Don't Worry......I AM Still Pretty Much Here.....I Think

To Ida, Maybelline and all you loyal followers, this won't be much of a  blog, but I want to reassure you that I have not yet crossed over the Rainbow Bridge.......I am still here schlepping along.

The past few weeks have been rocky in many diferent ways and I have not had the time or the heart to make merry.  However,  I promise I WILL blog again soon so don't give up on me.

If you really want the truth, I have had to retreat into the depths of my cave and reassess my life  after watching a recent football game in which a player was penalized for "Holding".   Now in regular football parlance Holding means grabbing and keeping a grip on an opponent's jersey or facemask or some limb or body part,  but in this particular case, the commentator had  to review the video of the play and finally determined that one player had simply seized and held on to the other player's HAIR. 

Aaaaarrrrrgh!

These days football players seem to either have heads shaven bald and shiny or else have locks braided, crimped, spiral-curled or simply streaming down their backs from under their helmets.  What the hell is a simple old person like me to do with that?

I hope to get over it by 2013.  Meanwhile, I wish you all greetings of the season and Good Health in the New Year.  Happiness you will have to take care of on your own.

Love,
Herself.

I'd Better Take the Fifth .....or Can I Just Hide Behind the First Amendment?

 The funny and altogether wonderful Joe Hagy at "crankyoldman.blogspot..com"  has posted a marvelous blog today about his visit to Disney World. I was tempted to leave a comment to end all comments  about that place and it's spawn of clones around the globe but I realized immediately that what I had to say was too long for a simple comment and possibly too libelous to put Joe in jeopardy.

The truth is that I have a long story unlike anybody else's to tell about Disneyland and Disney World and if anybody is going to be exposed to the risk of a lawsuit I guess it's only fair that it should be me.

The fact is that the last 10 years of my lovely computer programming career was spent at Disney Studios and  this proved to  be something of a mixed blessing for a monster such as myself who, to put it mildly, has no affinity whatsoever  for that small irritating race of humans known as children.  (as I often point out, I never actually hurt any children….I just prefer to have nothing to do with them until they are a decent size, have stopped dribbling and drooling and worse, and are  tamed and trained to do something useful like fetch me my coffee.  If that horrifies you beyond endurance, I'm afraid we will just have to part company.… Sigh) .

As I was saying, working for Disney had many pluses and only a few minuses. Well, I guess you could say actually only one major minus. Are you ready for this? Believe it or not all employees above a certain rank were required to spend a week at Disney World or Disneyland as what they call Cast Members. In plain English what that means is that all these high-powered people had to go down to Anaheim or Orlando and work in the cafeterias or as guides or ticket takers or whatever and ultimately,,,,,,, don one of those wretched furry critter costumes including the heads and prance around the grounds tickling and hugging small children and posing for photos with them and talking in squeaky voices and generally making fools of themselves.  Now this was bad enough during the months from November thru April, but during the warmer months it was sheer hell inside those costumes.  (I was told this by others who returned from their weeks as Cast members.   Temps inside were generally 20 or 30 degrees above the outside temps and you were doomed to sweat, perspire and exude moisture in rivulets and streams.......from your pores, that is.  At the end of the week all of these folk would pose for a group picture taken in costume, grinning like idiots with their heads off sitting on the ground at  their feet,,,,.The characters' heads that is.  Something to finally impress and make their children and grandchildren proud of them I guess.   Being a Vice President of one of Disney's Divisions didn't mean much, but playing Goofy made you a mench???????????

I have always said that there was no job or task that was beneath me. I guess I lied. Now, I would have gladly washed dishes in a cafeteria or restaurant, would have been happy to go around the grounds with one of those sticks with a nail in the end picking up trash or any other respectable occupation.…… But I drew the line at encasing my body in one of those silly costumes and pinching toddlers cheeks while perspiring copiously under the plush and getting a case of heat rash or worse.  And so began this strange dance, this battle of wits between Disney statute and my own standards. Sometimes, during my early years, when they were going around with their vile list of eligible victims recruiting this week's cast members I would hide in the ladies room until it was safe to come out. Later as I became more established as the department troubleshooter I managed to get excused from duty each time by convincing my boss that some emergency had arisen with the main program in the Payroll system and  unless I stayed available the payroll might not get produced this week. Any other system failure might not have done it but payroll was something I could always count on even without having a note from my mother. And so, dear souls, 10 years passed without my ever having to set foot in Disneyland and I did not feel the least bit guilty or disloyal.  Hell, what is more important than  Payroll, forgodssake?.  Not to mention being true to my own standards, and besides, what kind of cockamamie, silly rule was that anyway?? 

I had hoped to go through my life preserving my virgin status where Disneyland was concerned, but I met my downfall eventually, long after I retired and thought I was safe, when some of my Philly cousins visited me in California and expressed the fervent wish to go to that place whose name I will not mention again. My open handed generosity is what finally did me in, dammit. I had given away to other members of my family all of the guest passes which the company issues annually to employees including retirees, and all I had left was my own ID card allowing me free entrance along with my guests. The ID card was not transferable.  Shitpissfuck.  I was screwed.  Sob.

But at least I did not have to wear one of those damned costumes. Nor  tickle any sticky urchins under their chins.   In the war between Disney statute and Lo's standards I like to call it a draw.

Not Too Close.....I Am Not A Pretty Sight and Other Offputting Items

I  know, I know.......I suppose all of you have  been wondering where in the hell I have been since falling to  my knees and gasping with relief after the election.  Well, I am going to tell you but you may not like it.

The amazing truth is that once I was relieved of the terror and able to relax, my body wrought vindictive punishment upon me for subjecting it to so many months of misery.  "Take that, you faithless coward!", it spat at me.  Whereupon I immediately broke  out in a case of the most humungous hives a person ever experienced.

I spent the next few weeks groaning, griping and scratching wildly at places impossible to reach like a flea ridden gopher.    And, since so may of these hideous itchy bumps arose on my posterior, it was an ugly sight to behold me scratching, take my word for it.  Thankfully, the condition departed leaving me relatively unmarred (rumpwise) just in time for me to shed my mangy gopher skin and don the crisp White Cap of Cat Nursie.   

Many of you know how it begins.  There you lie sleeping peacefully when a loathesome sound intrudes on your dreams......the dreadful urking announcement of a hairball throw-up.  Only this was more dire and developed into a serious case of both a urinary and an intestinal infection...........no, no,......the cat not me.  

Many days and thousands of dollars poorer I brought Gussie home from the hospital clutching 3 bottles of medication.  Now, I do not know how you other animal lovers manage, but I know my own (and Gussie's) limitations.  For the first 3 or 4 days I managed to somehow get two of the meds partly down her gullet at least once a day  (one dose out of 2 ain't  bad)  .......the ones with droppers so I could squirt the stuff into her mouth between her clenched teeth.  After that, it got a bit dicey......she became more and more wily and clever and elusive and I became weaker and tireder and increasingly incapable of crawling under the furniture.  There was also a great deal of crawling under furniture pushing little plates of cat delicacies under same in order tempt the little beastie to eat something and not die of starvation there by negating all my efforts not to mention the waste of those huge medical expenses.   Sigh.
 
All I can say is, tenks gott the diarrhea stopped and the normal peeing resumed and the eating urge returned so I did not have to feel guilty about not administering  the 3rd of the medications which was a pill to stimulate her appetite.  I can report that Gussie  is fine now.........I cannot say the same for her Nursie.  It takes a while for me to snap back (ha, that implies an elasticity which I have not been aware of having for the past 15 or so years).

