Talk Thursday: How many times do you need to experience it before you learn?

Not many, I’m a quick study. And the angel on my shoulder is screaming in my right ear, “Liar, liar, pants on fire.” Ah, there is no peace in the world. I began my evening with half a poem and no blog for the week. I now have half a poem, some hefty frustration, and a blog concept born of said hefty frustration.

Several days ago, Artgirl blogged, and I felt the need to comment. She’d written something about Stanley Tucci, so I attempted to leave this message…

You're not even in the right age group for him to look yummy, but I am and you're right. It's the whole package that does it. Cute, witty, and silently hunky.

I typed in my google account ID and password and nada, typed it in again, and got a word verification. Now usually I love myself some VW because the words are hysterical and I try to make a definition up for the truly kewl ones. This time it was just irritating as hell, when it sent me back to the ID and password page, then to the VW page, then to the comment page with some inane message. I gave up, dropped Artgirl an email about her comment section. Then said what the heck and signed an anonymous post.

In all truth I’ve not had time to blog this week, so I wasn’t prepared when I stopped by Kristin (the new girl at Talk Thursday) to check out her blog and leave a little comment. Now I know lots of people refuse to comment, to me it’s my way of supporting the blogger. You get paid in comments. So after reading Kristin’s blog I wrote this comment.

Kristin,
Welcome to Talk Thursday, you are so ahead of me, I’ve yet to figure out how I’m going to address this topic.

I typed in my ID and Password and entered what I now refer to as, The Blog Spot Bermuda Triangle, except instead of my comment disappearing into some other plane of existence where I have to worry about breaking the time travel paradox if I want to retrieve it, I get the endless loop of revolving door form applications. Oh mi god, Betelgeuse was wrong, hell is trying to comment on blogger.

So I closed my browser. Opened a new one (because you know it had to be EI, not Blogger) and I began to comment again….

Kristin,
Welcome to Talk Thursday. I’m not sure what I’m going to blog about, but I promise I won’t put my finger (or thumb – gotta cover all bases) into the cigarette lighter.

You had to be there.And enter the self- induced blogger conundrum again. WTF? I know I can do this. Ergo, I closed the browser, opened a browser, and typed in….

Kristin, (poor girl is beginning to get a bum wrap and it’s not even her fault – Damn that Blogger) I’m not sure you’re going to get this comment, I’m having problems. Regardless, Welcome to Talk Thursday. Now to go figure out my spin on this topic.

And then it happened, the lightbulb when on and I decided to just comment with my name and URL… and so I typed in and clicked on comment.

Mut!% Fr!(%en (omm#&1 H#!!

Kristin, (honestly Kristin I know it’s not you, honest, even I have blogger) Blogger hates me, so I apologize (although you'll never know it) because my comments (although I've tried several times) are not being accepted by blogger. I now know how I will write this topic.... oh by the way, welcome to Talk Thursday - Cele

This time I just used anonymous and all is well – that is if you don’t want to include the fact that I have now not only stalked, but traumatized Kristin. Until the next time I want to post. So reality being as it is, I’ve no clue how long it takes a quick study to learn how to properly post to Blogger or switch to Word Press.

I do know that Stanley Tucci is cute, did you see him in Burlesque? Adorable.

Sith,
Cele

Talk Thursday: The Next Time I’m President

The civilized world is thankful this will never happen, but what if? I’m discouraged at the state of American politics today. Democrat versus Republican and the rest of us get run over in the process. I proudly voted for Obama, the sign supporting him in the elections still remains in my living room window, but I am disillusioned at his inability to stand by his “convictions.” I know a politician makes promises and I think they generally believe their promises to the voters they are wooing. But when the vows are said and the honeymoon is over then life and politics begin and promises are trampled.

In the battle between the political parties we are lost. Remember the promise that lobbyist would be banned from the Obama administration? I’d ban lobbyist from Washington DC completely. I would then work to establish the following:

1) A loop hole free, equitable flat tax
2) Work for welfare system, where recipients would have to give back an equitable amount of work for the benefits they receive. This would include serving on jury duty, litter patrol, day care, and weeding in pubic by ways and properties and other public services.
3) Remove the busybody interest of one American in another American’s life – to misquote Hilary Clinton “It takes a village. Who cares who you fuck.”
4) Cut off funds to ALL countries that support or are terrorist – i.e. Pakistan (let India deal with them.)
5) Better yet, cut off nation welfare. If we can’t pay our own interest payment how can we pay other countries?
6) Bring our soldiers home, put them on border patrol. Think about it, if the American Indians had better immigration laws we’d not be in this fix today. No it’s not their fault they believed our lies. Tsk tsk tsk
7) Better yet, if they get in, let them work by setting up a system where illegal aliens can work and pay taxes into our system, but are not eligible for support benefits i.e. unemployment, disability, or social security payments.
8) Confiscate companies and imprison employers who are responsible for hiring illegal aliens who use stolen SSI’s and fuck up the lives of hard working Americans. Oh don’t give me that, you’d be surprised.
9) Create a national health system that takes the power of health care choices out of the hands of insurance companies and politicians and places it back in the hands of the patient and their physician.
10) Open the forest back up to reasonable and sustainable logging.
11) Focus on creating and sustaining renewable resources and affordable solar power.
12) Force the automotive industry to move solidly into affordable alternative fuel sources.
13) Place both steep taxes on American companies that take their manufacturing offshore, and steeper tariffs on their products when they bring them on shore.
14) Remove the pork barrel from American politics.
15) And fill the friggin pot holes – that should put thousands of Americans back to work alone.
Drats, I know I’m forgetting an item or three. This folks is why I would never be elected… And Jen thank you for this topic, tooo enlightening and fun.

Sith,
Cele

Talk Thursday: The Animal Life

We use to have a yard filled with birds of varied assortment, squirrels who chattered their fevered warnings from the bull pines as I worked in the yard, and bears. I rarely see a squirrel anymore, birds quit stopping by my yard when I quit putting out birdseed for the rats, and the bears… well a neighbor had three in her yard at dusk three nights ago. But, I now only have Arlo the retaliatory pisser.

Why does a dog have to be so contrary? He is. I can spend the day with him in the garden, I dig out the weeds, he whines. I dead head the posies, he whines. I water the plants, he whines, I squirt him with the garden hose. Hey, a girl has to have some justice in this world. The point is, while I have work in the yard to get done I make sure I take him with me.
If he were trustworthy I’d let him off leash, but the only thing I can trust him to do is wander away (quickly) and ignore my crass screaming at him as I run my fat ass down the street to catch him. Which is more fun than a girl wants to have, let me tell you.

A few weekends ago when Burp was here I didn’t let Arlo in until it was about 9:30 at night. I’d not gotten home from work until late, ergo dinner was late - I was in chat, Ducky in bed, and Burp was in his room. So I let Arlo in, give him several pieces of apple and return to chat; he promptly jumps into Ducky’s recliner and pees in it. WTF!?! Folks, this is not a first. Thank heavens I have a handy dandy little green machine or whatever the little green machine’s predecessor is called, but this isn’t suppose to be this way. I’ve never had a dog who took two years to house break and then reminds me how darm stupid I am by continually pissing on my rug or furniture. And no I can’t get rid of him, he’s family (the type I want to hide in my mom’s closet, but family none the less.)

So here I am, living in heaven with a pissy hellhound. God save me.

Sith,
Cele

Now folks this is rejuvenation… right after my back quits hurting

It was our weekend with Burp, and sadly Ducky had to work. This was made worse by our plans to take Burp to the third annual Wings and Wheels event, something Ducky was really looking forward to. Earlier this week we did a story on tide pools and it reminded me how incredibly long it had been since I’d been to the tide pools or that matter the beach. Is this the wrong time to mention I live a mile as the gull flies from the ocean? Really. Ages since I’d been to the beach.

So at eight Saturday morning Burp and I headed north to the tide pools of Bob’s Creek (that’s about 18 miles north of Florence.) A beautiful spot that is made up of sand and basalt rocks, Bob’s Creek is a bit of a rocky access, next time we will go further to Neptune and maybe even Cape Perpetua.


There is no trip north of Florence that doesn’t require a picture of the Heceta Head Lighthouse. Or five.


The difference with this tide pool adventure is that we were both armed with cameras. And we both had blogs to write. We were both wearing bad footwear, honest next time I’m buying myself a pair of watersox just for the occasion.

The day was beautiful. We arrived at the tidepools just at low tide. Honest, if low
tide had been at say 9 to 10am we’d have had more time, but I didn’t drag my butt out of bed until 7:30. After two or three bad starts on the rocky beach we finally made it to some good standing pools. In just over an hour we discovered…

Both the Green Anemones shown to the side and Aggregating Anemones (shown in a picture below - very similar.)


Hermit Crabs (okay just one crab in this picture, but honest there were more.)


