Really. I swear. She's a brunette. Really.

.
I get a kick out of my youngest. Jack's take on life is a little skewered... one might say she's half-a-bubble-off at times.

Yesterday, as I was walking through her room, I spotted a one-eyed, one-horned, flying, purple people eater on her desk.

I picked it up, and it started flashing multi-colored lights at me.

I fell in love with it immediately.

"Cool! Hey, Jack! Can I have this?"

"Yeah... sure.... It's Jo's!"

* * *

We had a storm brewing in my state the day before yesterday.

As I walked through the living room where Jack sat watching TV, I noticed a weather alert banner across the bottom.  Since we have Tivo-ish TV, I asked Jack if what she was watching was live, or if it was something previously taped. She said it was previously taped, so I started to walk away - it apparently was an alert from the past.

Then, something the banner read stopped me.

"Are you sure this isn't current?"

"What do you mean?" She asked.

"Is this weather alert current?"

...blank stare...

"This," I said, pointing to the strip in motion at the bottom of our TV screen:

"Is this current?"

"Oh, that!" She said. "I don't know."

"Are you watching this program live, or is it taped?"

"I'm watching it taped."

"Oh... Okay..." I started on my way again.

Then, she added, "...but it's taping right now."

...DOH!

* * *

The other day I was surprised to learn our local pizza joint was robbed at gun-point.  Stuff like that doesn't happen often in our little town.

As I relayed what limited information I knew to Jo and Jack, Jack looked at me with a puzzled expression, and asked:

"What'd they steal? ...Pizza?"

"And, don't skimp on the pepperoni, or someone's gonna get hurt!!"

* * *

As Jo (who is a blonde) is wont to say:

In Joy & Enjoy

Butter you up!

.
I don't know about you, but I check in daily to see what Abraham has to say, even when I don't have time to write.  I find myself wishing they had a "like" button.

Life needs a 'like' button

...erm... sometimes.

So... when it comes time for me to head to the store, I ask the girlies to make a list of the items we need.  Then, I blindly follow it - thinking they've added as needed in the preceding weeks...

Butter!

Butter is always on the list. And, even though I don't often use it, I figure they do on their toast, pancakes, potatoes, etc.

So, I buy butter.
Because Jack tells me we need it.
Every time.

Imagine my surprise as I opened the fridge for spaghetti sauce (tonight was spaghetti night), and two containers of butter fell to the ground... from one of the door compartments... where there were three more containers of butter just sitting there, averting their eyes and looking eerily suspicious.

Turn away, children!!! Oh, the humanity!

       You can't tell me there wasn't a little shoving going on when the light was out. I'm just sayin'...

Thank goodness butter freezes well.

Lesson learned:  No one goes through THAT much butter. Not no one; not no how.

In Joy & Enjoy

Long Arm

...
I believe I told you the unbelievable story of how the-PollyAnna-of-driving got a non-stopping ticket?

I'd stopped on the corner of a four-way stop, waited for the car to my left to go (as they had the right-of-way) and then proceeded to turn right at the intersection.  Officer Jeffner pulled me over three or four blocks down, fully admitting to me he saw the truck in front of me stop, and the car to the left of me stop, but he felt I'd not quite come to his definition of a "Complete and Total(tm)" stop before proceeding into the intersection... (oh, my kingdom for a tape recorder).

Well, the other day I had to go to court for said no-tickee-no-shirtee. The '70s-era-mustached officer who'd presented me with my first ever municipal vehicle violation was present in court, wearing the uniform of his gang.

Everyone(tm) had told me the ADA would meet with me beforehand to broach some kind of deal. An old-young spindly man with beady eyes, soft spine and a weak chin... my mind played with the moniker 'weasel' a bit before it settled on 'Ichabod Crane'...

...yeah... this guy!

...not this one... (but, may I say, 'Yummy!'?)

...approached me, alright, and invited me to join him in a small room.  And, without so much as a kind "kiss off," told me court would presume after a brief intermission. [insert Jeopardy(tm) music here]

And that's all he said. No offers, no smiles... In fact, he acted as though it pained him to shake my diseased hand.  ...and I was even extremely gentle with my offered hand; more so when the effeminate gentle-man took it.

I bet I could've taken him.

I believe he called me into the little room with five chairs and two doors to give the appearance of some kind of token of cooperation solely for the judge's benefit.

When court was called into session, Officer Jeffner stood before the judge, raised his right hand solemnly and swore to tell the truth, the WHOLE truth, and nothing but the truth, so help him God... and sat his happy ass down in the witness seat... and proceeded to do nothing of the sort.

