They may Run the Bulls in Spain…but in Virginia, we Run the Bubbles!
Running of the Bubbs
Category: Shades
687 Miles to Sloppy Kisses…
It’s been over a year and a half since I’ve seen my grandson Alex, who turned 3 in April.
I can think of nothing I’d rather do than share the next few days with you as we get reacquainted and fall in love all over again…
The Journey:
Old Glory flies high and
Gas prices do too
140 miles more before we leave the high cost of living in the Northeast behind…
Storm on the horizon
Unwanted voyeurs
One who is thankful for the break.
345 miles to go for sloppy kisses…
Oh…and a windmill, of course.
300 miles more to giant hugs from little arms
Silos and Barns growing out of the Corn
and oh….
Crackin’ the Barrel on every corner!
200 miles and we pop the top and pull the cork.
The Gas Prices Fall
And the Caverns are Cavernous
100 more to their front door.
Basketball, football, soccer and all
Running, shooting, fetching, “no fair!”
I’m goin’ swimming…hop in gram, we’ll share.
So ends the first day…worth the trip and worth the heat.
Stay tuned for the next installment…getting down on the trampoline then popsicle parties and bubble magic.
🙂
For the Love of a Damned Good Conversation
I was working on a post this morning, having to do with the tons of fun in the sun trying to sell a house in today’s market (yeah, right), when as often happens, a short sidestep away from the center line resulted in being led down another dirt road. But that’s life, especially my life, as I live for the treks down the less traveled dirt.
This particular step off the line was a conversation with a friend that began with small talk about the Gawd awful heat wave and remedies for sun burns, meandered to the pros and cons of having your home and all its contents spread all over the air waves for any ol’ burglar to scope out, tip-toed into current affairs generally and recent events in the Florida courts specifically, then naturally (!?!) morphed into what it must be like for a child to be raised in a Muslim household that forbids TV, radio, music, internet, and playing with children not of their own religion.
Don’t you just LOVE these conversations that sprout tentacles like a giant squid? I do…I love the random nature of them almost as much as the feeling of comfort I get knowing we can talk about anything…all at once! Very stimulating to say the least.
Anyway, post Muslim life discussion, from which we both came away thinking we’d like to try our hand at reading the Koran, the conversation jumped the broom to religion in general. While one of use believes and the other does not, one thing is certainly true: Where we find intolerance, bigotry, segregationist thinking, there is usually a religious aspect fueling it. If we are ever to see the day when our planet’s caretakers can live in true peace and brotherhood…religious fanaticism or extremists, of any kind, must see the end of days.
This of course ‘evolved’ into, well, evolution. Which as a non-believer in religion of any kind, is in fact, the religion of choice. Past the talk of apes and chimps, we discussed how humans are shown to have an innate ability to share. Yup. Share. Which of course led to whether being kind and empathetic is genetics or learned, and whether lesser traits, like competing in all respects, is too, learned or innate. Survival of the fittest after all, with no moral force guiding it? For the non-believer, the take is that we are just naturally a ‘nice’ animal. For me, the believer, I tended to agree, but still harbor some doubt. I do think, that while certain characteristics of humans are innate, most are learned behaviors. Basically, nature vs. nurture. An old and forever on-going topic of discussion that has its own, very long, dirt path. We discussed why certain behaviors occur in some animals and not in others.
For instance, the beaten dog. How can a dog who knows mostly pain from the hand of its human, still find it within itself to lick that very hand the few times it might be extended in what one could only marginally be described as love? It’s insane. Yet, it happens all the time. However, for a child to be reared in the same way, the risk is far, far greater, that the result could just as easily be a non-empathetic psychopath as it could be a loving, thriving, kind, and generous, human being. Is that a choice? Nature vs. nurture again? I used myself as an example, and even so, I still have doubts about it…or maybe doubt is too strong a word.
I have questions.
Being a victim of childhood sexual abuse (The year that broke the dam) from the ages of 5 to 14 and a victim of rape at the age of 19, one could imagine that I could have become a bitter, angry, mean-spirited, non-trusting, love-hating person. But I didn’t (Back on the Road). I’m like the beaten dog…and I don’t mean to sound overly dramatic here…it’s more a visual aide. I live a life filled with as much love as there is hate; as much beauty as there is ugliness; as much need for love, both to give and to receive, as distrust of it. So, it begs the question…was this my choice? Or was I bound by genetics to grow into a woman with a heart and huge capacity for empathy? I don’t know.
