Well, it’s official. My grandson is growing up to be a hard core, dyed in the wool, full blooded Alabama Redneck. When I left for work this afternoon he was perched in the top of a tree with his trusty B-B gun in hand and blowing like his life depended on it on an old duck call someone had given him. Now this wouldn’t be so funny except I don’t live anywhere near anything resembling a duck habitat and his call sounded like a duck that had personality issues or throat cancer or something. Oh well, at least he’s live entertainment for the squirrels.
Tomorrow is Halloween and I hope y’all have a good time. I have plans with friends to hit a haunted house, go out for dinner and then take in a horror movie. Then on Saturday several of us are dressing up and having a witch’s brew night with game playing, Bloody Champaign Mimosas and lots of laughs and giggles.
Happy Haunting Y’all. Hope you get treated and not tricked.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Monday, October 20, 2008
WHAT'S THE VOTE?
I love this new widget! There are four icons you can put on any blog or web page. When a page containing one of them is loaded, the browser goes to this site to fetch the icon containing the current predictions. Clicking on the icon takes you to the site. Why don't ya go and get yours?
Friday, September 19, 2008
WORKING FOR A LIVING
Up at 3 AM, home anytime between 6 PM and 7 PM: every day, 7 days a week. This has been going on since I got home from Texas but I'm not gonna complain because I realize that I'm in better shape than a lot of other people. I know a lot of families making getting by on low wages who would love to be in my position. Yeah, I knew all this and more, but this article in MSNBC really opened my eyes. You should go read it and count your blessings. Here are a few highlights:
The article goes on about how an unbelievable number of folks have lost their homes. Being homeless no longer means being a drunk or drug addict who doesn't work much less bathe. It now means whole families who couldn't make their house payment sleeping in the family car.
Thankfully I have a good paying job and a home that's paid for. It's easy to complain about high gas prices and long work hours but sometimes we need to be reminded that we're lucky to have a job and a car to put gas in and a roof over our head when it rains.
We (and the rest of the world for that matter) think of America as the land of the entitled. When we see pictures of homeless people, starving children, people sleeping on the ground with no clothes and nothing to eat we think of a third world nation but Wake up folks, this is happening here in the USA!
Nearly 61 percent of local and state homeless coalitions say they've experienced a rise in homelessness since the foreclosure crisis began in 2007, according to a report by the National Coalition for the Homeless. The group says the problem has worsened since the report's release in April, with foreclosures mounting, gas and food prices rising and the job market tightening...........
*The relatively tony city of Santa Barbara has given over a parking lot to
people who sleep in cars and vans.
*The city of Fresno, Calif., is trying to manage several proliferating tent cities, including an encampment where people have made shelters out of scrap wood.
*In Portland, Ore., and Seattle, homeless advocacy groups have paired with nonprofits or faith-based groups to manage tent cities as outdoor shelters.
*Other cities where tent cities have either appeared or expanded include include Chattanooga, Tenn., San Diego, and Columbus, Ohio.
The article goes on about how an unbelievable number of folks have lost their homes. Being homeless no longer means being a drunk or drug addict who doesn't work much less bathe. It now means whole families who couldn't make their house payment sleeping in the family car.
Thankfully I have a good paying job and a home that's paid for. It's easy to complain about high gas prices and long work hours but sometimes we need to be reminded that we're lucky to have a job and a car to put gas in and a roof over our head when it rains.
We (and the rest of the world for that matter) think of America as the land of the entitled. When we see pictures of homeless people, starving children, people sleeping on the ground with no clothes and nothing to eat we think of a third world nation but Wake up folks, this is happening here in the USA!
Friday, September 12, 2008
YELLOWDOG GRANNY, WESTFEST AND HURRICANES
I reached West ½ an hour before Jackie was due to get off of work, so I decided to cruise around on my own and check things out. One of the first things to catch my eye was the Family Dollar sign and a light bulb went off over my pointy little head saying: “Hey, didn’t Jackie say that she worked at the dollar store?” So I parked, walked in and the first thing I see is Jackie at the register holding court with 4 or 5 people surrounding her. So there I stood in the middle of the store waiting for her to notice me.
Notice me she did but didn’t know who I was, thinking that I was there to see Inky. She pointed me out to Inky and he was “Who’s that?” when Jackie finally figured out “That’s Junebugg” and ran around the counter to hug me. I hung around Family Dollar until time for her to clock out and then we met Babs for get-to-know-each lunch where I had my first skunk egg (a wonderful tennis ball sized wad of ham, chicken, bacon, cheese and who knows what else that's been breaded and deep fried). Then it was on to Jackie’s house where I met and was approved by Queen Annie, one of the most regal felines on the planet.
Let me tell you people, Jackie fed me like a queen while I was in Texas. Country fried steak with all the fixings, ring bologna & cheese, the woman cooked up a storm; when she wasn’t cooking we were going out for kolaches (wonderful things, kolaches, I do they’re addicting). She made me feel pampered and spoiled and I dreaded going home where I’m the one doing all the work. It’s a good thing that I don’t live in West or I’d weigh 300 pounds!
The next few days were spend getting to know each other with Jackie taking me on a grand tour of West, pointing out all the highlights and giving me a running commentary on every building’s history and introducing me around to the local citizens. I believe the woman knows everyone within a 50 mile radius! The town’s not that big and traffic is almost nonexistent, at least until Friday. When the crowd showed up for Westfest Jackie would sit at a stop sign waiting to pull out going “Fucking Tourists, fucking tourists, damn it go home!”
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We both got to march in the Westfest parade but I kept losing Jackie. She was handing out the candy instead of throwing it and stopping to talk to everyone (I told you she knew everyone!) Babs had put me in charge of making sure that Jackie didn’t overdo because of her high blood pressure but when I tried to fuss she told me “The hazard pay ain’t high enough and I don’t need a MAMA." so I gave up and let her be. We had made “Obama Mama” t-shirts the night before when she had made signs for the democratic float, but the markers weren’t waterproof. So I look over at Jackie about half way through the parade and she’s got black streaks on both arms from sweating and rubbing her arms across her boobs (big boobs are a bitch sometimes). We both about melted in the Texas sun and afterwards went to get some water but all the stores had already sold out.
