The Second Coming (aka the Legend of Con Revisited… again and again and again)

Have I mentioned how eternally blessed I am? My husband is amazing… very male, but still amazing. My daughter is happy to be my friend, to spend time with me, and bead with me. My grandson is my joy. My dog pees on the carpet. Okay so every sunny day must have gnats – those would be the dog and my baby talking, pistol slinging grandmother.

My mother had been told dinner was between 2 and 3pm, it was her choice as to whether my grandmother would be coming. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I didn’t want her to come, it’s that she’s 91 and has good days and bad, and often spends the remainder of an afternoon in bed because her back is basically broken and she’s in deep pain. My mother is an excellent judge of what my grandmother can and can’t tolerate. So yesterday morning Ducky was informed by my grandmother, my mom had only just told her at 8am they would be coming to dinner. What the heck is the deal, it’s not like she had plans. The ham went into the oven at 12:30 at 350° and came out at 2:30 (20 minutes after it should have and the center was still cool) mom and grandma showed up at 5 minutes to 3. Next year I am telling her dinner is between 1 and 2 and not tell her I’m serving at 2:30.
Ack!

So we’re sitting there eating dinner and my grandma turns to Psam and ask her if she saw the article about her in the paper? Mom, Ducky and I all roll her eyes (I’m silently curious as to how much the story will change.)

Several months ago my Grandmother received a phone call from the “Niagara Falls” police department needing a bond to release her grand daughter for attempting to smuggle drugs over the border into Canada. Does my grandmother call someone in the family to verify? No, she ask if she can talk with her grand daughter. Sure, no problem.

“Becky, are you okay?”
“Yes, grandma, I’m fine, how did you know it was me?”
“I recognized your voice in the background.

The “Officer” gets back on the line and tells my grandmother that they need her to wire $4500 to them to secure her release and bond. Now this next direction from the “Officer”, should have sent bells ringing, but no nada, not my grandma, “Don’t contact your local police, we’ll deal with the issues here, it’s out of their jurisdiction.”

So my grandmother, accompanied by the armed idiot that lives down the street from her, go to her bank and retrieve a cashier’s check for the requested $4500 and go to the local drug store where she can wire it off. You did note that the idiot down the street was armed right? And that he walked into the bank with my grandma? Right? Armed? Riiiight.

Thankfully the wise man at the drug store alerted my grandmother to the fact it was a scam. Had she called to verify that her granddaughter was missing? In Canada? At home? No. At this point my grandmother and the armed idiot that lives down the street from her go home and my grandmother swears to not tell my mother. But someone did and my mom came into tell me. Ack!!

Fast forward to Sunday: Ducky and I go to do my grandmother’s wood and in the middle of one of my numerous treks from the wood shed to her wood chest in the living room she proceeds to tell me her story. At the end she tells that she would have called me “because you are knowledgeable about these things”, but you were at work. Folks, take my word for it that has never stopped my grandma from calling me for something frivolous before.

“Grandma, why didn’t you call mom?”
“Because you know more about this stuff than she does.”
“Excuse me? She’s always been your go to girl. That’s ridiculous.”
“Well, she would have yelled at me.” (by the way folks this is before I knew that the idiot down the street had walked into the bank armed.)
“That should have been a hint grandma.”

That same night my mom tells me that grandma thinks I should run a public service announcement to alert people to this scam. Sadly, the day after I found out we had a lead news story about the victim of a scam, a different scam, but nonetheless an elderly victim is out money – feeling raped - scammed. We run these stories constantly, I live in what has become the number one retirement community in the US (Google it - #1 Retirement Community), the retired and elderly (sometimes they are the same) are big targets of scam artists.

Fast forward to the following Thursday night dinner. Over hamburgers my grandmother tells me I should run a public service announcement so that people don’t get conned by these people.

“Grandma, I’m not running a PSA.”
“Don’t you care about me?”
“Of, course I care about you. But grandma we run news stories about this all the time, if you’re not going to listen to a news story why would I think you would listen to a PSA?”

Since then the story has evolved and my grandma as dropped her side arm slinging side kick, with no mention of the bank at all. She will only mention that she got the money to wire off to the con men if cornered – and then she will give some credit to the guy at the drug store. She is now pretty much a wise hero of this legend in her mind. Oh, and the phone call to check on Becky – well she now has made that call and of course Becky couldn’t answer the phone because she was a work.

I just roll my eyes faster and inwardly cringe when the topic is mentioned and the history retold, I mean reformulated into its’ latest incarnation.

How was your Easter?

Sith,
Cele

Talk Thursday: Resurrection

Talk Thursday: Resurrection

There is a cemetery in Massachusetts where all those interned within one large, secluded section are of the same family. Not so strange in of itself, most cemeteries in America and across the world have family plots: small family, large family plots, and family plots that are “just right.” But within this one family plot the interned distinctly have severed their ties with tradition. Where as in other cemeteries of the world you can walk orderly lines down row upon row reading the names of departed family members and folks of whom you’ve never heard, not so in this lone Massachusetts plot. Those interned are laid out in circle upon circle all with their feet placed towards the inner circle. Why? So that on the day of their resurrection all within that circle shall only see Sedgewicks. A bizarre piece of trivial fact I picked up when I was probably seventeen and read the autobiography of Edie Sedgewick. Those Sedgewicks were some strange people. Edie Sedgewick is not buried inner circle facing inward, no she is buried in California instead.

After we have spent the total sum of our lives decaying into scarred wrinkles of dust we die. Why would we want to be resurrected in our final glorious state prior to that demise? Really, why? How you return varies according to a number of films and shows. In Betelgeuse you end up looking much like you did when you died. Or mayhap you come back as a beautiful ethereal being dressed in gossamer. Or maybe like Michael you molt. All seem somewhat preposterous, but most are better options than returning like the walking dead of half the movies on the Syfy channel.

Resurrection, hmmm. I believe in reincarnation. I believe I’ve been here before and I will come here again. I am told I’m an old soul. What does that mean? I’m thinking it means I’ve yet to learned my life lessons or I still have teachings to impart. So, hey, remember me? Who knows? I feel I was once some sort of healer. Why do I think this? Some things just come easy. I believe in herbal remedies before pills… but don’t take away my sleep aide (the thought of using Melatonin – although I’ve bought some – scares me.)

Resurrection? I don’t even necessarily believe in resurrected romances or friendships let alone bodies. New and improved (please give me a bikini body) I could go for, and I’m all for repurposed, but moldy oldie reused (a lot abused) resurrected bodies not so much. Especially not mine.

Sith,
Cele

The Pickle Thingie

It is with a modicum of certainty that I say everyone has a commercial that makes their skin crawl. Right now mine is a Big Mac radio spot that is literally called the Pickle Thief.

Every time I hear the guy start his little tirade about her being a pickle thief and maybe he should rethink their whole relationship I begin screaming, “Run girlfriend, run.” I know you’re thinking, “Cele, change the channel.” But you have to remember I’m a DJ I can’t change the channel, I can’t turn off the radio, and worse, I can’t open the Mic and scream, “Run, girlfriend, run” (in all truth that is what I am dying to do – but, like my job. A lot.)

I write commercials, I know that comedy sells, but who at their ad agency thought, “Oh, let’s do a commercial where a young man berates his date for STEALING the “Big Mac” altering pickle,” who? Not only did they think this would sell burgers, but they then sold the concept to someone who said, “Great, run with it.” (Well okay that is kind of an assumption, but when I write a commercial, I have to get customer approval before it runs.) Honestly, if they start selling their Angus Bacon Cheeseburgers that way the whole face and make up of my Fast Food Fridays will change.