That's OK.......I managed to accomplish something this year that I've never done before in my whole entire gonsa life......and that is to prepare and roast not one, but TWO turkeys for Thanksgiving!   

I always make a turkey on Thanksgiving for me and Gussie. Usually she eats two bites while it's warm  and I gobble down some lovely morsels while I'm stripping the meat from the carcass in order to package it up for sandwiches later and for the freezer for future turkey delights.   Generally, after tending to and inhaling turkey all day, I seldom have much appetite for turkey till the next day.

All you ladies know the process.....You take the damned rock-hard bird out of the freezer about three days before the time is due and begin the process of defrosting. For me that includes immersing the bird in a sink full of water for a few hours, drying it off, finding/making room for it in the fridge, shoving it in before the space disappears, and repeating this process for three days till oven time arrives, all the while praying that the defrosting has proceeded nicely so that I can get the blasted bag of giblets out of the inside of the carcass. The actual preparation and roasting is relatively simple from this point forward but it still requires hourly checking, basting and all that tenting with foil to keep it from getting too brown on the outside while the inside still needs to roast a little longer...........(Oy, I hate pink turkey, don't you?)  Consequently, I need to hoist my body out of my comfy chair half a dozen times or more and schlep into the kitchen to peer into the oven and do my magic.  Many urghs, umphs and shitpissfucks escape my ruby lips during this activity. You know the drill.

Well this year I had a friend who lives alone and wasn't going to have any turkey so in a mad moment, I offered to do a turkey for her so she could have some on Thanksgiving and then enjoy the joy of leftovers. There's nothing wrong with this idea except for the fact that I can only thaw one turkey at a time and roast one turkey at a time. I should've thought of that much earlier, wouldn't you say?

Anyway, my plan was to start on Sunday with Turkey number one and roast on Wednesday when my friend would be here and could take it home. Then beginning around Tuesday, I could begin the defrost process for my own Turkey which I would cope with on Thursday in the normal fashion. And believe it or not, the plan worked to perfection. I was tickled pink, my friend was tickled pink and we decided that symbiosis was the greatest thing in the world.

I was going to posBobGod dammit lowlyt it up to your thesis up up up up up up upbelated what the hell are you doing  stop it, for chrissake......what do you mean please say that again….Okay

...in case  you are wondering what the hell that's all about, it is NOT Lo losing her mind in the middle of a blog.  It is actually the Dragon speech recognition program which I have been attempting to use to write this blog and which caught me unawares momentarily while I cursed some errors I detected in the previous paragraph.  I decided not to delete it, but to leave it for comic effect so to speak. This is how I amuse myself sometimes when I am bored with nothing to do……  I turn on speech recognition and dictate merrily, laugh uproariously over what it thinks I said  and thereby brighten  my whole day.    (the up up up up is how it interprets my laughing).  Actually I still have hopes for the program… I guess I am just a cockeyed optimist.    But, I digress.

Where in the hell was I? Yes, I remember, I was about to say that I intended to post a belated list of things for which I am supremely grateful, but I gave the idea up because there isn't enough room anywhere for my list.

Let me just say that I am thankful 24/7 for my wonderful family of cousins, for you dear friends and for having conceived the idea of making two turkeys this Thanksgiving and having had the strength to carry out my cockamamie plan.  That'll do for now.

up up up up up up up!

If It Rains, The Street Is Wet ........Unequivocably.....I Think

Before I utter another word I must explain that my ruin and my salvation have always been inexorably tied up with Logic.  I worship logic with a fervor usually reserved for things like Beatlemania.  Bad and faulty logic drives me crazy and since faulty logic can never be conquered by logic you can see why there are so many holes in the plastered walls  of my house from my incessantly hitting of my head against same in total frustration.  All of these words are intended to help you discern my bent (*I love that expression....I hope it fits in here properly) and may help you to understand my recent rants during the political season.

Still shakily recovering from all the wildly illogical, overblown and often untrue rhetoric cast about, lathered all over us and which we had to try to digest during the recent campaign, I was spitting out the final inedible morsel with a resounding "Ptoooey" and it reminded me of one of the the funniest and yet most gruesome  mistakes I ever made. during my very young life.

In my last year of college I found that in order to graduate, I had a requirement to take one more 3 unit course in a subject outside of and not remotely conected to my majors of Art and   English.  I had already had to force down the indigestible so that I might become  somehow, a smidgeon  educated in History, Sociology, Languages and a number of other subjects too irrelevant to my interests to mention.  Therefore, I found myself forced to choose from a dreadful and loathesome series of yucky items such as Economica, Geography, Mathematics, (anything beyond Solid Geometry and the basic High School Algebra was out of the question) Chemistry (feh.....smelly and in high school I got the Award as Grand Destructor for blowing up more test tubes and flasks than anyone else in school history )  and Physics,  (aw..... c;mon,  man)  none of which would I think of touching with a 10 foot pole.  It was not that I felt too stupid to conquer any of these.......rather I felt I had already wasted enough time and energy learning useless things that would not enhance my life..........(this was arrogant of me at the time but has proven to be oh so true).   There was one possibility.........Botany.......but I feared it would require me to spend hours peering at cross sections of plants under a microscope (does anyone remember the hilarious James Thurber story about this experience?)  and hence I rejected that one too.  How fervently I wish I had chosen Botany with which I at least had a slight kinship (since I could indeed recognized plants as plants and I loved plants.)    Instead I delved deeper ito the catalog and came upon the category of Philosophy, and, scanning down the list of stuff that did not require any prerequisites, I came,, to my wild delight, upon a subject entitled Deductive Logic.  I had to look at the printed words 2  or 3 times to be sure I was not dreaming.  No, there it was big as life and under it was another subject of possible interest......Inductive Logic.  (I had never know there were two kinds, did you?)    That should have given me pause, but sadly it did not.


Now, it is important that you know that, next to food, drink  and boys, my greatest passion was thst form of somewhat trashy  literature known as the Detective Story and, to me, Deductive Logic meant unearthing and following a series of clues with a gimlet eye and a razor sharp intellect, and deducing the perpetrator of a crime.  

Sigh.  To quote a thousand detective stories......"Had I but known...."

And so it was that I signed up for a semester of the most unrelenting torture that a university ever inflicted  on a guileless student.  Mercifully, most of the details of those five months have been erased from my memory, but there is still an occasional night when I wake from a nightmare drenched in sweat  screaming, "Tautology" ***   and needing to rub my eyes hard to disperse the strange Greek-like characters from beneath my eyelids.........an endless progression of mathematical like formulae, encapsulated in parentheses. running off the bottom of a fantasy page without ever arriving at the final point of Proven or Disproved.  (or should that be disproven).........(you can see I am not quite myself even yet.)
                   
On the very first day of class (presided over by a stern and very frightening Germanic professor.......one of the foremost experts on the subject......Dr. Hans Reichenbach.........I was always sure he would, at any moment, whip out a steel ruler and beat me across the knuckles for making some trivial error).   I discovered, to my horror, that Deductive Logic had nothing to do with Sherlock Holmes or detective stories or even logic as I understood it..  Using a set of mathematical like symbols (I think it was actually  referred to as Provisional Calculus), it was a system of analyzing sentences, clauses and words to determine if they were, indeed True.  The first example we were given as illustrative material was the fascinating sentence:    (Get this)

                        "  If it rains, the street is wet. "

I also wake up screaming that line occasionally.  Do not ask me to diagram that sentence.  I am no longer able to do so.  (That seems strange since at once time the diagram  was burned into my brain with a white hot branding iron and endless mumbo jumbo of Provisional Calculus symbols.)  Mercifully, the scar tissue has obscured all but that very sentence which these days makes me break out into uncontrollable giggles and just the slightest tinge of perspiration on my upper lip.  It is amazing what 65 years of healing and purposeful forgetting can do.