Gady (another one of Jackie's blog buddies) drove down to go to stay with Jackie and go to Westfest with us. Lucky feller, staying all night with two women and all. So off we go and he keeps losing one of us in the crowd. First I wondered off and then we lost Jackie. I almost chocked when he panicked and told me that he was an “Alpha Male” and it was his job to take care of the women. I can’t remember the last time that I needed taken care of and I don’t think that Jackie was ever helpless, but men can’t help being men what with all those male hormones messing with their brains. Besides, it was kinda sweet.
I learned to do the Chicken dance, drank 3 Pevos (beer) and had a great time. Who knew that polka was such a big draw? The place was packed and everyone seemed to be having a blast, I even ran up on a guy from Alabama! I watched in amusement as an older gentlemen went around kissing all the young girls on the hand as he leered down their cleavage and there was a young man dressed in costume leaning on a tent pole holding a sign that said “Will dance for pevo” who Jackie tried to give some money to.
After Westfest we dropped in at a bar that Jackie knew. Gady was a little hesitant about going in because the lot was almost empty and dark and the building was “rustic”; but we females started in without him and you know that an “alpha male” wasn’t about to let the females go alone. Of course Jackie knew everyone inside and we all shot several games of pool. Jackie kicked my ass and then she played Gady. He won but I’m almost positive that she was sandbagging so as not to hurt his delicate male pride.
Home again; me on the couch, Jackie in the recliner and Gady in Jackie’s bed. Wonder how long it’s been since there’s been a man in Jackie’s bed??????? He leaves out first thing the next morning and we girls laze around and gossip about the night before (ain’t that what women usually do after a night out?)
I leave West in the leftovers of Hurricane Gustav. The weather doesn’t get bad until I’m leaving Dallas (thank Goddess, I hate driving in Dallas) and I had serious doubts about making it home that day. But all the rooms are taken up by refugees from Louisiana and the radio keeps promising that by the time I reach Memphis the rain will quit so I drive on. Visibility is nil, 18 wheelers are throwing up sheets of water and the interstate is flooded so I’ve got a death grip on the steering wheel driving while peering through the monsoon. I call Jackie at a rest stop to let her know that I’m OK so far and I can tell that she’s worried but I’m a stubborn cuss and keep on driving.
I made it home in 12 hours and 15 minutes, not too shabby for driving so far in a hurricane without any “alpha male” to hold my hand. I’d love to visit Jackie again, but I think that next time I just might fly.
Notice me she did but didn’t know who I was, thinking that I was there to see Inky. She pointed me out to Inky and he was “Who’s that?” when Jackie finally figured out “That’s Junebugg” and ran around the counter to hug me. I hung around Family Dollar until time for her to clock out and then we met Babs for get-to-know-each lunch where I had my first skunk egg (a wonderful tennis ball sized wad of ham, chicken, bacon, cheese and who knows what else that's been breaded and deep fried). Then it was on to Jackie’s house where I met and was approved by Queen Annie, one of the most regal felines on the planet.
Let me tell you people, Jackie fed me like a queen while I was in Texas. Country fried steak with all the fixings, ring bologna & cheese, the woman cooked up a storm; when she wasn’t cooking we were going out for kolaches (wonderful things, kolaches, I do they’re addicting). She made me feel pampered and spoiled and I dreaded going home where I’m the one doing all the work. It’s a good thing that I don’t live in West or I’d weigh 300 pounds!
The next few days were spend getting to know each other with Jackie taking me on a grand tour of West, pointing out all the highlights and giving me a running commentary on every building’s history and introducing me around to the local citizens. I believe the woman knows everyone within a 50 mile radius! The town’s not that big and traffic is almost nonexistent, at least until Friday. When the crowd showed up for Westfest Jackie would sit at a stop sign waiting to pull out going “Fucking Tourists, fucking tourists, damn it go home!”
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We both got to march in the Westfest parade but I kept losing Jackie. She was handing out the candy instead of throwing it and stopping to talk to everyone (I told you she knew everyone!) Babs had put me in charge of making sure that Jackie didn’t overdo because of her high blood pressure but when I tried to fuss she told me “The hazard pay ain’t high enough and I don’t need a MAMA." so I gave up and let her be. We had made “Obama Mama” t-shirts the night before when she had made signs for the democratic float, but the markers weren’t waterproof. So I look over at Jackie about half way through the parade and she’s got black streaks on both arms from sweating and rubbing her arms across her boobs (big boobs are a bitch sometimes). We both about melted in the Texas sun and afterwards went to get some water but all the stores had already sold out.
Gady (another one of Jackie's blog buddies) drove down to go to stay with Jackie and go to Westfest with us. Lucky feller, staying all night with two women and all. So off we go and he keeps losing one of us in the crowd. First I wondered off and then we lost Jackie. I almost chocked when he panicked and told me that he was an “Alpha Male” and it was his job to take care of the women. I can’t remember the last time that I needed taken care of and I don’t think that Jackie was ever helpless, but men can’t help being men what with all those male hormones messing with their brains. Besides, it was kinda sweet.I learned to do the Chicken dance, drank 3 Pevos (beer) and had a great time. Who knew that polka was such a big draw? The place was packed and everyone seemed to be having a blast, I even ran up on a guy from Alabama! I watched in amusement as an older gentlemen went around kissing all the young girls on the hand as he leered down their cleavage and there was a young man dressed in costume leaning on a tent pole holding a sign that said “Will dance for pevo” who Jackie tried to give some money to.
After Westfest we dropped in at a bar that Jackie knew. Gady was a little hesitant about going in because the lot was almost empty and dark and the building was “rustic”; but we females started in without him and you know that an “alpha male” wasn’t about to let the females go alone. Of course Jackie knew everyone inside and we all shot several games of pool. Jackie kicked my ass and then she played Gady. He won but I’m almost positive that she was sandbagging so as not to hurt his delicate male pride.
