I've probably blogged about this before, but my search features isn't working properly and I can't find it, so I'm going to write the story again.
Though we knew each other online, I put off meeting Murry in person for years. Someone who knew him told me that he was weird. I found out later, he snubbed her after she snubbed him and they were in a bit of a personality clash "war."
A mutual friend of ours then told me that Murry was quite normal and I finally decided to meet him thanksgiving day 1999.
He kindly drove out to Pasadena to pick me up. We then drove about 30 miles back to his house. I met his house mate Bob and Bob's girlfriend and later a string of random guests.
Neither of his housemates had local family so it was a lighthearted gathering of friendly people. We all laughed and ate and had a good time. Neither Murry nor I drink alcohol, but some of his friends wanted to go to a nightclub. We decided that was a good time for him to take me home.
I gathered my handbag and we went outside to get in his car. He parked around the corner to give his guests parking room in front of the house.
As I got to the corner I realized I had to fart. I couldn't do that IN the car and Murry was walking right next to me. I decided to slow down a little in the hopes of squeezing out the gas without him smelling anything.
He trod a mere 10 feet ahead as tried to slip out a silent release. No such luck. Maybe had there been more low clouds, I could have passed it off as a foghorn.
Murry just paused a bit as he got near the car. I got to my door and he asked, "Did you hear frogs??" I imagine he could have felt the heat from my blushing. "No, I'm afraid that was me. Better outside than in the confines of the car!"
He just chucked.
After waiting years to meet me, the first night I try and gas him. Ain't I a prize.
Thankfully there's more to romance than our moments of imperfection.
Sunday, January 18, 2015
Wednesday, January 14, 2015
Squeeze Box
I looked up songs about breasts and found this title on the first page. I felt kind of funny that I didn't realize this song was about boobs, but it makes sense once I thought about it a minute.
Men love the tatas and they don't mind admitting it. Though some take it into an offensive category, I'm here to talk about another aspect of breast admiration.
I love my boobs. As I gained weight, my biology drove my breast tissue into bulbous, pendulous when swinging free, tatas.
That swinging can be hazardous to an unsuspecting mate too. I nearly knocked my husband senseless reaching past him for a drink of water. After that, we both referred to my breasts as "Hooters of DOOM!"
Said Doom Hooters don't break any records. I can, thankfully, still buy bras in any store. Though I'm told that a proper fitting would probably increase the cup size. I can't afford a fancy bra, so I do the best I can with what I can find.
Not long after I moved into Murry's house we bought a large screen TV. We went from a standard 32 inch to a huge 60 inch rear projection screen. Being sight impaired, I loved the larger viewing area.
Murry's friend Vance came by and was admiring our new set and remarked how wonderful it would be for viewing porn. Then he turned to Murry and said, though I suppose you are used to looking at large breasts.
Around the same time, a friend took a photo of me and upon seeing it, my online friends remarked how large they looked. I told them that it was jsut the angle of the shot. They didn't buy it.
It's weird to me. I don't think of them as that large. They're just a part of me. I hold them (ahem) in high esteem, but I live with them every moment of every day.
A few years ago, I realized why I am so much at ease with the Doom Hooters. They are clearly an adult thing. They show that I am a grown woman and can be as sexual as I desire.
Plus, I didn't have them when I was being molested as a little girl. There's zero confusion about my chest being touched and fondled. That helps me to stay in the now. That helps me enjoy my sexuality.
So, I say, Bounce Your Boobies and love the tatas today. I could have used that song, but I prefer Squeeze Box.
Listen to Rusty Warren sing Bounce Your Boobies here:
Bounce Your Boobies
What part of YOUR body to you love without reservation? Kind comments encouraged.
Men love the tatas and they don't mind admitting it. Though some take it into an offensive category, I'm here to talk about another aspect of breast admiration.
I love my boobs. As I gained weight, my biology drove my breast tissue into bulbous, pendulous when swinging free, tatas.
That swinging can be hazardous to an unsuspecting mate too. I nearly knocked my husband senseless reaching past him for a drink of water. After that, we both referred to my breasts as "Hooters of DOOM!"
Said Doom Hooters don't break any records. I can, thankfully, still buy bras in any store. Though I'm told that a proper fitting would probably increase the cup size. I can't afford a fancy bra, so I do the best I can with what I can find.
Not long after I moved into Murry's house we bought a large screen TV. We went from a standard 32 inch to a huge 60 inch rear projection screen. Being sight impaired, I loved the larger viewing area.
Murry's friend Vance came by and was admiring our new set and remarked how wonderful it would be for viewing porn. Then he turned to Murry and said, though I suppose you are used to looking at large breasts.
Around the same time, a friend took a photo of me and upon seeing it, my online friends remarked how large they looked. I told them that it was jsut the angle of the shot. They didn't buy it.
It's weird to me. I don't think of them as that large. They're just a part of me. I hold them (ahem) in high esteem, but I live with them every moment of every day.
A few years ago, I realized why I am so much at ease with the Doom Hooters. They are clearly an adult thing. They show that I am a grown woman and can be as sexual as I desire.
Plus, I didn't have them when I was being molested as a little girl. There's zero confusion about my chest being touched and fondled. That helps me to stay in the now. That helps me enjoy my sexuality.
So, I say, Bounce Your Boobies and love the tatas today. I could have used that song, but I prefer Squeeze Box.
Listen to Rusty Warren sing Bounce Your Boobies here:
Bounce Your Boobies
What part of YOUR body to you love without reservation? Kind comments encouraged.
Saturday, January 10, 2015
Let's Give Them Something to Talk About
Rhonda Britten says that we will always love someone once they've resided in our heart. Though we part, that affection stays with us.