One of our city's finest relayed to the judge how I "followed the white utility truck in front of me" through the stop sign, without the slightest of hesitations, and in a school zone, to boot! Damn my hide!!!  Further stating from his vantage point he witnessed no car to my left, nor did he recall any conversation with me regarding the incident.

Now, I admit. I am more than a tad naive. I thought officers of the law were sworn to uphold the law, and not telling the whole truth under oath is, like, against the law... isn't it?  I guess the rules have changed since I was that idiot child, idolizing the likes of Jack Friday on any given afternoon, who only ever wanted "just the facts, Ma'am," or Pete Malloy and Jim Reed ...

...one, adam, twelve. one, adam, twelve. See the man...

Well, Officer Jeffner is no Jack Friday, and not even close to being a Reed or Malloy, in my opinion.

I was ultimately found guilty of non-stoppage, fined $125 and my license was relieved of four heavy points I'd been lugging around for almost half a century. The judge stated since there was no proof and no evidence on either side (just my word against Officer Jeffner's), he ruled the officer's word was enough evidence for the court... twixt I thought, "Then, why even have this charade of a court?"

At the end, the judge asked if I had anything to say.  Thoughts and words floated around and lined up inside my head  like Europeans in an effort to be heard first. I'd wanted to say in my 20+ years of being associated with some of the most brave men and women of the US Armed Forces, and seeing the integrity and honesty shine through in many of these people, I was appalled and astounded to witness first-hand an officer of the law have so little respect for it.  I'd meant to say I wasn't sure if the police force from which he'd recently come, or ours taught him his skills of misrepresentation and court-induced faulty memory.  In fact, with his intermittent inability to recall events and conversations upon taking the stand, I'd wanted to add his superiors may find him to be a substantial liability to the police force.  I'd meant to say I found the entire fiasco of the so-called fair system of "innocent until proven guilty" justice unconscionable and unbelievable.

What came out of my mouth was something like, "I... military... integrity... Un-believable!"

Yeah. Because I suck. Big time!

You see... they had me at a disadvantage.  Not only have I never been in traffic court in my life in any of the five states in which I've lived (so I seriously had no clue as to what I was getting into), I wasn't aware my past, pristine driving record wouldn't be admissible in court, nor did I realize I will always come across as an idiot under pressure... I had no idea when Mr. Officer Jeffner raised his long arm of the law and SWORE TO HIS GOD to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing butt...

...apparently he'd crossed his fingers behind his back. And that makes it okay.

I may have lost my case, but I feel I won the war.

...for, with the exception of the court stenographer, I believe I was the only soul who walked out of that courtroom with my integrity intact... still a blithering idiot, mind you, but integrity intact just the same.

In Joy & Enjoy

Truth In Advertising

...
As my walking buddy and I were on the flip-side of our trek this morning, she mentioned she forwards through fight scenes in movies. I think we were previously discussing the usage of "like" in The Elementary Adventures of Jones, JEEP, Buck & Blue, and how the first edition contained far too many "likes" to her liking.  I assured her I removed more than half of the usage of the word in the second edition. She stated although kids do tend to, like, say "like" in like every other sentence, she, like, skimmed over it in, like, my book.

"Can't skim over kids when they're talking, tho," I said.

She replied, "No. But you can slap 'em!"
heh.

That's when she said she fast-forwards (it's a verb, now) through fight scenes and violence.
I said, nodding in agreement, "I fast-forward through the love scenes, as well."

"Why? They're not so bad."

"Well... If they were more realistic, I suppose I'd watch them. Hell! I'd probably even let my daughters watch them... But, I have yet to see a realistic love scene in any movie or tv show.  You get the ones where she's gorgeously panting like a love-sick whore: 'Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah. Oh, baby! YES!' and they're goin' at it for hours on end, sweat beading on his golden-brown tanned, sculpted back and buttocks in a sexy way, as if some over-paid fluffer gently mists them in mid-passion."

"Yeah?" Her eyebrows were raised, and gave me the impression she wasn't quite sure where I was going. "What's wrong with that?," she asked.

"Well, for starters, it's not even remotely real.  Our daughters are being brought up with this false expectation their boyfriend's going to woo them in the sack, all silk roses and gentle ecstasy, when it's not even close to being real sex."

"That's true, I suppose."

"Seriously. When's the last time you were in bed with your husband and you had movie sex?"

"... Never."

"Exactly!  What you do get is a lot of: 'Ow! You're on my hair!', 'Just scootch a little over to your left.', "Leg Cramp!', and 'I...can't...breathe!'.  The only time either one of you screams, 'Oh, God!', it's followed with a, 'My Back!!'."