Ochre Sea Stars (both orange and purple) look close, while the orange one is front and center basking amid the barnacles, there are purple ones above and beyond him.


California Mussels and Gooseneck Barnacles.



Coraline Algea, seagrass, rockweed, and bull kelp. You can see the Aggregating Sea Anemones in this one too. We also found periwinkles, limpets, and several sea snails. But no sea cucumbers. Drats!

Besides being a fabulous morning, I got to spend it with one of my favorite people on the whole earth, who turned out to be pretty darn good at tide pooling.

I'm blessed.

Sith,
Cele

Talk Thursday: Rejuvenation

From Word Web….
Noun
1) The phenomenon of vitality and freshness being restored
2) The act of restoring to a more youthful condition

Wouldn’t that make it a verb? Just askin’. Seriously it said noun. So I checked out Merriam Webster’s, and while, yes Virginia it can be a noun, in my usage, totally a transition verb. Thank God. I freaked there for just a moment. Lately I’ve been having these Ginkgo Biloba moments and almost fell for it. Whew!

Rejuvenation, in middle age - isn’t that the same thing as diet and exercise? Totally a verb. I can’t say I’ve been rejuvenated. I get out in my garden, it keeps growing, I keep weeding and writing more checks for this compost, that seedling, those pavers and then start all over the next spring. That’s not rejuvenation, that’s repurchasing my garden. But I love my garden, digging in the soil and
un-sticking the slugs from my knees, and dead heading (Jerry and the boys are optional.) Do you know how much satisfaction there is in deadheading? Give it a try. Plant a puny little petunia, sprinkle it with some compost, surround with a heavy duty force field of Deadline, step back and watch mother nature take over. The following weekend go out with your prunners and dead head the spent blooms. Before you know it, removing the old has made way for new blooms several times over and dead- heading has you in your garden for hours on end, sniffing up heavenly blooms.

Dead heading… totally a rejuvenating verb.

I’ve had been on this diet, a life style type change of diet. Having grown up in the sixties I was taught to eat everything on my plate, because you know children in India and China were starving. I’ll pretend I was polite when the topic of my un-cleared plate was brought up. Hence I have an eating problem, I have to eat everything on my plate. Worse I made my daughter eat everything on her plate. America, this is just wrong. Wrong I say. So well into my fifties I’ve had to teach myself portions. This also means cutting back on my consumption of meat. Because America do you know the size of a meat portion? Texas is exempt from answering that question. It is 3 to 6 oz. Do you know what 4.5 ounces of meat looks like? I didn’t think so. I do now, didn’t then, but I have altered my intake to be much closer to 3 ounces than 10. After that I cut out potatoes (except on Fast Food Fridays,) breads (except on Fast Food Fridays,) and pasta (except when I eat pasta.) Now you ask what is Fast Food Fridays. Go ahead, ask.

I’m waiting.

Ah, hmmmm.

Here, let me help you. “Cele, what is Fast Food Fridays?”

Oh, my sole reader I am so glad you asked. Fast Food Fridays is my way of staying sane and on my diet. I try to maintain an 1100 to 1300 calorie a day diet through out the week. Well screw that concept all to heck on Friday night, “Honey, let’s order pizza.” And then I top it off with ice cream. Folks, come Saturday I’m back on my diet with little problem through out the week ( as long as I don’t buy large cans of peanuts.) I’ve lost twenty or so pounds. By now I want to be down thirty, but apparently that isn’t happening without exercise. Ugh.

My clothes are fitting a bit better, can we say “baggy pants?” But I am far from being where I want to be. So I’m going to have to get on my cross train and cross train. It sounds so much better said that way. It’s still not rejuvenation, but it is better than I was, not as good as I will be. And my garden is still growing. Here, see the pictures for yourself.

Now I'm off to plant my Chocolate Cosmo and vanilla scented Heliotrop


Sith,
Cele

Talk Thursday: I Don't Really Love To Bitch, but here goes...

The reality is, I don’t live to bitch, a good rant aids the soul; a bitch is just that, a negative out pouring that rarely results in positive input. I’m just saying. So instead of a bitch, I’ll opt for some little nit picky, nagging.

Why do people feel they can say what ever they want, gratis? Why? Because it’s coming out of your mouth? That makes it okay that you abused a person?

Not.