And so it was with my friend, Phil Hurmence who passed away a couple of days ago from complications related to diabetes.
When we met, I lived with my first husband. Phil and my best friend Nancy were dating. They broke up and about a month later, my husband and I split up.
Nancy broke up my marriage by sleeping with my husband on our anniversary. I'm grateful now, but at the time, I felt deeply betrayed by them both.
Phil and I became good friends and a few months later more than friends. I moved in, though I maintained my own room. We both knew it wasn't a forever thing. After a couple of years, I cried and told him that it was hurting me being with someone when I knew it wasn't going to go much of anywhere.
We were close, but we wanted massively different things. It was amicable and I told him that I would find a new place to live. After a bit, he asked me to stay. He said I was the best, most reliable roommate he had ever had.
His friend Steven asked me why we didn't just get married. "You guys love each other." Though that's true, it would have been settling for both of us. Settling for almost good enough.
Phil and I lived in Pasadena a total of six years. We spent holidays together and his father and mother treated me like a member of the family.
When I went to Europe on a study program, Phil emailed me the most delightful letter about my cat Kevin. I wish I had kept it, I've been kicking myself over deleting it. Phil told me that it took Kevin about three days to realize I wasn't coming back. He said the cat wandered around the house meowing and looking everywhere for me.
So he picked up the cat and talked to him. Told him that "mom" was on a "big adventure" in the "outside," and she would return soon. Phil said that seemed to calm Kevin as if he understood. Maybe he did, he was a smart kitty.
A couple of months later, Kevin became sick and Phil had to take him to the vet. They decided that he was too sick to survive. He called me in tears. Such a sensitive guy when it comes to cats.
Phil always joked about the cat being from outer space. Taking Kevin to the vet, he turned on the radio and the song "Come Sail Away" started playing. Phil said he had to pull over he was crying so hard. The song ends with "they climbed aboard their starships and headed for the skies. "
When I met Murry and decided to move in with him, Phil went to live with his parents in Arizona. We had occasional phone contact and as it happens, Murry's sister lives an hour from where Phil's parents lived. We went to visit them both a couple of times.
I will miss my witty intelligent friend. I hope where ever you are now, you get to ride the starship with Captain Kevin.
All my love, your dear friend, Didi
And so it was with my friend, Phil Hurmence who passed away a couple of days ago from complications related to diabetes.
When we met, I lived with my first husband. Phil and my best friend Nancy were dating. They broke up and about a month later, my husband and I split up.
Nancy broke up my marriage by sleeping with my husband on our anniversary. I'm grateful now, but at the time, I felt deeply betrayed by them both.
Phil and I became good friends and a few months later more than friends. I moved in, though I maintained my own room. We both knew it wasn't a forever thing. After a couple of years, I cried and told him that it was hurting me being with someone when I knew it wasn't going to go much of anywhere.
We were close, but we wanted massively different things. It was amicable and I told him that I would find a new place to live. After a bit, he asked me to stay. He said I was the best, most reliable roommate he had ever had.
His friend Steven asked me why we didn't just get married. "You guys love each other." Though that's true, it would have been settling for both of us. Settling for almost good enough.
Phil and I lived in Pasadena a total of six years. We spent holidays together and his father and mother treated me like a member of the family.
When I went to Europe on a study program, Phil emailed me the most delightful letter about my cat Kevin. I wish I had kept it, I've been kicking myself over deleting it. Phil told me that it took Kevin about three days to realize I wasn't coming back. He said the cat wandered around the house meowing and looking everywhere for me.
So he picked up the cat and talked to him. Told him that "mom" was on a "big adventure" in the "outside," and she would return soon. Phil said that seemed to calm Kevin as if he understood. Maybe he did, he was a smart kitty.
A couple of months later, Kevin became sick and Phil had to take him to the vet. They decided that he was too sick to survive. He called me in tears. Such a sensitive guy when it comes to cats.
Phil always joked about the cat being from outer space. Taking Kevin to the vet, he turned on the radio and the song "Come Sail Away" started playing. Phil said he had to pull over he was crying so hard. The song ends with "they climbed aboard their starships and headed for the skies. "
When I met Murry and decided to move in with him, Phil went to live with his parents in Arizona. We had occasional phone contact and as it happens, Murry's sister lives an hour from where Phil's parents lived. We went to visit them both a couple of times.
I will miss my witty intelligent friend. I hope where ever you are now, you get to ride the starship with Captain Kevin.
All my love, your dear friend, Didi
Thursday, September 11, 2014
Hit the Road Jack
Well, hit the road, Debbie. The day before I moved into the house that Murry owned, his roommate's girlfriend, Debbie, had a meltdown.
She somehow convinced herself that the new woman would threaten her status. Turns out, she had reason for concern, but I'll get to that in a minute.
She decided that Murry was "dangerous" and crawled out the window into the roof. Murry never knew what he said or did that sparked this reaction. I even asked him if my moving in would be any issue and he said it wouldn't.
So there she stood, jumping up and down calling "help police," while Murry tried to coax her inside. Roommate, Bob, hadn't gotten home from work. Murry had a guest over and they were just watching TV when she started acting weird.
Back then, Murry worked nights and it was about time for him to go to work so he left. A neighbor called the police and they arrived the same time as Bob and since they didn't know what was happening, put him in handcuffs.
They managed to get her to come to the door and she said it wasn't the guy. Bob told them that it must be a landlord issue and they left without filing any report.
Murry came to visit me on his way to work and said that she was being weird. I knew something was gonna be up when I showed up with my truck full of stuff the next day. She tried to tell how "dangerous" it was to live there. The only danger I felt was from her.
Murry decided that she needed to leave and he insisted she get her own place. I guess he felt she had tenant rights so he gave her 30 days for this. After 30 days, supposedly she had her own place, but she hung around her boyfriend and would stay up there while he worked. We could hear her stomping around.
