Mrs. Ellis doing the "Walker of Shame" as she heads to her room from the hot tub. We also see Mr. Peterman in the hall trying to figure out who and where he is.
Sadly, the series ends early due to fact that Mr. Peterman was unexpectedly found in Mrs. Wilson's room stark naked in the bathroom twirling in circles singing the theme song to "The Donna Reed" Show. He was then taken to Memory Care Lock Down never to be seen again.
Now that's a reality Reality Show!!
What would Betty say? "I don't need an old man! All they want is a nurse or a purse!"
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Betty and Whitney's Feet: You Never Saw Them In the Same Room
I heard today that the National Enquirer put a picture of Whitney Houston in her casket on the cover of their "newspaper" Well, I think this is completely distasteful, disrespectful, and in very bad taste. Which is exactly the reason why I HAD to go look at it.
First of all, I have to say that she looked "real natural". Quite pretty, at that. She had a lovely updo and her make up was perfection. (shimmery eyeshadow on a corpse is always risky, but she pulled it off). She had a nice pleasant smile on her face. (rare for a corpse, because their mouths usually droop) The headlines on the cover stated that she wore her favorite purple dress and thousands of dollars of jewelry. And it said that she wore gold slippers on her feet.
Which brings me to Betty. Before she passed away she had planned out every detail for her viewing. She had picked out her own casket (a nice, but modest Church of Christ gray). She picked out her dress and had hung it in her closet with a towel around the shoulders so it wouldn't have clothes hanger marks on it. She had not picked out jewelry, so like Whitney, we put tens of dollars of jewelry on her. But, because great minds think alike, like Whitney, Betty insisted that she wore her gold metallic slippers from the Walmarts. She said, "when I walk the streets of gold up in heaven, I want to be wearing my gold slippers." So, gold slippers it was.
Now I am not saying that Betty and Whitney had much in common. (Except perhaps the fact that towards the end they both took a lot of pills) Betty could NOT sing. Betty was NOT Black. Betty did NOT marry a man that got her hooked on drugs. And Betty did NOT have a cousin who had physic friends. But, Betty had some gold slippers, just like Whitney. And if the rumors about Whitney's financial situation are true, I bet hers were from the Walmarts, too.
Betty's comments from Heaven: "She 's a pretty black girl, but I don't know why they had to put so much make up on her". And she would add: "She didn't have any jewelry on when she got here. I bet someone stole it".
First of all, I have to say that she looked "real natural". Quite pretty, at that. She had a lovely updo and her make up was perfection. (shimmery eyeshadow on a corpse is always risky, but she pulled it off). She had a nice pleasant smile on her face. (rare for a corpse, because their mouths usually droop) The headlines on the cover stated that she wore her favorite purple dress and thousands of dollars of jewelry. And it said that she wore gold slippers on her feet.
Which brings me to Betty. Before she passed away she had planned out every detail for her viewing. She had picked out her own casket (a nice, but modest Church of Christ gray). She picked out her dress and had hung it in her closet with a towel around the shoulders so it wouldn't have clothes hanger marks on it. She had not picked out jewelry, so like Whitney, we put tens of dollars of jewelry on her. But, because great minds think alike, like Whitney, Betty insisted that she wore her gold metallic slippers from the Walmarts. She said, "when I walk the streets of gold up in heaven, I want to be wearing my gold slippers." So, gold slippers it was.
Now I am not saying that Betty and Whitney had much in common. (Except perhaps the fact that towards the end they both took a lot of pills) Betty could NOT sing. Betty was NOT Black. Betty did NOT marry a man that got her hooked on drugs. And Betty did NOT have a cousin who had physic friends. But, Betty had some gold slippers, just like Whitney. And if the rumors about Whitney's financial situation are true, I bet hers were from the Walmarts, too.
Betty's comments from Heaven: "She 's a pretty black girl, but I don't know why they had to put so much make up on her". And she would add: "She didn't have any jewelry on when she got here. I bet someone stole it".