Having been in an abusive relationship or three, attempting to sell me products with a self important brat heaving around his caveman tactics is friggin stupid. If you’re already married to a person who throws fits you learn how to deal, but if you find out about the abusive tantrums or worse before the I Do's (because really you shouldn't have)… run run run – do not pass go, don’t stop for cash – hie thee to safety. And you certainly don’t buy his hamburgers.

Sith,
Cele

Talk Thursday: Weird Stuff I Dream About

This is going to be an extremely short post. I don’t have dreams. Well really I must, doesn’t everyone dream? I don’t remember my dreams… or often even the sensation of dreaming. And don’t you have to be asleep for more than four hours to have REM (the sleep not Michael Stipes and gang) to get deep into your dreams? I never sleep more than two… and a half hours without waking up. And yes, this is very frustrating…

…I am sleep deprived. I’m sure I’ve expounded on this before, it all started with the pre-menopausal thing at age 42… while is a good 12 years after the night sweats. Suddenly with hot flashes I couldn’t sleep and we all know why premenopausal women are bitchy… it’s because they don’t get any sleep, so let me reiterate for all to read again – With the first hot flash find yourself some…

1) Evening Primrose oil
2) Heavy duty calcium
3) A really good sleep aide
4) And your own fan for your own side of the bed
5) (plus if you sleep with a cuddler you might consider the reinvention of the bungle board

A survival list of the most basic needs for any premenopausal woman.

Back to the sleeping thingie… or lack of sleeping thingie… it means I get no sleep and ergo don’t dream. When I was a child I would dream, wonderful – fantastical dreams of flying with the kites and pots and pans (I have no clue – it’s just what I remembered) and being able to breathe underwater.

About six months after my father passed I had a very vivid dream that I was driving down 18th street and stopped to turn on to Highway 101. There on the curb stood my father with a big grin on his face, he walked up to my car (the one he gave me at Cutlass Supreme) knocked on the window and told me he was okay. My heart sang. And he was gone.

I don’t have dreams, but when I am visited, it rocks.

Sith,
Cele

Talk Thursday: Who, Me? Already?

Who is me and do I even really know? Personally, I think not, because me is ever changing, ever learning, and ever seeing things anew. Really, shouldn’t this journey be just like that? And epic adventure of change and growth? I’ve said it more than once, "The day I quit wanting to learn should be the day I die" (I oft just say, "The day I quit learning just shoot me.")

Once upon a time I use to love, even relish change. Now I am enamored of routine and that schedule which I know, but it wasn’t always that way. Once moving to a new place, meeting new people were met head on with the tingling excitement of a new adventure. Now the thought of packing up boxes makes me think I should move out the family pictures and china and strike a match. But I couldn’t do that, my home is my nest. My place of rest, healing, and health, my place of comfort and comforting. I still love to roam, explore the new and unknown, but return to my nest.

So, me? No I’m not ready, for I’m not done. I’ve not yet seen all I want, to say all I have to say, and do all I am here to accomplish. But even more so than all that, I have not learned all the lessons I am here to learn.

Who, Me? Yeah, me, and you too.

Sith,
Cele

Talk Thursday: The Long Way Home (a week late)

You know how you store those special moments in your life and take them out in your old age to pet them dearly? Wait, you’ll get there so take your Ginko. Some of my fondest memories revolve around music or involve music – crap in this case what’s the difference? I love music, I love my daughter, and some of my dearest adult memories are in the car singing with her.

Once upon a time I had this kewl 200SX. I loved it, bought it used and took the best care of it I could… which is to say, I wasn’t very good to it at all. When I married ex-number two we traded it in for a Chevy Luv 4by4 (the exact sequence of events is pretty fuzzy in my memory.) Music in the 200SX was pure Pat Benetar, Thin Lizzy, and Blondie… that much I remember. In the long run, because what woman ends up with the better vehicle, I ended up with a faded white VW Bug that we bought in a storage unit sale for $283 – note there was also a chest of drawers and a bureau in the unit, the Bug was in need of an engine and love.

Before you could say Chevy Luv I was driving a mildewy faded VW Bug that had definitely seen better days. Psam hated that car, I’m fairly certain it was the aromatic combination of oil and mildew that lovingly wafted through the small vehicle (I really tried to not use the heater for this very reason, but have you ever tried to NOT use the heater in a VW – yeah you understand.) Music in the VW was pure KZEL and well I and Psam were past Blondie, she wasn’t hot on Thin Lizzy, and I had a copied cassette of Supertramp.

Keep in mind that Florence is a whole five miles from Siuslaw River Bridge to Heceta Beach Road and at the time Highway 101 was just two lanes in most places. In my defense I must remind you that Supertramps’ Take The Long Way Home is the better part of five minutes, so if you wanted to hear the whole song, you took Rhododendron drive, past the dump, along the Siuslaw River and up 35th street, ergo we took the long way home. Hey it could have been worse, I could have played all 8 minutes and 52 seconds of American Pie, then we could have drove the che… VW past… crap it loses a lot in the translation…. Oh oh, I know she loves Alice’s Restaurant… I mean it’s only eighteen and a half minutes long – we could have driven all the way to Mapleton – and Psam loves all those

eight-by-ten colour glossy pictures with circles and arrows and a paragraph on the back of each one

and Arlo was driving a VW microbus, red not faded white.
But no, I had Supertramp and a oil soaked mildewy wafting faded white VW – Psam had to hold her breath or puke, and really I’m glad she has good lung power.



BTW, did you know that March is Sing With Your Child Month? No lie, some of my happiest times of parenthood were singing in the car with my daughter… we had a very special sound track that started with Nino Tempo and April Steven’s Deep Purple, included Sonny and Cher’s The Beat Goes On, Gladys Knight and the Pip’s Midnight Train To Georgia. Those were some of the best days of my life.



Sith,
Cele

March 11th - Or A Day In The Wake Of A Disaster

My world goes round, my family is safe, my home is whole –dry – stable, and there is food on my table. My heart goes out to the Japanese people.

In total ignorance of the growing crisis in Japan (I was watching cable not network TV – so no information crawler) I took two sleeping tabs and went to bed at about 10:30. At 11:30, Beady Dee Dee called me. We are on Tsunami watch, after we checked out CNN together and her husband the Chief gave me some info through her I got dressed and was at work by Midnight. Yes, she chatted with me that long.

The National Oceanic Atmospheric Administration or NOAA has an amazing array of informational sites for professionals and the public. KCST began disseminating information and Tsunami watch information. Phone calls began coming in. CENS (Community Emergency Notification System – or reverse 911) called me at the station (WTF) at 2:30AM or 3 o’clock to let me know I needed to be at the newly opened EOC (Emergency Operations Center – aka the Siuslaw Valley Rural Fire District’s main station.)

Thirty minutes later I was called by incident command that they were going to sound the Tsunami siren in 15 minutes.
This gave me enough time to write up and record a new dissemination and air it. It went something like this….

*********************************************************************************
The National Weather Service has issued a Tsunami Warning for the coastal areas of the Pacific Northwest.

