Happy Halloween

I adore Halloween and every year Burp and I have a ritual, we go to Fred Meyers on the Saturday before where he does the cake walk and then decorates cupcakes or a cake. This year... the pumpkin patch cake.

I love to carve pumpkins, this year I got only one, but still fun.

Next year I'm getting a fog machine and a cauldern.


Our first Trick or Treaters (or as I say, "Tricker Treaters")


Ducky has to count each and every ghostie, ghoulie and little ladybug and Pooh bee.


The Final Tally for 2010 despite a light rain....83.

Talk Thursday: Things That Make Me Go, “Hmmmmmm?!.”

☼ The cure to a Gummy Bear addiction is not a twelve- step program. No, no it’s a five-dollar bag of Halloween Tootsie candies.

☼ I am addicted to trashy TV. I disgust, even, myself with this reality. For so long I lived in peaceful ignorance that Real Housewives trod the backs of their Real Housewives counterparts (who may or may not actually be, have been, or will ever be married if bitch factor has anything to do with it) with five-inch stilettos and really primpy princess tacky satins. Forever I am to wonder if they truly believe all their collagen puffer fish lips look sexy. It’s the uni-brow of lip looks, it makes me realize that the person who invented the lip liner was a psychic.

♥ Oh mi god, Swamp People are interesting. One they get to hunt gators all day long, get paid to do it several times over and can even wax poetic about gators. The down side they live in snake infested swamps. Wait, that’s all I have to say.

♥ Ice Road Truckers drive the Himalayas - that is when the Dalton isn’t frozen. Things I have learned 1) There are no driving laws in India 2) You never initiate passing another vehicle in India unless you are on a blind curve 3) If there are traffic laws enforcement is afraid of mob rule 4) ergo, the redundant - there are no driving laws in India 5) I will never go to India – snakes and bad driving.

♥ Dual Survival is on hiatus…. No I want my Dave and Cody back. Haven’t seen it? Dude you don’t know what you’re missing. I have learned sooooo much from this show, beginning with, “Respect Diversity.” Oh wait I knew that, it just makes me honor it more. And two if I am ever lost in the woods I might be able to make myself a passable structure for the night and on a good dry night with the planets in proper alignment, I think I can make fire with a Bic lighter.

♥ Survivor, only idiots and hateful people go on Survivor. Most can not make a passable shelter by themselves (or in a group and if they do they stop at one because why be sensible) nor can they make fire – except on two occasions – without their Bic lighter, flint and a metal sharp object. Oh, and they have lots of snakes (both in the game and out.) Hateful people have made me quit watching Survivor on several seasons, Big Brother and Amazing Race all together. Hate hate hate.

♥ Other reality shows that I watch…. Dancing With The Stars, American Idol, Matchmaker Millionaire aka you can put mega money in their pockets but dude you’re still a loser jerk, and my absolute fav, So You Think You Can Dance. I’m sure the moment I print this I will think of more shows I should have added…

♥ Ack!!!! Like Deadliest Catches, Ghost Hunters, Dirty Jobs, American Pickers, Pawnstars, Undercover Boss, and Mythbusters. See, it’s an endless list of characters and learning opportunities.

☼ What makes me really go huhhhh? Not hmmmm, but a big WTF Huh? Situation comedies. Two and a Half Men? What is it with people who love tv shows that put each other down? Degrading. With that said, I ♥♥♥♥ Big Bang Theory ♥♥♥♥ (my favorite can not miss show) from the opening show of season one when no one watched. I ADORE THIS SHOW. ♥♥♥ Castle ♥♥♥ what more can you say? ♥♥ NCIS ♥♥. And finally, ♥ Eureka ♥ That’s it. Everything else is on cable and reality.

☼ If I clean the bathroom sink several things are inevitable and all will make me do the physical version of hmmmm, which is shaking my head and intoning, “WTF?!.” 1) Despite the whole open sink area in front of the faucet my husband will brush, rinse and then spit over top the faucet. 2) Despite the fact a wash cloth and hand towel (with no apparent purpose in reality) sit on the counter, he will fail to see or clean up the water dripped all over after washing his hands. (And yes I count my blessings that two out of three husbands are known hand washers) 3) in the face of all evidence to the contrary (please realize the blessing you have receive with no accompanying photos) that he does not rinse out his toothbrush well enough, he will loudly complain that his medicine cabinet is disgusting where he puts his toothbrush. “Why doesn’t it happen on your side?”

☼ If I clean the bathroom floor Burp will come pee all over the toilet. Is that an Aspie trait? I absolutely adore my grandson, but honestly the things that I discover are his traits in all truth make me scratch my head… forget the hmmm. Make him clean it up - no problem it just doesn’t deter him. Mass sympathy and sorrow for his mom’s frustration and her bathroom, please.

Okay that is it for now. I think. I’m sure as soon as I hit the publish button all sorts of hmmms will hit my forethoughts. Hmmm, don’t cha think?

Oh Oh and I miss my favorite bloggers, they all seem to be on hiatus. It must be October ennui. Seriously a major ailment of autumn darkened north Americans.

☼ Oh mega crap, things that make me go, HMMMMMM! Americans in general and the Democratic Party in specific. I know, I’m an Independent registered Republican. But really folks, have guts, have patience. Go Shopping, help the economy, but do not think just because you voted for change it will happen yesterday. We, and the world, suffered a major recession you don’t snap back with a wish and a word. Healing takes time, give it five years before you start bitching things aren’t (I love my auto correct wants me to write isn’t instead of aren’t) fixed yet.

And a special note to my friends and family, I won’t have msn.com much longer I now have Charter so please change my email ending to charter.net and voila’ you’ll find me.

Sith,
Cele

Talk Thursday: No Mea Culpa This Time Boyo!

The sky just opened up with the biggest plopt! plopping of raindrops upon my roof. I’ve been waiting for this seemingly for days. Mother nature and the seasons are bringing back autumn for a full onslaught engagement. I am missing tonight’s full moon, I can not see Jupiter hanging brilliant below, but I can hear mother nature drumming upon my roof the rhythmic soothing sounds of rains. Oh how I love the rain, soon the winds will begin to howl from the southwest and beat down the remaining sodden blooms and perky weeds in my garden before they all go to sleep.

But even the autumn storms have a symmetric beauty as pressure systems, wind, and moisture do their mating dance over the Pacific Ocean.


For those of you who’d like it in color… voila and thank you to the National Weather Service
whom without this post would be colorless. And since I’ve little to Mea Culpa since the last time I poured out my hear in a Talk Thursday Mea Culpa, I will just go splash in a puddle or two thank you very much.