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
You Are Woman, Hear You Roar
The birth control pill was introduced in the early 1960's. Unfortunately for some, it didn't become readily available until the mid 60's. So, in approximately May of 1960 when Charles apparently got a little "frisky", much to the surprise and dismay of Betty, she got pregnant. Even though Charles was a talented musician, evidently he had bad rhythm and subsequently, I was born. So, when in the mid 60's when the "pill" was available to her, she, and just about every woman in America, ran as fast as she could to the doctor and got on it.
In 1973, Roe v. Wade became the LAW of the land, thus preventing thousands of women from having to go to extraordinarily painful, dangerous and life threatening measures to end an unwanted pregnancy. It's a LAW (made during a Republican administration) that has made white men from all over the country literally go crazy. This decision has made white men picket, protest, become violent and kill. To be fair, some white women have also picketed, protested, became violent and killed. I am a man, a white man, to boot, however, I feel that the rights of women are just that, RIGHTS OF WOMEN. Not men. Not white men. Not black men, not brown men, not green men....not any MAN. It has always baffled me as to why men get a say in this issue.
Here we are in 2012, Two thousand twelve!, and the rights of women are in more danger than ever before.
Unfortunately, for a Republican to be a "true" Republican today, you must honor the sanctity of life (although they really don't care to honor the sanctity of your life after you are born) and now, you must think that birth control is an abomination. WHAT? REALLY? Yes, it's true. Presidential Candidate and Hater of All People That Are Not Like Him, Rick Santorum (google Santorum, please) who is now considered the "true" conservative in the nomination process, believes that birth control and pre-natal care are "not okay". And so poor Former Governor and Ex- JC Penney model, Willard "Mitt" Romney, now has to say he agrees with that inane notion so that Republicans will believe him to be a "severe" conservative. To me, a white man, this appears to be a war on women's rights.
I have no horse in this race. I can promise you that I have not gotten a woman pregnant, nor will I ever get a woman pregnant, but I love women. I LOVE women. And I care about their health and most importantly, I honor their right to choose to do anything with their bodies that they choose. 99% percent of sexually active women use or have used some form of birth control. Abortion rates are down because of it. (And by the way, I hate it when they call someone "Pro Abortion". No one is pro abortion. I can almost guarantee that no woman has awakened and said, "oh goody, I get to go get an abortion today! Yippee") I am hoping that every woman that has taken a birth control pill, every woman who has a daughter, a niece,or a young female friend will stand up and fight for your RIGHTS. It's serious and your lives are at stake.
And to ALL women who love your gays (oh yeah, they want no rights for gays either) and your uterus, you must vote for the black man. Yes, I said it.
What would Betty say? "Well, that's just nuts".
In 1973, Roe v. Wade became the LAW of the land, thus preventing thousands of women from having to go to extraordinarily painful, dangerous and life threatening measures to end an unwanted pregnancy. It's a LAW (made during a Republican administration) that has made white men from all over the country literally go crazy. This decision has made white men picket, protest, become violent and kill. To be fair, some white women have also picketed, protested, became violent and killed. I am a man, a white man, to boot, however, I feel that the rights of women are just that, RIGHTS OF WOMEN. Not men. Not white men. Not black men, not brown men, not green men....not any MAN. It has always baffled me as to why men get a say in this issue.
Here we are in 2012, Two thousand twelve!, and the rights of women are in more danger than ever before.
Unfortunately, for a Republican to be a "true" Republican today, you must honor the sanctity of life (although they really don't care to honor the sanctity of your life after you are born) and now, you must think that birth control is an abomination. WHAT? REALLY? Yes, it's true. Presidential Candidate and Hater of All People That Are Not Like Him, Rick Santorum (google Santorum, please) who is now considered the "true" conservative in the nomination process, believes that birth control and pre-natal care are "not okay". And so poor Former Governor and Ex- JC Penney model, Willard "Mitt" Romney, now has to say he agrees with that inane notion so that Republicans will believe him to be a "severe" conservative. To me, a white man, this appears to be a war on women's rights.
