Thanks Google Again

Happy birthday, Ada.

Now there's a mathematician worth emulating.

Screw her crazy family.

Oh, and best wishes to all sharing a December birth.

Still can't wait for this wretched month to be over.

Back To Usual Day

Best instructor in history posted the following.  I must humbly do the same.

Professor Hutchinson has never let me down.  Thanks again, Sir.

Let's See Who Can Guess This One!

I Swear! I Googled Wes Anderson

Go Zombies!

What I Know Is True

Ultimately a dog will hump your leg.

Cheer Me Up!

Today is Blood Test Day and, of course I am sinking fast.  Usual terror.  Usual cigarette desire.  Usual imagining car catastrophes and traffic conflagrations.

Usual forgetting that these things usually work out and I make it home in one piece.  Usual forgetting that I promised myself to think of it as an interesting adventure and not another torturous phenomenon.  Try to at least think of it as a learning experience.

At least  eight vials of blood.  The coolest one is to test for some kind of genetic defect.

Then I'll really know who to blame.

The Day Silas Was Born

                                Astronomy Picture of the Day, NASA

Proud To Say WOMAN

Fashion Nincompoop

Along with everything else, I envision myself as one of the great undiscovered fashion stylists of our time.  Being the relic that I am, and the self-proclaimed arbiter of good taste, and that I have frequently been labelled "all talk and no action" I can pretty much say whatever I want.  Slowly but surely I am closing my ears when that nagging childhood voice leaps in criticising every choice I make.

Gaining self confidence is tricky when most of one's developmental stages have already been achieved.  Still, it is a battle I choose to fight.  And I can hear the snide chuckling in the background.  Hopefully there will be enough "big words" in this post so that those saboteurs will be completely confused.  Anyway, I like to tell myself that I am gaining ground.  At least I know my choices are mine.

As a young lady I kind of missed out on fashion.  I was (and am to this day) the quintessential Fat Girl.  I cannot remember buying clothes off the rack; I sped past the available sizes in area department stores quite rapidly.   Luckily for me, Mommy Dearest was an accomplished seamstress and so I did have something of a wardrobe.

Skirts were required at church, of course, and at school too for most of my adolescence.  The dress code was relaxed for my final two years of high school.  These years were the transition from hosiery to panty hose.  Both were nightmares for fat girls.  Hosiery required girdles and garters and twisting stockings over bulging knees.  Panty hose could be sliced in two: one side of one pair yanked up on the right.  The other side from the other pair yanked up on the left.  A tight squeeze  but at least the crotch landed in the right place.  When a run or snag appeared, the damaged leg, so to speak, could be changed out for a leg from one of the remaining cut up pairs.

Runs were the death knell for stockings and panty hose.  Clear nail polish or hair spray could sometimes halt the progression of the run.  Or the ruined leg could be twisted even further so the (runned? ran?) area with the run was positioned on the inside of one's leg and would be further camouflaged by taking very small steps.  In any case a good girl, a nice girl, a stylish girl did NOT let herself be caught with runs in her stockings.  Which is why I've been so surprised to see photos like this:

This one is from the Sartorialist but Zana Bayne favors this look also.  And, I amaze myself sometimes, I don't hate it.  It makes me wish I could do my teens and twenties over again.  Im-poss-ee-blay!  I know.  I also can't help but wonder (thanks, Carrie) what their mothers must think.

Read This

This novel was not an actual recommendation.  Baby Sister mentioned it during a phone conversation about another topic.  I wrote down the title as I was trolling for new authors at the time.  And I liked the cover.  I'm old.  Trust me, the cover matters!

When Library Guy brought my last sack of books I shuffled this one to the bottom.  It was heavier than expected; so I didn't want it to be one I lugged to the laundry room.  My laundry is enough of a load. Yikes!  Puns this early in the day hurt my head.  And three of my reserved books were authors I love and they, of course, ranked higher on my list.

Well, I consumed this book in three marathon readings.  Broken only to visit my new grandson and renew prescriptions.  Yummy!  I will say I figured out some of the "punchlines" but I was thrilled when the plot twisted in ways I had not anticipated.  A wholehearted recommendation from yours truly.  Those of you who can read, understand, and spell words of more than two syllables, and I realize not all of you have those abilities, should hunt down a copy of this book.