Happy Autumn,
Cele

I'm Not Ready

I am not ready. I’m not, we are barely past summer, the stores are pushing their Halloween wares and Christmas is being shoved down our throats… already. I’m just not ready. I usually put up my door witch the first of October. Haven’t done it. My Boo flag goes up around the same time, except this year in a flight of Duck Football frenzy I hung my Oregon Duck flag. In the true sport fanatic mode, I’m afraid if I change out my flag I will forever damn my Ducks to defeat.

For the first time in 115 years of Oregon Football they are number one. That (historically) can’t last. The last time the Ducks made it all the way to number two, they died, dropped the ball, gave up the ghost, lost their football asses. They had followed that pattern set in the weeks prior by each number two ranked team falling in their respective so close to the top of the polls glory. Ergo, two weeks ago Alabama was number one they fell to Auburn. Last week Ohio State (my cousin’s team) fell to Nebraska. I really didn’t see that one coming. Thursday night my Ducks, down Kenyon Barnard and Daron Thomas will be facing UCLA. Oye!

How can I possibly take down my flag now? But if I don’t put up my Halloween stuff how can I ever make the logical jump to Thanksgiving and then on to Christmas. I’m just not ready.

I’ve not even purchased one single bite of Halloween candy – probably much to Ducky’s dismay. But my husband will survive, I am sure to buy several bags of Reese’s bars just for him. That being said I’m trying to cut sugar out of my diet. Ha ha ha, quit laughing at me. If there is a twelve step plan for Gummy Bear addiction please send the info my way. PULEEEASE! Today is apparently the day of digressions… back to the Trick or Treat dilemma – I’ve no witch up, no flag up, no hand grabbing candy bowl out, no pumpkins bought for Jack-o-lanterns (but that’s not a big deal, the Great Pumpkin Giveaway is next week.) Ack! No rattling bones on my front porch light.

After the fiasco of Halloween ought nine Ben has said he’s coming down for Halloween in Florence. He will conquer the haunted yard of 2010. I’m thinking he’s not realized that Mom will have a say over a late night of trick or treating on a Sunday night.

Ducky counts the number of ghoulies and ghosties that ring our bell and then checks his numbers against the good sister, then against the nasty sister, and then against my friend Rose in PA. He neatly marks each ghosties into groups of five on a specific piece of paper (saved to examining the following year) and then drives me crazy with his incessant counting of numbers. He loves his trick or treaters.

See that all leads up to a done deal. I’m already putting Christmas music in the system. With Halloween out of the way all I will have is twenty-five days until the onslaught of Christmas music. And only four weeks to accomplish all the Christmas shopping I started way back in May. I tell you I’m just not ready.

Sith,
Cele

Talk Thursday: Amidst All The Clamor

My auto correct says this should be “Amidst the entire clamor”… but I choose to believe it is a personal prospective… because amidst all the clamor this week I’ve heard few new revelations. It is political season, the time where you bitch because “Oh, mi gawd is that another Jay Bozievich ad?” Well, that is what the Jerry Rust campaign would have you ask, and they’re right, there are a lot of ads that say “Waaa, waa wa, blah blah” and not a lot more. You my dear have the right to change the channel (where you will find the same ad just beginning, just ending, or a message from their opponent.) I on the other hand have to hear the ads… ad nauseam (well that was appropriate)… can’t change the channel, can’t go outside, can’t turn it down, because I am the friggin’ DJ. And more so than that, I produced out all the Jerry Rust commercials.

Back in the seventies when I first came to Oregon Rust was a Lane County Commissioner and the bane of my father’s existence. As a small businessman the policies put forth by the commission made his planned improvements to his water system, his land, his business expensive and highly difficult to attain. Now Rust is back and he is singing a different tune, one I agree with, but he’s still Jerry Rust (a nice guy I see frequently) but I remember his past. Made worse is that his opponent; I have no argument against him siding with big timber, I am a firm believer timber is a valuable, renewable resource and Oregon is jam packed with trees that need to be harvested. We’re also jam packed with loggers who need employment. What I can’t abide is Mr. Bozievich’s adamant belief that we need to get rid of the minimum wage, let the employer decide how much (under the minimum wage and yes over it too) their employees should be paid. Note his only employee is his wife, they own a craft magazine publishing company. Plus his record as a Lane Community College Board of Directors member sucks!

Abolishment of Oregon’s minimum wage is bandied around a lot this political season. Chris Dudley, Republican candidate for governor, believes waitresses are being over paid because they make tips. Have you ever been a waitress or waitperson? Having been proven to be the world’s worst waitress let me tell you what a friggin’ hard job it is. Worse, what a thankless, back breaking, friggin’ hard job it is. Drop the minimum wage my ass, they get taxed on those tips, even when they don't get tipped. Oh wait a second, Chris Dudley, the former NBA center for the Portland Trail Blazers who now makes his living as a wealth management advisor. Excuse me, what does he know about living on a minimum wage? Granted Oregon’s is one of the highest in the nation, but crap it’s not that good of a wage? Could he live on $8.40 an hour without benefits? I hardly think so.

I am leaning towards Kitzhaber, and I’m going to base this on a few things. One my belief in the right to pay people at least a minimum wage. Two, I can remember him being a fine governor, he believes in saving Oregon’s farmlands (he’s Democrat so I imagine he’s anti logging), but beyond that I’m at a loss. I have shaken Kitzhaber’s hand before when he address the Lane Press Club during his first and second gubernatorial campaigns. He has a good shake – I guess (gosh what a sad comment on my intelligence) I’m going to have to settle on that.

Florence is small town Oregon, crap Lane County is small town Oregon. I am on a first name basis with every mayor we’ve had for probably the last thirty years. I know three of the current Lane County Commissioners, several past commissioners (one thought that I was a former crush of his from back in his Northern California teenage years – that was quite the conversation). I’ve met Peter DeFazio several times at my girl friend’s deli (he loved her Italian saugage and pepper sandwiches and pasta salad) he always has a ready smile and firm handshake, but then so do former Senator Gordon Smith and current Senator Ron Wyden (who still reminds me of a weasel in a suit, but he’s a pretty good Senator.) I have met four of the last six governors (Vic Atiyeh’s hand shake made my skin crawl – gads, and I did Neil Goldschmidt’s mother’s hair when I was in beauty college – he was really good with his mother .) And for all the media insights, hand shaking, too long news bites, and cold chicken circuit dinners I still have no clue as to how a pick a candidate, except for which one pisses me off the least.