Yes, this gripe comes from somewhere close to home. Last Thursday night when I should have been blogging, I instead had dinner with my brother, sister in law, and mom. During post dinner conversation with mostly my sister in law, I was there, but it was her way, her viewpoint; don’t bother with your viewpoint, because she would cut you off before the first comma, ergo while there - I was not actually in the conversation. I sat and politely listened, injected two and a half words, skidded to an elliptical halt and of course politely listened some more. Apparently my face didn’t show what I wanted nor what she found appropriate, because she told me I shouldn’t be offended “it’s the truth.” And then she was affronted when I told her she didn’t hurt my feelings when she said I should get out of Florence and into the real world. What really drove me crazy to frustration was the constant interrupt / over ride, what I needed was to be able to finish a sentence. So I said, “I would just like to be able to finish a sentence.” Apparently I’m a bitch. No she didn’t call me such. But she did huff off all offended. C’est La Vie.

Next, DJ’s who don’t know crap about the music they play. Like say the station’s genre and the genre of the music they keep saying we should play, but ohmigosh we’re an Adult Contemporary station what do you mean we should play Beyonce? She’s not AC, she’s not Hot AC, but excuse me she’s got a great ass – and although she’ highly talented, she’s not the iddybiddiest original. Then there are DJ’s who don’t know who has done what. Song in point (and this is from a very old conversations) my DJ couldn’t understand why we play Counting Crows w/ Vanessa Carlton’s Big Yellow Taxi. His argument, it’s a cover of Amy Grant’s Big Yellow Taxi. To this I said, “Yankee, Amy Grant’s is a cover the original was done by Joni Mitchell.”

Seriously, “Joni who?”

“Dude, go listen to Neil Diamond’s Red Red Wine and then come back and argue covers verses originals.”

Okay, this one is a bitch. Going into the grocery store and having to….
1) Wait to actually enter the store because people are standing in the entry way
a) Deciding which way they should turn
b) What they are actually looking for
c) or Was this even the right store

2) Having to turn around in the grocery store aisle because
a) She/He had to bring along she/he and they are arguing the merits of mustard
b) Joan on the corner, met June from the other corner and they are catching up on the neighborhood gossip and yes obliviously blocking the friggin' aisle.

3) People who are driving down the highway and literally have to slow to a stop to turn on to the bisecting road. WTF, people go back to driver ed because you need it.

Okay, that’s it. Not that I’ve run out of bitches or nit pics, but it’s getting too negative. Time to go garden.

Sith,
Cele

Talk Thursday: On My Road

Oh that is where I long to be, traveling, somewhere warm, the car window down basking in the bone warming sun. I won’t be taking a vacation this year, yes I will take off a week, but we have a daughter getting married and then we are going to take Burp on the Jet Boats out of Gold Beach. Too much fun, I think Psam was about his age when we took her.

Life is a road, with a tremendous amount of one way streets and detours, how we navigate those highways and byways is both the weft and weave of the story of what we are and how it was done. It is the measure by which we are judged; judged by others, by God, by ourselves. I want my travels on the road to be of good faith, intent, and deed; not a dirty little track littered by the remains of those I chewed up and spat out. I want there to be the well-woven tale of a woman who lived life, worthy of the telling at the end of my days.

What I want and what is differs from what was and what will be. Regardless it is my tale, it is my journey, it is my life to fuck up and mine to right. I have an amazing set of numbers that I truly don’t believe I live up to: 38 – 11 – 2 the master numbers of an old soul. The old soul part I believe for I often feel I once was a healer, a listener, a nurse. The sad part is I know that I am not tapping into the power potential inside of me and I fail to understand how to do so. No one has been able to describe to me how I must achieve this goal or worse, how to stay focused.

I do not grasp on to anger, grudge holding is not my forte, but the flip side of that short attention span is that things don’t hold my focus. My life lesson is anger, I know this must be something I indulged in lives past, because I know there is a capacity in me to rage, but I have learned to not say things that can not be taken back. To not lose my temper and rail at an in animate object, to not take my frustration and pettiness on others (for the most part) and I have learned to give up the negative energy of anger and displeasure. I’m still working on blocking the hurt… but maybe that’s another life.

For now I am still on this journey, collecting the love and lessons of others. On this journey I am learning I annoy others with my offer of knowledge. On this journey to others I offer a haven of comfort. On this journey I seek humor, love, and knowledge, in return I create a space of peace.

Sith,
Cele

Talk Thursday:…..Little Did I Know…

Which is assuming I know much of anything, because let’s get real, in this day and age knowing anything and the truth are relevant.

