Saying yes...

It feels like you should have known...

I had one of those days a number of months back... one of those days where you know you should probably just stay under the covers. I had a new painting class starting. Most of the usual suspects were going to be missing this session due to travel or health issues. Actually, we were all supposed to be missing this session since the newer powers that be had held hard and fast to the "must meet minimums for a class to run" rule. I had warned and warned some more... class was not going to happen as we were only going to have 5 people. I wasn't that worried, knowing enrollment would pick up for future sessions. I was actually looking forward to a break. I needed some extra freedom in my schedule due to other things in my life that needed my attention... but then my boss did something insane and decided to run the class... with two people, one of whom would not be able to make it due to a bad reaction to anesthesia. I had told my boss I needed the break, but no... she decided I'd be doing a lesson for one. While the person who came to class was wonderful... she really didn't want any painting instruction. It was going to be a long 6 weeks.

Anyhow, that first day, I realized I had no clean painting clothes. No problem, I had time to do a fast, small load... it was just the washer decided to stop, not once, but twice. Same for the dryer. By the time I finally got things washed, the dryer would not stay on. These are relatively new machines. It was bizarre. 4 hours later, I managed to have a damp pair of painting clothes to wear. I went to load up the car when my dogs decided jumping up on the door would be a good idea thus shutting it. Of course the door was locked. Of course the emergency key was not in its spot. Of course my house keys were inside, in my purse, with my phone, and my car fob. Of course it was starting to rain. I ditched my uber-heavy painting bag on the patio and hoofed it to work, luckily having my work key in my coat pocket. I also knew YL would get home before me, so she'd have her keys... I'd get back inside. I just didn't think of what it would look like to her when she got home. There'd be my purse, phone, keys, etc, on the table, and my painting bag on the patio, car in the driveway,  but no me! I came home to find a tearful YL on the phone with her father telling him I'd been kidnapped.

The day had other weirdness, but I'll briefly summarize the ending by saying the father we always joked about being a perv, was actually arrested for being a perv. All attention went to news stories about that.

Flash forward to the present. Grizzled and I had been commenting off and on how we had not heard from a longtime friend for a while. She hadn't returned my email... her landline was disconnected... not that odd as her cellphone was still taking messages, but none were returned. She was a lone wolf type so it wasn't unusual to not hear from her for a few months. Still, something wasn't sitting right. I finally remembered to enter her middle initial into a google search the other day and found out she'd been killed in a car/pedestrian accident... almost 4 months ago, on that totally messed up day. Had it not been for all of the perv news, we would have heard about the accident, would have known it was right by her place, and would have thought to check on her sooner, but we missed it. It feels so wrong to have known someone for 25 years and that they can die and you don't know it. I feel neglectful even though I know I've done nothing wrong... it's just the way it is. In this world of hyper-connectivity, we still have our space. It's a blessing and a curse. Still, I wonder, were my washer and dryer trying to tell me? Were the dogs trying to tell me? Was the universe trying to tell me?? "Hey! This day is fucked because your friend was killed this morning! Pay attention!"

Most of us don't blog anymore, or at least not like we did... and even when we were checking in daily, I always remember thinking, we were connected, but we weren't really a part of a family/friend phone tree. People could die and we'd never know... not unless we hit it lucky with a morbid google search. It seems wrong. For all of our advancements over the centuries, it seems like we should have invented a way to let people know, but no, we're not much better off than we were a hundred or more years ago when people would move to far away locales and who knew if you'd ever hear from them again... Still, it seems like we should know.

RIP Maureen.

Oh let the sun beat down upon my face...

...stars to fill my dreams...

Photography challenge for thundra...

1) Something biomorphically and geometrically pleasing.

2) Something autobiographical.

3) Something hopeful.

4) Something WEIRD!

5) Something enigmatic.

6) Something under-appreciated.

7) Something nostalgic.

8) Something swirly, curly, lurly-lurly...

9) Something gagtastically artistic.

10) Something humorous.

11) Something delicious (not food).

12) Something softer than it looks (no kit-TENS).

13) Something with amazing balance yet asymmetrical.

14) Something revealing (no moobs).

15) Something discreet.

16) Something unexpected.

17) Something where the feeling when you took the photo jumps off the page and makes us feel like we experienced it as well.