Totally off topic, it dropped to 60 degrees this evening inside the house so I built my first fire of the season. Grab the chestnuts Christmas is just around the corner – more on that topic later.

Sith,
Cele

PS Psam, Mrs. Klosterman was named Oregon’s History Teacher of the Year.

Talk Thursday: A Proclamation To The World

What on God’s Green Earth do I have to proclaim to the world? I’m fairly at peace with my existence… unless I am bitching about the amount of kindling and firewood my Grandmother goes through weekly – she goes through at least a banana box of kindling and she used (easily) four cords of wood last year. If you don’t know how much a cord is it is split wood stacked four feet wide by four feet high by eight feet long (they make travel trailers that size.) Four of them, yes it’s a renewable resource, yes I burn wood, but excuse me, four friggin’ cords and I’m the one who trudged them into her fire box each Sunday while Ducky filled her kindling boxes. Why do I do it? Because if I didn’t my mother would and that’s just wrong.

Okay, so I have nothing to proclaim except I’m a sorry excuse for a granddaughter who begrudges her 91-year-old grandmother a trailer house toasty warm at 95 degrees in summer. Don’t even ask me about her electric bill and yes, she’s got her heater on at the same time.

I need to go take Jen’s twelve-step program for becoming unattached. My life lesson is anger, and apparently I’m not learning it because I easily become annoyed. What’s that all about? I am an easygoing person, I don’t hold grudges, I love people, I love peace, I am really learning to love fishing. I love my stinky dog for Pete’s sake, and boy he stinks.

The dog, I don’t know about Pete. Why does my dog, who is allergic to grass, insist on eating grass? Why? If he doesn’t smell like doggy staph infection then he smells like doggy Cyclosporin. Neither smell good, you know how a person who took Lunesta or Ambient the night before to sleep have that chemically pungent breathe all the next day? That’s my dog… except it’s from Cyclosporin. With the onset of fall it’s now cold enough at night that I can build a fire and give him a bath without fearing he’ll catch his death of a cold. And I only burnt one cord of wood last year if you’re keeping count. Psam none, my mom none, me one – and grandma… well you heard. It would all be easier if Arlo like water, but folks this is a dog who can’t get his feet wet.

“Ooh, ooh, it’s raining outside, I’ll just poo right here on the sidewalk.” He has a whole kennel, but no he will poo on the rug in front of his crate before risk getting his paws wet. What a manly dog.

So my proclamation is that I have nothing new to proclaim, so I will reiterate what I’ve already said, many times… I love my husband, I love my daughter, I adore adore adore my grandson, I love my mother. I am blessed with a job I love, I have friends who are the most amazing and diverse people, I have a roof over my head, good food to eat, and a hat to wear when I am gardening or fishing. I just don't have enough to say or to blog about. Life is good.

Sith,
Cele
ps the spiderweb was just kewl. Oh and I do love my stinky dog.

Talk Thursday: Progressions - Brought to you by the letter I

My life is a chain of events, some related, others dangle at varying angles from my experiences like the skin tags of life. Progression seems natural, frustrating, rewarding and fact. An existence made from the progressions of places; progressions of people; progressions of growth; the progression of life. They are the progressions of who I have been, am, and will become and even someday not.

This evening I stopped to read three or four progressions before continuing my own (I’d written the first few lines), because regardless that I had named the topic - I’d no idea of where I was going to go – the word had just popped in my head. But then as I chewed on the content and meaning of that one word, the enormity of what it means to me… well grew to resemble the purple fizzy I’d popped into my mouth on the girl scout camp bus once and either threatened to choke me or embarrass me in a violent purple tide of spewed foam. A progression, I’ll never do that again – and grape Fizzies, ugh. If you’ve read my blog for an amount of time you know I have a few mottos that include (not necessarily in this order… tomorrow)

1) It’s all about the journey
2) Where I’ve been is who I am
3) Appreciate, Validate, and Communicate
4) Changes daily (deep and metaphoric, and totally random in the wind)

Despite the differences in voice, I was struck by the similarities in progressions. We have good days, bad days, and choices that lead to the experiences that shape each one of us. My mother often says that my siblings and I have the same molding experiences of childhood, the memories that only we share; in truth we each see things so vastly different. We remember experiences and conversations differently, despite the fact we share them. I have a vivid memory (that has failed me on more than one occasion), but I am struck by the fact that others saw and event all so differently. Oft times that angers me, because of a petty bitterness held within by another over a perceived fault or wrong where none was intended nor offered. And then I realize it is progressions.

Don’t get me wrong, I am neither grand nor noble, I am baffled. Plus, I do not house the ability to hold a grudge – really, can’t do it (I can hold on to pain and hurt, but not a grudge.) To embrace the negative seems small to me. To hold on to a wrong or slight is futile and self-destructive. To harbor anger and abhorrence is mean spirited and/or ignorant (I fear being either.) And to not give of myself is just not right. I need give and take, a balance sheet of growth. I need to learn and alter' to bend and change with time. I need to learn to chalk up each experience good and (even more so) bad as a learning experience and get over it. Thank the universe and move on to the next question. I need the progressions of my life to take me into the next. Quit rolling your eyes – I believe in reincarnation and God, too – get over it.

We are on this plane to learn, growth, evolve, and leave. The tools and marks of the progression of time, tides, sands, winds, rains, mountains, and mankind leaving their marks on this earth, on eternity, on each being here whether acknowledge or snubbed; the progressions of me.

Wouldn’t it be nice if we got a celestial report card every few years? Find a vehicle or bill board somewhere that says? “Am I doing alright? Suck? Need help?” Call 1-800-ratealife and give us your score.

Sith,
Cele

Talk Thursday: Equinox

Equinox: a day of even daylight and darkness, the beginning of good sleeping weather. I adore the long darkness of autumn and winter, the fires that warm my home when old man Winter blows with his winds most fierce and a bone chilling cold. But those days are still weeks away, now is the time of the final preparations before hibernation.

Equinox: the end of the warmer summer months (c’mon, I live on the Oregon Coast we’re lucky if we get three days in summer that hit into the nineties.) Rain has been falling off and on for several weeks now, since mid August, leaving us who had looked towards the wonder of September scratching our heads longing for what was not – four weeks of amazing weather as we listened to prep football games and tailgated during the college gridiron start. Salmon are running in the Siuslaw, anglers watch from the rocks the returning numbers jump against the current as they race to their ancient homes to spawn and die.
Look inside the circle... fish splash... my camera's not fast enough for the fish.