Incidentally, as I recall, the opposite arrangement of the two clauses does NOT come out to be True when put through the meatgrindcer of the symbols.  i.e.  If the street is wet, it does not necessarily follow unconditionally that it has rained.

And also incidentally, I did not flunk the course but managed a very creditable "C".....not my favorite grade, but, under the circumstances an amazing achieverment since it seemed that at no time during those five months did I have the slightest idea what the hell I was doing.

And, fercrissakes, please do not ask me how Inductive Logic differs from the Deductive one.    For all I know, it may have to do with unearthing clues,  analyzing evidence and allowing it to lead you to the perpetrator of a crime.  I was always just too damned chicken to ever investigate.  And who, I would like to know, wouldn't be?


***As I remember a Tautology was a method of establishing the absolute truth of a statement,,,,or NOT........or some such thing.

A Post Script to My Blog on Secession

 This is a weird post.  

My post of yesterday elicited such passionate comments on all sides that I felt it necessary to comment on the comments.  In my usual loquacious fashion I blurted, blabbed and blubbered a  bit over the limit for a simple comment.  It came out more like a full rant.  And then I realized that the folks I was responding to probably would not see my comment anyway (having already read that blog and moved on)  so I decided to legitimize it and post it as a blog of its own.  It follows below.  Now I will definitely sit down and shut up......for a while anyway.

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

Wow. What passions I have evoked. I guess if a blogger wants comments they need only write about politics. Tomorrow I will have to write about religion........(NOT).

I usually resist commenting on comments, but this time I feel I must. I hate to be misunderstood or misinterpreted and I dislike being the victim of what I call crooked thinking.

It is sheer foolishness to take my remarks as attacks on or support of either political party. (I am really an Independent anyway.)   I was talking about ideas which lead to progress. The Republican party of Lincoln obviously had the right idea and the Dems of that time the wrong one. I don't give a damn what name a party carries.....the name is meaningless. What matters is the ideas they support.

One very important point which I failed to make clear was that, as I understand it, the rotten losers who want to secede from the USA are scattered among both the red and the blue states. As I recall, I think even California was mentioned as one of the states with the Secessionist petitioners.

My position (a delicious fantasy) is clear. Anyone who wants to secede should be granted their wish. Of course, they would relinquish their citizenship and become illegal aliens. They do not have to pay higher taxes....probably no taxes at all. They will escape having the dastardly Universal Health Care forced upon them...they will be free to figure out a way to obtain health care on their own as non-citizens. I do not know how that would work out.

Of course, they will no longer be eligible for Social Security, Medicare, Medicaid, Food Stamps or any sort of government subsidies but that shouldn't bother them because they seem to despise anyone who happens to need such crutches.

The difference between them and the other illegal aliens in this country would be dramatic. The current illegal aliens who generate so much furor and hatred come here hoping for a better life. The new breed of illegal aliens already enjoy that better life but apparently are quite willing to give it all up because I guess they want an even better one. I am not at all sure that seceding is the right way to get that, but I would wish them good luck and godspeed. And maybe good riddance. I am too old and tired for this crap.

EXTRA! EXTRA! Women's Suffrage Revoked; Slavery Reinstated....

You who follow me know that I have often mumbled, confessed and ranted about the fact that I was sure I was losing my mind, but,hell,   you all know I was mostly kidding.   Today I am not at all sure about that, or about anything.  I may very well have gone mad, but apparently this country, the good old U.S,. of A  has beaten me to it.

In my last blog I remember saying something flippant about the election like...."We don't need another Civil War".  Then today I bleariily logged onto my email and saw the headline of a news story....."31 States File Petitions for Secession".   WHAT THE FUCK?  Talk about infantile behavior and poor losers.  I am speechless.

Well, of course, not quite.  That is an obvious lie.

Why oh why is it that for every inch of progress we manage to eke out as partially civilized beings there are those who fight like demons (0r the demented )  determined to drag us backward into the slime?

I have read that once upon a time some people arrived at the idea that owning and exploiting Slaves was not a very fair or nice thing to do.  Naturally, the people whose comfortable way of life depended on Slavery did not see that to be true.......hell, they had bought and paid for them there Slaves fair and square and damned if they were going to be deprived of their lifestyle and slave property by a bunch of heads- in- the- clouds Socialists out to ruin the Country.  This meant WAR!.  And war it was.

After much bloodshed and devastating destruction,  Slavery was finally legally abolished, but, I suspect, the idea was never really accepted in certain parts of the country as the right and proper thing for civilized people to do.  Not to mention the fact that the ex-Slaves found that the Freedom they had been granted had a number of huge drawbacks and impediments .......their treatment might even  be considered less than humane..but that is another story.  We will get to that later.

Moving onward there came a time that women (and perhaps one or even two enlightened men)  had the notion that,  since women were doing at least half of the work at maintaining a civilized society and could not be treated as or considered slaves since that had sort of been declared illegal, that perhaps they should be given the opportunity to vote since what the government did affected them too.  An outrageous premise, but since an awful lot of women seemed to like the idea and made a helluva lot of noise in favor of it, somehow the crazy notion became law and,. voila, women were allowed to cast ballots and have some say in the government.  Since I am not quite old enough to remember those heady days, I cannot be sure whether efforts to repeal that law were attempted.  I am pretty damned sure efforts were definitely considered.  And, for that matter, to this very day I see horrific attempts to get women back into their proper place, in the kitchen, barefoot and pregnant........

Oh, yes, and then there was the time when some crazy ladies (who may have been sick of their husbands coming home drunk and beating up on them and the kids) decided that Liquor was an evil of the Devil and should be outlawed and I'll be damned if I know how they managed it (I am almost positive that most men were not too hot about the idea) but they actually achieved the passage of a law that prohibited Booze....none, nada, zilch. And, of course,  a bunch of guys who saw a fortune being offered to them via providing that illegal substance that everyone really wanted, formed an organized group or several of them and so was born Prohibition, the Speakeasy, contraband hooch, bathtub Gin and The Mob.  Of course, this No Booze thing  was such a ditzy idea that it had no staying power and was soon repealed, all of which shows that prohibiting liquor had nothing at all to do with progress.......just goes to show how dangerous bible-thumping Church Ladies can be if they get together.   However, the era did give birth to bobbed hair, short skirts, the greatest Jazz ever and the Charleston...... all of which I consider hugely progressive.

As I muse further on what I consider progress I come next to that period in the  mid-20th Century when someone admitted to themselves that simply freeing the Slaves had really not accomplished everything that it should have in regard to respecting human dignity regardless of skin color. Marches were organized, speeches were made, and in spite of meddling wretches like Governor Wallace, schools were integrated.  A process of Desegregation was actually begun.  I am sad to say I do not expect to see that struggle completely won in my lifetime, but I feel that some progress has been made and I pray it will continue.

And that  brings us to today when people around the world are cheering our wisdom, courage and good intentions for the world by reelecting President Barack Obama, the first elected leader of a predominately white country who is not 100% white, and I am forced, before breakfast even, to read that poor sports and misguided fools in 31 states have filed petitions for Secession. from the United States of America. 

Sigh.  You know what I think?   Dammit.....let them do it!

No Gloating - Just Relief

To my beloved followers, especially those who are Republicans:

I want to apologize for bad-mouthing Mitt Romney as I did in my moments of fear and loathing last night........I was too overcome with fear to be rational or objective.  My terror and harsh words should not have been directed at Romney but at the extremists in the party who have taken charge of what used to be a conservative but respectable political position. 