I have no horse in this race. I can promise you that I have not gotten a woman pregnant, nor will I ever get a woman pregnant, but I love women. I LOVE women. And I care about their health and most importantly, I honor their right to choose to do anything with their bodies that they choose. 99% percent of sexually active women use or have used some form of birth control. Abortion rates are down because of it. (And by the way, I hate it when they call someone "Pro Abortion". No one is pro abortion. I can almost guarantee that no woman has awakened and said, "oh goody, I get to go get an abortion today! Yippee") I am hoping that every woman that has taken a birth control pill, every woman who has a daughter, a niece,or a young female friend will stand up and fight for your RIGHTS. It's serious and your lives are at stake.
And to ALL women who love your gays (oh yeah, they want no rights for gays either) and your uterus, you must vote for the black man. Yes, I said it.
What would Betty say? "Well, that's just nuts".
Monday, January 2, 2012
2011: It Rhymes With Kevin
Today marks the first anniversary of one of the most traumatic events of my life.
One year ago today I went through an ordeal that is still difficult for me to speak of. I won't go into details, but it involved a town called Pecos, a bucktoothed toothless man (visualize), a club footed mechanic and 17 degree weather. That is all I will say.
In related news, tomorrow marks the one year anniversary of my return to Texas. Whew! As I look back through my date book, it's been a whirlwind year. The adoption of my 79 year old daughter and the fostering of this stupid brain damaged cat. I also turned an age that we dare not speak its name. I took 3 trips: One to Santa Fe to be with my bestie, Suzy Graham; to Virginia and Kentucky to judge their respective Miss America pageants. There were 3 weddings and almost a funeral, 9 castings, 2 workshops and I directed some great kids in a great production of "Guys and Dolls". I had 22 people for Christmas dinner and 5 New Year's resolutions.
I look back on 2011 as a transition year. But to what? Who knows?
And yet another reason why I say that I have a really stupid life.
What would Betty say? "Did you have your big coat on in that cold weather?"
P.S.: The brain damaged cat is, dare I say, "catterwalling" right now. (Please see previous post for New Year's resolutions)
One year ago today I went through an ordeal that is still difficult for me to speak of. I won't go into details, but it involved a town called Pecos, a bucktoothed toothless man (visualize), a club footed mechanic and 17 degree weather. That is all I will say.
In related news, tomorrow marks the one year anniversary of my return to Texas. Whew! As I look back through my date book, it's been a whirlwind year. The adoption of my 79 year old daughter and the fostering of this stupid brain damaged cat. I also turned an age that we dare not speak its name. I took 3 trips: One to Santa Fe to be with my bestie, Suzy Graham; to Virginia and Kentucky to judge their respective Miss America pageants. There were 3 weddings and almost a funeral, 9 castings, 2 workshops and I directed some great kids in a great production of "Guys and Dolls". I had 22 people for Christmas dinner and 5 New Year's resolutions.
I look back on 2011 as a transition year. But to what? Who knows?
And yet another reason why I say that I have a really stupid life.
What would Betty say? "Did you have your big coat on in that cold weather?"
P.S.: The brain damaged cat is, dare I say, "catterwalling" right now. (Please see previous post for New Year's resolutions)
Sunday, January 1, 2012
New Year's Resignations
Well, well, well....
2012 is here. I rang in the New Year with 3 of my dearest and oldest (length of friendship and age) friends.
Last night on New Year's Eve, I asked them what their resolutions were for this year. Suzanne and Reagan sat silent and Bob said he wanted to lose weight and meet President Obama. (or was it Newt Gingrich? I can't recall) I, without hesitation said that I wanted to try to write in my blog at least 5 days a week. They looked at me and said that maybe a better goal was once a week. We compromised my first resolution by saying that I will try to write in my blog 3 days a week, and write something, anything, every day.
