Dollar Shave Club Inspires Memories of How It Should Have Been

Wow.  I identify with both parties in this commercial.  The guy wanting to know what he is refused access from the local pharmacy shaving ATM makes me empathize the most, but I have been buying razors long enough to not wait hopelessly at the box and stare at it. Nor do I get mad at the employee without clearance to the sacred keys...  BUT what the commercial reminded me of the painful days of toddler activities.....but I confess my days of gymnastics with toddlers and supermoms brought forth thoughts of socks and duct tape for certain moms... and a dart gun.

OK, OK before people shout out 'You hypocritical hater!' (I know, without details its very scandalous).  Let me fill in the blanks.  The duct tape is to be applied to any self proclaimed SuperMom multitasker (that can't park an Escalade.. it's creepy... Monster trucks seem to be the common mode of mammal movement these days); where was I... DUCT TAPING Mentally the Super's hand, to that God-awful screaming, drooling/oozing from every orifice CHILD I saw at least ten other women strangle with their eyes.  Meanwhile I'm wanting to simply lay hands upon their kid for neglect..it's VILE ...because LIKE a cartwheel into the vending area is so cool ten damned times (OH hell no sweetie, sit the fuck down DUCT TAPE).  The socks are for ... for .. that SuperMom I knew could swallow a pair of socks and STILL be heard bitching on the phone in the corner (acoustics people)... the dart gun... one for the teacher that made my daughter hate dance... a special WAKE up for the shit head supposedly teaching..  in my dream I have an arsenal of darts that I keep in my Batmobile.. or my Buick.. Betty.  I like to call them my 'sentials.  These tools are ESSENTIAL to me, the sentinel (I'm Batman)*

Seriously, I signed up for this.  Being a Mother and the Shave Club... bata bing. What a great company and super idea.  One for me and One for Him.  Delivered.  Razorblades delivered to my door.  Cool. Check it out.

https://www.dollarshaveclub.com/

*Please please visit the Channel HISHE on YouTube
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCHCph-_jLba_9atyCZJPLQQ




Or their website:  http://www.howitshouldhaveended.com

What is the Message Sent Twice? One Eye.

I haven't been anywhere in two months, but every place.  I feel brittle.  Then the no-nonsensical me remembers what kind of world I truly live in.  So I crack every bone, sit and hone my smile, hide that voice. Don't be so inconvenient!  Seriously..

Yes we see.

Do we care?

Of Course!

that is,

(brilliantly)

Of Couture?

You?

'Umm Honey.  That foot sez ta me.... Paleeeze....Tattoo them for yo mid' life crisis!'

Can we get back to two eyes?

Not one.

A world of cyclops.

Knitting Sweaters

I should be upstairs.
knitting

If I follow that thread
I end up in bed

very warm.

That nettles (needles) knitting gnashing
thread by thread
sweaters.

I shed.
Down the stairs.
In my chair.

Fingers clatter, oh NOT to knit
finding

oh
well

Shit.




The answers are still the same.

1. My favorite channel is OFF
2. My right foot is not older than my left, as I cannot rearrange the space time
like Q...
3.  I have more fun with complete strangers.
4.  No Net.
5.  Mercy is actually an idiot's typo. Mer Ci
6. Yeah, I forgot, Hate me. it's fair. I hate you. Whoever you are.

Sisters and Life

I take too much for granted in this life I have.  Things that seem insurmountable to me would be a daydream for someone else to have.  I'm emotional at the moment dwelling on my sister, whom I admire profusely down to the very acidity of her struggles.  

She shrugged off my admission of admiration, and I can't take offense because I know why.  Believing in something makes a person vulnerable.  That's what my sister is, vulnerable.. and I can't stand the fact I am powerless to ease her hurts. God how I want to.

One thing I can do is put these words out there.  I admire my sister because:

1.  She happens to be an amazing mother.

2.  She is thrifty.

3.  She is brave.

4.  She has dreams.

5.  She improvises.

6.  She sings.

7.  She gives.

8.  She loves.

9.  She cries.

10.  Her children are her heart.

11.  She loves her family.

12.  She has grown up.

13.  She tries hard.

14.  She doesn't give up.

15.  She is funny.

16.  She is proud.

I could go on and on but I'm so glad enough time has gone by that we have become close friends.  I can't imagine not knowing her or needing her, because she is always there.

Lionel Richie: Find a Way to see Him in Concert

Before I back up the title of this blog topic, I want to put a question out there.  Do you realize how quickly we are moving through an age of the most brilliant and influential musicians of our time?  WE are.  'Elvis: The King Lives On' doesn't phase people these days because that's all they care to know about an American Icon.  I live to love music.  And the more history I learn, the harder I find myself scrambling for tickets to see these legends; people simply have forgotten the beauty of our roots in the glaring lights of Pop Culture and Reality shows.  PAY ATTENTION and enjoy, but remember too.  Whitney Houston is GONE and I never saw her in concert, oh how I wished I had... and Michael Jackson too.  Appreciate live music for what it is.  To me, a band live most of the time has more raw artistic sweaty galvanizing clarity and passion than what the radio or social media put out there.  Its personal.

On July 4th at almost midnight I found SALE tickets for Lionel Richie for $20 each.  I was SO grateful I didn't miss this chance to hear the man whose songs I know by heart.  My radio dial stops immediately of its OWN volition when I'm in my car "Dancing on the Ceiling" singing as loud as I can not giving a rat's ass who is eyeballing the Buick with the crazy woman shifting gears in time to the beat .. and "jamming in the street" at stop lights.

The above clip is blurry, but its short and beautiful..All music belongs to Lionel Richie, thanks.

Now since I'm confessing all, THE COMMODORES?  Lionel Richie sang 'BRICK HOUSE' last night.  I shook my winning hand shamelessly in glee because I really wanted him to sing it, but didn't think he would.  Amazing.