But here’s the rub, and ultimately, the reason for our long stroll down these particular paths…in speaking with this friend, it was pointed out ardently, that I do, in fact, have a wonderful heart, a good and strong personality, a huge capacity for love, and that (this is the key) I’m beautiful on the inside.
Ah yes…the beauty within vs. the beauty without (is that the term? doesn’t sound right, but you know what I mean). I, for one, actually HATE that phrase. I love that I am, don’t get me wrong, but it’s a double-edged sword for me. I fell into the trap long, long ago, that it’s more important, at least initially, to be more beautiful on the outside. It has been my experience, and I just may have to take the responsibility for it (Delusional Illusions), that people who could not see beyond the surface passed me by without a second glance and without having the pleasure of getting to know me. I’m not alone. I’m certainly not unique in my thinking this is the way of things. I say honestly, if it was a choice to be the way I am, it was not an easy one, but for me, the only one. Why? Genetics? Nurture? (shrugging shoulders still)
So while I do still struggle with this question, the conversation, for all its meandering, did help me see that hard or not, choice or not, I am on the right path. My path. And if Joe Blow from Kokomo chooses to walk by me because I don’t look like a Playboy centerfold…I say one thing (well, I say it behind his back ’cause I’m nice)…
We are all beautiful…let’s get to the heart of it, shall we?
The Nanny
I promised another tantalizing tale from Deb at Tinky Town…and here it is. Our second writer/photog collaboration! I highly recommend working with another blogger in this way – whether it’s choosing photos for a story or writing a story from a photo…it’s a fun and creative challenge. Here is “The Nanny”…
This is the second of my collaborations and my second with the lovely Rhonda over at Fifty Shades of Gray Hair and I think she’s possibly outdone herself this time! It has been a joy working with her on both projects and I have loved how each time I have given her a story she just creates these amazing pictures. So thank you Rhonda, you’re an inspiration!
Jen smiled indulgently across the breakfast table, over the heads of 6-year-old Jake and his sister 4-year-old Emily, at a bemused Richard, and mouthed “I love you”. Their secret smile that they saved for one another, and said that all was right with the world. Jen quickly set about clearing up the breakfast debris when Anna joined them – no matter how hard Jen tried, she just couldn’t warm to this woman. There was an air of detachment and aloofness about her that…
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The Homecoming
Ever thought of collaborating with a fellow blogger? No? You should…it’s fun and gets those creative juices flowing in a whole new direction. This is the first collaboration for me, with the talented and wonderful writer Deb at crazytraintotinkytown, a favorite of mine since the beginning. She’s a twister. Want to know what that means? Read her…you’ll get it. Hope you enjoy, but better yet…hope you try this for yourselves. Deb and I are working on another piece together, so stay tuned for that…it’s another wonderful tale.
🙂
Feeling Sluggish? Not such a bad thang!
I absolutely hate staring at this blank page when what I see staring back is, well, a blank page and my mind is also, a blankity blank.
Makes me feel sluggish.
So…naturally, when that happens, I go looking for that day’s alter ego.
And as luck would have it, I found it, or rather, it found me.
We shared some quality wine-time (before it got drunk and the mosquitoes showed up and ruined our party)
Too bad it ended so early because I was quite enthralled with these tales of a slug’s life.
Admittedly though, a tad runny at the mouth. Ewww.
Oh excuse my manners…I’ll introduce you.
Everybody? Meet my new friend.
If I tell you its name, I’ll ruin the lesson, so new friend will do for now:
What I learned during our luscious liquid lunch interested me enough to want to share it with you.
So, if you’ll allow, the slug‘s life lesson begins.
🙂
Did you know, that in addition to being a major part of his mobility requirements, his slime is actually a defense mechanism?
Yeah, I mean, who the hell wants to eat something that gross?
Nothing it seems. Smart little cuss.
And…as luck (? you’ll see) would have it
(kids, cover your eyes..this is for mommy and daddy)
it’s also a huge part of their (shhhh) sex life.