Lots of you have asked me for new posts. I have to say that I haven't a good reason for not writing, except that I just didn't want to. The last few months of 2011 were stressful and strange and I just didn't feel like talking about it. So there.
But now with the new year upon us, I want to write. I don't know if it's because of the new year or if my attitude has changed or if in even numbered years I feel more creative, but the time is now. We'll see how far I get with keeping up with my compromised resolution.
I have never been one to create a resolution list, but this year I have a few, but this year, they might just be New Year's Resignations:
Write more. (see above)
Feed the brain damaged cat only dry food. She doesn't know this yet, so I expect protests from her and her 3 wayward friends whom also like to imbibe in the almighty wet food.
Have more patience with the 79 year old daughter.Try to come up with creative answers to her pleas to go home. Try and try to help her to find happiness or at least stop asking me to take her home.
Sell this house. I want it gone. Please buy this house.
Quit smoking. (Shrug. Sigh. Cough up a lung) For the 237th time I will try to kick this hideous habit that has taken over my life. I would try Chantix again, but I am afraid I might kill myself and that would impede me from accomplishing my aforementioned resolutions.
Make a ton of money. (Shrug. Sigh. Cough up a lung)
And so, on January 1, 2012, I've started to keep my resolutions. I am resigned to the realization that I might not do so well on this list. But then again, I, like my friend Bob who desperately wants to meet President Obama (or Newt Gingrich), I might just surprise you and myself.
What would Betty say? "My resolution is to not talk so much". Nah, just kidding, she would never say that. But she would go on and on about how her house is a mess and that I am spending too much on that brain damaged cat and she can't believe that I ever started smoking and that President Obama is a nice looking man but he should have had his ears pinned back.
2012 is here. I rang in the New Year with 3 of my dearest and oldest (length of friendship and age) friends.
Last night on New Year's Eve, I asked them what their resolutions were for this year. Suzanne and Reagan sat silent and Bob said he wanted to lose weight and meet President Obama. (or was it Newt Gingrich? I can't recall) I, without hesitation said that I wanted to try to write in my blog at least 5 days a week. They looked at me and said that maybe a better goal was once a week. We compromised my first resolution by saying that I will try to write in my blog 3 days a week, and write something, anything, every day.
Lots of you have asked me for new posts. I have to say that I haven't a good reason for not writing, except that I just didn't want to. The last few months of 2011 were stressful and strange and I just didn't feel like talking about it. So there.
But now with the new year upon us, I want to write. I don't know if it's because of the new year or if my attitude has changed or if in even numbered years I feel more creative, but the time is now. We'll see how far I get with keeping up with my compromised resolution.
I have never been one to create a resolution list, but this year I have a few, but this year, they might just be New Year's Resignations:
Write more. (see above)
Feed the brain damaged cat only dry food. She doesn't know this yet, so I expect protests from her and her 3 wayward friends whom also like to imbibe in the almighty wet food.
Have more patience with the 79 year old daughter.Try to come up with creative answers to her pleas to go home. Try and try to help her to find happiness or at least stop asking me to take her home.
Sell this house. I want it gone. Please buy this house.
Quit smoking. (Shrug. Sigh. Cough up a lung) For the 237th time I will try to kick this hideous habit that has taken over my life. I would try Chantix again, but I am afraid I might kill myself and that would impede me from accomplishing my aforementioned resolutions.
Make a ton of money. (Shrug. Sigh. Cough up a lung)
And so, on January 1, 2012, I've started to keep my resolutions. I am resigned to the realization that I might not do so well on this list. But then again, I, like my friend Bob who desperately wants to meet President Obama (or Newt Gingrich), I might just surprise you and myself.
What would Betty say? "My resolution is to not talk so much". Nah, just kidding, she would never say that. But she would go on and on about how her house is a mess and that I am spending too much on that brain damaged cat and she can't believe that I ever started smoking and that President Obama is a nice looking man but he should have had his ears pinned back.
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