The concert began at 7:30 with CeLo Green, who impressed me more live than he does on the Voice.  He was vibrant in song, which is a quality I love.  My husband didn't even know he was the opening act and he was so appreciative of the date we had planned entirely by me.

The rest of the night, well, Lionel Richie blew us away.  US being the entire crowd.  I hugged my John close and turned around and the audience was beautiful.  They were hugging, loving, smiling and world peace felt achievable right in the middle of Hello while looking at all the faces.

Do your life a favor if you can.  Go listen.  Take it all in.  The sounds. The music.  The crowd.  If you have never heard Lyle Lovett live, you are missing out on Magic.  Willie Nelson, not seeing him is just wrong.  These are some of the ground breakers, they are the greats.  Seize your partner and be amazed.  And SING!

And well, I wished I had my camera out for one memorable moment of the night.  Watching a guy eat a corndog.  After that I kept looking for corndogs, but alas, there were no hungry males.  *sigh* It was hilarious!!

Calling Simple

I forgot what you sound like.
You're getting more distant than..........................................

Maybe getting to talk to you
Should be some string
tied between two cans.

You CAN _______________________ CAN I?

Say Hello? ------------------------------------ Hello?

"Operator, I need an exit"

"OK, Go upstairs, open the door, turn right, go through three doors, it will be ringing.."

[oh yeah, not the matrix] 

A friend inspired this thought.
I need them.

Lost:Dictionary Definition with Commentary

Merriam-Webster’s

Definition of the word:  LOST

lost adjective \ˈlȯst\ : unable to be found for I am a daily endlessness whose compliance dulls the mind.  Into the background I am everywhere: camouflaged of heart.

: not knowing where you are or how to get to where you want to go : unable to find your way And I so believed Dr. Seuss’ Oh the Places You’ll Go.

: no longer held, owned, or possessed Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord.. my soul to keep..because sadly I can’t give the best parts of me away.

Full Definition of LOST

1:  not made use of, won, or claimed I want to belong in a way I think exists in my head.

2 a :  no longer possessed with the passion that burns within..

   b :  no longer known to share the glory of dreams.

3 :  ruined or destroyed physically or morally :  desperate to not show how true feelings are raw and desperate to find courage

4 a :  taken away or beyond reach or attainment :  denied I only know what I want in life is for me to find on my own, help is a liar

   b :  insensible, hardened I need therefore I chase my own tail...

5 a :  unable to find the way How can I trust anyone?

   b :  no longer visible because I am a housewife, the world is too busy, be content with mediocre.

   c :  lacking assurance or self-confidence :  helpless because I am afraid, not of being fucking amazing or sexy, but of just talking about my ideas.

6 :  rapt, absorbed I light little candles and hope I am not settling, and more time passes and the candle flickers..

7 :  not appreciated or understood :  wasted I have so much to share with the world, if the world will merely give me inspiration and galvanize me in some way.

8:  obscured or overlooked during a process or activity I still do not know what happened and why no one opened their mouth to defend our family honor.  And it is a goal of mine to gather my courage to do just that.

9:  hopelessly unattainable:  futile the realization no one around me has seen my true potential to make a difference.  It makes the word lost sad because when I reach this, they might miss it.

So, are you lost? Can you be found? Will you see, if I look.  I run with lighted candle. Tears abound at memories of feeling so lost I screamed... was there a sound?  Or did the reverie catch up with you?

Should you be lost.. and I find ... you ... will you be?

Ah yes,

Blind.

To be by Choice

Choices

That's what people always say you have.

Choices are questions.

Choices are ultimatums.

Choices are verbalized cop outs by those around you.

When you're by yourself, that's supposed to be a choice too.

I didn't choose this.

I don't even want it.

It's not my language.

Talking is my language.

Hugging is my language.

Words are my language.

Words spoke out loud.

I love you. I need you. I want you.

Those aren't choices to me.

They are statements. In my language.

Bridge the gap.  Get out of your boat and float in words.

Maybe then I'll choose.

Because then I have more than what everyone else has.

Your silence is deafening.

Looking at My Own Mice Type

I have a hectic schedule and an intense job.  With all sincerity, my job takes up most of the time I spend on the Internet, and the only reason I keep up with Facebook is because I use it as a 'family' tool.  This blog is my luxury, and I enjoy it.  I wish I could dedicate more time towards writing, but right now, my talents are spread quite thin at the moment.

I have a career, not a job.  I strive for clarity in this statement. The word job feels weasel-like on my tongue and cheapens my importance to the whole picture.  I will not tolerate a negative debasement of my passionate dedication by those stuck within the confines of their own system of what makes a person worth something.  I have a BA, a ton of experience and training but I STILL have to keep up to cover everything, because the demands put upon me challenge daily.  There is no guide out there for businesses and customer service, maintaining a cost conscious diligence, keeping up with rebates and warranties, calling and updating home services on top of cleanliness.

I am a housewife.  And it is a career.  I am not about to get on a soapbox and complain about what I should be paid.  That is a moot point for me.  My husband and I run this home together, manage a small business, keep up our properties, are parents to a beautiful child and we hold it down together.  To me, my role in my household contains an overwhelming amount of responsibility, productivity and effort that my husband reflects.  Its the rest of the world I want to shake my fists at.  I have it. Yes.  My own little business.   A career.  A big part of a complex organization.  If there was ever a theoretical mission statement or about us thing... it would include all the below items.

AND I savored writing this.

Twotablesnotime

Owner/CEO

The American Dream

a Division of the Hall Corporation

Stokesdale, NC 27357

HOME OFFICE

Customer Service:  Contact twotables for all household related concerns

Sales:  No one offers better pricing on hand chosen housewares

Technical Support:  Contact twotables [Emergency contact information]

Operations:  contact twotables for department allocation within HOME OFFICE

Security Clearance:  must be approved by BOTH owners of The American Dream

Warranty/Replacement:  The American Dream by the Hall Corporation offers an exclusive warranty for as long as you retain contact with our services.