I KNOW!
Imagine?
(Okay, here’s where the third glass is starting to take affect. He fell off his perch mid-sentence and landed on the table; like a cat; feet first!
(that’s a joke…their whole body is one giant foot really)
To continue…
Of course, we humans secrete our own slime of a sort (well…we do!) but it’s nothing compared to these love bugs.
Slugg-ette drops chemicals into her slime letting Slugg-O know she’s ready.
Months go by…haha, not really but imagine how LONG it takes ol’ Slugg-O to mosey on over?
You might think sweet little Slugg-ette would get sick of waiting…but to hear my new friend tell it…
Slugg-O is packin’ heat and proud of it!
(So the signs on the garden wall are TRUE! Call 1-900-worththewait for a slimy good time!)
His slugg-o-schlong is HALF the size of his body!
!
!
!
Ahem…sorry, was daydreaming.
Anyway, Slugg-ette is staying put! She’s in for the loooong haul.
Once they do manage to mingle, their foreplay can last for hours!
(No surprise there, after waiting all that time? what’s the friggin rush)
But what IS surprising is these little rascals are into…
(kids? still covered? good)
K-I-N-K!
Absolutely!
Biting, tail lashing, licking up each others goo….Grrrrrrross!
But hey, whatever flexes your hose right?
Another interesting fact…and this is why I didn’t give you my new friend’s name…
Because Slugg-ette is Slugg-O and Slugg-O is Slugg-ette, if ya catch my drift.
Yeah, so I’ll call him/her Slugg-ett-O
(anyone else hearing Pinocchio music?)
What this means is that they are both hes and they are both shes and they can BOTH get preggers at the same time for gawd’s sake!
(My head just exploded. Who’s your Daddy? Baby Mama? I’m so confused!)
But all is not wine and roses for these poor dude(ttes).
Sometimes, when they are done with the fun, their fun parts aren’t having any fun a’tal.
Why? Because their schlugg schlongs can get stuck in their own goo!
And as it hardens mid wham-bam thank ya man/am, before ya know it?
SUPER GOO-ED.
Gulp…and the only way out? Can ya guess?
Don’t – it’s a gawd awful picture.
I’ll just tell ya.
One gnaws off the other’s ‘peter piper picked the wrong place to get stuck’.
Yup…the slug version of Bobbittized!
But don’t cry for them Argentina (salt’s bad for them anyway).
Shed no salty tears, all is not as it appears.
Not only is it not fatal to the one who happened to get stuck in the prickle jar…it’s a whole new life!
Basically, your garden variety transgender operation.
Nature amazes doesn’t it?
Seems the dearly depetered goes off to live a normal, happy, Slugg-ett-O life as strictly a female.
A whole new slug. Slugg-ette for ever and ever.
Cool huh?
That’s all we had time for during our first meet and greet; the bugs were bitin’ and Slugg-ett-O
(yeah, I asked…was still packin’)
was obviously slime-faced!
But here’s his parting shot, and if I do say, not a bad looking she-fellow when you get to know her/im
See ya ’round…ya ol’ slimeball! 🙂
Next time, I’ll bring the refreshments…If you dare!
Delusional Illusions
Growing up as I did, I had to become a master of delusion.
And a master I was.
I managed to convince myself I was happy, normal, thriving, even exceptional at times.
But, as with everything in life, it ends.
That day came when the delusion hit me square in the face and I found myself staring at a naked stranger in the mirror.
So what’s to be done?
Face my naked self?
See life as it is for the first time…stare the ugly in the face and see beyond it?
Reach into that mirrored heart and grab that frightened, yearning, amazingly loving, little girl and give her a chance?
That would be a most difficult, utterly terrifying path. Yet a fine one indeed. A healing thing, a healthy thing, a loving thing to do.
Or…how about exchanging the delusion; that umbrella of fantasy under which life was so real as to be believed; for one of illusion.
I know it won’t be entirely real; just enough to convince me that I can be happy. No longer deluded, yet not quite ready to face the ugliness in the mirror. Not quite strong enough to bring her out into the open to face the fact that life is not fair; life is not pretty; life is not forgiving…it’s just life.
So illusion it was…for a time anyway.
But…as all things in life do, this too did end.