Friends and her daughter showed up at the door asking for her. Implying we would harm her, the daughter said she was "checking on mom."
One evening, she and Bob came in and started walking past me as I lay on the couch watching TV. She stopped and reached over and started petting the cat laying on my lap. Then she snarked that I should tell Murry she has her own place. This didn't have anything to do with me, so I told her that was between them and that she needed to tell him herself.
She called me a bitch and whined about how he's too dangerous to talk to. Bob hustled her out of the room and apologized. I must have looked up in a way that told him she had crossed a line with me.
I'd been ignoring her for the better part of three months. Until that night, I didn't feel it was my place to say or do anything. I'd always believed the pen was mightier than the sword, but I had no idea how powerfully it could pierce.
I wrote her a one page letter and posted it on the front door and the door to the Bob's loft room. I don't remember all nine points, but I remember it was filled with rational musings on the situation.
If she didn't consider this her address, why did people come looking for her there? Why was she there alone? If Murry's so scary, why did she come into the house at all?
I also put a sign with big fonts that said "Deborah does not live here" on the front door. She ripped down the notes and called me a bitch again. But she did it as she stormed out.
I never saw her again. Murry said he saw her in Bob's car about a week after this.
Bob wasn't a bad guy. Seems weird that he would hook up with a selfish bat shit crazy woman. They did eventually break up. and he moved on and bought a house.
Debbie kind of reminded me of my mom. they're both selfish, self abusing lost souls who will defend their crazy with righteous indignation. I wish them both peace.
Got any roommate stories? I'd love to hear them.
She somehow convinced herself that the new woman would threaten her status. Turns out, she had reason for concern, but I'll get to that in a minute.
She decided that Murry was "dangerous" and crawled out the window into the roof. Murry never knew what he said or did that sparked this reaction. I even asked him if my moving in would be any issue and he said it wouldn't.
So there she stood, jumping up and down calling "help police," while Murry tried to coax her inside. Roommate, Bob, hadn't gotten home from work. Murry had a guest over and they were just watching TV when she started acting weird.
Back then, Murry worked nights and it was about time for him to go to work so he left. A neighbor called the police and they arrived the same time as Bob and since they didn't know what was happening, put him in handcuffs.
They managed to get her to come to the door and she said it wasn't the guy. Bob told them that it must be a landlord issue and they left without filing any report.
Murry came to visit me on his way to work and said that she was being weird. I knew something was gonna be up when I showed up with my truck full of stuff the next day. She tried to tell how "dangerous" it was to live there. The only danger I felt was from her.
Murry decided that she needed to leave and he insisted she get her own place. I guess he felt she had tenant rights so he gave her 30 days for this. After 30 days, supposedly she had her own place, but she hung around her boyfriend and would stay up there while he worked. We could hear her stomping around.
Friends and her daughter showed up at the door asking for her. Implying we would harm her, the daughter said she was "checking on mom."
One evening, she and Bob came in and started walking past me as I lay on the couch watching TV. She stopped and reached over and started petting the cat laying on my lap. Then she snarked that I should tell Murry she has her own place. This didn't have anything to do with me, so I told her that was between them and that she needed to tell him herself.
She called me a bitch and whined about how he's too dangerous to talk to. Bob hustled her out of the room and apologized. I must have looked up in a way that told him she had crossed a line with me.
I'd been ignoring her for the better part of three months. Until that night, I didn't feel it was my place to say or do anything. I'd always believed the pen was mightier than the sword, but I had no idea how powerfully it could pierce.
I wrote her a one page letter and posted it on the front door and the door to the Bob's loft room. I don't remember all nine points, but I remember it was filled with rational musings on the situation.
If she didn't consider this her address, why did people come looking for her there? Why was she there alone? If Murry's so scary, why did she come into the house at all?
I also put a sign with big fonts that said "Deborah does not live here" on the front door. She ripped down the notes and called me a bitch again. But she did it as she stormed out.
I never saw her again. Murry said he saw her in Bob's car about a week after this.
Bob wasn't a bad guy. Seems weird that he would hook up with a selfish bat shit crazy woman. They did eventually break up. and he moved on and bought a house.
Debbie kind of reminded me of my mom. they're both selfish, self abusing lost souls who will defend their crazy with righteous indignation. I wish them both peace.
Got any roommate stories? I'd love to hear them.
Wednesday, July 30, 2014
Penny Lane
This is number 5 in a science fiction series I started. Here are the links to the previous ones if you wish to catch up. This is completely made up as I go and started on a suggestion from a chat. Comments welcome.
1. Undercover Angel
2. Double Vision
3. Ya Gotta have Friends
4. Getting to Know You
Georgia crouched down to pick up a piece of fruit she nudged off the table. "Now," she whispered into her com.
Though she knew what would happen, the force of the blast left her ears ringing. Several people bumped past her before she managed to get under the table.
The electromagnetic pulse knocked out lights and cameras, but not life support. Those areas had protections and safeguards to prevent disruption. After this, she though, even Penny Lane would be secured with redundant systems, space station operations would see to that.
The market took up the center of deck nine. The gang confined the disruption near the Chentry section. They hoped to blame the whole operation on anti Chentry separatists.
Market goers began to bump and jostle in their panic to escape the darkness. Georgia scurried from her hiding place, feeling for the edge of stall tables. The scents of fresh cut fish, guided her to the left and down two tables.
She knew security officer Jones sat and had coffee with his cousin every morning at 10. As she rounded the corner she heard his gruff voice bellowing, "Stay calm!"
The panic in his own voice only served to upset more people. "He's doing my job for me," thought Georgia. As she moved closer she bumped into a table of hissing insects. As she reached out to steady it, she felt a tentacle slither under her fingers..