Independents:  The American Dream offers limited programs and associations and maintain the right to deny or change agreements without notice.   Failure to maintain an account with The American Dream and misappropriate use of our Brands or Logo is punishable in accordance with any way we deem fit.  Violation of Company policy will not be tolerated.  Proper phone protocol is to be observed at all times.  The American Dream does not affiliate with John Hall Guttering employees, however HOME OFFICE is open to accept paperwork and Issues as directed by John Hall.  In the event of a Natural Disaster or Act of John, The American Dream has the right to dictate to any and all affiliates.   If The American Dream is out of the office, you must WAIT.  Approval from *Latter Halls is UNACCEPTABLE.  This includes Security Clearance to HOME OFFICE.

The American Dream retains the right to deny services to anyone.  Any attempts by outside parties to solicit CEO/Owners twotables or John Hall shall be handled by *ANY means necessary.  *ANY means may include/not limited to:  intense scrutiny, background check, formal complaints, and if necessary; use of force.  We are a privately owned and operated corporation and any means to gain unwanted access shall be considered a serious threat to operations**.

**in the event of Latter Halls or Nareaus contract involvement, The American Dream must approve in advance.  Infractions or complaints by an Independent about Latter Halls or Nareaus are to be handled by  The American Dream.  Latter Halls and Nareaus have warranties and insurance through The American Dream.   Any outside consultation by Independents to these parties without authorization is embezzlement/misuse of company resources.  Anything you say and do to them will be used against you.

SHOP

Transportation:  Contact John Hall

Deliveries with more than 3 axles must use Lower Entrance

Questions about an Invoice?  Contact John and leave a message.

Operations:  Contact John with job questions and concerns.

Interested in delivering material?  John is the person to give a quote to.  And don't waste his time.

JHG, Inc.does not accept credit cards or financing; so if you have received an invoice, pay it on time.

Interested in becoming an Associate?  The American Dream currently has no positions offered.

However The Hall Corporation encourages Applicants to inquire directly to John Hall Guttering.  If hired by our company, be on time and be *dependable.

Employees report to John Hall Guttering, however HOME OFFICE has your information on file.  You must be Key holder to enter Home Office.

*Dependable is all inclusive - call with questions, do it right the first time,  be safe, and manage your own money and personal life.  Everyone has unexpected emergencies, and we understand, but we also have a business to run and lives of our own.

Spirituality in Clovers

Being lucky is not how I define myself.  I do not possess the mathematical prowess nor do I consult the stars to aid in being lucky.  I do have one talent that seems to astound a lot of people.  I find four leaf clovers.  I have always been able to.  What do you think I do with them?  I find a piece of hard paper and date it, then I place my clover in the center and put tape over it.  Then, I give them away.  I've been doing this for a long time.  I don't know quite when my belief system set in, but I'll share it.  Friends have been astonished when I've stood in their yards and plucked a prize from between our toes.  My best friend tearfully told me she had never found one before ... and still carries the one I gave her around.  I have given them as birthday gifts when I had no money.

A special Day.

Having a child and being a parent has made those clover searches more a daily routine for me.  I'll be outside looking down attempting to not be upset over drama before school.  When faced with the unanswerable, I consult the clovers.  Clovers keep me sane, they make me smile ruefully in the face of ALL IS LOST.  I am certain my clovers are there for me to center myself upon.  These bright patches of green are my connection with the unknown.  Karma, prayer, meditation... all are located in my yard.  God is but a patch away. Finding a YES within my given time to look makes me smile.  Going away empty handed means NO, but hey, I find more YES than NO.  Time feels well spent in my clovers.  I have my favorite patch to sit and survey my universe.  Four leaf clovers give me peace when I am anxious.  They help me not be angry and help me find time to just be.  To ask God a clover question and then keep the clover would upset the balance of my world, at least in my mind.

In sitting down to write this, I looked up four leaf clovers and found the following:

Druids believed carrying a 4LC warded off bad luck and offered magical protection.

Supposedly Eve carried away a 4LC from Eden, so to carry one is like always having a bit of that paradise.

Regular clovers stand for the holy trinity, a 4LC stands for the grace of God.

In the middle ages, children believed that having a 4LC made it possible for them to see fairies.

The odds of finding a 4LC is 10,000 to one, but that was a generous number I think.  Further reading included age and gender, which should be irrelevant in the whole luck system (personal belief).

In reading the above 'facts' and nostalgia... I conclude this:

Every clover I give away should help the recipient because they should be able to see fairies, have a symbol of God's grace, feel a little of Eden's paradise, ward off bad luck and be the one in ten thousand I choose to share a smile with.

Isn't that wonderful?

I found over twenty four leaf clovers in one day; the picture below is some of them.  I still think I'm me, but that day was rather special.  I shared this wisdom of the clovers with my daughter.  She found four.

All found in one Day.

My neighbors may wonder what it is I'm doing out there in my yard.  Maybe I lost something.  Maybe I'm crazy.  I really don't care.  I ponder life's mysteries and the troubles of the world pass me by.

Need a clover?  Email me.  I'll find one for you especially.  I'll mail it too.

Thoughts About Being Married

Post by Marsha Faye Hall.

AM I HUMAN: YES

I can't read the __________________ cussword, swear, adjective, insult to mothers, _________, ____________ boxes websites put at the bottom of everything except when making a purchase.. (oops, I forgot, THAT one is in MY &^%&^(*&^ purse)

AND

I get pissed off wondering if I need to clean the monitor for sneeze marks.

In frustration I've tried listening.

THANKS DOUCHE-BAGS.