I believe that The Romney who was Governor of Massachusetts was a decent man and would have made a plausible and even a productive Presidential candidate.  It is sad that he let the fanatics turn him into their robot in a desperate and ill-conceived effort to win at all costs.


I am happy about the Obama victory but mostly hugely relieved that we did not validate and empower the fanatics who have vandalized the Republican party.

I do not foolishly anticipate an easy nor totally successful term for Obama or his supporters.  If the same fanatics who designed the misguided Republican election campaign continue to obstruct any positive action in Congress, we will have a frustrating and disappointing 4 years, but I can only hope that the more rational members of the party will somehow prevail and enable some progress to be made.  

I love this Country...........have done so for more years than most of you.  We are facing so may daunting problems that I feel we may need some kind of miracle to enable us to cure them.  What we don't need is another  Civil War.  

I send hugs to all of you..........especially to anyone I may have offended.  I consistently go out of my way to prove that Nobody's Perfect. 

Too Terrified To Blog 11/6/12 10 AM

I have been existing in a state of fear for months.....or is it an eternity?  No matter how much I tried to convinced myself that I could be resigned to a Romney win, I obviously was fooling myself.  I arose this morning quaking in my boots at the thought of those insane Republican wretches triumphing and putting that evil,rotten egg into the Oval Office and knowing that, having mailed my ballot  for Obama weeks ago, I had done all I could do, but I am still in an agony of apprehension.  

I am going back to bed, pulling the covers up over my head and curling up in a fetal position uttering my mantra/prayer, "Obama, Obama, Obama" until late tonight or tomorrow.  Sorry to reveal myself as such a coward, folks but I am more than passionately against hate, bigotry, ignorance and stupidity. 

I will say "more later" hoping that I do not either drown in my own tears or end up with concussion from hitting my head on the ceiling repeatedly via my ecstatic leaps.   

I sincerely hope you are all doing better today than I am.

Aaaarrrrrrggggghhh! 

My First Date ? -Ugh, Yes, I Remember It Well......

The wonderful, brilliant guy named  Joe at "Cranky Old Man"  has posted a lovely blog describing his first date and it conjured up memories of my own first date .....to call them bittersweet  would be a lie....there was nothing sweet about them and unfortunately I recall it all too vividly.  On the other hand, it wasn't really horrible....it was just not what you would call a success.  You will see why below as I expound on the subject.   By the way, I offer up my sincere thanks to Joe for inspiring me to emerge from my fetal position under the blankets and take to blogging again.

Well, first, I think I must have been about 10 or 11 years old which is pretty young to begin dating I admit.  And it is not that I was some hot to trot 11 year old who had boys lining up at the door. Quite the opposite, in fact.  I was fat, unlovely, shy to a ridiculous degree.  Not date material at all.  When confronted, one on one, with a boy, my mind would go blank, my tongue would freeze to the roof of my mouth and my muscles, too, would cease to function.  You could not differentiate me from a statue or a department store dummy except that my expression would not be as lively as either of those objects......think wide staring panic stricken eyes punctuating a complete expressionless face sort of like a snowman with coal eyes and no mouth or nose applied yet.  The only time this condition did not apply would be when I was engaging in some kind of sports activity and then I would perform like a nearly normal person.  Consequently, it came to pass that one day while roller skating with Arthur Silver, a boy who lived around the corner on Carpenter Street, I happened to mention that on Saturdays I generally went to a Roller Rink in Upper Darby, whereupon he suggested that he might like to join me at this activity on the next Saturday.....would that be OK.  (uttered very offhand and casual like because none of us had acquired any social skills as yet.)  I agreed, equally casually, and we made a pact to carry out this racy plan ......well I like to think of it as a date.  Wow!  The week passed in a blur and I alternated between exhilaration and terror, both states causing me to wet my bloomers frequently and then, before I was quite ready, it was Saturday.

Since discussing the details had been beyond either of our abilities, I assumed that Arthur would show up at my door around noon and we would then take the street car and the subway and arrive at the rink at about 12:30 or 1.  Hours were from noon to 4 or 5 as I recall.  Noon came and went.  So did 1 o'clock.  Oy!  I was being stood up.  Overwhelming waves of both indignation and relief swept over me.  I stopped wetting my bloomers. I was pondering whether to go off on my own when suddenly, from around the corner a red-faced, perspiring Arthur came trotting and arrived, gaspingon my doorstep.  It seems he had failed to tell me that he had a violin lesson every Saturday and could not be available before 2 at the earliest.  By this time it was after 2 but there were still a few hours left and I decided I would forgive him and we would make the trip.  Not very much meaningful conversation ensued because He was ashamed and too shy to talk much and I was both indignant and terrified and too shy to talk much, but I figured that when we got to the rink and started skating, what with the blaring organ music and the whirring of wheels on the beautiful hardwood floor not much conversation would be required.

Finally, we arrived, gasping and perspiring, and were greeted by the keeper of the door with a horrible pronouncement.  Admission denied!  Dress code was skirts for females (that was OK......slacks had not yet been invented) and jackets and ties for males.  Jackets?  Ties??  What was this, a Prom?  I doubt if Arthur owned either because he hadn't even had his Bar Mitzvah yet.  The rules were sure different back then, weren't they?  To say we were devastated would be the understatement of the year.  We slunk away like two petty criminals and rode home in silence......parted with nothing more than a feeble wave of the hand and, sadly,  never tried that again. 

I wish I could say that my next real date came out better, but if anything, it was worse.  The guy I used to beat regularly at Ping Pong asked me to a party  later the same year, and in a moment of madness I accepted.  If there were anyone in West Philadelphia who was more tongue-tied, insecure and awkward around the opposite sex than me, it was Nicky.  What could either of us have been thinking?  Obviously NOT thinking.  Anyway, I can barely stand to recall THAT wretched occasion, but I do remember that neither of us were able to utter more than 4 or 5 words the entire evening, except for the worst moment of the night when Nick managed to stutter, "Would you like to dance?"  and I groaningly replied, "I'm sorry I don't know how."  Thunk!

Sob.

Is there anyone out there brave or foolish enough to ask me out?  Please think very carefully before replying.

Score = Blogger 235,975 - Lo 0 (that's Zero)

I have just located a stash of my photos in Windows Photo Gallery, a place I did not know to look for them.  I am hoping that I can convince Blogger to download them onto the page.  Here I go.....wish me luck.

Ho boy!  Well,  I did not exactly find the file, but I did find the photo I just added to it today so I am somewhat encouraged.  I will never understand why one program can find a certain file and another program cannot.  This computer must file things away as badly as I do.....sigh.

This pic is of a kitten named Leo Lynxie #2517, a precious critter rescued  by the wonderful rescue place called The Cat House On the Kings......that is on Kings Highway in Parlieu CA near Fresno.  I was recently perusing their newsletter and saw a column of orphans they were hoping to find sponsors for and when I saw this photo I melted and totally self-destructed.  I am now the proud long distance foster mom of Leo.......he taps my bank account quarterly for his upkeep.  I begged this photo today and am weakening rapidly.   I am dying to get my hands on him and cuddle him.   I am wondering if perhaps I could borrow him for a while if Gussie would permit.  (I somehow doubt that last part).  But oh, how tempting.  Maybe I could appeal to her more generous nature, wherever that might be located in that furry, selfish, demanding, beloved beast......