Equinox: the beginning of a season of cold. My flowerbeds are falling asleep; the weeds seemingly have awoken for one last hurrah, soon my tulips will be in the ground, my hand rakes and trowels put away until late March.


Equniox: The demarcation into the last quarter that will herald the end of 2010. Crap, Christmas is almost here.

Obviously I had no idea where I was going… except to bed.

Sith,
Cele

Tats

It has been a long time coming, but I’m ready for my next tattoo. Although I have to say, “Darm-it, that hurt!” And no, it wasn’t my first tattoo, but this one was more painful. Would I do it again? You better believe it. I promised Psam, oh a year or two ago, that I would get her a tattoo for her 18th birthday. But the truth was, I couldn’t afford it… oh a year or two ago. So now I could. After seeing my sister-in-law Roxinista’s foot tattoo she and her step-daughter both got in February I had to have one. Psam, Miseray and I were suppose to go to Area 51, but the shop was closed on Monday (Miseray’s day off) and she couldn’t get today off, so it was Psam and I.

Psam had connected with Rustoleum by email to get a working understanding of her idea, a trinity knot inside an orbis. I waited until yesterday to finally get my email from Big-T saying he couldn’t really see the detail in the shot above, so he’d drawn up a few designs. I loved the lily (I suppose you knew that.) I knew being on my foot it would hurt, but ohmybloodyhell, he said I took it well.

Big-T has been tattooing for two years, Restoleum the same – both were welding partners before Rusty took up tattooing, on Thursday he tattoo’d the Brit (Miseray's significant other.) As both Psam and I sat in our respective booths we were told about this great Celtic knot that Rusty had done the day before, Psam and I both knew the Brit had been in and the were very pleasantly surprised to find out the Brit was a relation. You know the family that tattoos together and all that.

Psam will need to go back to have the flames added to the outside of her knot and orbis,

I choose a tiger lily in coloration. I still owe Miseray the first hour of her tattoo to come, so I may go with her and get a stargazer lily on my other foot or ankle.

Kudos to Big-T and Rustoleum of Springfield’s Area 51 Tattoos, I’m in seventh heaven, and Psam’s still giggling in joy.

Sith,
Cele

BTW Sid, Rustoleum had the most beautiful Green Man Tattoo for you

Blessings - Happy Birthday Pinecone

The moments in my life that have over taken me with gratitude are actually numerous. I’m blessed with amazing parents who gave me an amazing start in life full of bruised knees, bad choices, stern lectures, forgiving kisses, love hugs out of nowhere, opportunities, love, encouragement, love, and have I mentioned uncomplicated love? In my life I have been loved, hmmm by at least two men, and a third husband who has accepted me for all my flaws and faults, salty mouth, and consuming heart. He takes the best, embraces the worst, and gives me his all. He shares with me life’s up, and life’s downs. I have a beautiful daughter has stuck with me through thick and thin, shared laughter, learning, joys, and tears and still counts me among her best friends. Then the cherry on the whole thing, she gave me a one of a kind, out of the blue, incredible grandson. I am blessed, amazingly blessed.

There are those reoccurring moments of clarity when I see how truly beautiful and amazing my little sister is. She is incredibly kind and loving; sharing and giving; gracious and supporting; she is wise and learned.
I am blessed. When I have a family problem I go to her. When husbands have walked out she listened and supported and then went out on the town with me. Then she found me a husband that is right as rain.

Pinecone’s life has been very different than mine, while I’ve been married three times, she found a man who has stuck with her through thick and thin. While I had one healthy, durable child; her two beautiful sons suffered devastating medical dilemmas at extremely young ages. To the world she showed a back bone and constitution of steel while inside I know she had to be crumbling. I think the only time I saw her cry was when she handed two-pound Arnie to me with his gangling arms and legs flailing beyond the palm of my hand at two months old – she had finally been able to bring him home. At the same time her first son was battling the effects of spinal meningitis at age one. Both are healthy, durable and well adjusted young men because of Pinecone and the Cap and Crown Guy.

If you had to pick a sister to walk through life with, Pinecone would be the perfect fit. She is young at heart, funny, sexy, football craving, hard working, nurturing, singing, practical, silly, and loud. Since she was a baby she has been cute, adorable, fun, awkward, boyish, ladylike, and up to a challenge.

Happy Birthday Pinecone, my dear friend, my sister.

Love
Cele

Staycation Part 1

"Some” people have a problem with “staycations” not me. Ducky and I take a staycation every two or three years. Yes, we realize it’s not the same as vacation, but it gives us the time to do things that don’t get done on those short two day weekends and please remember I’m in radio, there in no such thing as a three day weekend. Nada.

Saturday began with Oregon’s blowout over Portland State, which had followed last weekend’s blowout of Tennessee, preceding a tremendous football season kick off with a blowout over New Mexico. I do not enjoy blowouts; I can’t believe that any school would pay to have their players slaughtered on the gridiron. I mean really, is the money that worth it? I remember when the Ducks were the blowoutees and not the blowouters – it wasn’t fun, I hated people putting down my Ducks and those were just the fans. So Saturday afternoon when the September rains were giving Ducky something to bitch about (my lawn is now green and I apparently don’t water enough during the summer despite what the water bills says) Burp, Ducky, and I tailgated in the living room and watched a blowout.

Since Ducky and I have been together he’s said he use to fish, misses fishing, wants to fish again. So for our anniversary I did what any well attending spouse does, listen to eighteen years of wishing and made it so. I bought him a fishing pole, tackle box filled with an assortment of hooks, sinkers, spinners, sesame honey bars, pliers, and the three hottest lures on the Siuslaw. I also got him a reel and 20 pound test (yes, I realize my mistake… now.) There they sat, I asked if he’d wound the test on the reel, and it sat. Finally I did it myself, promised some weekend fishing with Burp and last Sunday morning, off we went.

It had finally stopped raining as we drove to Munsel Lake, the location sucked. We drove further north (a whole three miles from home) to Sutton lake and walked down to the dock. After setting up Burp’s pole we watched him sadly cast his line three feet from the dock. Ducky demonstrated a cast or two, talked Burp through it and we watched as each cast improved. Then I asked if I could try. I think I’m hooked. Then the rain began, kind of light Burp kept casting. A little more rain, Ducky would cast. I think I’m hooked. Ducky wants to fish the Siuslaw, Salmon are beginning to run.