NOT

only can I NOT SEE.

I can't hear EITHER.

So I must NOT be human.

*CRUDE FINGER MOTIONS*

(and every one of George Carlin's words from his realization that you can't say things on TV..with explosive adjectives)

[FORM BLAZING SWORD]

while holding up fingers.

Putting Out: Still Uncool

Who knew that promoting a blog boiled down to simply:  Putting Out

Man do I feel as if I should have protection.

Trojans ARE so out.

Ha.

What does the rest of the hookers peddling their sites do?

Hahahahahahahha!

Accepting the Sandwich: Can I Spit it Out?

All the nostalgia in the world doesn't help at the moment.  Nothing seems to make everything from the past couple of weeks fit into my mind as being right.  I must admit I am referring to myself at the moment, as I ponder the crap sandwich which at the moment lingers in my mouth.

Lets Just Sum this Up:

1. I have to change everything and fast.  No easing into any routine.

2.  I have to find a wardrobe that reaches past knees for daily wear.

3.  I must find a way to make myself sleep, even if it includes a hammer.

4.  What is best for everyone else comes first.

5.  No more Jazz.

6.  Tons of Fake Enthusiasm.  The real stuff is for my daughter, so the world will have to pass by.

I do believe I just sold myself a new job:  sweater knitting.

Do I care?  Yes.

Choices?

All dedicated to the betterment of others.

Defense of honor?

Someone else got that too.

God?

In school daily.

So give me each day, this daily bread.

So I can make a sandwich.

And be grateful.

Grateful that I am warm.

Because I'll have sweaters.

Amen.

Nostalgia and Music

Events of late have made me focus on stinking thinking... so I was rooting around in my things and found a couple of things to make myself smile.  One of these happens to be a short video of my daughter's record player.  I was testing it out before her birthday.

Music is all over my house.  In all formats.  My daughter and I do alot of singing and dancing together.  She is so much fun to listen to music with simply because she will listen to just about anything.

So I must insert her first concert was Cyndi Lauper!  Yes, she's so unusual.  If you click the link, you can hear the first part of: Girls Just Wanna Have Fun*.  YES, it's blurry.  It's not the video quality... it's the music and the fact you can hear us both singing.  It was one of those moments to savor.

At Nattie's First Concert: Cyndi Lauper

*All rights to this song belong solely to Cyndi Lauper.

Now I Must Give Up Another Part

When I first dated John I took offense when he asked me to not wear a black hoodie that had a skull on it because it would damage my claims of maturity.  I was so mad.  It wasn't like I was wearing something that was too tight or has BUNZ written on my ass.  It was a special shirt Kenny gave me a long time ago.  I still have it and wear it.

I'm used to people judging me based on what they see and thier own preconceved notions.

But now my car is under fire.  Or my decal of Jazz.  A skeleton.  He doesn't look biker.  He doesn't proclaim pirate.  He's just Jazz.  A part of Betty.  Now seen as offensive.

Jazz, Betty's Backseat Driver

I've given up everything.  Must I go back to fuzzy dice?  Jazz is more than a skull.  He respresents my love of anthropology, of forensics.  He is textbook beautiful.  I can't plead a case on that though.  And of course, Jazz is cool.

How dare I be cool?

Finding Blog Reports Inspiring: A short Thanks

I want to thank the people that read my blog.  Opening reports and seeing the Google Plus interest has driven me to focus on always being myself.  My writing is wordy at times.  Then it's just wacky.  But honestly, just writing whatever I feel has been more relevant and looked at and I have so much gratitude for those of you who leave your marks on my pages.

I just felt compelled to find some joy in the middle of this emotional roller coaster I am experiencing (BTW in HDMI) [Hellbent Determined Mother's Incalescence].  I still don't comprehend how all this works and promoting my blog or even how to translate some of the things the reports say, but you guys simply make it easy.  Write more.  We'll tell you if we like it.  

Many thanks.

M. Faye Hall

the writer.

Have any ideas? Questions? Ask.

Try to show me your unsolicited body parts, well, then Kiss MY ASK.

The Silence that Hurts: I Feel Defenseless

My Name is Marsha Faye.  I have a wonderful little family that is all mine.  I have a husband and a daughter.  They are a source of boundless happiness and healing.  These are the happiest years of my 40 year existence on this planet.  I was broken without understanding exactly all the why until John and Natalie made me decide that knowing WHY was not something that defined me anymore.  Two people made about three quarters of my my life actually be just part of me.  To them I am amazing and in simple words, the WHY of amazing is because I am Marsha Faye and I love them.

Gradually setting down baggage hasn't been something I set out to do.  Those bags were my shields, my badges of courage, and the only things I could convince myself getting through gave me experience to protect myself and my little family from EVER knowing desolation.  But being loved by them has left a path of strewn baggage in my wake.

I sit here looking ahead and in the wee hours of the morning I realize how desperately I want that baggage right now.  I feel so exposed and unable to move.

My baby girl is going with me to check out a new school tomorrow because she was bullied and the weapons used to terrorize her were provided by adults.  How can I defeat this foe I want to just obliterate?  I can't.

I must accept this silence.  I silently have reviewed the wreckage I don't know how long I can do it.  Everything in my little family was shook in revelation.  How dare they do this?

They didn't dare.  Actually they didn't care enough to shut up.

And to me, It's like them saying Natalie isn't a person.