Perhaps I will simply have to go up there and visit him.  They say they have an accommodation they can rent me if I want to drown myself in cats (about 700 I think) for a day and nite.  Ah, heaven.  I have said I cannot travel anymore, but I may make an exception in this case.  I have been wanting to check the place out anyway because I am planning to include them in my bequests list as well as subsidize them to adopt my crazy feral kitty, Baskin, when I am gone.

Hmmmm.....as usual I seem to have been carried away by trivia.......though in all honesty, I can never call Leo Lynxie 2517 trivia.

Actually, I had not planned to blog tonite....I was simply conducting an experiment to see if I could access those photos, and as of now, the jury is still out on that.  More tests and scrabbling at the edges of things to try to pry open that which remains sealed against me are in order, but I don't feel like scrabbling right now so I will just meander around in the corners of my brain a bit.

And now for something completely different,  (Oh, how I miss Monty Python ....and for that matter, Benny Hill).  (Did I ever reveal that I am an Anglophile?.....well, now you know.  But nevermind that now)

I have steadfastly refused to sully my robes by being dragged into the nasty mess that are all things political.  However, I just stumbled upon the MOST fascinating article and feel strangely impelled to pass it on, since it appears to me to have a total ring of truth about it......not that truth, forgodssake,  has any place in politics, of course.  Anyway, as I was saying, apparently there have  been dozens of studies done trying to figure out the differences between Democrats and Republicans aside from so called ideologies..  Recently a number of studies have tried to analyze the differences in the brains of members of both parties and I am going to fling some excerpts at you.t

Horrors.....no I am not......I can't.  I was just trying to transfer some notes I made in a draft to this page via the highlight and copy method and find that I sure as hell can highlight, but damned if I can  copy.  I am now faced with two dreadful choices, both unacceptable.  I can delete the above 2 paragraphs and lose them because I do not know how to copy them, or I can leave you poor souls hanging till I  get help in correcting my ignorance and ineptness.  Eeeny meeny I don't know.  I guess I am just going to have to sacrifice you guys........probably one or more of you can instruct me as to how to solve my problem.  I think Florence, my caregiver, knows, but she is off til Monday.  Sob.

I do promise to dish up the rest it as soon as I can so please do not hate me too much.
Gawd, I feel stupid!

Watch Out ---The Dragon Can Bite

Now I have to warn you all that this is an experiment.

I have been struggling with my new speech recognition system for weeks now and making very little progress until today..... At least I thought I was making progress.... I'm not so sure now. For one thing, I have to learn to not speak when I see the wrong thing printed because it just exacerbates the problem. I have pages of unintelligible text that are downright funny if you can stop crying long enough to laugh. But I have learned one very interesting thing..... The fault is not all with this system – – – part of it is my responsibility. Naturally, it's very difficult if not impossible to learn that fact even after you have accepted it. But I'm working on it, folks. We'll see how this comes out.

The program in case you're interested, is called Dragon speech recognition 11.5 – – of course, that should've been capitalized – – – but I forgot to say oh whoops... What I mean is I forgot to say "capital". Sigh! Oh well, we will stagger onward and see where this leads us.  I am totally convinced that if I were not so damned stubborn I would never have made it this far in life......of course, I wouldn't have gotten into so much trouble either.

Actually, I feel like we are doing quite well now – – – in fact I am amazed at the progress we've made since this afternoon when the following excepts are  an example of what we produced :

no that's wrong
The spell word.  No..  Space is.  Harry and the Harry and know that's nowhere near what is left....  Oh God.
I'm still trying to  teach you know to Isabel "all up up up up up up ..........        baby am speaking too slowly 
(up,, up, up is what it writes when I laugh)

no         

What am I going to do with you?   OK.  Let's proceed. never mind     Are you getting bored with this too?    shit.   very good can you write shit      no.  I just tried to teach you a new word.  You were supposed to have...........  Because the word was "shit".  Why didn't you learn to say shit.  Does that mean that you have not learned learned to lose a ship ..............oy

           50 What am I going to do with you?  better.  OK.  Let's proceed.  Do you do better when I  speak slowly.....  Apparently so aknown sentence that.  Apparently not. We were doing so well and then you went crazy.  How am I supposed to know when you're OK and when you're losing your mind.  Excellent.  Then we will keep trying.  I can dictateno no no no no till the cows cm home if you will inlearn from it.  Is that what I'm going to have to do?  Apparently.  Thank you.  You're welcome.  Ugh.  I think I may grow to hate you........."

 I just added some phrases and words to the vocabulary list. Let's see if they worked. Undo that okay. Damn damn damn! You don't have to write everything out.
Why can't I get the box to spell word? shitpissfuck. Oh boy! Can we do that again? Shitpissfuck! Fantastic.  Shitpissfuck, shitpissfuck.  By George, I think she's got it.


Well, I think you got the picture now. As a matter of fact, I have deleted its some of the most obnoxious but perhaps the most laugh=provoking portions of the afternoon exercises. Suffice it to say, that both Dragon and I have improved a lot since just three o'clock this afternoon. I strongly suspect that Dragon may be smarter than I am and may learn faster and better but that's okay. I love servants who are smart. I wonder if I can teach it to clean the cat boxes      where is that damned     ?  question mark? A H. Space space       there it is.     Sigh.

 Well, I didn't say there was no room for improvement.....

The Agony (and Ecstasy) of Da Feet

For years now I have grumbled and fretted about the time when I would need someone to wipe my chin (and, worse yet,  my ass).   Happily, that dreaded moment has not arrived quite yet but....I have just recently discovered that there is another similar threat which has indeed come upon me.........the inability to trim my own damned toenails.  And don't for a minute think that it is because I cannot reach them.  Nay, I am still able to bend over and put my palms flat on the ground while not bending my knees even  smidgeon.....the problem is that I can't see well enough do the silly task.  Well, you might say....you have those wonderful caregivers now......why not get one of them to do it.  Sure, smarty, don't you think I thought of that myself?  Trouble is, they are not ALLOWED to approach your person with any even slightly sharp instrument for fear of wounding you.  Its a RULE. 
\
Consequently, I have recently  been scraping and defacing my parquet floors with toenails my cat would be proud to own.   No friends are able or available to enlist for this dubious task and it is simply too expensive to fly my cousin down from Portland, Ore. to do service on my toes every few weeks. Don't you dare laugh........this is serious stuff.   I was totally flummoxed by this problem till Ann, my lovely Wednesday and Saturday caregiver, said, "Lois, why don't you let me take you for a pedicure?" 

Now, I realize that this idea probably occurred to most of you about six lines back, but you have no idea of the horror and other mixed emotions which swept over me at those words.  I have never had a pedicure.  I have never wanted a pedicure.  To me, pedicures represent the quintessence of sinful, slothful self-indulgence.  In fact, I have always looked down my nose with disdain, disgust and general loathing  at those shallow women who frivolously waste their own or their husbands' money on such things.  I am not sure just where, in the hierarchy of loathsome lacks this indulgence falls......somewhere above being able to assemble and wire your own lamps but possibly below the ability to change a tire.  (I always hated that).

Anyway, it took me several weeks of mulling to realize that I was being the nearly perfect idiot about this......a pedicure was the perfect solution to my problem and I did not even have to dig out my Groucho Marx disguise.......no shame was involved here..........I am actually disabled!  So, last Wednesday my trusty Ann and I went forth to her Pedicurist and it was, to say the least, a fascinating experience.  

Who knew?