Home again; me on the couch, Jackie in the recliner and Gady in Jackie’s bed. Wonder how long it’s been since there’s been a man in Jackie’s bed??????? He leaves out first thing the next morning and we girls laze around and gossip about the night before (ain’t that what women usually do after a night out?)
I leave West in the leftovers of Hurricane Gustav. The weather doesn’t get bad until I’m leaving Dallas (thank Goddess, I hate driving in Dallas) and I had serious doubts about making it home that day. But all the rooms are taken up by refugees from Louisiana and the radio keeps promising that by the time I reach Memphis the rain will quit so I drive on. Visibility is nil, 18 wheelers are throwing up sheets of water and the interstate is flooded so I’ve got a death grip on the steering wheel driving while peering through the monsoon. I call Jackie at a rest stop to let her know that I’m OK so far and I can tell that she’s worried but I’m a stubborn cuss and keep on driving.
I made it home in 12 hours and 15 minutes, not too shabby for driving so far in a hurricane without any “alpha male” to hold my hand. I’d love to visit Jackie again, but I think that next time I just might fly.
Sunday, September 07, 2008
ON THE ROAD AGAIN
Lord, it’s been so long since I’ve flexed my writing muscles that I think they’ve atrophied (lets hope that brain-rot hasn’t set in also!). For those of y’all who’ve had the patience to hang around waiting for me to post, thank you from the bottom of my little old southern heart. I love y’all for your tolerance and promise to try to do better, but as you’ve heard before: "The best-laid plans of mice and men” - not to mention us females. Now for my long delayed Westfest post.
I left North Alabama on Wednesday morning (8/27) driving to the town of West, Texas, for a much anticipated visit with Jackie Sue (aka Yellowdog Granny) whom I’ve been online friends with for years but hadn’t actually met face-to-face. Friends, family and coworkers were all freaking out about me driving so far alone but really, what’s the big deal? Most accidents happen just miles from home because familiar territory causes us to let our guard down; you’re just as likely to get mugged at Wal-Mart or the grocery store as on the interstate, and if I drive solo I can stop when I want and drive all day if I feel like it. I’ve never had a problem with the fear of being alone and I’m a firm believer in “just doing it”. I truly think that if more people would just do what they want instead of being hampered by fear of the unknown, worrying about what someone else thinks is right, waiting for the perfect time or weight or age or income, yada, yada, yada; if you just do whatever the hell it is that’ll make you smile, then the world would be a richer and happier place.
Everyone was also tripping about me going to visit someone who was practically a stranger; going on and on about how Jackie Sue could be an ax murder, psychopath or bull dyke lesbian (did I point out what a vivid imagination they all have, plus I think some of the guys were using my trip as an excuse to concoct some major girl-on-girl fantasy action. When I mentioned that another female blogger lived in the area one of my coworkers got all excited and exclaimed “You mean that y’all are gonna have a “Ménage a twat”. Yeah, I work with a bunch of redneck hard ankles). The fact that Jackie Sue and I had had multiple phone conversations, exchanged gifts and cards and so on and so forth for a long period of time didn’t seem to mean a thing to anyone but what the hell, let ‘em have their daydreams.
I took the southern route, driving down to Birmingham and then swinging west through Jackson, MS and Shreveport, LA. Traffic was light and the weather was beautiful with the sun shining behind me and the car’s A/C keeping the 90+ heat outside. I had the cruise control set on 80 MPH and the stereo jacked up loud, singing my heart out with no one to tell me how off key I was. People everywhere I went were friendly and I didn’t have the first minute’s trouble with anything or anybody.
I crossed the Texas border that evening and spent the night in Marshall, with plans to drive cross-country on minor roads and do a little sight seeing the next day. I didn’t have a problem getting a room; as a matter of fact since I was a single female the hotel put me on the ground floor close to the desk where someone would always be close in case I had a problem. The desk clerk said that starting Monday that everything was booked because of the oncoming hurricane. I didn’t realize then that I was going to wind up driving home in Hurricane Gustav.
This is going to be a multi-part post, so stay tuned and I’ll let you know about all the doings at Westfest.
I left North Alabama on Wednesday morning (8/27) driving to the town of West, Texas, for a much anticipated visit with Jackie Sue (aka Yellowdog Granny) whom I’ve been online friends with for years but hadn’t actually met face-to-face. Friends, family and coworkers were all freaking out about me driving so far alone but really, what’s the big deal? Most accidents happen just miles from home because familiar territory causes us to let our guard down; you’re just as likely to get mugged at Wal-Mart or the grocery store as on the interstate, and if I drive solo I can stop when I want and drive all day if I feel like it. I’ve never had a problem with the fear of being alone and I’m a firm believer in “just doing it”. I truly think that if more people would just do what they want instead of being hampered by fear of the unknown, worrying about what someone else thinks is right, waiting for the perfect time or weight or age or income, yada, yada, yada; if you just do whatever the hell it is that’ll make you smile, then the world would be a richer and happier place.
Everyone was also tripping about me going to visit someone who was practically a stranger; going on and on about how Jackie Sue could be an ax murder, psychopath or bull dyke lesbian (did I point out what a vivid imagination they all have, plus I think some of the guys were using my trip as an excuse to concoct some major girl-on-girl fantasy action. When I mentioned that another female blogger lived in the area one of my coworkers got all excited and exclaimed “You mean that y’all are gonna have a “Ménage a twat”. Yeah, I work with a bunch of redneck hard ankles). The fact that Jackie Sue and I had had multiple phone conversations, exchanged gifts and cards and so on and so forth for a long period of time didn’t seem to mean a thing to anyone but what the hell, let ‘em have their daydreams.
I took the southern route, driving down to Birmingham and then swinging west through Jackson, MS and Shreveport, LA. Traffic was light and the weather was beautiful with the sun shining behind me and the car’s A/C keeping the 90+ heat outside. I had the cruise control set on 80 MPH and the stereo jacked up loud, singing my heart out with no one to tell me how off key I was. People everywhere I went were friendly and I didn’t have the first minute’s trouble with anything or anybody.