Nattie in her Church Dress

Well OK.  You insensitive unprofessional narrow minded weasels, she's not.  She's a little soul.  She's a symphony of emotional delight and depth of character.  AND SHE'S MINE.  I am sleepless and hurt but intent on finding a sensible way to SCREAM  every single thing two inches from your faces or with my hand on a Bible.  Not for mere vengence, but to keep another little soul from feeling what my Natalie has poured out.  Mostly, from my center, I want my daughter to know how completely I believe her.  I can't take the pain of what happened away, but I want her to see that I want justice for her and for my daughter to know that I will always be her champion.  I have raised her to believe that everyone is accountable, and right now part of the hurt is the fact those adults THINK that everything they did was acceptable and with good intentions.  From 5 in the morning I understand how ludicrous my anger would be to them.  You see, they are broken people that have jobs.  It's cut and dried.  They are done.  OH NO they are not.  They will speak and be accountable, in front of her.  Just leaving is not the right example.  It imparts we are retreating.  I want my daughter to feel empowered and know the choice to leave was a DELIBERATE one.

John.  I worry for him.  He wants this to be over and I know.  Oh my husband, I love you.  Its alright.

But for now, I must be silent.  I must wait and talk to my girl again.  I must be crypic in my blog... that's really my journal, because its not your business.  Its my pain.  It's her pain.  And I must release the pressure somehow without judgement on anything other than my inalienable RIGHT to my emotions, opionion and dogged defense of my little family.  

Double Edge Sword: Mom and Confidant

I am a parent.  I have a beautiful, wonderful eight year old daughter.  I can't choose just one word to describe her.  However, I will say I believe I didn't know the meaning of joy until the moment she was born.  I know she is destined to do wonderful things, because she already does.  Put her in a room and people light up around her.  She is captivating.  She inspires me to be the best person I possibly can be.  Note the word person.  Not Mother.  Mother seems too shallow and narrow-minded.  She brings out the very essence of who I am, then in some way, I move forward as a person.  A long time ago my husband told me he would be honored to be the father of my child.  I must add its an honor to be her Mother.

Nattie and I have something that just feels like magic.  God made me to be this little girl's mother.  I just know he did.

My vision in purple before Church

And now I'm jumping hurdles that seem surreal.  Guidance Counselors.  And my little girl has it all figured out, and does not like to be singled out.  What to do?  More to come.  I must get ready for the happiness of skating.

Big Magic Transforms into Ultra: My Computer

Yes, it took patience.  Patience I didn't feel I possessed.  Yet, here I am, my custom built Ultra Magic under my fingertips bathed in the soft glow of Blue LED lighting from my computer fan.  People rebooting has just become sexy.  And oh so quiet.  Delicious.

Slobber.

I can now formally request a premit to multitask.  I realize I made claim I simply couldn't anymore.  I'm delighted to say I was wrong.  Amazing how perspective changes an idea.  The ability to scan pictures while listening to music and just browsing the internet, all at one time.  So I am decidedly happy.

The journey to finding that one paid professional has come to a close with yet another success.  There are so many things I can do, and I try to be as independent and thrifty as I can.  The best advice I can offer anyone is to see when to find help for a project.  In the end, admitting feasibility and scope to yourself is the best strategy for success.  It's still my project.  I took the time to find the right Professional that saw my vision and made it happen.

Done right.  Finished completely.  I have a source of reliable dependable information that cares about me, plus all my computers.  Lovely isn't it?

Now to go focus on the next big thing, which happens to be rest.  I have spent too much time in front of this screen.  It makes it easier to unplug and leave knowing the next time I'm here, I have more time to spend doing what I love.  Writing.

Parenting Picky: A Nose Story

One of my Google Plus Friends, Bobo Uzala, have been laughingly talking about a picky subject.  I have a couple of photos of my daughter and I with our fingers in our nose... and he commented on them.  Which led to some laughing and sharing one of my house rules/parenting strategies.  I decided to include this entry in my blog because its just good fun and the stories that lead up to why I parent this way might make a person just laugh.

So thanks Bobo!  You picked this one for me~

Parenting gives me complexes.  Watching other children absolutely makes this paramount.  Have you ever been in public and watched a kid really gross you out?  I see kids do some gross things.  That's what kids do.  They horrify us into action.  Bad habits are so easily looked over as a phase.  However, one can say that when its somebody else's gross kid.  One thing that I find incredibly gross happens to be booger picking.  Nothing disgusts me more than seeing a kid knuckle deep in their nose and then eating a plucked out prize.  *shudder*  Then there's the multi-taskers... kids with a thumb in their mouth and a finger in their nostril.  *ooh how disgusting*  The thing is, you just can't avoid boogers.  Everybody has them.  We've all had that epic thing inside our nose that must come out.  My grievance with boogers is not the existence, but the disposal.  I've never told my child not to get rid of a booger, I've merely helped her avoid a terrible habit that other people tease kids mercilessly about.  A habit parents get bent out of shape over.  PDBP.  Public displays of Booger picking.  Take that to the bathroom!  Get a tissue!  Blow!  Anything, but do that in front of me!!

This was a picking lesson gone funny!

So when I first saw my daughter start with the booger thing, I came up with this house rule:  You cannot pick your own nose, however, you can pick someone else's.  WHAT?  By doing this, I pounced on my daughter with my finger whenever I caught her trying to pick her nose and offered my deluxe help.  Then I would offer up my nose for her to 'help' excavate since I couldn't pick mine.  All this horrified my daughter and she would run away into the bathroom or somewhere else privately to get rid of whatever what tickling her nose.  It was a way to point out I could see what she was doing and to remind her how yucky it was.  This plan worked and the result is much laughter and I don't catch my kid digging her nose in public.  She is a staunch believer in tissue.

That does not mean I haven't had to be there for nosebleeds and other fun things we encounter as parents, but it has definitely made my daughter more aware of what she's doing.

She loves my retelling of C's comet.  An unforgettable booger that should go down in history.  It all happened when when C spent the night with her Mom.  It's one of those things you find and think to yourself:  Wow!  That's something I'd show off, but not really.  I found my niece's booger the next day and it was like a bloody comet.  The huge bloody thing was crusted on a blanket and was so big I still laugh.  The trail was at least a good foot.  However, the story is better.