 I am so sorry the author is dead.

And So I

Gathered together all the books for Library Guy

Made three new hair clips

Found a dazzling new afghan pattern

Phoned Baby Sister

Listened to a strange animal noise outside my bedroom

Addressed envelopes

Pondered the "Kerry Weaver" crutch as a possibility

Drooled over the chicken taquito fragrance from the mainentance guy's lunch

Took some photos as my ficus slowly gives up the ghost

Crocheted just a little

Cleaned the top of my dresser

Organized photos in the ultimate photo box

Stayed very quiet

Happy Anniversary

Not a national holiday, but hot damn, sometime I think it should be.

Today I have been cigarette free for three years!

THREE YEARS!

That's four full term pregnancies.

One completed master's degree.

A stint in the military.

Graduations, births, deaths.

Many changes.

Most of them welcome and embraced.

Some of them painful and resisted,

Slogging along.

Hobbling along.

Trembling along.

Sobbing along.

But moving along all the same.

It's a lonely business this growing old and not having cigarettes to accompany me (I will admit it) has made it all the more difficult.

My old non-judgemental buddy.

Ah, well.

Here I am with nice clean lungs.

They'd be cleaner still if all the folks here at Elder House would obey the 'no smoking indoors' rule and the '10 feet from the exits' rule.  And if they'd keep the reefer puffing to a minimum. 
Yes, America!  Geezers get high!  And more often than you'd think.
But no snarking today.
My lungs say thanks.
They're as clean as I can get them,
and so Happy Anniversary to me.

Saw This And Had To 2012-2



Saw this on a friend's fb page and had to take a second and then a third look.  Corporatate idiocy is usually not on my radar.  It seems such an easy target.  But this was too good to pass up.  Thanks, Becky.

For Stephanie

http://www.fnal.gov/pub/about/campus/ecology/wildlife/bison.html
http://chicago.cbslocal.com/2012/06/19/fermilab-welcomes-five-bison-calves/


Yesterday was a scorcher and as I was rushing through my usual cyber contacts I heard the tiniest blurb about the bison at Fermi lab.  Whenever science, agriculture, and ecological responsibility come together my ears prick up.  But I didn't have time or patience to do the topic justice; so I saved the article.

Thought I saved the article.  It vanished.  The above link is a different version. (Looking at the published post it seems as if the first link IS there after all.  I hope so.)

Mothers and babies all look adorable.  Even I am a sucker for huge, fuzzy four legged critters and their young 'uns.  Parental bonding in the wilds of the Midwest right above a particle accelerator.  What more could anyone ask?

Spare Me

Small animal photos.

Orders to copy and paste to prove that I am reading your entries.
Posts with misspelled words.
Posts exclusively composed of "text-ese."
Pseudo religious pleas or instructions.

Orders to copy and paste so that I will avoid dire consequences.
Links to horrible music.
Exhortations about dead family members.
Links to gun or gun owner sites.
Images of trite encouragement. Trite images of encouragement.

Sports related links.
Political links.

Thank you.  I promise to do the same.

It's Not Unusual

Yesterday I finished reading my first graphic novel.  I'd heard of these, through nieces and references on the old Roseanne program.  I'm not an authority; but I'm told one should not refer to them as comics.  As if comics were shameful or somehow less worthy of the reader's time.

This book was mentioned on a facebook page I peruse and, since I know and respect the page writer, I decided to read the book.  I easily reserved a copy at my local library. I was surprised.  The book was good.  Not a lot of excess verbiage and the illustrations were quite powerful.  The plot specifically focuses on the middle and high school years of Jeffrey Dahmer.  The author was about the same age as Dahmer at the time, and so his insights are colored by that perspective.  But that is all to the good.  As he traces Dahmer's behavior the author poignantly asks, "Where were the adults?"  Indeed.  Aren't we all sick of hearing/reading after yet another catastrophe involving young folk that the adults saw no signs?  Just what the fuck were they doing anyway?