I crossed the Texas border that evening and spent the night in Marshall, with plans to drive cross-country on minor roads and do a little sight seeing the next day. I didn’t have a problem getting a room; as a matter of fact since I was a single female the hotel put me on the ground floor close to the desk where someone would always be close in case I had a problem. The desk clerk said that starting Monday that everything was booked because of the oncoming hurricane. I didn’t realize then that I was going to wind up driving home in Hurricane Gustav.
This is going to be a multi-part post, so stay tuned and I’ll let you know about all the doings at Westfest.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Petition For Brest Cancer
From a nurse:I'll never forget the look in my patients' eyes when I had to tell them they had to go home with the drains, new exercises and no breast. I remember begging the Doctors to keep these women in the hospital longer, only to hear that they would, but their hands were tied by the insurance companies. So there I sat with my patients, giving them the instructions they needed to take care of themselves, knowing full well they didn't grasp half of what I was saying, because the glazed, hopeless, frightened look spoke louder than the quiet 'Thank You' they muttered. A mastectomy is when a woman's breast is removed in order to remove cancerous breast cells/tissue. If you know anyone who has had a Mastectomy, you may know that there is a lot of discomfort and pain afterwards. Insurance companies are trying to make mastectomies an outpatient procedure.Let's give women the chance to recover properly in the hospital for 2 days after surgery. It takes 2 seconds to do this and is very important. Please take the time and do it! If there was ever a time when our voices and choices should be heard, this is one of those times.There's a bill called the Breast Cancer Patient Protection Act which will require insurance companies to cover a minimum 48-hour hospital stay for patients undergoing a mastectomy. It's about eliminating the 'drive-through' Mastectomy where women are forced to go home just a few hours after surgery, against the wishes of their doctor, still groggy from anesthesia and sometimes with drainage tubes still attached.Lifetime Television has put this bill on their Web page with a petition drive to show support. Last year over half the House signed on. PLEASE!! Sign the petition by clicking on the web site below. You need not give more than your name, state, and zip code.
Wednesday, August 06, 2008
GLOW IN THE DARK JUNEBUGG
My life has become a comedy of errors; “Murphy’s Law” has attacked me with a vengeance. I have big plans to drive out and visit Jackie Sue in Texas during Labor Day, I already have 2 weeks vacation scheduled and I am going if I can still walk but it seems that fate is trying to throw me a curve ball. Read on to see what I mean.
As some of you already know, a tree (well, half a big tree) fell onto the roof of my house. Not good but no one was hurt, the damage was minimal, the leaks were all in the overhang and I’m insured. Then …….
Wednesday, while watching the tree people remove several large specimens from beside the deck, my tummy started rolling and growling and just feeling not so good in general. By 11 AM I was having chest pains and by 3 PM I was in the emergency room convinced that I was having a heart attack.
After being poked and prodded, forced to drink gallons of barium, injected with radioactive dye and zipped numerous times through a CT scanner they decided to admit me to the hospital and try to find out what was wrong. Days of stress tests, entire pints of blood being drawn every 4 hours, more radioactive dye injected and no heart problems anywhere. Dr. Dick (I swear that was his real name!) kept dropping by asking questions, dreaming up more tests and promising me that I was going to be OK. He was kinda cute, real flirty and if I had felt better I would have enjoyed his company but damn it; I wanted to go home.
Skip to Saturday, still in the hospital, both arms black and blue (but my-oh-my the morphine was nice!) and I find out that my gallbladder has one itsy bitty tiny gallstone that was causing all the trouble. So they send me home with some antacid pills and hopeful comments about how I may never have any problems out of that pesky gallbladder again, surgery wouldn’t be necessary at this time. But ……. if I do it won’t take but a minute to suck that nasty little bugger right out of my belly button. Promises, Promises.
So, I’m felling better, the roofers are supposed to be here next week and I decide to mow the yard. Just a few passes around the back yard the dad blasted mower belt breaks. Damn it I can’t seem to get a break. Wonder what’s gonna happen next? I quit smoking and my body starts falling apart. I make plans and things keep trying to get in the way.
Now tell me, am I losing my mind or ……. Do y’all see a trend here?
As some of you already know, a tree (well, half a big tree) fell onto the roof of my house. Not good but no one was hurt, the damage was minimal, the leaks were all in the overhang and I’m insured. Then …….
Wednesday, while watching the tree people remove several large specimens from beside the deck, my tummy started rolling and growling and just feeling not so good in general. By 11 AM I was having chest pains and by 3 PM I was in the emergency room convinced that I was having a heart attack.
After being poked and prodded, forced to drink gallons of barium, injected with radioactive dye and zipped numerous times through a CT scanner they decided to admit me to the hospital and try to find out what was wrong. Days of stress tests, entire pints of blood being drawn every 4 hours, more radioactive dye injected and no heart problems anywhere. Dr. Dick (I swear that was his real name!) kept dropping by asking questions, dreaming up more tests and promising me that I was going to be OK. He was kinda cute, real flirty and if I had felt better I would have enjoyed his company but damn it; I wanted to go home.
Skip to Saturday, still in the hospital, both arms black and blue (but my-oh-my the morphine was nice!) and I find out that my gallbladder has one itsy bitty tiny gallstone that was causing all the trouble. So they send me home with some antacid pills and hopeful comments about how I may never have any problems out of that pesky gallbladder again, surgery wouldn’t be necessary at this time. But ……. if I do it won’t take but a minute to suck that nasty little bugger right out of my belly button. Promises, Promises.
So, I’m felling better, the roofers are supposed to be here next week and I decide to mow the yard. Just a few passes around the back yard the dad blasted mower belt breaks. Damn it I can’t seem to get a break. Wonder what’s gonna happen next? I quit smoking and my body starts falling apart. I make plans and things keep trying to get in the way.
Now tell me, am I losing my mind or ……. Do y’all see a trend here?
Monday, May 26, 2008
Saturday, May 10, 2008
LEIGHTON TORNADO
Tornadoes hit near my home AGAIN! Watch the video here, at least this time people didn't die. Seems like this may be a bad tornado year for North Alabama.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
I recieved this today and it hit me just right.:
The other day a young person asked me how I felt about being old. I was taken aback, for I do not think of myself as old.