That's all! :)

Bad judgment

During our recent road trip, I heard a song that will forever make me think of fun and alcohol poisoning... I know, I know, I should not say those two things together, but thank gawd for whatever it is that gets us through our stupid decisions in life...

Imagine if you will... an endless heatwave... going grocery shopping with your roommate/bestest friend... deciding at 9AM that margaritas sound REALLY GOOD... so you buy LARGE QUANTITIES of STUFF at the store, deciding not to eat when you get home, but go straight to the margaritas...

Hours and hours later, after a person or two has left the party, and the margaritas became anything you and your roommate could mix with tequila, if mixing was really even necessary... and after the dancing around and on the table while wearing your roommate's red sheet; dancing to the song below, you decide you probably need a nap, but the man you've been seeing (and will eventually marry) has shown up, decides maybe you need dinner and prepares you food... and stays with you throughout the night, which is a good thing, because you wake up in the wee hours feeling sun burnt and insane... and he gets you water and helps you to the bathroom, and does all sorts of responsible things... while your crazy roommate somehow finds it within himself to actually go out on a first date!!!

That is what this song makes me think of... and when I hear it, I still smile... and thank my lucky stars...

 

For Laura: Apron Junkie

Laura... kindred spirit of my filthbot soul*... has a thing for aprons. Especially hostess aprons. I wish I had known a few months earlier. I could have bestowed upon her a bevy of vintage beauties which were unearthed in my m-i-l's home.... But alas, they're gone, baby, gone.

I can, however, share an image from before my childhood even started, of 3 of my mother's good friends, all decked out for a bridal shower, wearing their hostess aprons, as any self-respecting woman of the 50's would do.

These woman are, from left to right... Edna, Jeanette, and Sylvia.They don't make names or aprons like those anymore.

* Filthbottery is still on lockdown around here since worklife is possibly overlapping with bloglife... also, if anyone asks, my children came about due to immaculate conception.

Summer Blogging in One Post!

Garden. Garden. Flower. Butterfly. Fucking rain! Dog. Dog. Dog. Lake. Grizzled. Garden. Lamblet. Lamblet. Lamblet. Driver's Ed. AHHHHHHH! Lamblet. Hot! Too chilly! Wet! Where's the rain?!?! FUN!!! Woo-HOO!! Grrrr! WTF?? Still can't access any of ZRM's many blogs... 3B's! What contest?! Garden. Garden. Painting. Painting. Grrrr. Life is good. WTF??? Dick joke. Dick joke. Thought-provoking post. Dick joke. Garden. Animules. Painting! Grrrr... painting!!@!1 FRUSTRATION! In the zone. Fireflies!! Ah, summer smell. Butterflies! Orbs!!! Orbflies!! Thundra. Von. LOL! Garden. Dogs. Frustration. Satisfaction. Good. Bad. Love everyone. Hate everyone. Weeds. WEEDS! BG!! Lake. Reading. Thinking. Anniversary. Snag. Birthday. Cicadas. School? Already?

Still stuck in my head...

But possibly replacing it...

Until you show your birth certificate proving that you're God, you don't get to decide... OK???

EL recieves a monthly newsletter from a program she's in at school... a program for kids who scored on the upper edges of testing and who might benefit from extra activities and connections... so far the newsletters and the program has been hit or miss, but it's early. If anything, she'll be able to say she was in the program which will benefit her when trying to get into colleges.

Today's newsletter had an interview with an admissions professional at a noted university. I won't name it, but I believe Mr. Thundra went there... (Mr. Thundra will be thankful he went there then... and not now...)

In said article, the admissions person said something to the effect that she looked at all social networking when deciding if and when a person would be accepted. I'm not worried about EL. As I've often said, she was 50 when she was born and probably has more sense than most. What EL did say though was, "That's not really fair. I'm guessing that the admissions person did even more than most people do now (EL has heard rumor about freer days), but had the benefit of it not being documented!"

She had a point...

She went on to say how in this day and age, you're expected to share everything... which made me realize my generation had something over the teenagers of today. We had the safety of discretion by default. We also have failing memories on our side. I know I was more poorly behaved than EL when in high school (while still receiving stellar grades!!)... Grizzled was FAR WORSE! We just have no public record... only hazy memories which can be denied when the need arises. "Mom! So and so was an asshole!! I never did that! I mean, really! Come ON!!!"