So anyway, I hear pacing in the night and it's my cousin with her daughter.  She's freaking out in the middle of the night because her child had a nosebleed and she had no idea of how to handle it and her daughter was freaking out because she was.  I come up my basement stairs to find the panic and blood everywhere.  I simply take C away from her Mom and open my bedroom door and tell John to get up.  Wow!  In the bright lights of my bathroom I have C, my niece in my arms.  Her face is coated in blood and she has white blond hair with bloody streaks in it.  To get her to stop crying, I just ask:  C?  Did you bite your Mommy's head off?  C looks at me and grins with the biggest bloodiest smile ever and croaks:  YEAH!  I laugh and John hands me the boo-boo bunny.  The boo-boo bunny is an icepack with rabbit ears and I start hopping the bunny around her nose and it stops bleeding.  The whole time her Mom is just in the hallway helplessly watching the old pros handle her child and laugh it all away.  I told C:  Well look, that Mommy's head grew right back!  Be careful next time!

My cousin simply was grateful we were there to calm C down and let her calm down too.  It doesn't sound as funny as being there, but WOW! it was hilarious.  Then there was finding that booger the next day.  It made me understand how hard that kid worked to get so bloody.  And I'll never forget that smile she had with all her bloody teeth.  She looked pleased that it wasn't serious, only Mommy's head.  *FULL BELLY LAUGH*

Picking Those Moments

I am HDMItting a Weakness

It is a terrible shame.
to crumble under pressure

I'm.....

Having Delirious Male Inclinations
(HDMI)

Oh how I lust after
the pixillation
titillation
Of just one monitor.
and a recliner.

A couple of floor jacks.
HDMI (How do Men Imagine)
No Anticipation.

I'll rip down the posters.
Scale the walls.

Hungrily mounting.
Falling into recline.

Slip, slide, tap, tap tap.
Jack up the Chair.

Higher, I can't see.  Is it on?

Oh the savor of this covet.

HDMI (How Does Magic Imagine)

Raw and wriggling.  Golem down at Best Buy.

Honey Does Money Itch. (HDMI)

The Final Day that Plays Out

Every year, I go through a nightmare.  A nightmare that began 12 years ago.  Today is the final day.  The day her casket closes forever.  The day they put her in the dark.  The day that has reverberated to the point of shattering.  Higher than opera singer.  The glass of my heart.  The glass that always was half full, and I held it smiling because the empty part I drank.  I think of this glass and want to smash it, yet still clutch it close to me. 

My sister died.  And died.  For the longest days of my life she died.  And she's never coming back.  Twelve years have gone by.  I can still hear her laugh.  I can still hear that Pink Panther snicker.  Time has only made my heart miss her more.  She wasn't perfect.  So far from it.  But she was my sister.  We had the same Mom and the same Dad.  We were two of a kind.  I was hers and she never let me forget she was mine.  It's the little things about her I miss.  I miss hearing Faye-Faye.  I miss being her Faye-Faye.  Someone she looked up to and was proud of.  Her big sister.

She sacrificed for me.  She stuck up for me.  She had so much heart.  She stood up like a super hero in front of what might as well have been a bulldozer.  We took licks for one another.  We licked each other's wounds.  She kept the emptiness away and I didn't thank her enough.  I was too busy with my self important life to really see who she was and how much she mattered.  She still matters to this day.  Right now, she matters because I keep her memories close and in the deep dark she still chases demons away.

 

Me and My Sister Lynn

 

It never gets easier for me.  The loss of my sister.  I live each year trapped in this horrible event .. holding my breath until the end.  That's today.  I want to feel different, yet I do not.  I don't accept her death at all.  I still feel like she could bust into the door at any moment.  I look for her.  I chase her in my dreams.  I see her in my daily life.  I look down into my daughter's face and see her laughing eyes looking back at me. 

She won't ever know my daughter.  It makes me sad and angry.  I stopped pointing fingers a long time ago.  But I'm still mad.  Every year, on the 19th, I go to the cemetery and I let myself feel that pain and I cry.  I cry for everyone to see and I don't care.  It hurts.  I don't want to stop hurting.  Somehow if I stop feeling that feeling, her death becomes just another meaningless tragedy.  I won't give that up.  She will always matter.

 

Who Are You to....

Who are you to follow me?  You shadowy lost thing.  Crumpled little memories, cards and pictures and such.  Who are you to follow me?  You who cost so much.

 

I used to be scared to see your shadow lurking in my path.  Now I'm not, since I forgot.. you.  Why should I revisit you?  I find myself reading caught up in this time of grief.  My journals made me sob with memories shoved deep down.  I haven't read them in years.  I wasn't ready to cry and share my tears thinking about you.

 

But I did.  So many things cross my thoughts as I ponder years ago.  I am surprised to realize I don't hate you.  I think I read my journals because I wanted to.  I can't anymore.. I don't think I ever have.  Instead questions tumble out of me...

 

How are you?  Have you been alright?  Have you found happiness?  Has God touched you?  Have you let go?  Do you love yourself yet?  I can't believe I'm saying this, but I hope so.

 

Still, who are you to follow me?

 

How could you?

Why would you?

Is this spite?

What does it mean?

What do you want?

What would you say?

What is your angle?

What do you have to gain?

 

Who are you?

Are you new?

Are you so sure,

What are you following me for?

 

Juicy and full of Pulp

I am minutes away from going to the dentist and I think I should go pick over my teeth one more time for pieces of the pulp fiction that flew around last night.  I'm soggy to say ... I never got that stiff drink.  It's a shame too.  I need to hunker down and not turn into a lush I think.  I witnessed the consequences of what happens when it goes to your head.

And yeah, GOD.  I want a sip.  Ok, maybe two fingers.  Not too much.  I don't want people to talk.