Upon seeing my reaction, she was immediately embarrassed, but I explained that it was an interesting question, and I would ponder it, and let her know.
Old Age, I decided, is a gift.
I am now, probably for the first time in my life, the person I have always wanted to be. Oh, not my body! I sometime despair over my body, the wrinkles, the baggy eyes, and the sagging butt. And often I am taken aback by that old person that lives in my mirror who looks like my father!), but I don't agonize over those things for long.
I would never trade my amazing friends, my wonderful life, my loving family for less gray hair or a flatter belly. As I've aged, I've become more kind to myself, and less critical of myself. I've become my own friend.
I don't chide myself for eating that extra cookie, or for not making my bed. I am entitled to a treat, to be messy, to be extravagant.
I have seen too many dear friends leave this world too soon; before they understood the great freedom that comes with aging.
Whose business is it if I choose to read or play on the computer until 4 AM and sleep until noon?
I will dance with myself to those wonderful tunes of the 50's, 60's & 70's, and if I, at the same time, wish to weep over a lost love ... I will.
I will walk the beach in a swim suit that is stretched over a bulging body, and will dive into the waves with abandon if I choose to, despite the pitying glances from the jet set. They, too, will get old.
I know I am sometimes forgetful. But there again, some of life is just as well forgotten. And I eventually remember the important things.
Sure, over the years my heart has been broken. How can your heart not break when you lose a loved one, or when a child suffers, or even when somebody's beloved pet dies?
But broken hearts are what give us strength and understanding and compassion. A heart never broken is pristine and sterile and will never know the joy of being imperfect.
I am so blessed to have lived long enough to have my hair turning gray, and to have my youthful laughs be forever etched into deep grooves on my face. So many have never laughed, and so many have died before their hair could turn silver.
As you get older, it is easier to be positive. You care less about what other people think. I don't question myself anymore. I've even earned the right to be wrong.
So, to answer your question, I like being old. It has set me free. I like the person I have become. I am not going to live forever, but while I am still here, I will not waste time lamenting what could have been, or worrying about what will be. And I shall eat dessert every single day. if I feel like it.
The other day a young person asked me how I felt about being old. I was taken aback, for I do not think of myself as old.
Upon seeing my reaction, she was immediately embarrassed, but I explained that it was an interesting question, and I would ponder it, and let her know.
Old Age, I decided, is a gift.
I am now, probably for the first time in my life, the person I have always wanted to be. Oh, not my body! I sometime despair over my body, the wrinkles, the baggy eyes, and the sagging butt. And often I am taken aback by that old person that lives in my mirror who looks like my father!), but I don't agonize over those things for long.
I would never trade my amazing friends, my wonderful life, my loving family for less gray hair or a flatter belly. As I've aged, I've become more kind to myself, and less critical of myself. I've become my own friend.
I don't chide myself for eating that extra cookie, or for not making my bed. I am entitled to a treat, to be messy, to be extravagant.
I have seen too many dear friends leave this world too soon; before they understood the great freedom that comes with aging.
Whose business is it if I choose to read or play on the computer until 4 AM and sleep until noon?
I will dance with myself to those wonderful tunes of the 50's, 60's & 70's, and if I, at the same time, wish to weep over a lost love ... I will.
I will walk the beach in a swim suit that is stretched over a bulging body, and will dive into the waves with abandon if I choose to, despite the pitying glances from the jet set. They, too, will get old.
I know I am sometimes forgetful. But there again, some of life is just as well forgotten. And I eventually remember the important things.
Sure, over the years my heart has been broken. How can your heart not break when you lose a loved one, or when a child suffers, or even when somebody's beloved pet dies?
But broken hearts are what give us strength and understanding and compassion. A heart never broken is pristine and sterile and will never know the joy of being imperfect.
I am so blessed to have lived long enough to have my hair turning gray, and to have my youthful laughs be forever etched into deep grooves on my face. So many have never laughed, and so many have died before their hair could turn silver.
As you get older, it is easier to be positive. You care less about what other people think. I don't question myself anymore. I've even earned the right to be wrong.
So, to answer your question, I like being old. It has set me free. I like the person I have become. I am not going to live forever, but while I am still here, I will not waste time lamenting what could have been, or worrying about what will be. And I shall eat dessert every single day. if I feel like it.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
DAMNED INTERESTING
Welcome to my latest obsession: the website "DAMNED INTERESTING". At least its my favorite for now, until the workplace 'puter police find out about it and block it from the work PC.Don't just look at the first subject, browse through some of the many and varied offerings; this site has something for everyone. I'll warn ya now, it's almost addictive. You just might find yourself glancing at the clock and being amazed at how time flys by. Interesting and educational, what more can you ask for?
Sunday, March 09, 2008
SNOW
Last night snowflakes swirled and danced across both outside monitors, coloring the nasty gray tire chip pile and the dusty mountain of shredded bark a clean, frosty white. Steam billowed off of sludge and ash, obstructing my view of machinery, bins and hoppers; forcing me to guess-ta-mate on whether they were full or empty but damn, it sure was prettier than my normal view here at work.
Others may watch life pass them by on TV or out of their home’s windows, but we shift workers have to rely on wall-mounted monitors to tell us if the sun is shining, a tornado about to blow us away or if it’s suddenly snowing after a week of 70 degree weather.
When you work inside a windowless, climate controlled room the outside world becomes remote and your whole universe becomes the circle of ‘puter monitors surrounding you and the voices of your coworkers on the radio. Then you walk outside at the end of a 12 hour shift and get all squinty eyed; blinking at the sun while tears stream down you cheeks from the wind and cold.
Man, I need some time off. I drove home this morning on a sheet of ice and snow; giggling as my little front-wheel-drive economy car passed a shiny new 4X4 asshole deep in a ditch, with the tracks & ruts to prove that he wound up there after sliding across all 4 lanes (when will those rednecks learn just because it's a 4 wheel drive doesn't mean that it'll stop on ice?) It was a good day to snuggle with the cats and sleep long and hard, which I did until it was time to go back to work. I don't think I even rolled over and I didn't even stay to work out in the gym this morning, all I could think about was a warm bed and flannel PJ's.