Shuddering she snatched her hand away and began wailing to attract Jones to her. As he neared she grabbed a passerby and body checked them into a small group she heard milling about.
She ducked under the bread table across from the now fighting crowd and listened as officer Jones tried to stop the chaos she created.
Georgia reached up and grabbed a loaf to nibble on while she waited. The pungeont flavor of the sourdough took her back to the first time she went to a Penny Lane.
Benhi had just handed her a phone that served as ID. She turned it over in her hands and checked to see her face staring out at her.
"You'll have to learn how to use it before you go out. You don't want to be fumbling with it when asked," said the Chentry."At least you can read, that's a step up from most people who live on the street."
Georgia clicked through the menus and noticed that she had a few credits on balance. Benhi told her that she'd earn more as time went on. She smiled to herself at the new found personhood, though it did make her feel a bit dizzy.
Early the next morning she dressed in her brown overalls and black shoes and headed to the market. Benhi wanted her to run an errand for him. She needed a few things for herself as well. The Chentry don't have hair so Benhi neglected to buy her a comb. She made do with her fingers, but she needed to learn proper grooming.
They decided that she would start out as a low level worker and build her ID as time went on. She needed time to adjust to having an address.
In the past, she avoided the market during the day. Though it proved excellent nighttime scrounging grounds.
Now that she could browse and even buy a few items, Georgia savored the pungent aromas of fresh local delicacies. One stall piled fish around all four sides. Three aproned dark haired men stood around the center table gutting and skinning items for customers too lazy to do it themselves. She eyed the chum bucket and thought about the times when she'd found fish heads to eat after the market closed.
She kept to the edge as she glanced at bread and fruit and guessed at a couple of items where more Chentry stood waiting their turn. Vats of dark liquid roiled with living thing waving tentacles out the top. Cages of hissing insects protested with piercing chirps when the clerks grabbed one out to sell.
Georgia lurked past the minstrel strumming a lyre. He thrusted his chin at her hoping for a tip, but she didn't know how to do it so she scurried past. He turned to look for easier pickings.
An argument between a pair of stall owners ensued near where Georgia stood. She looked for a place to hide , but realized that no one else was paying any attention to the loud voices. She forced herself to hold a passive expression and moved away.
Lost in the excitement of the new experience Georgia realized she missed the alarm on her phone. When she found Drax in the electronics section, He yelled at her for being late.
"You think I have all day? Now you wait for me." With that the brown skinned man sat and began watching something on his phone.
Georgia watched him a moment then looked down at his wares. Old useless junk, she reasoned. Nothing on his table shone with the gleam of modern tech.
She decided to try a bluff and see how he would react. "I guess Benhi will have to take his business to someone else. Someone who delivers." She turned to walk away.
He stood and glared at her frowning a moment, then shrugged and smiled. "Any friend of Benhi's" he trialed off. Taking the package from him, she gave him the stern look she always got in the orphanage. His smile faded as she turned away and hurried back to her mentor.
Back at the space station, lights began flashing about and crowds filled lit corridors. She slid in near Jones just as the gang gave her the all clear.
After the market cleanup, the security chief picked her up when he saw the video of her ducking down before the blast. He used this as an excuse to debrief her. She feigned complete ignorance. She didn't know what they were exchanging, only that they needed her to keep Jones occupied. She did report on some minor gang activity and they agreed that nothing would be done.
Her cover more secure, Georgia rose within the ranks of the gang and kept her under cover status with the chief. Soon she began using both resources to trace the people responsible for killing her mentor.
1. Undercover Angel
2. Double Vision
3. Ya Gotta have Friends
4. Getting to Know You
Georgia crouched down to pick up a piece of fruit she nudged off the table. "Now," she whispered into her com.
Though she knew what would happen, the force of the blast left her ears ringing. Several people bumped past her before she managed to get under the table.
The electromagnetic pulse knocked out lights and cameras, but not life support. Those areas had protections and safeguards to prevent disruption. After this, she though, even Penny Lane would be secured with redundant systems, space station operations would see to that.
The market took up the center of deck nine. The gang confined the disruption near the Chentry section. They hoped to blame the whole operation on anti Chentry separatists.
Market goers began to bump and jostle in their panic to escape the darkness. Georgia scurried from her hiding place, feeling for the edge of stall tables. The scents of fresh cut fish, guided her to the left and down two tables.
She knew security officer Jones sat and had coffee with his cousin every morning at 10. As she rounded the corner she heard his gruff voice bellowing, "Stay calm!"
The panic in his own voice only served to upset more people. "He's doing my job for me," thought Georgia. As she moved closer she bumped into a table of hissing insects. As she reached out to steady it, she felt a tentacle slither under her fingers..
Shuddering she snatched her hand away and began wailing to attract Jones to her. As he neared she grabbed a passerby and body checked them into a small group she heard milling about.
She ducked under the bread table across from the now fighting crowd and listened as officer Jones tried to stop the chaos she created.
Georgia reached up and grabbed a loaf to nibble on while she waited. The pungeont flavor of the sourdough took her back to the first time she went to a Penny Lane.
Benhi had just handed her a phone that served as ID. She turned it over in her hands and checked to see her face staring out at her.
"You'll have to learn how to use it before you go out. You don't want to be fumbling with it when asked," said the Chentry."At least you can read, that's a step up from most people who live on the street."
Georgia clicked through the menus and noticed that she had a few credits on balance. Benhi told her that she'd earn more as time went on. She smiled to herself at the new found personhood, though it did make her feel a bit dizzy.