From the moment I settled into the chair and plunged my feet into the lovely, warm bubbling water I realized that I had been wrong, wrong, wrong.  This was not an indulgence, it was a practically a necessity.  And when the giggling little oriental expert (she thought it was funny that I had managed to get so old without ever having had a pedicure) asked me if I would like the chair to massage my back while she worked, I knew that I was lost.  When the chair's fingers (yes, fingers......what else can you call them) began to make their way up and down my aching back it was all I could do to keep from losing control and uttering one of my orgasmic moans (usually reserved for the perfect Stuffed Portobello Mushroom or Lox and Cream Cheese on an Onion Bagel).  Meanwhile, amazing things were happening at the ends of my feet and I was only vaguely aware that my toes had been transformed until my little Foot Angel asked me how I liked the nail polish I had chosen.  Migod......my feet were gorgeous!  It was like when Ronald Reagan removed Jane Wyman's ugly black rimmed glasses in the movie "Brother Rat" circa 1937) and revealed her to be the beauty that she really was.    Those sturdy, dependable much abused pedal extremities finally were permitted to come into their own. 

I still cannot stop looking at them and wiggling those lovely enameled toes at myself.  As Lee Wiley sang in one of my favorite songs.............

."What a dunce I was before......
What a break, for Heaven's sake,
How long has this been going on?"

#@$%&* and Shitpissfuck

Heaven help me,,,,,,the thing that I feared has come upon me.  Old Blogger,  Good old Blogger, dear old Blogger. readable and legible old Blogger has been executed and some wretched upstart is being forced upon us.  Or perhaps I should say "me", because I may be the only lone holdout and the rest of you have probably been coasting along for months. 

Well.........I don't care......I still hate the new format and I suspect it will put a crimp in my ability to blog, but I guess I must at least try.  Bah, humbug.  I am not a happy camper and besides all the above I have a backache which is causing the most dreadful sounds and words to pour forth from my ruby lips.  My beloved Chiropractor just administered a fix, but it has not had its full effect yet....groan.

Maybe tomorrow will be better.......... sigh.

I still love ya all, I think......but other issues are clouding my weak and weary mind so check back in later and perhaps the Good Lo will have returned from wherever they have put her.

Excuse Me .........Gotta Get Nekkid......My Ink Cartridges Need Refilling

I  don't know about you folks, but I decided years ago that I would give up my computer printer and go back to using smoke signals rather than pay the insane, obscene prices they charge for ink cartridges. Naturally,  I sent away for a refill kit and have been refilling my own cartridges ever since, but, needless to say, there have been a few "oopses" and a few lessons learned but actually  only a few failures.  I figure I must have saved enough money to heavily reduce the national debt if I had only not squandered it away on frivolity......well, no, I wouldn't call necessities like a cordless mouse frivolity actually.   Anyway.....the time has come once again so I had better get ready.

The truth is, I do not really strip naked any more before starting this process.  It seems to me that in years past the inks were much less removable from one's person and  garments than they are now.  I think they are making the inks washable which is why, when you set your coffee cup or water glass or ?libation down on your newly printed sheet the ink runs all over the effing document but at least you dont have to go around being the Monster with the Bluer Cuticles for the next 2 weeks.   So what that means is that I no longer take off my garment to refill the ink cartridges, but I sometimes do long for the old wilder days.

Anyway.......they are making it harder asnd harder to do this refill process, those money grubbing bastards.  Especially with the color cartridges.  Once upon a time I could drill three neat holes in the top and happily access Cyan, Magenta and Yellow.  I do not know quite how they have changed the innards or whether I simply managed to pierce the walls separating the 3 colors when I went in with the hypodermic needle.......lately I have not managed so well with the color refills, but the black ones, godblessem, are still working for me and I manage to fool the printer into accepting them even though, occasionally I will be coldly informed that my black cartridge is devoid of ink.......heh, heh, but the machine dutifully prints away anyway and I thereby save $25 or $35........hooray.. 

Today I was only 50% successful........blew the color one. but decided to reinstall it anyway even though it now contained a weird mix of blue, red and yellow.......mainly a yucky blue.  I mostly print documents so the color cartridge is superfluous anyway.  I guess I will have to break down and order one in case I need to print a photo sometime.  Once a miser always a miser, I guess, though I actually prefer to think of it as being frugal and wisely prudent, so there.

In all seriousness, I have learned to spend money freely in my old age, when the occasion calls for it.  I just bought myself a lovely gift.  Since my vision and my clumsy, dyslectic fingers make it really hard for me to type without making a gazillion mistakes which have to be corrected of course, (I was tempted by the lure of the Dragon Something or Other which is a program you load and install (at great effort and with much screeching and foul language) but which allows you to dictate into a microphone and see you words instantly appear on the screen as if by magic.  In my usual penurious fashion I found that version 12 had just been released and Amazon was selling version 11.5 for a pittance so I found the deal irresistible......I figured that if 11.5 works at all well I will spring for version 12 after I learn how to use it.  Well, by Gum. it arrived yesterday and today after I washed up from the cartridge refill project I decided I would take courage and at least open the box.  Apparently I had a speck of courage hidden away somewhere, because 5 or 8 hours later I found myself going through the Tutorial for the 16th time after successfully installing the damned program.  The Tutorial works amazingly well and causes you to utter all sorts of exclamations, but, of course, they prompt you at every turn about what to do an how to do it.  I find that even with the little cheat sheet they advise you to print out, when you are on your own it ain'g quite as easy, but i am determined to conquer it because otherwise I may find it harder nd harder to blog and write emails,. so I will persevere.  I promise to report on how I do in case you may be interested in trying this out.  I have to say I am really impressed with the program.....with my own intelligence and ability to learn,,,,,,not so much.  That may be where being a stubborn mule may help me.  All I can say is that when I commanded my computer to "start listening"  and it responded "listening" a little thrill went up my spine.  To almost everything else I said it responded "what was that?" but still.......it was a sort of a conversation.......and it also obeyed me when I screamed "undo, undo".

Now, if I can only figure out why sometimes, when I say "undo" it undoes........and other times when I shout "undo, undo" it dutifully types "undo, undo".  Sigh.

And now, I say to you as I say to my computer, You may "stop listening"..whereupon it advises me it is sleeping.  As for all of you, you may doze off too or do whatever you please. I for one, am satisfied with my vast achievements today.........I hope you are the same.

More about Knees - If You though That Wasn't Possible

In the middle of the night I sat bolt upright in bed  and performed the old fashioned head slap when I realized that I had forgotten to include one of the most knee punishing activities of life.......Gardening.............gawd ......how could I?     The endless hours of dig, plant, weed, dig, plant, weed.  And that activity, once begun in life, never ends till they plant YOU.   

The percentage of time spent on my knees during this lifetime just went up to nearly 50%.

And, while sitting bolt upright in bed, I thought that I really should have explained that, in my current enfeebled condition, getting up from being on my knees is no small feat.  In fact, were it not for the beloved Yoga Downward Dog position in which you are on hands and knees, then curl your toes under to get a bit of purchase, hoist the fanny straight up in the air to form a human triangle between toes and hands and push off with the hands to rise to a standing position, I would probably have spent the past two years in a permanent kneeling state.  For some reason, getting down on hands and knees, while not beautiful, is possible, but getting up therefrom is another story.

If none of this makes any sense to you, it probably means you didn't read my last blog.  Shame on you.  Go back at once and all will become perfectly clear.

Writers' Cramp - Very Unlikely...... But Housemaids' Knee Still a Threat

This week I just raised my aching bod up from my knees for the for the 40skillionth time during my long life and it occurred to me that I may well have spent a goodly percentage of my lifetime on my knees........no.....not praying and not for lewd pursuits or any other weird things either.....I just realized how many supposedly simply tasks end up requiring one to crawl around on the floor on ones hands and knees like a gimpy spider.