Hope y'all are alright, I promise to post more often because they've gotta give us some time off soon. The company has some ads up for job openings so maybe they'll hire us some more help (hopefully someone young , cute and with a strong back. Hey, I deserve some eye candy!).
Others may watch life pass them by on TV or out of their home’s windows, but we shift workers have to rely on wall-mounted monitors to tell us if the sun is shining, a tornado about to blow us away or if it’s suddenly snowing after a week of 70 degree weather.When you work inside a windowless, climate controlled room the outside world becomes remote and your whole universe becomes the circle of ‘puter monitors surrounding you and the voices of your coworkers on the radio. Then you walk outside at the end of a 12 hour shift and get all squinty eyed; blinking at the sun while tears stream down you cheeks from the wind and cold.
Man, I need some time off. I drove home this morning on a sheet of ice and snow; giggling as my little front-wheel-drive economy car passed a shiny new 4X4 asshole deep in a ditch, with the tracks & ruts to prove that he wound up there after sliding across all 4 lanes (when will those rednecks learn just because it's a 4 wheel drive doesn't mean that it'll stop on ice?) It was a good day to snuggle with the cats and sleep long and hard, which I did until it was time to go back to work. I don't think I even rolled over and I didn't even stay to work out in the gym this morning, all I could think about was a warm bed and flannel PJ's.
Hope y'all are alright, I promise to post more often because they've gotta give us some time off soon. The company has some ads up for job openings so maybe they'll hire us some more help (hopefully someone young , cute and with a strong back. Hey, I deserve some eye candy!).
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
It's time to embrace being Miss Average
This article in The Daily Mail really hits home! I think all women should read it and take it to heart. Here's one highlight:
You don't have to be the youngest, richest, thinnest, prettiest woman in the world to be happy; so all of us "normal" women have something to celebrate. Don't wait until you lose 10 pounds or the house is perfect to do the things that make you happy. Go on a trip, wear that red dress and enjoy life. If you keep waiting, it may be too late before you have the time/money/looks to do what you want.
After all, some of the most contented women I know are average in the
nicest possible way.
They are attractive enough to avoid weeping when they look in the mirror and to acquire a nice boyfriend, while being not quite beautiful enough to make other women hate them and to be shackled to maintaining their look well past the time at which they might have the energy to do so.
They are blessed with enough nous to navigate their way through life relatively smoothly without the pitfalls inherent in being a tortured genius, and they earn enough to pay the bills and finance the odd luxury mini-break, even if they will never hold a platinum card.
In short, they're ordinary.
You don't have to be the youngest, richest, thinnest, prettiest woman in the world to be happy; so all of us "normal" women have something to celebrate. Don't wait until you lose 10 pounds or the house is perfect to do the things that make you happy. Go on a trip, wear that red dress and enjoy life. If you keep waiting, it may be too late before you have the time/money/looks to do what you want.
Monday, February 25, 2008
Friday, February 15, 2008
Sex, Dress, and Power in 2008
I got this email today and thought I'd share the love. Sad to say, it seems that we females will always be doomed, with society judging us by our appearance; the color and cut of our clothing or the size of our boobs instead of our brains.
The Clothing Chronicles
So, what's on tap for today's article? How to dress like a leader. Enjoy!Diana
diana@fashionforrealwomen.com~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
FEATURE ARTICLESex, Dress, and Power in 2008
Does what you wear have an impact on how you're perceived as a leader?
That's the question that's been burning up the fashion blogosphere the last few weeks, ever since Hillary Clinton declined to appear on the cover of VOGUE magazine and Editor Anna Wintour took umbrage. The story makes an interesting case study regardless of your politics, because it reinforces the importance of knowing how to dress appropriately for your industry and position. If you work in a male-dominated field, I encourage you to take notes.
Here's the story:
Senator Clinton was invited and agreed to appear on the February cover of VOGUE. The day she was supposed to be photographed and interviewed, she bowed out, saying that on second thought, she had decided that being on the magazine would make her seem "too feminine" in her race for the presidency.
Annoyed, Ms. Wintour responded at length in the February issue of the magazine, saying, among other things, "The notion that a contemporary woman must look mannish in order to be taken seriously as a seeker of power is frankly dismaying. How has our country come to this? This is America, not Saudi Arabia."
So who's right and who's wrong: Clinton or Wintour?
They both are.
Right and wrong, that is.
The reasons are subtle and not politically correct, but let me take a stab at it:
On the one hand, you have a woman who has made it to the top of a female-dominated industry. Fashion magazines have been published regularly since "Godey's Lady's Book" appeared in 1830, and women have been writing for them almost as long - one of the few industries where women were welcomed early on. Not only does Anna Wintour wear whatever she wants to work, she influences what millions of OTHER women wear to work through her magazine's layouts, articles, and ads. Of course she can't understand why a woman can't be both feminine and powerful; she's been feminine and powerful her entire career.
On the other hand, you have a woman who has made it to the top of a male-dominated industry. Hillary Clinton started practicing law in the early 1970's when women were few and unwelcomed in the courtroom. She's had things said and done to her that would have sent other women screaming in the other direction, and she has the battle scars to prove it. Now, as the first woman to run for president, she's again treading into unfriendly territory. She dresses plainly and conservatively because she learned long ago that being feminine in a male industry is a liability instead of an asset.
Not fair, you say?
Life rarely is. But if you look at the underlying psychology, you'll begin to see why things have evolved the way they have. Western women are not required to don the traditional abaya worn by their Islamic sisters, as Ms. Wintour suggests, but they do need to understand a few things about how to dress when working with men.
Let's break this down to basics:
In the animal world, all the species have lived or died based on their ability to reproduce. When fish, animals, and insects look for mates, they seek the strongest, healthiest, most powerful specimens in order to accomplish this goal.
It's the same in the human world. Our language, manners, and culture may set us apart from the animals, but our basic, most primal urge is still the same: to attract the strongest, healthiest, most powerful mates in order to reproduce. Even if we're not conscious of this, even if we have no plans to reproduce, from exercising to exfoliating, women and men still regularly engage in behaviors to attract mates.