At approximately 9:36pm PST an earthquake registering an estimated 8.9 struck the eastern coast of Japan. A Tsunami wave is expected to hit the Northern California and Oregon coast at approximately 7am (7:15 – 7:20 – 7:25 – sometime between 9 and 10am [seriously it changed that much.)

The Tsunami siren has sounded – please do not call 911.

Residents living near the beach and those in the Tsunami inundation zone are advised to evacuate to higher ground. The Florence Events Center has been opened as a relocation center (as was Three Rivers Casino, the Florence BiMart and Fred Meyer’s parking lots.)

Please do not call 911, do not go to the beach

Again, the National Weather Service has issued a Tsunami warning for the coastal areas of the Pacific Northwest. Stay tuned for further information and updates, you’re tuned to FM 106.9 KCST.

****************************************************************************************

And the phone calls began. I don’t call it the headless chicken republic for nothing. Excerpts from actual phone calls I answered (and for a while I was the only one at the station – so I answered them all) –

“What’s that siren? Can they turn it off I’m trying to sleep?”

“What’s that siren?”
“The NWS has issued a Tsunami Warning ma'am.”
“What should I do?”
“Well ma’am where do you live?”
“On Siano loop.”
“You need to evacuate ma’am. They have opened the Florence Events Center as a relocation center. That or higher ground would be where you need to go.”
“But how do I get there?”
“You drive ma’am” (Siano loop is just over the dune from my house – which is not in the Tsunami inundation zone and take my word this woman could hear the siren it’s less than a block from her house.)
“But I don’t have a car.”
“Ma’am, I suggest you call a taxi then.”
“Oh.”

I had several phone calls in the same vein. One lady wanted to know if they would let her take her pets - see has dogs, cats, and birds. I really didn’t know the answer to that one. Several phone calls, and I mean several wanted to know if their house was safe. They lived at least a mile outside the Tsunami zone.

What frustrates me, and I imagine the EOC too, is that since the 2004 Indian Ocean Tsunami that killed tens of thousands, the City of Florence and other communities along the Oregon coast have been neck deep in educating residents in disaster prevention and preparation. You can not drive anywhere in Florence west of Highway 101 and not see signs that either tell you you’re in a Tsunami Inundation Zone or that road you are driving is
designated as a “Tsunami Evacuation Route”.

Monthly free workshops teach residents how to be ready in the event of a multitude of disasters – but they all focus on earthquakes and tsunamis. So how can you be in Florence for any amount of time and not know 1) If your house is in an inundation zone 2) what you should do 3) what emergency supplies and equipment you should have on hand in preparation 4) HAVE A FUCKING PLAN!

We kept our listeners up on where they could go, what schools were closed for the day or just on two hour delays. Sadly, at least one of the valley TV stations reported that Siuslaw schools were closed for the day, when in truth, until 8am they were just on two hour delay with morning kindergarten canceled. But of course at TV station 65 miles away would know better (according to phone calls) than KCST, even thought we get phone calls directly from the 97J Superintendent of Schools. Yes, they did finally cancel school for the day – the “I told you so” phone calls were delightful.

Then finally they called us at 10:30 to say in 15 minutes they would ring the all clear. It was a delight for me to make that announcement – Being a mile away from a Tsunami siren inside a building I didn’t get to hear the chimes. Several times before my airshift was over I made sure to invite people to openly say thank you to the officers, firefighters, city and county employees who made their Friday safer. Being a Friday, I still had a full day of work to do (I hate Fridays) and didn’t get to go home from work until 6:30 – over 18 hours after I arrived. But it was a fulfilling day.

I demanded pizza for dinner, ate three pieces, brushed my teeth and was in bed by 8:45. I didn’t get out of bed until 9:30 this morning. Yes, I did not go to yoga.

This afternoon I went and had to settle for kelp with 400mcg’s of iodine, because the two pharmacies I checked didn’t have potassium iodide (my friend got a bottle but it was expired) I need to go buy some potassium to go with it – no bananas won’t work, Ducky hates bananas. One pharmacist looked at me and the guy who asked for the potassium iodide like we were idiots. Do I have to worry about fall out from the Fukashima Meltdown? You betcha – check out the Unisys satellite image. Be safe, be educated, be smart.

Now I’m going to go have ice cream (Umpqua Dairy's Chocolate Brownie Thunder,) read the high wind warning one more time, say a prayer for the people of Japan, and go back to bed.
Sith,
Cele

Talk Thursday: Guilty Pleasures

It took me a week to figure this out and then, “Bam!” as Emeril would say (and no I don’t watch Emeril.) Chocolate, decadent, melt in your mouth chocolate. I’m on a diet, but I’ve learned a piece of good chocolate at night goes an extremely long way. And while I would prefer to melt that chocolate on my tongue while savoring a fine French roast it is at night that I indulge. In the deep dark night.

I’m on a diet, so chocolate isn’t in my daily diet. And I’ve learned cheap ass, sugary chocolate doesn’t cut it. In fact, cheap ass, sugary chocolate is kind of addictive because it satisfies nothing. Don’t’ give me Palmers – I want Dove. Even some types of Hershey’s doesn’t cut it. Give me a hand dipped truffle or yumm yumm Cadbury’s Crunch – friggin’ HEAVEN.

My other guilty pleasure, peanut butter, by the spoon right out of the tub. Don’t give me Jiff, I want the chunky store brand in the three pound tub. Heaping tablespoons full.

Heathen, I know, but that’s how I roll. No wonder I’m on a diet.

Sith,
Cele

Talk Thursday: Six Months

A diagnosis, prognosis, fate, past, future the only thing six months isn’t is the present… we’ll unless you’re six months preggers, and if you think that’s possible for me, fie on you. Once upon a time I wanted so badly to have a second child, Psam wanted so badly to have an older brother. So, no I’m not six months.

Six months ago I was re-learning I love to fish. I’d forgotten the joy of casting, the solitude of reeling in my line and casting out once again, and once again, and once again until my shoulder (and lower back if truth be known) said enough. Six months ago the summer sun was contemplating the autumnal bend and I was morphing into my annual gardening burning out. But the days were warm, the wind had died down and all was good.

Six months ago my much beloved Ducks were stretching their muscles, running their routes in daily doubles waiting for the season to begin.

Six months ago Psam and I went and got tattoos.

Six months ago I wasn’t contemplating a diet. Silly me.


It snowed today. Don’t laugh, it wasn’t much (especially not what the weather
service had forecasted) but it was snow and it kept my husband in the valley for nights on end. It will keep Burp from coming for the weekend. But it wasn’t enough to make snow angels in.

In six months I will begin watching the Siuslaw for jumping Coho and Silvers. I will be itching to cast my line, reel it in, and cast again. In six months I will be planting my tulips… maybe… depending on the condition of my petunias. In six months I will put it off until the rain starts then curse myself.


In six months I will sit watching with drooling anticipation ESPN’s game day, counting down the moments until my beloved Ducks kick off against the LSU Tigers (September 3rd to be exact) and the hunt will be on.

I now weigh several pounds less than I did six months ago. Sadly, I can remember what I weighed when I flew to England in 2002, but not what I weighed six months ago. It must have been bad. I am happy to say I am eating far less carbs, a lot more bell peppers, salads and Marrion Berry balsamic vinegar, as well as the appropriate size food portions. Where will I be in six months? Maybe a size 14 – that would be nice.

In six months maybe I will get a stargazer lily on my left foot. It could happen.