Last night we went to the final concert of the season at the Cuthbert. I had scored tickets through work, because it’s on a Tuesday night and I don’t take days off from work for anything…okay I did for cancer, but I mean the other crap, I took a staycation. We met Pinecone and the Tooth and Cap guy at the concert, my friend Sue was a few blankets down and the night rocked. The sky was cloudy but rain held off as night fell Heart took the stage and it was magic. Short, but all the same magic. I’d show you a picture, but it is locked in side my phone, darn I don’t have texting ergo I can’t send my pictures to myself. Bummer dude.

Today it was cutting brush at my moms… tomorrow breakfast.

The staycation continues…

Sith,
Cele

The Politics of Religious Zealots

The office I work in has an array of religious beliefs and backgrounds. Yes, it is one of those weird offices where we talk religion, politics and gossip like crazy. We usually tend to respect each other’s beliefs and practices – well except when Yankee fanatic changed from Assembly of God to Seventh Day Adventist. Now don’t get me wrong I respect the Seventh Day faith – I dislike that it creates a Saturday workload for others of us. But other than that Yankee is very knowledgeable about all things Biblical – he is only a small bit zealous in his faith.

In our midst we have said Seventh Day Yankee, a reformed Baptist, an agnostic, a Jehovah Witness, and me the sliding Quaker. We have some very interesting conversations and when in life I hear a philosophy that baffles, confuses, or confronts me and I’m on ignorant ground or worse at a loss I bring my questions to work and get a forum of views, interpretations, and beliefs. It gives me food for thought and different views. All’s good.

I try very hard to not be judgmental, but of late I’ve noticed I’m losing the battle. I believe this started with editing Natalie’s books, I’ve learned so much about the history and abuses of the Mormon Church. But it’s not just Mormons. There are all the zealots in the world who believe their religion is the only religion. Bunk. Religion in theory is good, to follow the tenants of religion and faith is good, but man uses religion to rule, abuse, deride, divide and abuse. Religion should be good, cleansing, enlightening; man has made it oppressive and hateful. The majority of deity believing men (read mankind) believe in the same god, but the rules by which they believe is as dividing as color, gender, and sexuality based hatreds. The Seventh Day Yankee once called the JW brainwashed. Now there in truth is argument against both of them, but again it’s not being able to accept another’s beliefs and appreciate their dedication. Oh, and Seventh Day Yankee did apologize.

Of late the JW’s must be deep in their “It’s the end of days” seminars because that’s what I’ve heard a lot lately. Since the day I replied, “You think this is bad? You ain’t seen nothing yet” I just listen and don’t say much. Except the other day she made a comment about her son being in a mixed relationship and she hopes it doesn’t last. Wow, considering some of the turmoil in her extended family you would think she’d embrace her son’s girl (whom she likes) who likes her. But no she’s concerned there could be a mixed marriage. She likes this girl, but because she’s just a Christian and not a JW this can’t be. So I asked her, “You’d rather him be alone for all of his life, than fall in love with someone not in his religion?” That is exactly what she would prefer – I was dumb struck, no really I was. And worse she provided me with the best comeback possible, but I didn’t think of it for at least an hour. She married a non practicing Lutheran and that worked out just fine.

The Seventh Day Yankee is part of a group who is bringing Messiah’s Mansion to Florence. Messiah’s Mansion is a replica of the Mosaic Arc of the Covenant (carried through the mid-eastern desert by the Israelites) built by Biblical standards as mentioned in the Old Testament. Everything within the walls of the display are placed with specific purpose as used by the rabbis of the day. While this isn’t something that interests me, I can see where it would many people of varying faiths and beliefs. Some will find it spiritual, others will find it historical (I would find it boring) but apparent JW has a big problem with it religiously (one I’ve not been privileged, lucky me.) It’s raining in Florence, surprise, so of course they are now looking for some additional cover for certain areas in the park where they will greet people. I suggested to Seventh Day Yankee that he ask JW if they could borrow her canopy. He kind of seemed hesitant but took my advice.

I’m sorry, truly I am that I suggested it because this is what I heard.

SD Yankee: “You have a canopy don’t you? Would it be possible to use it down at the park so they don’t get wet at Messiah’s Mansion?”

JW: “If it wasn’t for a religious purpose you could, but I don’t want anyone thinking I support the display.”

Surely my jaw was gaping to the floor. I’ve yet to figure out what would be offensive to a Christian about the display, non-Christian it’s possible. I apologized to Seventh Day Yankee. But I’m still confused, baffled, and becoming more judgmental. I don’t like that.

Sith,
Cele

Talk Thursday: It’s Not Rocket Science

Coincidentally, I’ve addressed this topic before (March 2006) and this is the third blog I’ve started (and hopefully will finish) this week. The last time I was blogging about my water heater and the little white button that controls one huge pleasure and necessity in my life – hot water. Some people need a cup of coffee to start their morning… well I do too, but not until I’ve had my fifteen minutes of hot water… steaming hot water, not luke warm, not tepid, but hot, decadent, steamy water (no wonder I fight mildew in my bathroom.)

So back in March of ought six I bought a new thermostat and an element. Ducky drained the water and “fixed” the problem. And four and a half years later I am still walking into the garage to push the white button (that he swears you can’t push – “No, it’s the red button.” He’s fucking color blind.) Why? Six months ago he told me he only changed the element.

It’s not friggin’ rocket science, it’s a hot water heater, dude.

Men, can’t live with them and you just can’t shoot them.

I’m not brilliantly intelligent, but I’m no dummy either, I adore trivia. Adore it. As does Psam, she to the extent that in her senior year she memorized all the Q&A’s from two (I believe) different editions of Trivial Pursuit. My own trivial pursuits come from an interest to know what I don’t. This I am sure is compounded by my mother’s voice in my head saying, “Look it up” which I bless her for –

"Mom,I can’t spell extricate."
“Look it up.”
"Mom, what is astrodynamics?"
“Look it up.” Okay I never asked that one, but you get the drift and that would be rocket science.

But the point, is if I don’t know something I look it up. That is only half the problem (my needing to know drives my husband in—sane), the other half is my freaky memory. Music is the easiest for me and of course things from my childhood. But the true problem lies in the way I think and answers why I can spend an hour in the dictionary, two hours in an encyclopedia, half the day in an almanac, and an eternity on Google. One thing leads to another, the logic is neither linear nor sting.

Each evening before my shift Harley and I do a trivia block to close out his. Monday through Thursday he ask the question, Friday I get to ask. Here lies the demonstration of the bleach blonde mind in action –

Me – (in a sing song voice) Helloooo Harley, hello – hello – hello.

Harley – Hello, Calista, ready for a little trivia – I think we can stump you tonight (he says this every night - except Fridays.)

Me – sure Harley, let’s go.