It also had me thinking though... if Ms. Admissions did have a sketchier past, why not be more forgiving of those coming in who are too open and honest about their activities?? There's got to be a tipping point when we accept that almost anyone had a sketchier past and we get past it...  Of course, there's always one person who was more lily white, and this person is most likely your admissions officer...

So... if she did not have a sketchier past and was truly one of those few who walked the straight and narrow every time, don't you think she's probably in the minority?? And when will the minority stop getting to decide what's right for the majority?? Frankly, I'm kind of tired of it. I'm kind of tired of having what are really normal experiences and then being told I am denied access to the real world due to those experiences. Frankly, I think I live in the real world... everyone else? I'm not so sure. I think they might be living in a fairytale and they're the ogre.

I wish we still had this...

... rediscovered while unearthing another post...repost from April, 2007... And I think I have even reposted before, but wtf...

We would have died

My eldest lamblet has always been interested in history. Since both Grizzled and I are as well, we've always been happy to help her explore the past. A number of years ago she was really curious about pioneers. I had a couple of good books, with lots of photos that showed the bizarre meshing of lifestyles that was part of the pioneer life. It was not uncommon to see men and women in full dress standing next to their sod house which may or may not have had something grazing on it.

My eldest lamblet was having a hard time grasping the concept of the sod house. Yes, she saw pictures, yes we explained, but it was apparent she was going to need more. It was just the beginning of the gardening season and we were enlarging a couple of beds so we figured we'd build a sod house replica! How hard could it be???

Oh. My. God.

Our little sod house (as you can see in progress) was only about 36 inches wide and 22 inches deep. I think it only reached a height of about 18-20 inches. The digging up and cutting of the sod, the hauling and arranging of the *bricks* was brutal and it wasn't like Grizzled or I were wimps.

And... this wasn't even virgin, prairie sod. When I had mentioned in passing to my father that we were going to build a mini-sod house, he went off on the lack of integrity of our root structure... blah, blah, blah. Yes, Dad, I know, but like I said, it's a MINI-sod house. Geeze!

We were lucky it wasn't virgin, prairie sod. We were lucky it wasn't a full-size house. It became glaringly apparent to Grizzled and me (eldest lamblet quit early in the day, I can't blame her) that had we had to build a true sod house, we would have died. Either the building of it would have killed us or the elements, whichever got to us first.

I have to say though, I loved that little sod house.We tossed a makeshift roof on it and it stayed with us through the season. I had had intentions of putting some oiled newsprint on the window frame that Grizzled and the eldest lamblet made and whitewashing the inside, but decided it was fabulous just the say it was. Besides, I was exhausted and didn't feel up to a lesson in crushing down lime...

All summer long, that house looked like it was waiting for someone. My eldest lamblet thought maybe some prairie fairies would show up. I kind of expected to see a little horse and wagon rig going across the backyard, but I never did. If I had, I don't think I would have owned up to it anyhow. Our neighbors were curious enough as to why we were wasting precious time making a sod house. It was fun, but I'm glad we didn't have to make a real one.

We would have died.

 

 

The Crank Doesn't Fall Far From the Tree...

Mom has temporarily given me, EL, temporary control of her blog to explain a metaphor I was telling her this afternoon.

I was telling her about how my friend in art class last year had posed the hypothetical/philosophical question, "Why are there no metal sporks?" This is my theory:

Forks, spoons, and sporks are like lions, tigers, and ligers (oh my). Forks and spoons were made in metal before they were conceived in plastic. Similarly, lions and tigers were wild before they were anywhere close to being domesticated. Sporks, in contrast, were made originally in plastic, as ligers were bred as a result of human intervention. Sporks are a pathetic utensil, that after three years of junior high, I can honestly say I have developed a disliking for. They are useless, confused ingrates. On one hand, they fail to hold soup because someone cut triangles out of them. On the other, they fail to stab anything sufficiently because their points are dull and short. Nobody created sporks with the intention of them actually being good for anything. Ligers are incapable of living in the wild because they were raised by humans, and hence have lost touch with the vast majority of their animal instincts, and are incapable of reproduction. They would have never existed naturally because under realistic circumstances, the situations where a lion would breed with a tiger are few.

HENCE, in summation, sporks and ligers are alike victims of human experimentation, and therefore can never be independent/metal.

Adminstrator's note: Tigers and lions were not manmade as were spoons and forks... even if made of metal... otherwise, I'm going with it... It makes sense, somehow.