Sith,
Cele

PS I know my snow pictures are pathetic, but humor me I live in Florence we don't get a lot of snow... more than Sid, but less that Lyn and Jenniphur.... geez even less than Psam.

Talk Thursday: Period

My friend’s husband died this morning at 6:3o. He passed in the quiet hours of the morning, when many spirits choose to pass… unseen, alone, unhindered and as chosen. He passed after a long battle against diabetes, heart disease, and most recently against kidney failure and a gastro-intestinal infection. He is gone; she is heart broken – period.

The next chapter begins.

It is not that she didn’t see this coming, but do we ever really want to be prepared for this? I sure can’t imagine the day that Ducky and I will part… forever… well at least until we meet in some future life. But my friend doesn’t believe in reincarnation, she is waiting only for her resurrection day. I have no problem with this, to each their own. I mean our beliefs are the beds we have to sleep in. While many will poo poo her and mine’s belief in God, any resurrection, and future lives, it is these beliefs that comfort us. As far as I’m concerned if you are comfortable in the belief you die – period, more power to you. Keep your distain for my beliefs to yourself and I promise I will not ridicule yours to your face or on your blog either.

Back to my friend. My heart breaks for her, for hers is not an easy road. She cared not only for her aging invalid husband, but a severely disabled daughter as well. Often her days were spent shuttling herself from one hospital room or doctor’s appointment to the next. Many would said this will ease her load, but I know putting myself in her shoes (which is nigh an impossible task) guilt at the relief of his passing (no matter how merciful), the weight of lonely moments that would have been spent by the two of them, and the burden of her heart-ache will be an even heavy burden to bear.

I send her my prayers, my thoughts, and my wishes for better tomorrows even though I know that I cannot smooth her path, ease her burdens, or share her load. I can only offer her my love, support, shoulders, ears, and prayers in her time of sorrow and pain and while she is on the journey to the road where she learns to be one again.

Thomas, please go with God; Rose my heart wants to lift your sorrow, you pain, your burdens and I’m wholly unqualified for the task, but I shall try. As hard as it is please rejoice that his pain and suffering have ended – and when the day comes, my friend, please remind me of the same.

Sith,
Cele

100 Things About Me… 2011

1) Or 100 random thoughts strung together by a series of mal used punctuation marks
2) I woke up this morning in an amazing mood, despite the cold, the rain, the wind, and a headache.
3) Oh wait, I love the rain and the wind in winter. The headache went away.
4) Sadly the weather will most likely keep Ducky stuck in the valley for the next few days – serious bummer
5) Dude, have you noticed many of the slang words of your past are the slang words of your today?
6) Maxwell’s Silverhammer is a gruesomely delightful way to start the day…or to say it with a British twist… a bloody good romp
7) Oh, wow, I didn’t think about snakes until number seven… I’ll have to check last year’s list to see if that is progress
8) I love reality tv
9) Hense the fall off of my blogging, bad me
10) So before I watched Castle last night, Nathan Fillion is even more delish than when he was on Firefly or 2 Dudes and a Pizza Parlour
11) I watched You’re Cut Off, thanks Psam, I’m almost caught up, only missing the first episode
12) It’s not as good as Real Housewives, who often aren’t, but it’s addictive.
13) My jewelry is still going
14) I’m contemplating consignment of my work at this point
15) But I use spendy beat Dichroic beads and I’m not sure people will pay the prices
16) I want to learn silver wire wrapping
17) I have lost 13 pounds on my diet in probably six weeks time
18) My goal is 70 pounds, but I’d be happy with whatever the diet gods give me
19) I still have Christmas Chocolate left
20) That is how serious I am, it makes for a good comfort snack at night if I’ve kept under 1300 calories (I didn’t say I was good, I just said serious)
21) My best friends are dieting with me – Ducky is at 10 pounds or so and Leigh is somewhere between 6 and 12 – I will have to ask
22) Leigh and I have started yoga…
23) I paid for the classes, missed the first three
24) But this Saturday I will be there.
25) This morning I found wonderful wishes for my day – my favorites…

a – "Good morning, gorgeous - HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"
b- "♪♫•*¨*•.¸¸♥ Happy Birthday Day, Calista~ ♪♫•*¨*•.¸¸♥"
c – "Hey Calista. Happy Birthday. I hope you have an amazing day and wish you many happy returns. I'll call you for a birthday drink when I'm over there next time."
d – "H A P P Y B I R T H D A Y ! ! ! ! ! Calista!!! Have a wonderful day! :-)"

26) After I read the Noon newscast I do the jumble, suduko, and now the cryptoquote
27) I haven’t done a crossword puzzle in ages
28) I don’t read the funnies, but Get Fuzzy and Pickles are just above the cryptoquote in the Register Guard
29) It’s weird how I can totally relate to Pickles at my age
30) My other friend Audrey had the most awesome tidbit for the day this morning after she finished the stockmarket report – “There is never a right time to do wrong thing.”
31) Natalie once asked me if I had a life outside of the internet (it wasn’t a bad comment about me, it was prompted by someone else)
32) So let me tell you about my friends

a – Ducky is my best friend – my lover – my husband – my best friend
b – Leigh is my best friend – a former work mate – we’ve been friends for probably 18 years - we have dinner every Tuesday night – we do yoga – we diet together – we both have the same favorite color, Green – she is bohemian – she is amazing – she sells billboards – hmmm I just realized I’ve never given her a nickname
c - Audrey – a best friend – she gives the stockmarket report twice a day here for KCST – she moved to Florence to watch over her mother – she loves to fish – has her eyes on the hermit guy in the house kitty corner from her house – and describes herself as a tomboy – don’t watch sports with her, she will purposely root for the other team, quite loudly – we have dinner together every other Thursday night – she’s a hoot.
d – Despite Psam living so far from me, she will always be my best friend, my support system, the voice of sanity and reason. I adore my daughter, beyond words
e – Rose, my one best friend I’ve never met. Never, someday though. I can tell her my inner most thoughts, listen to hers. We once fought and didn’t talk to each other for almost a year. It was both our faults and it made me realize how much I missed her.
f – Pinecone – my sister – is one of my closest friends – but I don’t get to see her near enough
g – And Beady DeeDee is my newest friend
h – And then there is Sid – he answers my galactic heart