Harley – Okay, first question: Where lies the origin of the pineapple? Hint – (and he points toward the floor – which I point out to the audience, because hey, it’s radio.)

Me – Well I am assuming because you’re pointing to the ground it’s not Hawaii. I can’t believe it would be California and it’s certainly not Oregon, so Mexico? Where?

Harley – No Calista, it’s not Mexico.

Me – well you were pointing to the ground, so China?

Harley – No, Calista, South America.

Me – Well then, shouldn’t you have been pointing south instead of pointing to the ground? I mean really you were pointing to China. (although I still wouldn’t have known.)

Harley – Yes, south would have been a better choice, now that you point it out.

Me – So if pineapples come originally from South America, what did the Chinese do for sweet and sour sauce before the introduction of pineapple into their diet?

I believe I baffled him.

Harley – Where was the first, temporary, capitol of the United States?

Me – Did you know there were actually 16 presidents before Washington?

Harley – Calista, I’m asking the questions here. Don’t know the answer?

Me – New York City.

Harley – Yep. Okay, next question: General George Custer was best known for what?

Me – Well Harley, he’d been demoted and died at little Big Horn as a Colonel, but most people don’t realize it. That’s what a stubborn, willful temperament will get you.

Harley – Demoted?

Me – no, scalped, he’d been warned not to go. If your scouts had told you not to go because they were walking into a trap would you have gone? Willful I tell you.

Harley – I’m asking the questions here. Next question Calista, what is the string on the animal...

Me – I know this, I know this, woo hooo I know this - for hanging on the Christmas tree.

Harley – Calista, you didn’t even let me finish the question.

Me – I’m sorry, Harley, ask away.

Harley – Here’s your next question, what vegetable would Bush not eat.

Me – See I let you finish the question

Harley – yes, you did, thank you Calista - but do you know the answer.

Me – I believe what he said was, “I’m the President and I don’t have to eat broccoli.” Which, I believe annoyed broccoli farmers and mothers everywhere, because really who wants their son telling them “The President said he doesn’t have to eat his broccoli and I don’t’ either!” What next, Brussells Sprouts? You eat your Broccoli don’t you Harley?

Harley – yes with melted cheese on it.

Me – well there you go kids, eat your broccoli and you to can have a long storied career in radio.

Harley (shaking his head and trying not to look dumbfounded) – good night Calista.


Come on, I love Cash Cab and Jeopardy – so get real. Oh, but my favorite tv show is Big Bang Theory, now that is physics and rocket science.

Sith,
Cele

The Bitch

I was in chat with a man last night who said the President was cheating America. Despite the fact that we never talk politics in my chatroom and I was a bit offended, but I kept my mouth shut. Why?
1) it wasn’t the place
2) if I went off on his ass he’d never recover and that would be the end of our “friendship.”
Ooh, okay so there’s an up side to it, I might reconsider.

Last week my “friend” said he went on Social Security when he did so the government didn’t cheat him out of $33 thousand dollars. WTF? He’s been retired now for over ten years, I would estimate in that ten years he’s received over $132,000 dollars. When in the heck did he ever put $132,000 into SSI? At one time he saved for his retirement, I mean heck, this was a union man who worked for an international company that builds nuclear power plants. I’m sure he made pretty good money, had a nice retirement plan… and spent it on a piano for his wife. No, he doesn’t still have the piano nor the wife (she died, who knows about the piano) and he’s worried the government is ripping him off.

I’m not upset this man gets SSI, it’s what our government has been doing since 1940 (three years after being signed into law by Roosevelt.) What I resent is his outlook, it’s owed to him and he’s going to get every penny from that thieving government. It’s his poor is me entitlement – idiot you’re the one who didn’t save for a rainy day. I don’t expect SSI to be around when I retire, that is why I bought a house, that is why I save money and that is why I have a retirement account. I need to depend on me. My mother continually beat that lesson into our heads as we were growing up, “Social Security will go bankrupt and possibly not be around when you get that old, take care of yourself now.” (paraphrased but you get the idea.) I don’t have a big house, I don’t have a big savings, but my retirement account is growing and if I have to buy a small trailer and live in it darmit I will – but I doubt it will come to that.

At least once a week he sends me an email with a prayer chain letter. Drives me friggin’ crazy. I’m fairly certain that God has more important things to do than read regurgitated, stale chain prayers – that have been forwarded ad nauseam with the cascading rows of
>
>>
>>>
>>>>
>>>>>
>>>>>>
>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>
Really if you believe in the power of a chain prayer to God wouldn’t you at least be conscientious enough through your faith to want to make the presentation as beautiful as possible and clean up the >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>?
You would think.

I’ve said this here before, I now reply to all of his ill-informed, ill-advised, mal-intended propaganda emails rebuking the President or pointing out erroneous errors of the President with a massive post to all who received his message in the first place. I love reply all – sometimes. In the past I’ve kept his name out of it, not anymore, for now on I will send out a header something like this…

Sad friend of Ignorant Midwest Poor Is Me Retiree,

I’m sorry to inform you that IMPISR has tried (likely again) to lead you astray (or assaulted your sensibilities and intelligence) with his mass forwarding of a hoax email that he believes hook, line and sinker. Because he was too lazy too check out Fact Check or Snopes on the internet (and yes I have sent him the links each and every freakin’ time) I am sending them (the links) to you so you can read and judge for yourself the severity of his trespassing (I know he understands that word because he knows the Lord’s Prayer) on your intelligence.

Please if he has not responded to your demands to cease and desist it is because he is probably down at the Indian Casino Bingo Parlour (really) spending his hard earned SSI. Later this afternoon you’ll find him picking up his food box at the church pantry.

Sincerely,
The Frustrated Bitch in Oregon

Talk Thursday: Sock Drawer

Ha-ha-ha! Lynblossom you’re cute, but really right now I’m so tired I could curl up in my sock drawer and go to sleep. Except my too large a butt wouldn’t fit, the bottom would fall out and I’d be sleeping with the dog. Except Arlo’s sleeping on the futon in the “new room” which isn’t so new, because we built it when Burp was a year old… maybe, and Burp just started fourth grade. Wow, time flies.

So anyway, my sock drawer is filled with underwear, I never wear, that I bought on my last trip to Frisco (Sid when was your birthday? Yeah it was that long ago.) Why are they there? Because I can’t throw them away, they’re brand-new and make me itch... and boy isn’t that graceful and lady like. There are socks that only get worn on Friday’s and weekend in the colder days (I’ve found my bare feet again and I love it.) Plus my cute and awesome Christmas socks – note the toes in the reindeer ones. And some odds and ends.