Bright Shiny Day of Ministering to the People

Yesterday was pretty amazing.  Snazzy, Jazzy, Voo-doolicious even.  Yah.  I went to see the VooDoo Lady.  I have to say I had a tough time following the matron in black complete with awful snow boots into her den without laughing, but I managed.  Man, you had to be there to understand.  But anyway, I think she is beginning to understand my sense of humor, because I gladly told her I was thrilled Vybrid didn't cause me to want to knit a sweater!  This realization is kinda scary and on the other hand, a compliment of such.  In other words, she hasn't locked me in the loony bin because she hates my sarcasm.  *whew*  I say that in advance because we were discussing the only side effect I disliked and I had to really grasp for language at this point as not to be vulgar and say the word Fart.  So deadpan I told her that it occasionally makes me afraid of Flatulation.  Her eyebrows went up and we both shared a three second stare and moved right along with my happiness that sex is still on the menu. *snicker*

After that I decided to go grocery shopping.  My mom decided to call me and I had to answer the phone because she had threatened me in voicemail form that translated to:  You are a douche if you don't call your mother.  Nobody wants that, so I answered.

People my mother decided to discuss God and the Gospel.  I pulled my buggy over and sat down on a recliner deciding on how to get her to stop talking about the whole subject.  She advised me to read the gospel if I had any questions about life.  Really?  OK, Who is this woman and where is my mom?  So I told her I didn't think God brought up nosehairs in the Bible.  Behind me I hear a pink panther like *hhehheheheh* and the guilty party laughed openly at my obvious discomfort of being in the middle of Big Lots thinking blasphemy.  My mom picked up on this finally and asked me to call her later.  I sagged in the lazy-boy, stuffed my phone in my purse and continued on shopping .. all the while wondering how God decided to talk to me through Big Lots.

WOW.  I found personality at Big Lots.  This is highly unusual for me.  Sadly though, I needed candy.  Yeah, he was 18 and thinking I was hot stuff, and told me so.  I tried to be grown up.  I failed.

On to shop at the Dollar Tree.  Then stopped at the ABC store.  Tom Jones' What's New Pussycat was playing.  I just had to comment I had that on vinyl.  The lady behind the counter said Ummm HUmmmm I loved him and his tight assed pants growing up Ummmm  HUummmm.  Which prompted me to say I feel the same way about David Bowie and then we both smacked our gums and had it not been in the ABC store, we probably would have high fived each other and bumped hips.  It was a transcendental moment.

I got home and was a hero for thumping my chest and hunting and gathering much food and laughter.  Life was pretty shiny huh?

Another One of those Real Conversations - They Keep Rolling

This conversational gem actually occurred before the previous post... (incidentally, I racked that one up last night)...

I need to stop exclaiming nonchalontly how things in this world just suck.  Everything from the radio station to I need to go to the store...

Daughter:  THIS SUCKS BALLS!!!  Stomp*Loud*stomp

Me:  (incredulous because my kid said this in front of me) Mouth Agape... then thoughtfully....

            Sweetheart?  Has Mommy ever told you exactly what balls are?

Daughter:  Cautiously.   No?

Me:  Remember that great word Penis?

Daughter:  You mean there's more? (very much disgusted and very afraid I might elaborate)

Me:  Well.  *blah*blah*great parenting*blah**blah*apology for horrible vernacular and parent points subtracted**blah***(breath)

INTERRUPT....Daughter:  Do I have to know anymore?  Things can now suck in ... in... Lemons!  Lemons!  Mom, those suck, right?

Me:  Oh how I wished I had asked what her final thoughts were.

HA

Really - This was a Conversation

Me:  Some days I have more than brass balls.  I have LEAD ones.  (We were discussing reality, life and other manly pursuits and measuring success rates solely upon the formula all successful people use: testicles + shiny = I AM A MAN.  Size and weight of sack being proportional to difficulty in attaining goal.  Read the line on the sack!)  Humor deepens.

Friend:  I have some of those things.  I've been looking to have mine chromed.  Make 'em shiny, but having problems finding someone to do it.  (Lead!  Why Lead!?)

Me:  No problem!!  Let me pull up GOOGLE.  We shall Chrome you!!  (Bata-bing)  Call me anytime you have a problem.  Oh Yeah.  Google has the answer for your balls! 

Friend:  HAHHAHHAHAHH  (insert cool points)

Me:  HAHAHAHAHHAH (rack 'em)

(OH Snap I'm so fucking CLEVER)

HHAHAHAHHAHAHHAH

Lead balled bitch think tanking with numbnuts...... HAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAH!

Keeping On till Its Over

Setting all this down feels downright saintly.  Where were we?  Ahh yes..  trouble still abounded everywhere.  And then I met this guy.

Who probably helped with the demise of my desktop... or at least lent to it.  We are hanging out in my cave and he decides he's going to have a look see inside my tower.  Without asking, he pops the side and simultaneously a vein in my forehead exploded.

I never saw such a big guy move so quickly when I screamed:

WHATINTHE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING? YOU ARE NOT GROUNDED AND THE DAMN COMPUTER IS ON YOU IDIOT!

Word to the wise:

NEVER pop the hood on anyone's baby to see what's inside.  They might demasculate you on site.

Two days later:  my hard disks clattered and I hit the power button and prayed.

Backing up:  this guy, whom I still count as a friend... introduced me to:

PAID PROFESSIONAL.  and he said:

Did you know that your Vostro 1720 had Windows Ultimate?  [no]

I do believe your hard drive on your desktop was refurbished.  [what?]

No that hole should not be there.

It would be better if you just replaced the computer than tried to fix it.

I've never seen a laptop so screwed up like that Latitude.

The guy at Best Buy said smart phones don't get viruses? really?