33) I am always amazed by people who aren’t music oriented
34) Music marks the occasions and people in my life
35) I realize this more and more each day
36) Psam is music oriented – Ducky not so much
37) Speaking of music I don’t get the Lady Gaga thing, nor Justin Bieber (no, I don’t believe)
38) My favorite song is still 100 Years by Five For Fighting; my favorite group will ever be Crosby, Stills, Nash, and sometimes Young, but I also love Jason Mraz, Cat Stevens (Yusef), Five for Fighting; Led Zepplin, Dave Matthews, Kelly Clarkson, Goo Goo Dolls, and Matchbox Twenty.
39) Big Bang Theory is my favorite TV Show
40) But I also like the aforementioned Castle, NCIS, Eureka, Deadliest Catches, Ice Road Truckers (both editions), Housewives of NY (OC, 90210, NJ – and I’ll try Miami), Ghost Hunters (and GHI), American Pickers, Pawn Stars, Top Shot, So You Think You Can Dance and CASH CAB (my nightly must.)
41) I apparently watch a lot of cable
42) I don’t know about the new incarnation of American Idol
43) Yes, I bought Crystal Bowersox’s Farmer’s Daughter – it rocks
44) I still haven’t listened to the new Duffy CD – Endlessly – that I got for Christmas.
45) My first Wii fitness score was 73.
46) That was only Sunday afternoon
47) I spent the next two hours working up a sweat playing tennis and bowling.
48) This must become a nightly occurrence.
49) And then there is my on going non relationship with my crosstrainer.
50) While I’ve cleared six levels in Links Crossbow
51) I can’t clear the first level of Mario – friggin’ little castle.
52) 35 years later I miss my bikini (and the body it fit)
53) My bosom have gained a life of their own
54) Now I wish they’d shrink
55) My favorite clothes are my jammies
56) My Planter’s Facisitus (sp) forced me to buy a pair of Klogs
57) My feet are in seventh heaven
58) Don’t wear Klogs on the cross trainer
59) Or while playing Wii sports because you will fall down, twist your ankle, and Wii your pants from a mixture of laughter and pain
60) Since starting my diet I haven’t had indigestion – or acid reflux – (what’s the proper way to spell augedux? Italian for nasty ass acid reflux?)
61) Then Friday morning during the Radio Auction is was seduced by a Buttermilk Bar
62) So I began a love affair with Tums
63) Sunday morning I thought I would try a sugar free low fat mocha – what the hey?
64) Ah for the love of Tums
65) Sometimes breaking your diet (outside of Fast Food Fridays) breaking your diet is a good teaching lesson
66) Of course it usually takes me five or six times before I learn said lessons
67) I thoroughly believe Fast Food Fridays is the secret to staying on my diet
68) Did I mention I lost thirteen pounds
69) My pants are getting baggy
70) LOVE IT!
71) Ah, that felt sooo good – now here’s to another 60 pounds
72) My favorite herbal tea this year – I don’t have one
73) I’ve been drinking Celestial Seasonings Country Peach Passion or whatever it’s been called and the vanilla pomegranate praying they would bring back Apricot Honeybush.
74) I have learned to embrace routine
75) Bang my head against the wall of progress
76) Crap I should run for congress – that makes me qualified right?
77) Ducky and I started fishing last autumn
78) I love it
79) Besides gardening I’m looking forward to fishing season
80) I don’t like salmon, but to watch them jump in the Siuslaw is amazing
82) Now if I can catch some I will make smoked salmon
82) And feed my roses
83) I check my face and chest every morning for skin cancer
84) And then I use alpha hydroxy skin cream
85) I have a mole on my face that fascinates little kids
86) Their fascination horrifies their parents
87) It use to bother me, but not so much now
88) I haven’t written a poem in months
89) Oh, wait I haven’t blogged in 3 weeks, now that is sad, I haven’t had a lot to say
90) Even though I have an idea for a blog ruminating in my brain for weeks now
91) And I’m three weeks behind on Talk Thursday
92) Oh wait, except for Jenn we all are, I will try to catch up this week.
93) I believe in God and hope who or what you believe in works for you.
94) This is the part where many will roll their eyes, I believe I was a healer in a past life – get over it.
95) Friends answer a place in your heart
96) True loves answer a place in your soul
97) While I don’t agree with all Obama has done, I would vote for him again.
98) I believe in committing random acts of kindness everyday – turn yourself into a habitual offender… that is my goal this year
99) I still believe life is all about the journey
100) and my matra is, “Where we’ve been, is who we are.”
101) I only mentioned snakes once, definite improvement

BTW – Talk Thursday people, start thinking, an abbreviated version is this week’s topic.

Sith,
Cele

Talk Thursday: I Mind / I Don’t Mind – Yes, I really do mind.

I almost got into a pissing match with two friends of mine over health care reform tonight. After they showed their ignorance I shut up and let it go. You can't lead the blind when they want to be blind. And, yes, I mind their blind ignorance a lot.

It began because my friend’s husband, a diabetic with about a quarter use of his heart, is now in a nursing home after almost dying. He is in the nursing home only until he can get his feet underneath him and then he can come home. At the same time she has a daughter who is severely disabled and frequently hospitalized. On top of her daughter’s on going needs, they will now be billed for her husband’s stay in the rehab center.

The other “friend” ekes a living off Social Security and Medicare.

Neither thinks that “Obamacare” is a good thing. Oh no, he’s bleeding us dry, giving us government intrusions into our lives. Both mocked the Obama’s for how much money they make and that maybe they could come organize their lives. I minded this much. Very FUCKING MUCH.

She is being sucked dry by no job, too many medical bills, and their energy bills and consumption make me quiver in fear. Yet, health care reform that is meant to help people just like her gets her distain.

He could have had a retirement plan, he worked for Bechtold, I mean really he had a good plan until he cashed it in for a piano for his wife. Seriously. Dude, what were you thinking? He was thinking he’d live on Social Security, because by gosh he’s going to get back every penny he paid in (I think he passed that mark years ago) and while he doesn’t want government messing with health care, he has no problem being on Medicare. I’m thinking this greatly pisses me off - he wants wants wants on my tax dollars, but doesn’t care about anyone else.

John Boehner and company wants us to believe that the budget busting, job killing bill would add $701 billion to the national deficit over the next ten years. Nancy Pelosi and cronies want us to believe this will save us $1.3 Trillion over the next ten years. Smoke and Mirrors. They are both blowing smoke up our proverbial skirts (gosh I miss wearing dresses.)

The nonpartisan Congressional Budget Office states that repealing the health care law would worsen the federal deficit over the next 10 years — by $230 billion. (1)

If I know this, they could know this too. I don’t mind an opposing thought if it’s based on educated knowledge, but on willful ignorance – no way. Instead of intelligent decision making, they will just let the agenda laden talking heads tell them what to know and think, instead of learning for themselves. And yes Virginia, I mind this very much.

Sith,
Cele

1. Fact Check - A Budget Busting Bill.

Talk Thursday: Patience

Patience is probably the only virtue I possess, and that may be questionable at times. Yes, my feathers do get ruffled. Yes, my feelings do get hurt. And yes, I remember every mean, hurtful, or bad thing a person says to me or at me in a vague time frame. I don’t deal well with people who throw tantrums, nor those who look down on others. I do not deal well with people who live their lives to be rude. In respect to how I would like others to envision me, as a sea of calm (something I hardly am).

Truth be it, I would love to be calm when calamity is falling about my shoulders. The person who can walk away, gosh I wish I tried to be someone other than the voice of (self-perceived) wisdom, the grown up in the group, the one in possession of her wits. But no, I think I can reason with megalomaniacs – idiot (and I’m referring to me as the idiot) you should never beat your head against a brick wall – it’s like beating a dead horse. Calm demeanor and wise words will not make a door appear nor the horse rise up and drink water. I need to learn to just walk away – someone please tell me how to do that.

I am a believer in people, a believer that grown adults will see reason, that small children will learn from good example and lessons, and that we can live as one. I know, I know, I’m a dreamer. Yes, there will always be people who don’t play well with others, there will be stupid reasons for throwing temper tantrums, and there will always be individuals or groups who believe they're superior and God given (whether they believe in (a) God or not.) And therefore there will always be a need for voices of reason, the calm in the midst of a battle/storm/or tantrum, there will always be a need for wisdom. In a way of speaking isn’t that a sad comment on the human condition?