We can skip the obvious like the crawling stages of infancy, but not long past that time it begins........subtle at first with games....blocks, marbles, pick-up-sticks  (anyone remember that one?), jacks, tiddly-winks.  Ah, but those young knees hardly even noticed any punishment, even though they were usually bloody or scabby from falling down during other games like baseball, rollerskating, Dodge ball  and almost anything that required upright bodily movement.  For me anyway.......even my  Grandma had to agree that I was a Klutz.....   ........ Sigh. 

The next extended use of the kneeling position came, for me, when I began pursuing the development of my artistic skills and, at some point, every application of some media onto paper required matting and sometimes framing.   This was done on the kitchen floor, using a large wooden plywood drawing board, a steel T-square, ruler, utility knife and  endless hours on the knees..........how else?????

Next came the time in my young starving artist life when I realized that  I had to choose  between eating or covering my nakedness with some garment and I undertook to make all my own clothes using just $3.87 worth of fabric and supplies....... except for shoes......I never quite got the knack of making those..  Naturally,  since I possessed no cutting table ( not to mention no dining table) the cardboard cutting board would  be unfolded on the dining room floor (where the dining table would  be if I could have afforded one......(.I later built one out of a beautiful discarded solid core walnut door which had one damaged side......perfectly fine for the underside of a dining table).  There was always a great deal of scrabbling around on hands and knees positioning the fabric, the pattern pieces, the pin cushion and the scissors, the tailors' chalk and the glass of bourbon......... 

Knees aging but still willing, we enter the era of Hi-Fi and Stereo.  No cigarette pack size thingy in a pocket with ear buds for us.  To properly hear music required a pre-amp, amplifier/tuner, 3 speed turntable, tape player and at least 2 very large speakers.  This stuff also required some furniture to hold it all and the totality necessitated about 3 1/2 weeks of scuttling around on the floor on said knees connecting thousands of wires from one device to the next. Oy.

And just about the time when even my knees were getting too old for such shenanigans some nerd had to invent the desk top home computer which required infinite connections of unmentionable numbers of units to one another and to the surge protector multi-plugs which greatly expanded the old 2 plug wall units and resided under the desk requiring.....you guessed it......days, weeks, months, milleniums (millenia ?) spent on one's knees under the desk, (flashlight in mouth because at least 4 hands were required for most connections) while clutching the easy-assembly sheets in at least one of them.  

Oh, well.......laptops took care of all that, didn't they?  Hmmmm.....then what the hell was I doing on Wednesday of this very week crawling around on my knees on the floor with a flashlight in one hand and a magnifying glass in the other?  Apparently, even in the most modern of times it is still necessary to obtain from the Modem which, in my house,  lives on the lowest shelf of the bookcase,  the network type and serial number in order to add a new laptop to one's personal network of computers.  And how did it happen that, at my advanced age, I should be found  yet once more on those poor knees?  Yes, I do have help these days which should be assigned to such crawlings around, but sadly, nothing can be substituted for experience when confronted with an appliance containing a mind-boggling assortment of different types of number combinations all discretely placed in the most inaccessible spots on the damned Modem thingy.  Florence was overwhelmed.  So who else was there?

Well here's how it is, folks.........whatever the next world changing gadget may come along......if it requires any kneeling of any kind, I think I'll just pass.  Not that I am too old to accept change you understand.......it's just the damned knees.



.

Update on the Madwoman of the East San Fernando Valley

You are all probably wondering if I ever came  back  down  to earth after my last post which seemed suspiciously like a drug induced flight of fancy.  I assure you that it was not in the slightest way drug induced and my feet never for a moment left terra firma regardless of what pain medications  may have been stingily doled out to me during the worst of my recent experiences with practitioners of the finer tortures of the Spanish Inquisition.  All ideas presented in my last blog were the result of various epiphanies and none were inspired by medications or magic mushrooms.  I wouldn't mind trying a magic mushroom, but I haven't a clue what they look like and it would be just my luck to pick some poisonous variety.....


Happily I can report that my groin and thigh have had their staples removed and the thigh has returned nearly to normal size and color and no longer causes me to scream or even say "ouch"  more than 10 or 12 times a day.  However, between the mended but still achy left hip, the totally broken down left knee (which never got replaced) and now the still tender and achy right thigh I have had to sadly give up all hope of  ever being invited to star in the Ice Capades.  Thank heaven   I gave up that ambition many years ago when I realized that even though I managed to skate forward without falling down more than 3 or 4 times an hour, I would never be any good at all at skating backwards except on my fanny.   I gave away the blue  velvet skating skirt with the red satin lining years ago.

Anyway, my main motive in writing this blog is to reassure you that I am returning to what might be considered normal (for Me).  Also, after watching 3 football games and going to  bed dazed and cross eyed at 9 pm. I found myself unable to fall asleep and not even the act of raiding the cupboard and devouring 4 fig newtons slathered with peanut butter gave me any assurance that, if I went  back to bed and tried to sleep, I would do anything but  berate myself for  ,my low class gobbling, so I decided to dash off a few lines while waiting for the Sandman to show up.  

Naturally, I have no exciting news to report since I am still recovering my joie d' vivre (or however the hell that term is spelled) but my spirits are improving and perhaps I will come up with some bizarrre adventure to report one of these days.  Looking at my empty calendar I suspect I may have to make something up.  We will just have to wait and see, won't we?

 

Things Are Not What You Think Think They Are.....Or Is That the Morphine Talking

When you are worn out from screaming and hollering with pain, not overtly but inside your head, you finally shut up and just pant a little.......that is when it gets blissfully quiet inside and you get a chance to meet your soul.  At least that is what happened to me during these recent stays in the hospital.  While crawling around inside trying to find a place to hide I  stumbled on a little niche just under my rib cage sheltering a small blue unwavering flame and I knew that was the essence of me.  We did not converse, but I took great comfort from the encounter.

This really confirmed my suspicion that the image I see in the mirror while brushing my teeth is just a robot creature......a construction intended to provide protection, mobility and a comfortable residence for that awesome, remarkable blue flame to enable it to accomplish something.....I wish I knew what.

I imagined what it may have been like before "the Beginning".    Just whirling chaos, and the Super Intelligence takes a look around and sees an infinity of immense power but no mechanism to put it to work. So what is needed is a container with attributes.........something solid but resilient and mobile.....a couple of legs and arms and oh yeah,  some hands with opposable thumbs, some plumbing, some heating, a pump/motor a small computer brain to enable thoughts, ideas, creativity and, most importantly, a safe niche to cradle and protect  the blue flame of source energy.  Yeah.....that oughta do it. Now all of that sacred energy can be put to work to accomplish.....well, something.

Sadly, it is my opinion that at this point a grave mistake was made. (yes, I admit my arrogance, but that is how it appears to me).  Instead of simply cloning a bunch of the creatures and letting them have at it and seeing how it all worked,  they were ordered to, "Go forth and multiply" and once sex was allowed to enter the equation it was all for naught........because obviously  no good deeds or brilliant projects, no matter how finely wrought, can compete with the sex drive.....and so here we are and that is my interpretation of how we got into this mess and I contend that my idea is as good as anybody's.

Needless to say, I haven't the slightest idea of how we are supposed to get out of the mess we are in..... But the one thing that was clear to me during my communing with my source is that, at some point the trusty robot creature will break down, wear out and cease to function and can be abandoned by the roadside to be recycled into something useful.  No tears are necessary or appropriate.  The blue flame will simply fly back to join the group hug in the vast lake of its source.  Nothing is lost and nothing is wasted.  