We had to stop walking at this point, as she was doubled over in laughter.

I continued:
"You don't see any wrinkly-butted, slightly-overweight, un-tanned people... normal people, in love scenes, either. In real life, sweat doesn't bead.  It flows in sticky rivulets between the hot, pasty, sandwiched bodies, making the bed and your skin uncomfortable. Real sex is like pigs fighting over a slop bucket - someone's gonna get messy. If they showed that, our daughters wouldn't be so filled with romantic notions, and end up disappointed in bed... and they may not be as quick to end up there in the first place."

"Ha! And, they never show the look of disappointment on her face when he either finishes first, or boredom when she does.  When I had long hair, I can't remember a time when it wasn't pulled out of my scalp during sex," she said.

"And, really," I continued, "In real life, the chick would say, 'Oh Hell No, you're not going anal! Don't even think about it!'"

"Wrong hole! Wrong hole! Wrong hole!," my friend screamed, and we both laughed tears from our eyes, doubled over, clutching our sides.

When we could breathe again, she said, "Now, I'll never be able to have sex with my husband without cracking up."

"That's gonna be hard to explain," I said... "And yet another thing you never see in movie sex scenes."

In Joy & Enjoy

Zombies and shopping malls

...
I was thinking the other day about the Zombie Apocalypse... and how it'd affect us less tasty specimens.

If you're as old as me, you remember Night of the Living Dead (the original) and Dawn of the Dead (the original).  Then, they gave us 28 Days Later (not to be confused with the Sandra Bullock movie, 28 Days), and, my personal favorite, Zombieland.  Truly a funny movie.

heh.
(The Walking Dead is pretty decent, as well.)

Dawn of the Dead fits right in with Stephen King's The Stand and Omega Man (The Last Man on Earth; I am Legend) in that a few decent souls are fighting off the less living, in body or spirit. But they do it in a shopping mall setting, or at least have unfettered access to one... if you call dodging the bite of a zombie or the crowing walking dude 'unfettered'.

As a teen, I fantasized about being the last living person in my neck of the woods, and able to 'shop' at will.  As you know, I grew up in a small town.  They opened a McDonalds right after I graduated high school. And to this day (I believe; I amn't sure), it's the only chainiest-chain-fran-chain-dise in them there parts. So, the fantasy of having a free portal to shtuff I was never around - like a mall - (much less able to afford) growing up added some glitter to the shine.

But, let's think this through, shall we?  Because, of course, we'd be the sole survivor(s)... Somehow we'd escape un-death until almost everyone else hadn't, which has some on-the-surface upsides.  Let's focus of the below-the-depths downsides, shall we?:

*  You'd lose your significant other, and this time to not just another beauty queen or Daddy Warbucks... unless blood's no longer pulsing through their zombie veins when they steal your loved-one's heart... literally.  And, then you'd be stuck with the Farmer Teds or that one loser in The Stand to keep you warm at night.

yeah... her.

*  I'd have to do the research, but just how long could one live on canned goods and dried foods before they went bad?  My luck the store in which I was holed up would be all out of these:

...and I'd have to use my zombie-splatterin' sledgehammer.

*  You'd have to be willing to kill other survivors who happen upon your new house-of-food-pantries ...and not just the pretty ones.


*  Need I say it?  No more social networking.  Wait... I said down-side, didn't I?


*  You'd have to drink alone, and the authorities warn us to not drink alone, as...

....nobody's around to laugh at your extremely funny jokes.

*  You could walk around for ages with toilet paper streaming out the back of your pants with no such luck of a clip showing up on youtube to make you a laughable legend.


*  When your phone rings, you'll ... ?  Have a mess to clean up? (thank dog for the toilet paper tail ~ head start on that disaster!)


*  And, then there's the clothing.  Sure, once the Zombie Apocalypse occurs, you'll have unfettered access to all the clothing in the mall, and could pick a different outfit every day for the rest of your life, but...

...you'd better hope we're not going thru another fashion craze like the 80s.

In Joy & Enjoy!

Worth

...
Happy Decoration Day! I hope your weekend was/is rewarding in many ways.  Hats off and a solemn bow to all veterans, past and present.  I'll not ever forget you've kept my words as well as my world free.  Thank you.

I've been cleaning and cleaning... and looking around I see the need for more. So, yeah...

And, the lawn needs mowed, so there's that.

I don't know if you've ever watched Hoarders, but what I want to know is, where exactly is that fine line between hoarding and collecting?

...and in this corner, you'll see my collection of my mom's old computers.

Whenever my mom gets a new computer, I get her old one because she can't bring herself to throw it out.  I admit, I hold onto it for a bit, then inevitably I give it to someone who might find usage in it ...because I can't bring myself to throw it out.