During the holiday season I tend to thrive in the midst of holiday shopping, not that I shop much, but I see it as my duty to spread cheer and peace. It is my duty to smile at every person I meet and to be especially demonstrative in my appreciation of another’s service to the community. I especially relish being the person in line behind someone rather rude and obnoxious. Not that I mean to embarrass the people with me, nor the person being abused, it is my intent to shame the person who is rude and abusive. It doesn’t always work, but it almost always gets me a smile from the abused. My smiles always bring comment and almost always a smile in return.

Is it patience or just the life of a dreamer? I’m not really sure.

Sith,
Cele

Oregon Football is not a matter of life or death

It’s much more important that that. Not an original thought (I stole it from this blog), but I loved it enough to ah ehm hmmm, borrow it for my BCS blog. I’m fairly frickin’ tired of people downing my Ducks, thank you very much Robert Smith, you over paid stuffed shirt. A Rivalry is made up of two sides, but football analysis need at least two collective brain cells to rub together – Robert Smith lost his in the pro
battles of his yester-year. A football rivalry needs two teams to show up on the gridiron on the same day. Now last year my Ducks fell in the Rose Bowl against my cousin’s Buckeyes. Last New Years Day my Ducks played a better team….
On that day. Because yes, I believe any team can be beaten on any given day.

My Ducks may not win against Auburn, but they will give it their best, and if they lose it will be because Auburn was better on Monday, January 10th and I will live to root for my Ducks another day. In the words of Supwichugirl, “I love my Ducks.”
And believe me the Quake will return.



Everyone one with a sports network or cable show has dissed my Ducks, this ticks me off to no end, I hope it is ticking off my Ducks as well. I am sure that the discussion will be all Auburn through out the game, I will still watch. But in my underdog, football heart of hearts I truly look forward to Robert Smith eating is words. And for that matter Herb Kirkstreet, too.



Win or lose I want to be on the streets of Eugene come January 22nd to cheer my Ducks in a Celebration of Champions.

Go Green - GODUCKS!
Cele

PS - And on the record I have a hard time believing Cam Newton didn't know his dad was shopping him in hopes of play for pay. Surely someone would have clued him in. I don't buy it.

Note: all pictures taken from the internet and are not property of.... moi, but used under fair use laws and are in no way meant to be detrimental, but fully in awe of people who love my Ducks and were able to take their pictures. Thank you, I am forever humble and in awe.

Talk Thursday: Simplicity

Adore the concept; abhor the difficulty of implementing simplicity. Less is more, less is better, people each want different things and that is hard to simplify. I keep wanting a simple life, but I keep messing that part up.

I had one kid, well I was supposed to have two, but that’s another story. So simple, I had one child, but then I kept marrying other people. So her name and social security number have caused her multiple problems. I had one child, so she never got the bigger brother she wanted, for which I apologize. I had one child, whom I adore. She had one child and never got married. Smart chick.

Marriage (and therefore life there after) was suppose to be simple, you fell in love, got married, and lived happily ever after. Someone shot the guy on the white horse and substituted my first husband. Hmmm, and I think my second husband too. No one taught me marriage is hard work; I was taught anything worth having was worth working for and marriage certainly is, it took me years to realize not everyone was taught that little truism. That complicates things a bit. Hence, three husbands later….

In 1981 the second guy I married and I bought a house (before we got married as a partnership.) Now that was simple enough. Even more so is the fact that while he owned a house he didn’t’ believe in nesting or making that house better or even a home. Third husband definitely nested, believes in making a house a home, and making the house that houses the home better…. Which complicates the lazy side of me. Where I had no real furniture, there is now real furniture, real carpet, and a need to paint…again. Where there was sand blowing over rock bark and weeds, there is now a lawn, okay, two lawns, two gardens, a courtyard, an enclosed deck and peace, and beauty, and a need to weed… a lot. That’s not a bitch I love to weed for the most part. But now it’s complicated, you try fighting to keep out of your weeks a man who doesn’t know a seedling from a weed.

When I first started in radio, it was four hours a week on Sundays. We had a huge multiple reel-to-reel automation system that was a relic from decades long past. The CD player seemed such a novelty. That was twenty-one years ago. Now I’m the programming director/operations manager, the CD players are back ups for when the computerized system fails, when I need to defrag, or reboot. Instead of one AM transmitter that got turned on at sunrise and off at sunset I have an automated AM Array Transmitter that has not one but two FM translators, AND an FM station – each are governed by similar, but extremely complicated rules. Ha, I fondly remember back to when I was simply an employee.

My mother raised me to be the best I could be, to be independent, to be strong, to be true to myself, kind to all people, and to question all I did not understand. Again, simple in concept, not the easiest to execute, why do people have to be so tough? It complicates things. Once in grade school, about the fourth or fifth grade, I had a friend - Andrea. She was getting flack from other schoolmates over her weigh; defending her I got in trouble and had to miss recess for the remainder of the day, because I had been insensitive to Andrea’s weight. I’m not sure how that happened; I remember being highly offended they were picking on her about something she had no control over. Years later, when Pinecone and Butch were sophomores, Butch got his license. We lived four miles out of town and he would drive himself and Pinecone to school. I saw red when I found out he would make her duck under the dashboard if his friends were in view. WTF? (Simply put, he’s a butthead to this day.) What was so hard about the situation was the pain and embarrassment I caused Pinecone when I brought up and tried to rectify the problem . She was mortified and the problem never resolved.

Over the years, I’ve learned being a simple person is complicated merely by the fact that I am human as are most of the people around me. I don’t require a lot – love, nurturing, rain, and a good hot cup of herbal tea (this month country peach), a kiss from my husband, conversation with my daughter, a hug from grandson is all I need to be happy and at peace, if for even just a moment. But life is rarely that simply, so I cherish the moments when they happen even more, waiting for the complications to descend.

Sith,
Cele

Welcome Twenty Eleven, Nice To Meet You

Now get off my toe. Yesterday Harley made a comment on air about December 31st being the Feast of Sylvester (I kid you not) and if an east wind is blowing it bodes calamity for the New Year. Yesterday’s weather forecast for the central Oregon Coast: Partly Sunny (it was cloudy) East winds … through Tuesday – highs 40 to 45 degrees…. Clear skies, east winds, lows 30 35 degrees. We had clouds all day and 47. Rain last night 33 degrees. And Friggin’ east winds. What the Frell is that about?

I actually made midnight and a few before I went to bed this morning. This morning began at six after six with dead air on my FM dial. I called the Smurfette got a run down and went back to bed until she called me at 9:30. I spent the next forty five minutes at work rebooting computers. And then treated Ducky and myself to mochas and chocolate chocolate chip muffins. It’s not crispy hash browns, but it works.

So to close out Two ought ten I had one part timer out for a week because he was having trigeminal surgery. He’s now out for four week’s because in English, he had brain surgery, I’m not bitching, he talked his doctor down from six weeks out. My main hand man, the ying to my business yang, had a nasty ass ear infection to close out two thousand ten, he’s now kicked off twenty eleven with nasty ass ear infections in both ears. My third part timer, who has a full time job at the local Kroger, is helping with part of the basketball games, but we cover three teams… ouch.

So I tried to hook up Ducky’s Wii. I’m the techie of the house. I apparently don’t speak Wii. I hate when I have to call my bro inlaw for techie support, it’s what everyone else to who he is related does. I feel like I’ve failed – really it can’t be that difficult. I hooked all the appropriate cord to the appropriate Wii orifice. Took the appropriate audio/video RCA plugs and put them into the appropriate DVR audio/video Inputs – Nada. Yes, I sync’d the remotes. Despite being preloaded with Wii Sports I have no menu. I put in a game disc ( Link’s Crossbow Training) hit the home button. Nada. I punched every button on my remote. Nada. I stood on my head and spun three time to the east. Nada. I walked away and cooked dinner. Still nada, but I’m feted.