America has played a nasty game of Cat and Mouse with Osama Bin Laden. In the two wars that have ensued since the tragic days of September 11th 2001 Americans have called foul at images of “Muslims” (because we know in “truth” that the word “Muslims” means American hating Arabs – every single one of them, you betcha) parading hooded GI’s about (often just before they were killed) – yes there was a point to the opening line, we’ve become those we have called foul at…well doesn’t it say lusting in the heart is the same as having the affair?

In all honesty I was appalled Monday, in the wake of the death of Osama Bin Laden, by Americans who “celebrated” his death. I’m appalled that we would celebrate anyone’s death in such a way. Osama Bin Laden was a hideous man who worked to keep many Muslim women living in the stone age; who, for decades carried on an active campaign to wipe out Americans; who lived in hate, espoused hate as if it were a tenant of his religion, and who led many willing Americans down the road of his hatred (on all sides of the argument… that doesn’t exist.) This is all true in almost anyone’s reality. But celebrating his death is hateful and an extremely sad comment on Americans and worse so many “Christian Americans.”

Jesus said, “But I tell you who hear me: Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you (Luke 6:27-28).

I applaud Americans and those in the world who knew Bin Laden’s death was a good thing, but felt bad that it was a good thing. I applaud those who did not celebrate, but accepted the value of that final action. I applaud President Obama for not publishing the death pictures and for his solemn demarcation of the events. Little did I know there would be idiots like Sarah “Maverick” Palin who is now calling Obama chicken (okay, she really said, “Stop pussy footing around and release Bin Laden’s death pictures.” Amazingly sad.) And if he were to release said pictures, then she would be the first to point her finger saying something to the affect that he’s responsible for the death of ? thousands who perished in Al Qaeda’s retaliation.

Yes, folks I am a pacifist, being Quaker in faith might have been a clue. That being pointed out once again, let it be said I do understand where taking out a murderer can be construded as a good thing. I do have a problem with people who can’t move past the actions of 9/11, I have a problem with people who horde the anger as if it’s a precious commodity to be taken out and stroked reverently as a symbol of patriotism. Bin Laden and his Al Qaeda cronies will win their victories over Americans every time someone gets fearful because 9/11 might happen again… every time an American, especially a Christian American, raise their voice or fist in ignorance at a person just because they are of a different race, of a different religion, or because “they aren’t Americans” (how the heck do you know? Really, Intuition? crappy ignorance.) with every hateful post reaction ignorance and fear give Bin Laden and Al Qaeda a brand new victory. Little do these people know they are Bin Laden’s weapons of Mass Destruction.

Sith
Cele

May Day – 2011 – Roger that.

Today was Ducky’s birthday and for a few years I’ve been kicking around the thought of getting him a flight in a Bi-Plane. Our house is situated just north of the Florence airport and we have often seen the Bi-Planes taking off and flying about. Each time we see one he’d say he’d love to take one of those flights, but that is as far as it’s gone. I’ve told him I had bid on or almost won the bidding at the Radio Auction on a flight and he kind of blew it off. So really I blended that piece of information with his uncomfortable stance of flying and didn’t get one.

Until this year.

This morning (Sunday, May 1st) my little May Flower (tulips please) woke up and found three balloons attached to a water proof disposable camera, a birthday card and this note….

♥ ♪♫•**¨*•.¸¸♥ Happy Birthday ~ Ducky ♥ ♪♫•*¨*•.¸¸♥

Happy Birthday!!!!
My Sweets

Be prepared at 9:15 to begin your birthday treat.

I love you,
Calista

Ps: Please make sure I’m ready too.
Thank you,
Love Me

At 9:30 this morning we met Ret. Lt. Col. Sam Spayd and his beautiful 1944 Stearman BiPlane of Aero Legends at the Florence Municipal Airport.
Ducky was all a tweeter – but no he does not tweet. Sam is a man truly in love with his plane, he walked us out onto the apron and introduced us – she’s a beauty. He gave us her history, explained all the gauges, gadgets, and humerous stories about his plane and then they boarded.



Take off was about five minutes later.


They cruised up the coast to the Sea Lion Caves, Heceta Head Lighthouse, and Carl Washburn State Park before heading back down the coast,
over the Three Rivers Casino, down the Siuslaw River, over the Bridge, into town and landed back on the grass strip between runways 33 and 33-15. Twenty minutes later.

Ducky loved it, said it was easier than flying in a jet (even if the destination were Las Vegas). Next time I’ll have to get him the hour flight. I can’t wait to see the pictures he took, even if he wound the film advancer backwards. And I'm definately looking forward to my turn.

Sith,
Cele

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