So what does this have to do with Senator Clinton and VOGUE?
Keep reading. It will make sense in a minute.
In her book "Survival of the Prettiest" (1999), Dr. Nancy Etcoff, a psychologist at Harvard Medical School, reports that while we're told as children that "beauty is only skin deep" or "in the eye of the beholder," the reality is that attractive people have long be rewarded for their beauty throughout history in nearly every culture in the world.
Pretty girls have more friends as children, are sought after by more men as adults, and are hired more quickly and paid higher wages than their less attractive counterparts. Women learned long ago that beauty is a commodity, which is why we have evidence of lipstick dating from 5,000 B.C., why Cleopatra bathed in milk and honey for luminous skin, and why we spend more money on beauty products today in the United States than on education and social services combined. Beautiful models and actresses are among the highest paid women in the world.
For women throughout history and around the world, beauty equals power.
But for men, physical prowess and ample resources equal power.
Just as male lions, gorillas, and deer viciously fight each other for the right to claim females and territory, so do men battle each other for the right to claim women and property. Sometimes it's been just that base, as in war, but more often it's played out elaborately over time by growing strong, gaining knowledge, and accumulating wealth.
To this end, as in the animal kingdom, men create an ongoing, unspoken dominance hierarchy in order to establish who's the "alpha male" in any given situation.
Dr. Etcoff describes it this way:
Males form ranks quickly, even as boys. In boys' camps, rank order develops in cabins within an hour. The top-ranked boy isn't necessarily the biggest, but often the best-looking, most athletic boy who shows the most mature physique. The top boy initiates and organizes, and lower-ranking boys obey and question. Their submission is rewarded by the dominant boy's protection and his leadership. (1)
The medieval feudal system is a formal example of this hierarchy, as are the various ranks in military, government, churches, and corporations.
But it's not always so formal. Watch any group of men together and you'll see this dynamic in action, even if they're all completely unaware of it. Ever wonder why young men always seem so hot-tempered and quick to come to blows when they disagree? They're trying to establish dominance. Ever wonder why guys like to watch football, boxing, or movies with gory battle scenes? Because they like seeing OTHER strong males establish dominance.
Guys learn early how to demoralize their opponents and how to find and exploit each other's weaknesses to gain the upper hand. Even when they're just joking around with their friends, men say things to each other in this ranking ritual that would end a similar friendship between women.
Now take a bunch of these strong, dominant males who are used to battling each other for resources, and drop an attractive, feminine woman into the mix who seeks the same resources. What do you get?
Well, once they stop laughing, as they did at the beginning of the women's movement, their first impulse might be to either sleep with her or push her into a low-ranking position out of their way. If she resists, then they'll treat her like any other challenging male: they'll "tap swords" to get an idea of her strength before they start looking for weaknesses and testing her endurance. Often, they'll set aside the nice manners they use to court women and revert to the rougher "locker room" language and behavior they use among themselves. So what if she's offended? It means she's weak and doesn't belong.
Now obviously, this doesn't describe every man on the planet. There are lots of nice guys out there all along the alpha-omega scale. Kind, funny, helpful, and respectful, they barely resemble the dominant males I just described.
But those dominant alphas are out there, mark my word. They tend to congregate en masse in high power, high income, male-dominated industries like law, medicine, politics, and professional sports, and in departments where big egos and big paychecks go hand-in-in. They may treat their sweethearts like princesses, lavishing them with pretty baubles, then turn right around and steamroll any woman that gets in their way, including competitors and support staff. If you plan to do battle with them, you must go prepared.
So dress femininely to attract men, but gender-neutrally to do business with them? That hardly seems fair!
It isn't. But in many male-dominated, highly competitive industries, it's the reality.
Yes, I know it defies logic - kind of like the ongoing fascination with Britney Spears - but research shows it's the most effective way to go about it. Women have a lot more latitude now that we did thirty years ago, and certainly much more freedom than many women around the world, but I think it's going to be a while longer before we can dress in feminine frills and still be perceived as a strong leader of men.
See how subtle and "un-p.c." this is?
So to return to the original question: does what you wear have an impact on how you're perceived as a leader?
Absolutely!
If you're in a women-dominated industry (fashion, beauty, interior design, the arts) dressing fashionably and femininely can have a positive impact on your bottom line. If you're lauded for your beauty or sense of style and grace, then you're a woman to be envied and emulated.
But in male-dominated industries (finance, science, electronics, oil), where strength and power are desired, being fashionable and feminine is seen as a weakness. You need clothes that are strong and crisp and that draw attention to your business savvy rather than your feminine curves. You want men to listen to your ideas, not check out your cleavage.
So yes, Anna Wintour is correct in saying that women can dress femininely and still be taken seriously - but only in certain fields. Spending too much time on how you look can hurt your credibility in many industries.
And yes, Senator Clinton is correct in saying that appearing on a fashion magazine may make her seem "too feminine" in her quest for the presidency. At the same time, UNDER-estimating the importance of wardrobe can also hurt your credibility. I believe Senator Clinton suffers from this.
While her clothes are usually conservative and modestly cut, which is appropriate for politics, she sometimes wears colors, patterns, and styles that don't flatter, fit, or command attention. Her selections seem haphazard. She has no signature look. She may be seeking the highest office in the land, but you wouldn't know it by how she dresses.
By contrast, Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice "gets" power dressing. Tailored, flattering cuts in rich fabrics and strong colors, you know at a glance that she's a powerful, wealthy woman by how she dresses. Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi has also does a very good job of sporting flattering styles in luxe fabrics. Her color choices sometimes stray off the power path - like the lilac-colored suit she wore for the last State of the Union Address, for example - but by and large, she also dresses like a powerful woman in a male-dominated industry.
So yes, what you wear has a HUGE impact on how you're perceived as a leader. So make sure your clothes say that you're ready, willing, and able to do the job, and nothing's going to stand in your way.
Need more advice on what's appropriate for your industry? Download a copy of BUSINESS WEAR MAGIC:
http://www.businesswearmagic.com/
To learn how to "dress for success" in your field.
(1) "Survival of the Prettiest" by Nancy Etcoff, Anchor Books (1999), pages 74-75.