Beyond all this, I still know nothing.

P.S  Lest you fear that the Lo you know has completely morphed into a madwoman, I swear that I believe I have never been saner.   And for more good news, my right thigh, which once resembled the Smithfield ham that eclipsed Manhattan, has retreated in size and tenderness and is now very near its old, flabby, fatty self.  And that is a GOOD thing.

And now, back to Football.............

Not Pollyanna.....This Is Mean Old Cranky Lo....You May Want to Pass

 I know, I know, not a decent peep out of me since I came home from the hospital.  Well, the truth is the creature I brought home in this box labelled "Lois" is nearly unrecognizable and she even scares me sometimes.  Bitter, disgusted, disgruntled, angry and perhaps dangerous.


I am fed up to the teeth with these misshapen monsters whom I find it impossible to avoid.....Mutt (not a typo) Romney, Paul Ryan, Sarah Palin.........ugly people spouting idiocies and blasphemies.........I am having trouble finding a reason to go on living and that's the truth and I feel like taking a few of the worst offenders with me when I depart. 


I had a lot of marvelous insights and adventures during my 2 weeks of pain and torture and I will do my best to reveal them to you soon, but not in this blog.  This blog is for bitching and complaining.

Imagine me standing on the peak of the highest mountain screaming  my mantra, "SHITPISSFUCK" alternating with a piercing but plaintive "what the hell is it all about?".  I am in a state of befuddlement about this life we lead.  Is there really a purpose amid all this madness?

The other Lois, if she reappears, will be back at this spot shortly uttering saner thoughts.   Or not.  You gotta take your chances folks.




























Fed

Oy ! I Can't Find My Groove

To all my beloveds out there, I want you to know that I am doing amazingly well......am gamboling around with just a cane (whenever I rouse myself from my favorite horizontal position).  Having very little pain and not even too much discomfort.  The best word to describe my state would be languid, I think.  Cossetted in mounds of pillows and surrounded by various footstools (one for Gussie who must have her own right beside me lest she tromp on my sore leg,  one for the computer and one for my own feet and legs which prefer to be elevated just so.)    I am, in many ways, the luckiest dumbshit in the world;  and yet, I am not ready to snatch up the gauntlet and go on with the struggle.   I think I am just going to lie here for a while, if you don't mind.

Also, unluckily for you, I have just discovered that it is Pre Football Season, so all hopes of my tapping out a brilliant piece on my adventure and my condition are out of the question...........unless   I have an ounce of energy left over when the games are off later.


I have counted all the various parts......arms., legs, fingers, toes......and except for a few errant pints of blood which accidentally leaked into my right thigh I seem to be all here, but I just can't seem to get going.  I am beginning to suspect that they did some undocumented things while in the hospital.....perhaps replaced my brain with someone else's, or excised all my gumption.
My chief skill seems to be lying prone in the lounge chair ringing a little brass bell for service.   I am not complaining, you understand, just explaining and apologizing why news from this front has been so sparse.

Please stick with me folks and I will tap out a few cryptic messages as the ability returns.  Meanwhile, know that I am well and well cared for............except for that Gussie.....

Ha Ha, Mephisto....You Thought You Had Me,,,,,,,,,,,,

A quickie.........I am doing fine and felling fine..........no.....I am also feeling fine.,,,just tryping poorly as usual.....hmmmm....tryping.....that word has possibilities.....I willl have to invent an appropriate meaning........

Will write soon. I promise.

Love ya. 

Wednesday August 8., 2012 .......Escaped

 Ahhhhhhhhhhh........ummmmmmmmmmm.

Home again !!!!  
At last.    For good I hope.........

Aaaarrrrrgggghhh!

Will report all in revolting detail soon.

 Love ya all.

Oops, Gol Darn and Shitpissfuck

Sorry folks...sometimes there are glitches.   Murphy still rules


 am going back to the hospital on friday for a bit more surgery  to close off a lleaking blood vessel.


I am OK except for having a thigh the size and color of a Smithfield ham........we won't talk about the pain.....oy.


I hope to be  home saturday or dead........either one is ok with me.


Will update you asap..  


Not to worry.....I will be OK as soon as they deal with the Ham.


Love     Lo

My Heart Has Been Successfully Tickled

You may all uncross your fingers, my dears..........Lo is home more or less intact or, rather, even better.

As you have often heard me say.....More later.

And thanks for your good thoughts and prayers.

Love ya.

What Next? Well.... They Are Going To Tickle My Heart......

Six or seven years ago I went to the Doctor with some vague discomfort in the middle of my bodily self and before I knew what was happening I was pushed into a wheel chair,  told to notify anyone who needed to know (I called my cat sitter to take over the kitty routine for me) and was wheeled across the parking lot to the hospital wherein an unknown gentleman invaded my bod with a device  through an artery in my groin and reamed out the plumbing to my heart, leaving behind one or two stents to keep things open and to show he had been there.  Since  then the old pump has been performing rather well and I have been most grateful and very impressed.


Last week, I went to the Doctor with some vague discomfort in the middle of my bodily self and was told I had a cardiac flutter which, while not life threatening at this moment, needed to be tended to either with medication or with ..........the dreaded term.....a Procedure.  Before I even heard what the Procedure was, I had decided that I was already taking too damned many pills and capsules and was leaning toward mechanical intervention (that is after I was assured that the Procedure was NOT Open Heart Surgery).  And when I heard that meds were only 70% successful whereby the Procedure was 95% successful I was even more convinced. 


So it has come to pass that I will go to the hospital this Thursday as an outpatient , whereupon an adorable Armenian Doctor (whom I now do know) will violate my bod with his magic wand (get your minds out of the gutter) entering a vein somewhere and proceeding upward with camera and electrical probe to find the misbehaving nerve in my heart and Zap it to extinction with his stun gun  After the appropriate zapping and my return from blurred consciousness I am told I can go home same day and go about my normal life cured of flutter.  Piece of cake.  Well,. it sounds good anyway.


My blogging may be a bit more erratic than usual, depending how well I tolerate this fascinating invasion, but I promise I will try to blog a line or two when I get home just to let you know that I did not get Zapped altogether.  I actually have very little anxiety about this since the more drastic procedure in the past (where I was also sedated but conscious) was no problem at all and  it sounds a bit Science Fiction-y so I am looking forward to seeing how it all works.  I already saw the magic wand and it looks very ordinary and much like any old computer connector wire except for the business end which is teeny and I am sure is very sophisticated.  (in other words.....don't try this at home.)


I do not want you to worry, but if any of you care to think a kind thought or two and send good vibes my way I will certainly receive them with open arms.


Ain't it amazing the things they can do these days?  So why can't we figure out World Peace???    What a dumbkopff I am..........I know why.....there's no profit in it.   Sigh           



Ode To My Cardiac Rhythm Specialist


Tickle my heart, tickle my heart
Give me the pink pill for a start
Then the purple one, next the yellow spotted.
Dose me until I am quite besotted.
Then proceed with the local numbing 
Before you invade my cardiac plumbing.


Am I smiling beatifically? Then you may start
to gently climb up to my heart.
Carefully peruse my trusty pump
and find out what is making it jump.
Instead of ka-boom, ka-boom, why is my ticker  
sounding more like a Chickaboom, chickaboom chick-er?


When you find the errant, rebellious nerve,
please zap it neatly, do not swerve
with your amazing magic cattle prod .....
Just promise me, for the love of God,
that while messing around among my heart's swirls and loops
I do not hear you mutter the dreaded word.......... "Oops".