Early the next morning she dressed in her brown overalls and black shoes and headed to the market. Benhi wanted her to run an errand for him. She needed a few things for herself as well. The Chentry don't have hair so Benhi neglected to buy her a comb. She made do with her fingers, but she needed to learn proper grooming.
They decided that she would start out as a low level worker and build her ID as time went on. She needed time to adjust to having an address.
In the past, she avoided the market during the day. Though it proved excellent nighttime scrounging grounds.
Now that she could browse and even buy a few items, Georgia savored the pungent aromas of fresh local delicacies. One stall piled fish around all four sides. Three aproned dark haired men stood around the center table gutting and skinning items for customers too lazy to do it themselves. She eyed the chum bucket and thought about the times when she'd found fish heads to eat after the market closed.
She kept to the edge as she glanced at bread and fruit and guessed at a couple of items where more Chentry stood waiting their turn. Vats of dark liquid roiled with living thing waving tentacles out the top. Cages of hissing insects protested with piercing chirps when the clerks grabbed one out to sell.
Georgia lurked past the minstrel strumming a lyre. He thrusted his chin at her hoping for a tip, but she didn't know how to do it so she scurried past. He turned to look for easier pickings.
An argument between a pair of stall owners ensued near where Georgia stood. She looked for a place to hide , but realized that no one else was paying any attention to the loud voices. She forced herself to hold a passive expression and moved away.
Lost in the excitement of the new experience Georgia realized she missed the alarm on her phone. When she found Drax in the electronics section, He yelled at her for being late.
"You think I have all day? Now you wait for me." With that the brown skinned man sat and began watching something on his phone.
Georgia watched him a moment then looked down at his wares. Old useless junk, she reasoned. Nothing on his table shone with the gleam of modern tech.
She decided to try a bluff and see how he would react. "I guess Benhi will have to take his business to someone else. Someone who delivers." She turned to walk away.
He stood and glared at her frowning a moment, then shrugged and smiled. "Any friend of Benhi's" he trialed off. Taking the package from him, she gave him the stern look she always got in the orphanage. His smile faded as she turned away and hurried back to her mentor.
Back at the space station, lights began flashing about and crowds filled lit corridors. She slid in near Jones just as the gang gave her the all clear.
After the market cleanup, the security chief picked her up when he saw the video of her ducking down before the blast. He used this as an excuse to debrief her. She feigned complete ignorance. She didn't know what they were exchanging, only that they needed her to keep Jones occupied. She did report on some minor gang activity and they agreed that nothing would be done.
Her cover more secure, Georgia rose within the ranks of the gang and kept her under cover status with the chief. Soon she began using both resources to trace the people responsible for killing her mentor.
Thursday, July 10, 2014
Stuck in the Middle with You
It seems to me that most people just want to live their own lives. They just want to get up, do work that they enjoy, come home and drink a beer. Though my choice would be root beer.
I want to live in a place where the "community" stuff just works. I want smooth, well maintained roads, an honest police force, strong well trained firefighters and education that teaches kids how to use the tools of knowledge.
I care about my progressive ideals, yet I don't want to concentrate on those that put me in constant opposition. Seems to me the most courageous thing to do is choose the middle. Choose to open up to the desires of the people who may not have time for research on all aspects of a political point.
I want to know what the center thinks and wants. I want to know how to have a real middle of the road conversation. I want to be part of the middle and share in the pleasures of the latest popular tv show.
How can we agree to disagree on the fringe stuff and find common ground on the basics? How can we gain representative for that which needs doing and let the edges worry over the big questions? Who will speak for us?
What do you want, middle people? And how can we gidder done?
Kind comments encouraged.
Monday, June 30, 2014
99 Tears
I've been avoiding problems in my life. We have massive debt left over from closing our business and owe taxes and fines beyond our meager income. The pile of paperwork to sort through it all seems insurmountable.
I've been paying the state of Oregon and I have a federal tax bill due on the first. Basically my July income has been spent.
Murry has some health concerns that are prolonging his hiring doing a job he wants. He has a doctor's appointment to find out what's going on.
I'm happy for him to have an opportunity and I appreciate the frustration. Though the job promises to be long hours. Which will be strange for me. I'm used to him being around a lot.
We need to fix things around the house and tend the yard, but it's sporadically raining. I guess I should just remember that nature is not something I can change and let it go.
We could really use high speed Internet, but we can't afford it right now. We tried to get it last year when Murry was working almost full time, but the cable company flaked out. My browser I have set up to do larger text with nice colors wont load things like Facebook.
I feel so left behind by all the new fangled technology. I want a smart phone too. We checked just before he got that merchandising job, the cheapest regular phone company wanted around $60 a month for one. I know I can get one of the pay as you go connections for $45, but I will have to buy a phone.
I am mad at myself for not posting often enough to this blog. Not everything I think about involves joy, and I forget that it's okay to share that too. I am still an optimist and I feel very little shame about having problems. I feel a little guilt. Just a little.
If I weren't a procrastinator I wouldn't be a pro at anything ;)
If you feel the urge to offer help, make it in the form of morale support. Kind comments always welcome.
I've been paying the state of Oregon and I have a federal tax bill due on the first. Basically my July income has been spent.
Murry has some health concerns that are prolonging his hiring doing a job he wants. He has a doctor's appointment to find out what's going on.
I'm happy for him to have an opportunity and I appreciate the frustration. Though the job promises to be long hours. Which will be strange for me. I'm used to him being around a lot.
We need to fix things around the house and tend the yard, but it's sporadically raining. I guess I should just remember that nature is not something I can change and let it go.
We could really use high speed Internet, but we can't afford it right now. We tried to get it last year when Murry was working almost full time, but the cable company flaked out. My browser I have set up to do larger text with nice colors wont load things like Facebook.