Ducky got me these kewl Christmas socks in my stocking.
Pandas. They totally rock. I’d gotten Burp monkey socks for his stocking, and Ducky got Psam frog socks. I really wanted a picture of all three pairs of Christmas feet. Drats that didn’t happen.
I pulled my Christmas Panda socks out of the dryer, to find out they’d begun coming unsewn. I whipped out my needle and repaired my socks. But oops, I got one of the feet wrong. But the socks fit even better than they did before being washed.

My Christmas tree is still up, my Christmas decorations are still up, and my roots are two weeks past due. But I’m good. I burnt my has browns, but TCU won and I’m good. Go Uconn.
The wind of twenty eleven is calm right now.

Sith,
Cele

Talk Thursday: The Topic Fairy Died

Farewell, Good-bye, Auf Wiedersehen, Adieu 2010

Happily I will bid a hasty TaTa to 2010, what a hell it has been, okay that’s strong, very strong. It wasn’t that bad, but it took me three quarters of the year to determine what felt better, twenty ten, two thousand ten, or two ought ten (while different it doesn’t leap to mind or tongue when you’re in the bowels of indecision over numerical determination.) It’s final, I’m starting out the new year knowing I am calling it twenty eleven, that determination should last at least until just after midnight.

Really twenty ten wasn’t THAT bad, it was just annoying as hell. January, cold, cold cold. I got my Christmas tree down on New Years Day two ought ten, only six more weeks until it’s time to put it up again… okay twelve weeks (but who’s counting?) My time flies… just wait you’re getting older too. My Ducks failed to show up on the bowl game gridiron (I’m not sure who they sent, but they didn’t play like my Ducks). And speaking of Ducks, my Ducky was stuck in the valley a few times by snow. The Winter Folk Festival and craft sale rocked with good dried apricot jam and The Brothers Four and Barry McGuire.

In February I received an awesome yoga DVD set for my birthday. Upward facing dog kicked my 54 year old ass and my Chiropractor, St Gregory (the ST stands for steel thumbs) said, “No, no.” to the yoga. Well spank my fat ass. At the radio auction I bought a kick ass secretariat for my new room. The question of twenty ten, “What do we call the new edition that is now six years old?” Note, I’ve tried Sunroom, garden room, sun room, new room seems to work… sort of.

March offered up a promise of spring and a feasible countdown to baseball season. The first of my daffodils and iris popped their poinky green tips out of the soggy, semi frozen garden sand….And then proceeded to go back to sleep. The annual home and garden show was a success.

April, there is no easy way to say it, Psam lost her job… thank you Mr. Unionman… for nothing. She loved her job, she’s damn good at her job… but she was low man on the totem pole. She also was turned down for unemployment…again I am disappointed in my government. The new Green Show seemed more like a repeat of the Home and Garden Show. Baseball season came and I was wishing for Duck Football, I seemingly can’t be pleased.

May, Rhody Fest came, gone, and will reappear before you even know it. A good time was had by all. Darn it just tires me all to hell out. On the other hand I started my Christmas shopping. I know, I know – you’re saying it’s May, really, Christmas shopping? Yeah, duh! When you find great stocking stuffers you buy them and start the list.

June seemed like an extension of early spring, cold and wet. Now all my friends will say, “But. Cele you like the rain and cold of Winter.”

I will reply, “Yes, I do, but not in June, July, and August.”

July… flew by. I boycotted the Fireworks Spectacular. Missed the crafts fair.

August… gone. But, oh, oh, oh I did go to my first bead trunk show and a new addiction was in embryotic form.

September – DUCK FOOTBALLLLLLLLLL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I’ve become predictable and boring… until the game starts and then the loud unholy football fan takes over and I morph in to Mega football Mama! Go Ducks! Thank fully and I do mean fully that my husband, my daughter, my grandson, my sister, sister in law and their families are all MEGA DUCK fans too. Second passion of the season, fishing. Ducky got me on the banks of the Siuslaw with a Salmon pole in hand. I didn’t catch a single nibble, let alone the whole fish but gosh I loved it all. We spent sunny afternoons on the bank of the river, taking it all in, casting over and over again, not a care in the world. Heaven.

October, wow, more Duck Football; a little more fishing, but now I’m starting to worry about Christmas, it’s only three weeks away. I can’t find last year’s Christmas list. Bottles are $23 a case, I need two, but it’s $48 dollars to ship them. Crap what am I going to do? How about another bead trunk show…. Woo hoo I’m hooked. Oh and I had great jack-o-lanterns.

November, visit St. Gregory and a week later my neck is out. Freck. I spent Thanksgiving puking, laying on my daughter’s bed, and did I mention puking? Where is that friggin’ Christmas list? Bracelets were made, more beads bought, addiction, addiction, addiction.

December started with the final Duck victory of the regular season and the Pac Ten Championship – up next Auburn. Well, I finally found the Christmas list from last year… you know - the one I forgot to fill it all out, what did we get the Brit? Empty Bowls were bought and filled, wrapped and awaited gifting. New bottles were bought at the Home Fermentation store, Kahlua made, labels celebrated, and presents wrapped. More bracelets made. BTW, the Wii Ducky got is still in its box. Maybe this weekend, right after I take down the Christmas tree, I’ll get it hooked up.

It’s December 31st at 9:10pm. The day after the current topic fairy failed at his task. He’s probably in the midst of very non-private exhibition. Germany, England, Scotland, and West Virginia have already counted down. Their feet now are firmly resting in twenty eleven, and it is on the verge of snowing here. Happy New Year.

Sith,
Cele

Talk Thursday: If This Is The Holidays, Why Do I Feel…

The holidays were great. We had a family Christmas gathering the weekend before Christmas, bringing together my daughter, our grandson, and Ducky’s daughters and their significant others. Normally I’d not break it down that, I consider Ducky’s daughters mine, he looks at Psam as his daughter and while there have been problems, it works. This year I went the easy route, dips, guacamole, nibbles, Psam made her famous Pico De Gallo (I’m in seventh heaven) and then pizza from the local Abby’s. Sunday morning we ransack our stockings, then pile into the cars and breakfasted at our favorite omelet place. Afterwards we went home and open presents. Then two third of them can’t get out of the house fast enough. It works.

We had a smaller Christmas celebration this year for several reasons, but first and foremost… I had a breakdown last year at Christmas time. Ducky threatened to cancel our Christmas gathering this year, but Psam chipped in and was a huge help. I scaled back my cooking and all was good. To me Christmas is all about family, it wouldn’t have been Christmas without Psam and Burp, my mom and grandmother. Ducky’s family is always welcomed, as are all holiday orphans, but they all have their own families and traditions, and the girls are required (at the ages of 30 and 36) to be at their mother’s for Christmas. Let me stop now and thank my parents for urging all their children to create their own traditions – they rarely requested a family Christmas.