You really take care of your computers, because your desktop just needs a new drive..so no, you are not stupid.. really...pat..pat..pat...

AND THEN

I watched him assemble my desktop, from parts we agreed on together.

Parts for my New Desktop

Hello Big Drive

Hi Graphics Card and Card Reader

OK, and I love Tiger Direct and my Professional that made this possible.

Continuance of Keeping On

Where was I?  Oh Yes.  I was wanting to hit a guy.  The whole time I am thinking to myself, you can't make this man mad at you.  Do you realize this?  What if he just makes his own door into your home and sacks the whole place.  The very idea was scary beyond all means.  We call AT&T for another home visit.  This time they send someone a little nicer.. more personable.  

And I stepped into the pile of poo of asking for help outside the box.  Golly Gee Whiz.  My Vostro gets a graphics card, some ram and more space.  Meanwhile, technology meets marriage and on some days there is still acid rain.

I decided to can AT&T.  Not because they were bad really.  It was more because the service didn't meet my growing needs.  I will say they are diligent and kind and willing to work with you, but after two home calls, I just wanted something else.  [the guy that updated my computer was such a jerk that he mailed me my laptop cord... MAILED]

Sooooo.  I start having different problems ... much of it keeping up with all these computers.  As well as frustration at not being educated enough to ask the correct questions.

Our router was giving us trouble needing constant resets.  I had to call Time Warner.  I had a man there accuse me of stealing wifi service and then lecture me on his job.  I interrupted him and told him I paid him to do his job, and if I wanted to go to school I'd take a class.  He sent me down the circular drainage phone system because of my supposed theft.  When I finally talked to someone with brains I asked how did I convince a Time Warner employee to drill holes in my wall and install cable boxes in my basement just so I could steal Internet?  Why did this guy say this?  After carefully adjusting my billing and agreeing with the impossibility of me masterminding theft of Internet service I had been overpaying for I was sent a new router.  I was joyous.  Who wouldn't be?

Time moves on.  Speed did not.  So I looked into finding someone to work on my network.  Yeah.  I had to admit I was a network now.

To the Internet.  Epiphany.

Why not talk to Dell?  I was trying to update my three stock laptops and debug them, plus figure out how to use a network drive and sort out bugs in my beloved desktop.

Dell took a week of my life.  You can read about it in past entries.  Needless to say, they gave me a full refund for the service they were supposed to provide to me.  That took three hours and a refusal to let them into my computer period.

I still had the same problems.  I tried one more company.  They at least got some bugs worked out and helped with backup.  The sad thing was:  I had been watching people in my computer so long I knew what they were doing.

to be continued some more.

Keeping on Keeping on

I'm finally here.  Fitfully resting my laurels on my blog.  Triage seems to be the best word I can come up with to explain the absence of words and my usual anecdotes of sarcasm.  Has anyone missed me?  Hell if I know.  Have I missed being here.  With the fierceness of a thousand burning suns.  I sit down in my man cave with such a sense of relief.  *SIGH*  My place is whole again.  I didn't understand just how much 350 square feet make a difference in my life.  I have felt like all the creativity I possess had been drained out of me.  What was left has felt extremely useless.  Volatile, angry, putrid and festering...but with no purpose or creative way to lob itself at the world in general.  I have much to report on.  Many loose ends to contemplate.  My biggest feeling of the moment is:  Hell YES.  I AM HERE.  DOING WHAT I DO.  WRITING.  

I have kept a journal since 1990.  Handwritten in crazy handwriting.  Tomes of feelings.  Then I moved into online and over time, I have migrated here.  I plan on moving this who kit and caboodle over to my own web address at some point.  I've been on a learning journey that isn't over yet.  The beauty of having this blog is the fact its still here.  For that, I am grateful.  I am getting to where I understand technology a little bit better, and I know that I have more to do.  I want to share my experience with fellow bloggers, because I believe I might make a few people feel a bit better about themselves.  Who knows?  Some of the companies I name off might want to pay attention.  Either way, I am going to set this down.  This shackle of technological tragedy that will probably read as being pretty funny.

I am writing the world from my very first custom built computer.  Yeah.  Up until now, every computer I've ever purchased myself was a Dell.  My defense for choosing Dell came from using other computers and from the only computer I've owned that I didn't pick out:  a Toshiba Satellite.  That thing came loaded with software that was impossible to uninstall and be rid of.  That said, I still own it, and it still works.  My first desktop came to be in 2008.  A Vostro 200.  Oh I loved my computer.  I did.  I still do.  My paid professional is going to help me convert it into a huge storage hub for my home.  I'm sad to say that after too many people, too many companies and too many idiots my Vostro clattered to its death December 8, 2013.

So what happened?  People throw things away all the time!  That Vostro is a Dinosaur you say!  True. Had it not been upgraded.  But I am getting ahead.  Let me finish setting things out.  My little Dell family grew.  My husband needed a laptop, as his Dimension has a case of dementia.  Enter the Latitude.  It took three Latititudes to get one to work.  That was a late night email to Michael Dell that got results.  Then with further ado enter the Vostro 1720 laptop and much later my Inspiron.  That is a bunch of laptops and computers.  How do you keep up with them all?  Somewhere in there, we decided to change cable companies.  Enter me.

Southern Bell was our phone company, and well paying separate for AT&T Internet stunk.  However, they had this great little program, where they put a toolbox on your computer and you could call them for anything.  You know, this was kind of cool and they were nice people I could understand.  However, when two optical drives one on a laptop and the other my coveted desktop decided they either didn't exist or that they simply didn't work.... AT&T could not fix it.  Soooo.  They sent somebody out to my house.

After much deliberation, representative said that iTunes ate my laptop optical drive.  WHAT!  Oh yeah, and your desktop optical drive never did what you said it was supposed to.  DEAR GOD.  I wanted to hit him.

to be continued....