See down in the lower right corner there’s this kewl caddy that holds hair bands (yes, at 54 I still wear a pony tail); some bracelets; an 1888 silver dollar; a piece of scrimshaw (both presents) from my second wedding; two presidential dollars; a Kennedy head half dollar; and a safety pin (who knows.)

You could also find a variety of jewelry boxes (most are empty) and an assortment of important and long forgotten papers if you stir things around. Sometimes even my extra money stash is tucked in the side of this drawer (but not this month.) Note, if you want to keep your money safe, hid it in your husband/boyfriend/significant other/or situation’s drawer… burglars will go though women’s undies drawer (hmm hmmm Jen) but usually not men’s (really think about it, if you weren't folding and putting them away would you touch them? - see point taken) so wrap it up in that holey pair of brief he won’t let you throw away. The important thing is except for getting a bra out every morning, I just about never use this drawer… so see really if my butt was small enough (yeah in my dreams) I could sleep undisturbed in my sock drawer.

Yawwwwwnnn,
Cele – nite nite

Talk Thursday: Priority Mail

The post office is my friend; they don’t feel as warm and cozy about me. For a good reason I suppose, I pick my mail up about once every four weeks. I’ve had people look at me with utter disbelief when I make a comment about my inability to get to the post office in a timely manner. So I guess you could say, mail isn’t a priority with me.

Email and online banking work just fine, I like printing out what I need, and having complete records now. And of course I have a problem with my mail being left in a box a block a way from my house where kids and whomever can steal it on a whim. So, again, mail isn’t a priority. With online banking the bill is paid weeks before I get the bill in the mail. It drives people crazy.

What drives me crazy is the intent to mail a card, say to my grandson for his birthday. The good intent is there the week before when I remind myself to go buy him a card. And the day following when I remind myself again. I’m sure that just warms the cockles of his heart…when again he gets no card from grandma.

I got Pinecone and the Cap & Crown guy tickets to see Heart later this month at the Cuthbert. I will probably have to drive to Springfield and hand them to her, because you know me and the mail.

My god I'm lazy,
Cele

It's Always Something!

Have you ever noticed the width and breathe of Murphy’s Law? Or as Rosanne Rosanna Danna wisely said, “ It’s always something.” Life is filled with the little epiphanies written by Mr. Murphy.

The day you are running late to work is always trash day, which you realize is today, right after you dump the dog’s food in his water dish.

Computer systems never break on Monday, they always break on Friday… of a three day weekend… after 5pm.

It’s the final day of August and the third or fourth day we’ve had some sort of precipitation. I like a rain day that cleans the air and lets you enjoy the rest of the warm weather… not that we get much warm weather on the Oregon Coast. Usually one to three days between May and mid September that hits the upper 90’s maybe even triple digits. This year, not one day in the 90s. I kind of miss that, it always reminds me of why I love Florence.

Really my day wasn’t that bad. Yes, it was trash day. Yes, I dumped Arlo’s dry dog food in his full water dish. And no computer systems broke down, but then it is Tuesday. I did, however, have to take out an old CD player and install a new fangled two-piece duel deck. Not hard in concept, it just took an act of Congress in reality.

Exhibit A – electricians designed the control room they would
1) never have to work in
2) never have to fix things in
3) never have to listen to me scream at because they both went their separate ways after the new station was built.

Exhibit B – I’m allergic to dust
1) electronic equipment attracts dust
2) electronic equipment creates dust
3) electronic equipment kills, the hand that feeds it, with dust. Thankfully I remembered an allergy tab this morning.

It still took me the better part of two hours to uninstall (the really it's not broken folks but I get tired of guys whining their scratched to batshit CD's jump-ump-ump-ump-ump), remove all the excess cordage, stuff the huge plug-in through a tiny hole in the counter already filled with too many wires. Install the new multi faceted, oooh that’s way kewl, two-piece dual deck.

In that time my intern did all my afternoon work and then the work that would have taken up the rest of this week's afternoon, too. He rocks. I like rainy August afternoons after all.

Sith,
Cele

Talk Thursday – Way late – pt 1 – Oh, Baby Talk Thursday To Me

When Kent posted his multi listed Talk Thursday Topic several weeks ago I was jazzed. And then life came barreling in without the horse and two guns smoking. Ack. I knew immediately what I wanted to write for part one. I’m a DJ, but I don’t talk dirty. I’m a writer and much to my husband’s consternation I can’t write smut. But boy have I been in some strange situations.

About two or so years after I became a DJ (yes that really translates into I can’t remember how long) I was working a Sunday afternoon shift, crocheting an afghan (which makes two years or so seem accurate) when I received this phone call.

“Good afternoon, KCST, this is Calista how may I help you?”

“Oh, I have the wrong number.”

“No, problem I hope you have a nice day.” And that was pretty much where I thought the conversation would end. But as I was just about to pull the phone away from my ear he said,

“You know you have a really nice voice.”

Laughing at the stupidity of the statement, “That’s good, it’s how I make a living.”

“What do you do?
“Ummm, you called a radio station, I’m a DJ.”

“Oh, okay well have a nice day.” And he hung up; I turned back to my afghan just as the phone rang again.

“Good afternoon, KCST, this is Calista how may I help you?”

“Oops, I called the wrong number again.”

Again chuckling, “You’re going to need to work on that dialing finger it can get you in trouble.”

“Oh, no I’m okay. You know you really have a nice voice.”

“Well, thank you.”

He said a few more things, punctuated with the nice voice comments again and I was finally able to disconnect the call. Except the phone rang again. This time I knew who was on the other line.

“You know you really need to fix that dialing finger and write the right number down in large black numbers before you dial.”

“I really like your voice, it’s so nice.”

I was beginning to get a bit worried, it was Sunday afternoon, I was a lone in the station in about the loneliest part of town – the business park next to the airport. (I know three phone calls, I’m a wee bit slow.)

In a very dreamy, hmmmmm hmmmm hmmmm voice he said, “You have a really great voice, the kind of voice a guy could…” At about that time in my pea size brain I realized could really was, and crap oh crap am I dense!

At that point I arose out of stuporville and said, “Crap, dude, we have seven second delay you’re going live.”

And he hung up.

And of course never called back again. Radio, ain’t it wonderful? Next remind me to tell you about the stalker who fell in love with my voice. Ooh, he was a duzie.

Sith,
Cele

Talk Thursday: What I Learned This Summer

For the last day or so I was totally flummoxed, despite the ramblings in my last post I couldn’t figure out what I have learned over the summer. And, the other option? I’ve been nowhere, except for a Ringo Starr concert in Eugene.