I collect dust bunnies by default. I believe they find my little home comforting and warm, so they come and stay...they feel safe here as the broom rarely comes out of her closet.  (I'm still searching for her instruction manual).  Then they invite bigger friends. They have raucous parties under my couch which migrate to under my bed, keeping me up at night. Nasty little things!

I used to collect beanie-babies bears.  I most recently bestowed upon my nearest county's DHS temporary care-giver well over a hundred of those little snugglies ~ to hand out to children who've been snatched from their homes by no fault of their own.  The end result (on my end) ~ I'm no longer a beanie-bear-baby collector.  (It's quite refreshing to let go of some things in one's past.)

Yeah... I had three of these... because you just never know when one won't be enough.

I collect usable kitschy '50s kitchen decor and Johnson Bros red Mill Stream china...

...because I can.

And, I collect memories and music; a very pleasurable past-time indeed.

But my biggest addiction of all time, you ask?  Books!  I've a roomful of old books... okay, very small room... more like a walk-in closet-ful... not even seven-eighths full  ~ and when I say old, I mean 50+ years old.  And though I'm nearing that benchmark, even in book years it's quite a feat to remain intact, sturdy and relevant for that long.

I collect old children's early readers, old dictionaries, old bibles and old cookbooks ~ and everything in between.  A number of these boxed books teeter in piles in my once-upon-a-time-I-was-a-chicken-coop shed just waiting for a wet Spring to rot.

Like the interviewees in Hoarders, I'm "praying to God!" someone will come into my house and "save me!" by building a beautiful, built-in bookcase for my precious...es.

I suppose I could do it myself, but since I've not a woodworking tool about me and I know as much about wood-smithing as I do rocket surgery...

The results could be deadly.

In Joy & Enjoy!

Note to self

...
I was reminded once again today I need to learn to keep my mouth shut. No really. In life I need to learn to zip it!  Zip it good!

An acquaintance approached me today and asked me a personal life question.

"Did you ever find out what was causing the oozing hives on your nether region?"

Stupid me, I answered her... because that's what I do. Someone asks you a question, the polite thing to do is answer... honestly.  They ask because they're interested, or concerned... right?  Right?!?

There goes my socially-challenged self.

She walked away quickly.  An awkward silence followed her out.

No, dear, sweet, ignorant, Sandi!  Honesty is not valued in this new era, nor is giving an honest answer to every question.  What one needs to do... What I need to keep in mind is... hrm... let me 'splain.

While in high school, our marching band won the regional championship - or something like that.  We went to Wisconsin to compete and while there, all the bands had to perform a number together. The band members were given the music beforehand; they were well prepared.  The auxiliary.. well, that was another story.

I may be getting the facts a bit wrong - it may have been at the Mile High Stadium, or Timbuktu... it was a lifetime ago, but the point is here somewhere.  Let's rummage for it, shall we?

Our auxiliary was led by a stellar man named Steve Miller - yes, I amn't kidding. Our band instructor at the time was proactive in the sense he formed us to be more of a Drum & Bugle Corp - from the glide step to the stoic faces. While other bands were high-stepping like the Budweiser Clydesdales trying to avoid their own horse pies, we frosted the field like marzipan glaze.  We were professionals, damn it!!  We even performed one year with the Drums Along the Rockies.  Booyah!

And, we won many a competition.

I was a flag.

Not literally... but that's how we girls holding long poles with colorful material atop were referred.

While in the band-mob in Wisconsin, we flags and rifles of the various auxiliaries were instructed on our moves and movements to sync with the other colorguard units of the other bands... and, of course, to "smile and bounce"... yeaaaahhhh. About that...

We'd spent years learning to glide step ~ liquid smooth movements across the field, like flowing music bursting within your vision; a fluid kaleidescope of precision.

And, here's a past-her-prime, vivacious cheerleader instructing us to high-step like little fillies with plastered, plastic, lipstick smiles across our faces...

"Smile and Bounce, Girls! Smile and Bounce!"

...so, what're you going to do, but what the world truly wants of you?

Take a large post-it note in hand.  Mark on it with permanent marker in your favorite color (mine's purple):  "Note to self... When someone asks you a personal question, remember what they're really wanting is, 'Smile... and Bounce!'"

(...and stick it to your forehead.  Better yet ~ over your big mouth!)

In Joy & Enjoy.

Mondays!!!

...
My eyebrows need tweezed... but here's my problem:  If I drink enough to withstand the pain of plucking, I can no longer see my eyebrows.

In Joy & Enjoy.