I feel so left behind by all the new fangled technology. I want a smart phone too. We checked just before he got that merchandising job, the cheapest regular phone company wanted around $60 a month for one. I know I can get one of the pay as you go connections for $45, but I will have to buy a phone.
I am mad at myself for not posting often enough to this blog. Not everything I think about involves joy, and I forget that it's okay to share that too. I am still an optimist and I feel very little shame about having problems. I feel a little guilt. Just a little.
If I weren't a procrastinator I wouldn't be a pro at anything ;)
If you feel the urge to offer help, make it in the form of morale support. Kind comments always welcome.
Tuesday, June 24, 2014
Happy
All happy happens sometimes. Mostly happy happens most of the time. With a little happy, ambivalence or neither happy nor sad and unhappy in about the same minor proportions. I'm counting content in the "mostly happy" category.
I went to two parties this weekend and before I even got there, my heart filled with the possibilities of meeting new people and getting a new perspective. I sometimes fret a little about putting too much pressure on something I haven't yet experienced. Though I do love being around people. Even if I didn't get to speak to anyone, just the chance to watch others interact would be fun.
Every time I go to gatherings it reminds me how social I am. When I wrote up my "dream day" for a goal setting exercise, I made sure it ended with a dinner party. I love diversity of conversation.
I can and will talk to strangers. "My that's a lovely shirt, " to the lady in line at the store. "Have you grown Armenian cucumbers?" to the farmers market vendor. Bold, honest, happy chat, anywhere, anytime.
Even my Murry got into the spirit. Last night he mentioned that we could fix up our yard and start having more people over to our house. Evidently, though he's a bit quieter than me, he had as good a time as I did.
Both parties had live music. One had a dance floor like great room and people swayed and whirled around in solstice celebration. Both bands flung melodic tones enlivening all who heard.
One party celebrated the 50th birthday of a friend. Since I had no such celebration for my own big 50 this year, I felt so close to the guy. His wife made deviled eggs from their own laying chickens and potato salad from ingredients she grew herself. She also made a wonderful carrot cake that surpassed any commercial confection I've had.
At the second party, people brought in pot luck foods and laid out an amazing spread of salads, dips, burritos (Murry's) and various interesting flavor combinations. I'll be dreaming about the bacon and cheese stuffed mild peppers for a long while.
I love being a sensor. Touching, tasting, seeing, hearing and smelling new and interesting experiences raises me up. Add to that thinking about all the stories people tell. Connecting to some new friend's dream of moving to Oregon and finding it so charming. Hearing the story of a couple meeting 35 years ago and noticing how it has similar elements to meeting Murry. Telling my own view on the world. And having someone nod as they listen.
Experience + fellowship = happiness
Okay, dunno what you might comment on. If you think of something, then make it kind.
I went to two parties this weekend and before I even got there, my heart filled with the possibilities of meeting new people and getting a new perspective. I sometimes fret a little about putting too much pressure on something I haven't yet experienced. Though I do love being around people. Even if I didn't get to speak to anyone, just the chance to watch others interact would be fun.
Every time I go to gatherings it reminds me how social I am. When I wrote up my "dream day" for a goal setting exercise, I made sure it ended with a dinner party. I love diversity of conversation.
I can and will talk to strangers. "My that's a lovely shirt, " to the lady in line at the store. "Have you grown Armenian cucumbers?" to the farmers market vendor. Bold, honest, happy chat, anywhere, anytime.
Even my Murry got into the spirit. Last night he mentioned that we could fix up our yard and start having more people over to our house. Evidently, though he's a bit quieter than me, he had as good a time as I did.
Both parties had live music. One had a dance floor like great room and people swayed and whirled around in solstice celebration. Both bands flung melodic tones enlivening all who heard.
One party celebrated the 50th birthday of a friend. Since I had no such celebration for my own big 50 this year, I felt so close to the guy. His wife made deviled eggs from their own laying chickens and potato salad from ingredients she grew herself. She also made a wonderful carrot cake that surpassed any commercial confection I've had.
At the second party, people brought in pot luck foods and laid out an amazing spread of salads, dips, burritos (Murry's) and various interesting flavor combinations. I'll be dreaming about the bacon and cheese stuffed mild peppers for a long while.
I love being a sensor. Touching, tasting, seeing, hearing and smelling new and interesting experiences raises me up. Add to that thinking about all the stories people tell. Connecting to some new friend's dream of moving to Oregon and finding it so charming. Hearing the story of a couple meeting 35 years ago and noticing how it has similar elements to meeting Murry. Telling my own view on the world. And having someone nod as they listen.
Experience + fellowship = happiness
Okay, dunno what you might comment on. If you think of something, then make it kind.
Sunday, June 15, 2014
Spin Me Round
I value myself and my ideals. I value my vision of the universe. I can accept, after a time, that other people may have a different perspective, but it does take me time. To me, pieces fit "my way." And it's confusing if someone sees a different puzzle.
Take for instance that I am an atheist. I don't view the universe as controlled by a consciousness. Though there are "forces" at work that are partly beyond my ken. Not beyond anyone's knowing, just things I cannot figure out.
I don't have to understand everything. My heart beats, sends blood around my body, without my conscious awareness. I'm okay to "not" study everything. I'm okay to have a passing awareness of these universal forces that guide stars and atoms around.
I like to share my perspective, part because I think diversity of thought is interesting and part because I think I'm "right." I don't want to live in a world filled with me, but I would like to live in a world filled with sorta kinda meness.
I want and value different points of view. Or do I? I don't want to talk to the Mormons or the Jehovah Witnesses that cross my porch. I have not compared different kinds of faith and rejected them all. I have listened to a smattering of interpretations and come to the conclusion this isn't for me.
