30 May 2011


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!

24 May 2011

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 ...maybe just placed... in 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.

22 May 2011

Blog like no one's reading

I've been watching what I say for quite a while now because people who don't have my best interest in mind are stalking my blogs. Trolls, they call 'em.

A friend of mine recently stopped blogging for the same reason - she was being trolled by a disagreeable and hateful person. I'm sorry to see her go - my friend, not the troll; I enjoyed reading her - my friend, not the troll. Unfortunately, she won - the troll, not my friend. Trolls most often do.

I've had my share of trolls here.

mine aren't nearly as cute; they spread no Joy around these parts...

I've recently found a blog I really like, and the author's words reminded me why I started blogging in the first place ~ other than to practice writing and because my first publisher told me to start ~ it was because I wanted to have my voice heard. Even if no one reads this, I feel it's been said ~ without interruptions (which is a feat in and of itself).  No one can talk over me, or through me, or louder or harsher. No one can punch me in the back to shut me up, or tower over me, screaming.  Although there are no ears to hear my words, I feel as if they're not falling on deaf ones.  There's something to be said about being able to have your say.

La-La-La... I can't hear you...
It's time I start blogging again like no one's reading. If someone uses my words against me for their own personal reasons, may they eternally rot in hell.  I've not asked you here. If you read me and like what you read, I'm grateful. If you stop by and don't like what you read, and leave, I'm okay with that - to each his own. If you read my words to build a case against me, your soul is likely poisoned by hatred and you probably need professional help.

"Christianity provides a Hell for the people who disagree with you and a Heaven for your friends."

"Live right up to your highest and best!  If you have made mistakes in the past, reparation lies not in regrets, but in thankfulness that you now know better. ~ It is true that we are are punished by our sins and not for them; it is true also that we are blessed and benefited by our sins.  Having tasted the bitterness of error, we can avoid it.  If we have withheld the kind word and the look of sympathy in the past, we can today give doubly, and thus, in degree, redeem the past. And we best redeem the past by forgetting it and losing ourselves in useful work."

From the Note Book of Elbert Hubbard

In Joy & Enjoy.

10 May 2011

I don't know why

but I had a dream last night about dirty silverware.

Upon awakening, and joining my daughters for breakfast, I recalled the dream, both in my mind and then to them.  Not the specifics, mind you - just my hand reaching into the silverware drawer and pulling out a dirty spoon, then looking harder and realizing all the spoons were marred with grime. Upon closer inspection, I realized all the utensils were soiled.  The odd thing being, when I first put my hand in the drawer, it wasn't apparent.  But after noticing the filth, it was impossible to not see. How bizarre.

Twixt, Jack laughed and said, "Look at me!  I'm a dirty spoon!"

...she cut us up.

I don't know why.

It feels like I'm going through life on autopilot.  I get up, go about my day, do needed chores and hit the hay... only to get up the next day to the same schedule, which feels too much like the day before... and will feel the same tomorrow, no doubt.  I see the days marking themselves off in little red Xs on my internal calendar. I watch, moving in slow-dream-motion as they tick by; unable to slow them; unable to fill them with any kind of significance, but waiting for some just the same.

I don't know why.

I looked in the mirror today and realized since living in this small Colorado town, I've been unable to escape the "Colorado Mullet."  I look like a 70's rock power-ballad star who can't quite release his grasp on the past.

...minus the mustache... on most days.

Coloradans in this small retirement town don it, or the "Andrea Yates":

she'd fit right in here... minus her children... oh, wait... my bad.
The hairdressers here can't pull off any different coiffure, it seems. They have a two-page flyer, showing many sides and presentations of the two aforementioned styles.

I don't know why.

In Joy & Enjoy

pass the popcorn, please!