My familiarity with comics (and I see nothing wrong with lumping graphic novels into that genre) is limited to my own youthful fascination with superheroes.  Superman was my 'go to' guy.  I've written elsewhere about how I never had an older brother and always wanted one.  Anyway, my possessing even a smidge of Superman lore allowed me to win a beer and pizza dinner for myself and my then boyfriend when I was first an undergrad.  The question:  Name Superman's mermaid girlfriend.

Oh, I also had a roommate whose boyfriend was a bit of a stoner and tried to get  me to fall in love with r crumb.  It didn't take as I had far too much homework that semester.  Altho it seems Mr. Backderf was profoundly influenced.  His art bears a striking resemblance.

Anyway, this book did what I believe all good writing should do.  It made me want to learn more about the topic.  If exploring the mind of a budding serial killer and his parents and the boys he went to school with intrigues you; then by all means seek out My Friend Dahmer by Derf Backderf.

It might even make you wonder about public schooling in this ever so great country of ours. 

Kill All The Incompetent

This has been another frustrating week; and so in order to preserve what little is left of my sanity and to save the economy I am putting my foot down once again.

Filling a prescription should not require an act of Congress.  It should also not require a translator or the use of nuclear weapons.  There is no excuse for illegible prescriptions in 2012.  There is no reasonable reason why it should take more than a week to remedy the situation. Medical offices should be quick to admit their error, rectify it, and apologize.  Not returning phone calls does not make for good PR, nor does it aid the ailing and desperate patient.

Delivering a package is another task that should be painless for all involved.  Bringing the item to the receiver as promised and WHEN promised are not complicated tasks. Delivery companies should make their policies clear and when those policies fail the very least they should offer is a live human who can answer questions.  They do not offer that as an option.  "Our menu has changed" is not an excuse for the endless looping and avoidance of responsibility that a call to an 800 number has become.

So...

Office managers.  ESL telephone receptionists.  Doctors with attitude.  Lying delivery people.  Anyone not doing their job to the best of their ability.  All of you lazy, worthless fucks who contribute to making my life the living hell that it has been this week.

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

Putting My Foot Down

One of the aspects of life that is severely curtailed by poverty is the exercise of one's good taste.  Or in my case, excellent taste.  What the hell? Superb taste!

Yes, I have it and it's goddam time the world knows it.  I have suppressed the secret fashionista and hidden interior designer long enough.  Thanks to the interwebs (as Darling Eldest Daughter says) I can freely indulge my innate good sense of practically everything.

Today, as my first official entry, I highlight food.  Some things are just wrong.  Some combinations are perfection.  One must make careful choices, however.  For example:  Plain saltine crackers and cheddar cheese spread.  Delectable.  Between meal nibble.  Television snack.   Occasional light dinner substitute.

The one rule is as follows:  ALWAYS APPLY CHEESE TOPPING TO THE SALTED SIDE OF THE CRACKER!  Anything else is a crime in Foodie Land.  As self-appointed arbiter of all things tasteful I have spoken.  I will be watching.

Overthink

What's for lunch?

a.)  PB and J on toast and a tall glass of icy cold milk.

b.) Leftover chicken and mushroom casserole, three remaining spears of roasted asparagus, and the final wedge of lemon meringue pie.

c.) Taco salad you've been saving and iced tea.

d.)  The last medium meat lover's pizza in the freezer.  But wait, remember what happened the last time you had some of that this late in the day?  Oh, no!  That was NOT pretty.  And it is SO warm today.  Do you really want to get the whole place all hot by turning on the oven?  How much electricity are you going to use trying to cool the place down?  Besides don't those pizzas always need extra grated cheese to make them worth it?  And you forgot to buy the Parmesan the last time you went to the grocery.  You don't really have the taste for pizza anyway, do you?  Why not just skip the whole idea and dive into that bag of double stuffed oreos?

Mint Mint Mint Mint Mint Mint

Hold my tongue.
Please.
How I wish someone would apply for that job.
Low pay, no  benefits.
Hold my tongue.
Becoming more and more difficult for me to accomplish on my own.
There's just been too damn much gettin' away with things,
bendin' the truth of things,
changin' the rules of things,
breakin' innocent hearts and things.
All you bitches deserve and desperately need a good smack down.
Lucky for you I am still holding my tongue.