My father was born to a very poor family in the back hills of West Virginia, my mother to a family of standing and modest wealth in Pasadena, CA, despite the vast difference in their personal experiences they made the holidays work and taught us it’s not the present but the thought that counts. My sister, mother, Psam, and myself often make our gifts. This year Psam and I spent Christmas Eve beading the last of our bracelets for gifting. Believe it or not I was a wee bit worried about giving such a small gift, second- guessing myself and not giving the recipients enough credit. I may be new at making beaded bracelets but I enjoy it, they are pretty and wearable, I crafted each to reflect the person recieving.

Psam gave me several unique wire wrapped heart beads she’d picked up that day in Eugene. The new beads gave me the opportunity to try multi-piece bracelets. The turned out pretty kewl, my grandmother really seemed to like hers.

The one bad thing that happened was Arlo’s gluttony for anything edible- preferably something to which he is allergic, struck. Sunday morning when the house was quite, Ducky and I were doing various chores in opposite sides of the house Arlo got into my closet and ate 8 ounces of chocolate covered espresso beans. Hmm,mmm lip smacking good if his smacking lips and lapping tongue were any indication. Hey, it was all good though, he hadn’t ravished my Peeps! Not for lack of trying, one corner of the wrapper was definitely dog mauled. Butthead, stay away from my Peeps! I mean, sheesh, he got a bag of dried apple slices, a bag of banana chips, and a knotted rawhide in his stocking – what more does a dog need?

In recent years I think I let the stress and demand of the holidays get to me. This year I took back the joy and simplicity of the season. It was a great holiday season, replete family, friends, Christmas socks (pictures to come), a brand new Kahlua Cali label
that was a last minute spate of inspiration (I think I’ll make this one permanent I like it that much), and dog mauled Chocolate Mousse Peeps – It was Christmas and I feel fabulous!

Sith,
Cele

Talk Thursday: But For The Grace… of God

Often I count my blessings, for I am truly blessed. I am of normal mental health, I have a husband who loves me, a daughter I adore, a grandson who is the light of my life, and my mother likes me. I have a job, a soft bed, fresh wholesome food, and clothing of good repair in a size I might not like, but they fit. I have more than I need, want for nothing, and I am happy.

And then I look around me. I realize that there is a sad part of me that has become cynical about individual human conditions, even about many of the organizations that aide those that are in need. On Saturday the local Soroptimist club teamed up with several other organizations and distributed almost 600 Christmas baskets to families in the community in need. Food for a holiday meal, maybe presents for the children, new socks, a jacket, or some other much need basic necessity – those daily items many of us take for granted. But the reality is I know that many people take those baskets do not want of much if anything. How do I know this? I’ve been handed a box by my grandmother who had it given to her by someone who’d gotten emergency food from the Food Share. I try to give at least a hundred dollars a year to the Christmas Basket Project, it’s not much but it will cover the cost of two baskets. I give several times a year to the Food Share, the rest that I give is to the local Habitat for Humanity. It is never enough and there are never enough donations, whether it be in Florence or in your own town. And yet, despite it never being enough for those truly in need there are those who aren’t yet take. This rents my soul. My arguments and anger over this injustice fall on deaf ears. But yet, I give because I can and if not for the blessings of my birth, the generosity of my family, and my job it could have been me who lined up at 5:30 in the morning to make sure I had a dinner for my family. I believe charity begins at home, Florence is my home, I give here, my money stays here, and helps people here. I am blessed.

The husband of one of my best friends is dying. It might not happen tomorrow (but it could) it might not happen next week (but it is a definite possibility), it might not happen next month (but that would shock me) it will happen; it is happening slowly and she has little or no power over this mandate of abused health and old age. He is a diabetic, former smoker, has less than 25 percent use of his heart and he is in renal failure – and yet he could linger. She is a strong soul but her plate so very full. She already has a severely disable daughter for whom she cares, grandchildren who come into her home to live and then leave when it’s convenient to do so, and children far from home – she needs their help and yet she is alone. I ache for her all the while knowing I am blessed because my family is healthy, hard working, self sufficient, and supportive. I am not alone and even more than that I am loved. That isn’t to say that my friend isn’t, it is just… I am not her, I do not live her life and except for my support 2500 miles away I can not help her.

My friends both in my work-a-day world, my online life, and off times, are real, diverse, and rich in the rewards of laughter, communion, and support. But for the grace of God, a circumstance of birth, a disrupted chromosome or mutated gene go I. I do not let my blessing go un-noted,, I do not let them go uncounted, I do not let them pass silently in the dark taken for granted. I am blessed

And the reality my friend is that you most likely were too.

Sith,
Cele

Talk Thursday: Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can stab much deeper

People use the words they mean, whether they realize it or not. As people we individually place levels of meaning to words that mean the same thing – read as “Cele can say four words that mean the same thing, through word usage is the seriousness of the matter is truly implied.” It’s a me thing to a point, I guess. People strike out with words.

My mother sincerely believed (until the other night at dinner) that I had once screamed the words at her, “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!” Not. I screamed those words at my father, whom in front of visiting extended family (rather loudly in bold font) announced he believed I would be pregnant by the Mexican boy next door with in six months. This happened because I asked if we could go on a neighborhood picnic. He said that, I screamed that, but not at my mother. My grandmother upon hearing this explanation of the facts looked at my mother and asked why he would do that? He did it because he believed I liked the boy next door (not, Benny and I were no more than neighborhood friends) and he judged me based on his actions as a teenager.

I adored my father; he was one of my heroes, my mentors, my friends. I miss him dearly to this day and know that there are things he said in my life that were said out of frustration and based on his experience but overlaid on what he thought was happening in mine. We were father and daughter, we were friends, and even though he is now passed close to three years he visits me, wants the best for me, and loves me. His words may have cut at the moment, but they helped me evolve into me.

My first husband has a drinking problem, but long ago it was a drug and drinking problem. We spent many a party with him passed out in someone’s back room, under the keg at a function (this was lovely when he was in the service), or just AWOL because a beer was more important than family. He’s not my favorite person, but we get along. He never used words that cut, he used his fist. I left

My second husband used words. Words that cut me more than anything my first husband ever did. He told me in succession
1) you have no sense of humor
2) you are the most negative person I know
3) you don’t have your own personality
4) and probably the worst, “I have never loved you, I just wanted the family you offered.”
Number four destroyed me, how do you live with someone for eleven years, tell them you love them and then turn around and say you never did. I’m sorry, let me reiterate that, NEVER LOVED YOU, because regardless of how somberly spoken, how quietly uttered they scream while renting through my heart and soul.

I gave the best eighteen years of my life to these two men and they trod with cork boots on them. I survived the fist, the choking, the beating my head in to a cement floor… and rather admirably I might say, but the words hurt me to this day. I am an imitation of others – hey wait a friggin’ minute we are all an amalgamation of others we meet through out our lives, the lessons we learn, the slang we hear, the books we read, the movies we watch, and the songs we sing. It may be personal preference that leads us to steal “dude” as a favorite slang word, Folk Rock as a favorite type of music, or Jane Austin as a favorite author, but it is the people we met through life that we take the little nuances from.

I choose my words carefully as to not unintentionally hurt someone. I do not fling words out in anger. You can’t take back words said in a heated moment no matter how hard you try – so I refuse to utter them. I am not a saint; I’m a normal everyday person who has through a life of personal osmosis become who I am.

Through effort I removed most of the negativity in my personality and strive to be a positive. While I have my loud moments and voice I tend to have a quiet personality. Sense of humor I’m not so sure about. But what I do have is a large vocabulary and usually know how to use it. I don’t use it to hurt.

Sith,
Cele