I value rules and social constructs designed to benefit humankind. Fellowship holds a high place in my heart. Though my fellowship is based on a mutual love of the provable universe.
Some of my friends wish to remove a cross from a memorial in a local park. I don't care if there's a cross there or not. The one argument that intrigues me most comes from someone arguing that if it were a symbol from a non Christian faith many of the very same folks who want to keep the cross would be clamoring for it's removal.
One person's symbol of faith is "good," the other groups iconography is "bad." I still remained disinterested in removing a long established monument, but that argument holds more weight in my mind.
Okay, so I am gonna try and write more and not let things throw me off my high horse. Don't like what I have to say? Make your case. Kind reasoned and spam free comments get posted.
Tuesday, April 22, 2014
Blindness
Last night on Charlie Rose he had a bunch of guests talking about curing blindness. Very interesting science, but quite humiliating depictions of blind folks.
I'm all for a cure for my blindishness. Sign me up today! But what are you going to do for me if it doesn't work on my condition?
The only representative from the blind community lost his sight at age 20. That's rough for anyone. Going from one state to the next, all of life's major transitions, come as a shock.
Add to this how Charlie and some of the other guests spoke of the devastation and fear associated with blindness. Be afraid, be very afraid. Live in fear of losing something and fail to prepare for reality. Yeah, that's a great strategy.
Stop projecting your fear onto our existence. JUST STOP IT!
Sighted people's fear creates a public that lives in fear of associating with blind people. Then there are the do gooders. The software makers who decide what accessibility features work best without consulting those with visual impairments.
For example, the magnifying glass application that I use has a major flaw. It puts the mouse right in the middle of the enlargement window, enlarged of course. This covers up what I'm trying to read. I can't change where the mouse rests within the window. So I make the window bigger than necessary and read on the other side of the mouse. This imperfect solution works okay. It's better than having to download and test yet another piece of software.
I image there are all kinds of published studies on imperfect people. I bet they show that we are happy and sad and angry and fearful at about the same rate as more "average" people. We want to have meaningful lives and get married, just like the average person.
I expect that if you see me struggling, you'll offer to help. JUST like if I am aware of your struggles, I will offer mine. Both of us can say no thank you. Don't assume your help is needed and just try and do something for me. Some things I want or need to work out on my own.
I realize my disability factors in as part of my existence. It's rough to find work if you don't fit into the mold of the potential employers. We can change that mold by requesting that people are portrayed more as they are and less as a caricature of who someone thinks they are.
Kind comments encouraged.
I'm all for a cure for my blindishness. Sign me up today! But what are you going to do for me if it doesn't work on my condition?
The only representative from the blind community lost his sight at age 20. That's rough for anyone. Going from one state to the next, all of life's major transitions, come as a shock.
Add to this how Charlie and some of the other guests spoke of the devastation and fear associated with blindness. Be afraid, be very afraid. Live in fear of losing something and fail to prepare for reality. Yeah, that's a great strategy.
Stop projecting your fear onto our existence. JUST STOP IT!
Sighted people's fear creates a public that lives in fear of associating with blind people. Then there are the do gooders. The software makers who decide what accessibility features work best without consulting those with visual impairments.
For example, the magnifying glass application that I use has a major flaw. It puts the mouse right in the middle of the enlargement window, enlarged of course. This covers up what I'm trying to read. I can't change where the mouse rests within the window. So I make the window bigger than necessary and read on the other side of the mouse. This imperfect solution works okay. It's better than having to download and test yet another piece of software.
I image there are all kinds of published studies on imperfect people. I bet they show that we are happy and sad and angry and fearful at about the same rate as more "average" people. We want to have meaningful lives and get married, just like the average person.
I expect that if you see me struggling, you'll offer to help. JUST like if I am aware of your struggles, I will offer mine. Both of us can say no thank you. Don't assume your help is needed and just try and do something for me. Some things I want or need to work out on my own.
I realize my disability factors in as part of my existence. It's rough to find work if you don't fit into the mold of the potential employers. We can change that mold by requesting that people are portrayed more as they are and less as a caricature of who someone thinks they are.
Kind comments encouraged.
Tuesday, April 1, 2014
School's Out for Summer
While taking chemistry and pre-calculus during the same semester, we covered logarithms at the same time. Finally the value of logs made sense. I aced the test in both classes because the subjects paralleled each other.
I told the math teacher that the "word problems" within the text book were vague and difficult to understand, but doing the exact same thing IN chemistry, made it all become clear.
I think that math and science classes need to be taught together. I mentioned this to some friends and they suggested that humanities have similar complimentary classes. Things like social studies, literature and even history all go together. Often my literature instructor talked about the times in which a story was written and explained how that colored the perspective of the author. Dry history turns into exciting river rapids if taught with a flair for the social nuances of the times in which it was happening.
Teaching these classes in a complimentary way would benefit students by engaging them more in the topics. With math, it's way easier to understand logs if you use the calculation for something you can see. With literature, Jonothan Swift's "A Modest Proposal,' takes on a whole new meaning if you understand the Irish famine and political problems of the day.
Yes, it's a more complicated educational model and would require far more educator coordination. Plus it goes against the status quo.
Perhaps such a plan could begin with a simple coordination of subjects. When I took college level theater as literature along with film as literature, the professor complimented the two classes. Not everything did a direct connection, but we did watch two different films about Shakespeare's Richard III while we read the play. We also saw a live performance. All in the span of a week.
We didn't, but we could have talked about the history of that king in our history class. Those two professors could have simply coordinated and shared a brief examination of the truth versus reality of the fictional accounts.
We did talk about these things with regard to the fictional portrayal of William Wallace. Though Braveheart wasn't one of the films we viewed in our literature class.
What class combinations would you like to see? For educators, have you had experience with any kind of coordination with other subjects? How did these work out? Kind and thoughtful comments welcome.