Well okay, balderdash! I learned how to make a superior thermodynamic survival shelter if I’m ever stranded in the frozen tundra with a solar blanket, plastic tarp, and a flint. I learned how to gig a piranha if I am ever hungry in the Amazon rain forest. And well I just couldn’t watch the episodes with rattlers, cottonmouths, and vipers. Ugh. Really some shows should come with viewer warnings. Hey, I know how to pasteurize water to a drinkable consistency without fire – now that one I might be able to use.

So here you have it… What I Learned Over My Summer Vacation Replete With Satellite Pictures Proudly Stolen Borrowed From NOAA

Years ago I took a weather seminar by one of Oregon’s better meteorologist that was absolutely fascinating. We learned how to read thunderclouds (hey on the Oregon Coast we don’t get a lot of lightning and thunder), rain clouds, and things I’ve long forgotten. I loved the seminar… and never took another one; yes I’m that friggin’ lazy.

And then it hit me, all summer long I’ve been badgering Tyree up at the National Weather Service about satellite pictures. No really. I give the weather forecast at least seven days a week (hey, that was a totally plausible statement) and while NWS and NOAA are fairly dependable… if you live inland… I have long learned that I need to…hmmm tweak the prognostication into something with more… potential plausibility. So I read the forecast, read the marine forecast, read the warnings, and constantly watch the satellite pictures and I write my weather forecast beginning with

Morning clouds giving way to partly sunny skies with increasing northwest winds 15 to 25mph… northwest marine winds 15 to 20 knots… today’s coastal high temperatures in the low to mid 60s.

Coastal Weather Rules of Thumb:
#1 If you have more than three days of heat in the valley you get fog on the coast… just sucks that puppy right in.
#2 If the wind is not up by 10 it will be up by 2.
#3 We have three weeks of amazing weather somewhere in January/February
#4 If it’s going to snow it will on February 12th
#5 The power will go out when the emergency generator’s battery is dead
#6 The best weather on the Oregon Coast is in September… when all the above is nil and void

If you’ve every been to the Oregon Coast you know that is a totally doable forecast. If it’s winter, we have...

rain with coastal winds southwest 25 to and 35mph, gusting to 90 on the beaches and headlands… marine gales south 40 to 45 knots… Coastal high temperatures 40 to 45 degrees…

Really a baby could do it. Just don’t write your forecast for more than a day and a half in advance.

I am finding satellite pictures amazing, mesmerizing. And it helps to have a real weather guy answer my questions. It all began with this picture.


Surprisingly I just about had it figured out. But still I sent a description of what I was seeing on the satellite at 140 longitude and what I thought it looked like. Airplane contrails. Shocker. Tyree wrote back and said I was very close – they are ship contrails that are only visible by satellite when weather conditions are just right. Which must be summer because I’ve been able to see them a lot through out the season. Dig the weather system’s swirl in the gulf of Alaska. BTW - Someone should let those captains know you shouldn’t drink and drive.


NOAA’s satellite pictures also offer a water vapor picture. Way kewl and very colourful. But what’s that orange? Heat? I figured the white mean thin clouds or fog, the darker the green the more the water concentration of the clouds. And the cool puffy things? Thunder heads. I forgot to as about that. But I did ask about the orange. I was kinda wrong. Orange is dry air… which in my mind looks like hot dry air and there you go.


These are pictures I especially love…


They are like the world at peace…


Well at least it looks good.

And totally off the subject, who are they fooling with these phones that feature touchable, expandable screens? WTF who can see that crap? Watch a movie? Excuse me, I want a 52 high definition flat screen with unending buttered popcorn (in someone else’s house, mine’s too small.) Read a map? Honey, I get my pictures printed larger than that, frick I’m middle aged, it takes a pair of readers and a magnifying glass to read which color of mascara I’m buying.

Sith,
Cele

PS Congrats to Tandy, Simon, and Baby Zander - I wish you a wonderful life.

PSS - Thank you to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) for the unauthorized use of their beautiful satellite pictures.

Talk Thursday: Growing UP

I have spent the last fifty-four plus years growing up, fairly certain in the knowledge I’m far from completion, but hoping I manage to get there before my body is through. It would be especially splendid if both occur, generally, around the same time, wouldn’t it be awful to be old, spent, and stupid? Or how about old, spent, and bored because there are no boundaries left to conqueror?

While I have no desire (at this time) to return to the hallowed halls of education, I am usually glued to a program on History, the Do It Yourself channel, or Discovery. That’s not to say I can’t further my education in books, but I’m more interest in learning to do, expanding my knowledge on what is in small weekly doses. Plus I love my job and as long as it last, I’m not looking elsewhere. I’m under no illusion that I am the smartest, end all - be all of any endeavor I gravitate towards. You can tell that by looking at the dressing screen I started two weeks ago and have yet to finish building – Ducky had to rescue it. I have figured out measure twice cut once. My down fall lies in measure once, take a gander, measure twice look at it again…. Measure three times – now drill. Someday it will not lean up against my water heater in the garage, but hopefully reside on my deck. And if you need further proof I’m a work in process my lilies suck and my lawn is dead. There you go.

What I have learned in my years of growing up is that there are all kinds of people, with all kinds of abilities, all types of qualities, ignorance’s, graces, foibles, and over all arrogances and stupidities. Often all rolled up in one person. Ain’t diversity grand? Where do I stand in the grand scheme of things? I’m still learning to fit in. Years ago I was the wallflower, the girl who got beat up in the school line and few teachers cared. You see I was rather quick mouthed, a talent that almost got me booted from Girl Scout Camp. I’ve since learned that it’s my way of coping in fear of being rejected. A trait that runs off all but the bravest or those keen sighted enough to see below the loud brash exterior.

My wallflower status has actually stood me well over the years and social situations. I am content to watch and read people, but growing up on the outside taught me to have compassion of wallflowers less adept and further out of their comfort zone… a wall fish of sorts? It has also allowed me to see beyond the external and into the depths of people and how they interact, how they react, and how they exact what they want in different situations.

Over the years I have learned what and whom I adore; what I dread and fear; what renders my heart insensible; and what it takes to get it done. I have also learned that if I don’t know, seek. If another speaks, hear. If I love tell the recipients and tell them often. If I need help, ask (I’m still working on this one.) If I have it in me, give it freely and cherish the fellowship of all. Rejoice in myself, rejoice in others, rejoice in all the universe has to offer.

Sith,
Cele