**************
Until next time,
Diana Pemberton-Sikes
FashionForRealWomen.com
AccessoryMagic.com
BusinessWearMagic.com
OccasionMagic.com
WardrobeMagic.com
TheClothingChronicles.com=====================
Published by:
Top Drawer Publications, LLC
256 S. College Ave.
Newark, DE 19711 USACopyright © 2008 by Diana Pemberton-Sikes All rights reserved.
Friday, February 08, 2008
TWISTER
I guess y’all heard about the tornados wrecking parts of the South. What y’all didn’t hear was that they came within a nat’s ass of hitting my house. I got lucky, only a few shingles gone and a few limbs down in the yard, but lots of my neighbors weren’t so fortunate. I went to school with one of the people who got killed, the elderly woman who just died lived a few miles down the road and dozens of people within rock throwing distance of my yard are now homeless.
The Governor toured yesterday and gave a speech our local church, plus the President was supposed to come today. Speeches are all well and fine but what we need are more weather sirens; the nearest one to my house is in Hillsboro, 20 miles away, and there’s no way I could have heard it. My power went out before the storm hit, so there was no way for me to have any warning; the family storm shelter is at the home place and all my sisters plus their families were in it but I had to ride out the tornado in my living room. By the time I heard that freight train sound it was too late to go anywhere.
The twister made a half circle around my place leaving a trail of wreckage in its wake. All I have to do is open my door to hear the chainsaws going, clearing trees off of my neighbors’ homes. Donna and I went out that morning and were both shocked by all the destruction of the houses that we grew up around. What hit me most were the pets. You would expect people to be wandering around in shock but the poor dogs were standing in yards and pastures looking at what used to be their homes or hunting for their owners who had too much on their minds to wonder were Fido and Bowser were.
I didn’t have power for a long time and the cable (which means both the TV and the internet) are still going in and out so I had to come to work to post. All my loved ones are OK, we’re really proud of Donna’s son the fireman who worked all night and most of the day helping the survivors dig out, and our prayers go out to everyone who was hit by the first tornado of the year.
Go click on the Fatal Winds tab for a slide show of some of the damage.
The Governor toured yesterday and gave a speech our local church, plus the President was supposed to come today. Speeches are all well and fine but what we need are more weather sirens; the nearest one to my house is in Hillsboro, 20 miles away, and there’s no way I could have heard it. My power went out before the storm hit, so there was no way for me to have any warning; the family storm shelter is at the home place and all my sisters plus their families were in it but I had to ride out the tornado in my living room. By the time I heard that freight train sound it was too late to go anywhere.
The twister made a half circle around my place leaving a trail of wreckage in its wake. All I have to do is open my door to hear the chainsaws going, clearing trees off of my neighbors’ homes. Donna and I went out that morning and were both shocked by all the destruction of the houses that we grew up around. What hit me most were the pets. You would expect people to be wandering around in shock but the poor dogs were standing in yards and pastures looking at what used to be their homes or hunting for their owners who had too much on their minds to wonder were Fido and Bowser were.
I didn’t have power for a long time and the cable (which means both the TV and the internet) are still going in and out so I had to come to work to post. All my loved ones are OK, we’re really proud of Donna’s son the fireman who worked all night and most of the day helping the survivors dig out, and our prayers go out to everyone who was hit by the first tornado of the year.
Go click on the Fatal Winds tab for a slide show of some of the damage.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
SAY IT AIN'T SO
On my trek from the powerhouse to the parking lot I encountered an male acquaintance that I haven’t seen since last summer.
My head and ego both swell up at the compliment.
Can you hear the hissing of my head and ego both deflating at an alarming rate? At least I know that I can weigh 400 lbs, be as wrinkled as a Chinese Shar-Pei and look like shit and still attract a man as long as I have a job.
He: How’s your boyfriend, did he get over his motorcycle wreck?
Me: I don’t have a boyfriend.
He: Damn, did he hit his head that hard?
Me: Huh?
He: The idiot must have brain damage to let a woman like you get away!
My head and ego both swell up at the compliment.
Me: Thank you! That’s a really sweet thing to say.
He: Yeah, you’re funny, smart and you got a damn good job. Any man who lets a woman with money get away is an idiot.
Can you hear the hissing of my head and ego both deflating at an alarming rate? At least I know that I can weigh 400 lbs, be as wrinkled as a Chinese Shar-Pei and look like shit and still attract a man as long as I have a job.
Sunday, January 27, 2008
OLD AGE
SPECIAL POEM FOR OLDER FOLKS
A row of bottles on my shelf
Caused me to analyze myself.
One yellow pill I have to pop
Goes to my heart so it won't stop.
A little white one that I take
Goes to my hands so they won't shake.
The blue ones that I use a lot
Tell me I'm happy when I'm not.
The purple pill goes to my brain
And tells me that I have no pain.
The capsules tell me not to wheeze
Or cough or choke or even sneeze.
The red ones, smallest of them all
Go to my blood so I won't fall.
The orange ones, very big and bright
Prevent my leg cramps in the night.
Such an array of brilliant pills
Helping to cure all kinds of ills.
But what I'd really like to know...........
Is what tells each one where to go!
There's always a lot to be thankful for if
you take time to look for it. For example
I am sitting here thinking how nice it is
that wrinkles don't hurt...
Friday, January 25, 2008
BRRRRRR SHIT, IT'S COLD!
Location: Work
Time: 1:30 AM
Temperature: 19F
Wind Chill: 9F
AND IT'S GETTING COLDER BY THE MINUTE!
We Southerners aren't used to this kind of weather. The heater is cranked up but it isn't doing that much. Our control room is suspended over a roadway really high up and between two other buildings and the wind seems to be attacking from all sides. I'm wearing a sweatshirt over a long sleeved shirt indoors and my hands are freezing. PLUS: This place needs to invest in heated toilet seats (I believe my bottom got frost bit on that last potty break!).
DAMN I dread that 15 minute walk to the parking lot at 5:30 AM! Wish the car would start on a timer and be all toasty warm when I got to it, I just hope I don't have to scrape the windshield again this morning.
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