Friday, March 28, 2014
King Midas
Last year about this time, Murry and I decided that we couldn't afford to keep our store open any longer. We had begged, borrowed and cajoled as much as we could from our friends and family.
Tuesday of this week, I had a massive bout of personal failure. I suspect that the anniversary of the business closing, along with having to fill out some biographical information for the Oregon Commission for the Blind, overwhelmed my confidence.
I'm doing better now, but it took me some time to sort out that the one year anniversary could be a big source of stress. Murry suggested I just do one thing. Concentrate on going to Curves. I love going to exercise and interact with people.
I also changed doctors this month and ended up with a very similar person. She's from a different country and has browner skin, but what irritated me about my previous doctor, irritates me about this one. This was my fear. Getting stuck with the same thing.
I'm going to stick with the new doc because I don't have any kind of bad history with her. I am going to try and express my feelings more up front. I've found, that if one expresses a troubled emotional history, doctors ignore any other thing you say. But I can talk about my "today" feelings.
My friend Jess asked me what I wanted in a doctor, I think I posted that I have no idea. I kind of do, but I am a bit afraid to ask for it. It seems pointless to ask for what isn't very likely. Though, what does it hurt to dream?
I want my doctor to see me as a person with lots of interrelated medical conditions. I want someone who cares about my emotional state as much as the physical. I want a doc that tries to deal with conditions as a whole body approach. I want appreciation for the efforts I am making. I want a real person who understands that chocolate is a valuable substance. I want reasonable doable suggestions. I can find vague generalities on my own.
I would like to talk to a nutritional expert on occasion. They must be a human who knows what it's like to be imperfect and how life is sometimes a struggle. I'm lucky I have caring people who specialize in exercise to talk to, but if I didn't, it would be nice to talk to someone like that. I wish I had a group that talked about the emotional aspects of letting go of weight on a regular basis.
If I really had everything health related in a perfect state, I wish I could do therapy in a park while taking a nice walk. I know that's pure fantasy, but I think it would be good to give my body something to do so it wouldn't just sit in a chair and fret when talking about my problems.
So these are the things that have been on my mind this week. As always, kind comments welcome!
Tuesday of this week, I had a massive bout of personal failure. I suspect that the anniversary of the business closing, along with having to fill out some biographical information for the Oregon Commission for the Blind, overwhelmed my confidence.
I'm doing better now, but it took me some time to sort out that the one year anniversary could be a big source of stress. Murry suggested I just do one thing. Concentrate on going to Curves. I love going to exercise and interact with people.
I also changed doctors this month and ended up with a very similar person. She's from a different country and has browner skin, but what irritated me about my previous doctor, irritates me about this one. This was my fear. Getting stuck with the same thing.
I'm going to stick with the new doc because I don't have any kind of bad history with her. I am going to try and express my feelings more up front. I've found, that if one expresses a troubled emotional history, doctors ignore any other thing you say. But I can talk about my "today" feelings.
My friend Jess asked me what I wanted in a doctor, I think I posted that I have no idea. I kind of do, but I am a bit afraid to ask for it. It seems pointless to ask for what isn't very likely. Though, what does it hurt to dream?
I want my doctor to see me as a person with lots of interrelated medical conditions. I want someone who cares about my emotional state as much as the physical. I want a doc that tries to deal with conditions as a whole body approach. I want appreciation for the efforts I am making. I want a real person who understands that chocolate is a valuable substance. I want reasonable doable suggestions. I can find vague generalities on my own.
I would like to talk to a nutritional expert on occasion. They must be a human who knows what it's like to be imperfect and how life is sometimes a struggle. I'm lucky I have caring people who specialize in exercise to talk to, but if I didn't, it would be nice to talk to someone like that. I wish I had a group that talked about the emotional aspects of letting go of weight on a regular basis.
If I really had everything health related in a perfect state, I wish I could do therapy in a park while taking a nice walk. I know that's pure fantasy, but I think it would be good to give my body something to do so it wouldn't just sit in a chair and fret when talking about my problems.
So these are the things that have been on my mind this week. As always, kind comments welcome!
Thursday, March 20, 2014
In the Year 2525
So I've had a thought and though it's different than the song implies, I felt the flavor suited my thinking best. I have a proposal of sorts to the wealthy and those who wish to deny the less fortunate any opportunity to thrive. Why play these ridiculous games?
The planet cannot continue to support this many people. Rather than locking up and turning off their heat, why not start farming the less thans?
Jonathan Swift suggested just eating babies in his essay "A Modest Proposal." I say, why stop there? Many wealthy people have made it clear that they feel the poor are a nuisance So why not remove the problem? Start with prisoners. They're "bad," after all.
Then I suggest farming the homeless. Oh, first you get them off the street to fatten them up for some nice marbling. Then anyone who's ever been on welfare or government funded disability income. Grandma might not be so tasty, so feed her to the younger poor.
A committee will need to be formed to figure out who to eat and who might be too toxic. Perhaps made up of former prison guards?
Removing the weakest links will strengthen the offspring of those at the top. No more need for tax increases to pay for any entitlements. Much of that farmland that we use for cattle and corn can be turned back into natural habitat.
The privileged can make their human cattle perform a limited farming duty on the land that remains. After all, potatoes and a nice salad go well with meat.
This will take a few centuries to accomplish as there will be some who may resist. But once it's in full swing, the rest of the life on the planet will have time to recover. Then the progeny of the powerful can reap.. or rape... the benefits of less people using up resources.
I feel my rational, suggestions serve a valid argument. Should your views, differ, state them plainly.
If you take this as a serious proposal, I think you should possibly be the first to graze the future pastures.
Kind comments welcome.
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