An even more painful death than the delusion.
The delusion took my face and smashed it into my mirror.
The illusion died slowly, with tiny little blows that wounded me a piece at a time.
With it’s whispered ‘I love you but…”
And it’s well intended, but still misguided “You’re too good for me…”
The true shield behind which the illusions spew forth “It’s not you, it’s me…”
And the fatal blows to the heart “I’ll always love you…”
a & f
The delusion?
That my damaged soul and wounded heart could find love and peace, inside or out, anywhere but in my own heart.
It’s not possible without facing the naked truth that no matter how much I love another, it won’t last until I love myself enough to see beyond the mirror.
a & f
The Illusion?
That my damaged soul could tell the difference between what’s whole, what’s honest, what’s without fear, and what’s my illusion.
To realize true happiness and true love I must stand naked and fearless in front of that mirror.
And besides my own, the eyes of the one I love are the truest mirror I’ll ever face.
If I’m willing to see it, the reflection will be one of truth. My truth and his.
Stark naked, no illusion.
I’ll see trust, kindness, inner beauty, desire, love without qualification, and acceptance of who and what we both are…in all that naked glory…or I’ll see nothing.
If I see doubt, fear, unease, tempered or guarded emotions, and conditional love…from either of us….I’ll run.
♥ The delusion is dead.
∞ The illusion is dead.
Life is bare…
it promises nothing and offers only what you are willing to pay for
it is as ugly as it is beautiful…
it is as rich with humiliation and pain as it is with pleasure and joy…
but at least it’s now naked…
Now is the time for truth
Why I Still Read the Newspaper…with RELISH!
For those of you who take advantage of digital technology to keep up with current affairs in your communities, states, country, or the world, you don’t know what you are missing.
Perhaps it’s because you are too young to remember what it was like to open a newspaper. The sound, the smell, and the ink on your fingers. Or maybe you don’t have the leisure time every day to sit and peruse your local rag.
Whatever the reason, it’s too bad, you are missing out on a truly satisfying and, sometimes, very entertaining past time.
This is my Ode To Print…with sincere thanks for all the years of joy.
Hope you enjoy as much as I do…
Give up the rag?
NEVER!
🙂
Back on the Road
Inroads – encroachment
Crossroads – decisions
Dirt roads – tributaries along the way
Bumpy roads – the ups and downs
Detours – new direction to the same destination
Roadblocks – stop or find another way
Out roads – the place we don’t want to be
Every day, we choose the road we set our feet upon. Each inch we travel is a minute step in the right direction as long as that direction is forward. Don’t stand still, don’t hesitate, don’t stop moving.
Others will make inroads against us…don’t let them. Do not allow anyone to take from us what we are not willing to give freely. Don’t let them sneak up on you.
Do our hard thinking along the way so when we reach your crossroads you’ll know the direction you are meant to take. This will never be easy and we will likely be here more than once. If you take the wrong turn the first time, remember it well…and do better the next.
The dirt roads are mere side trips; chances to meet new people, try new things, gain new insight, or just look for a place to breathe. These are the paths that make the journey worthwhile.
There will always be bumps in the road ahead…there has never been a completely flat road and there never will be. Some are visible, some clouded in the fog of our mind’s eye…but there, they are. We must use caution on the way to planting our flag of accomplishment on the top, and always leave a word or two of encouragement there for the ones that follow. And remember, we are gaining strength with each step up and over to the other side. The next one will be a little easier and the one after that and the one after that.
Don’t fear the detours, they are a necessary part of our journey. As long as our destination is clear, how we get there matters little and there’s nothing wrong with a change of scenery. Sights to be enjoyed, experiences to be treasured, lessons to be learned…Life recalculated.
The road blocks are meant to test us. They will stop some in their tracks; end the journey because it just got too hard. Don’t let this happen. We must use them as tools to hone our skills of adjusting, ingenuity, imagination, and self-reliance. Don’t give in and don’t give up…give ’em hell.
There may be times we find ourselves on the outside, what I call the out roads. This is not a place to be. This is a place of indecision, self-doubt, fear of the unknown, and even fear of the known. The kind of fear that lives in the dark places, leaves us afraid to step forward, or afraid to move at all. Lost. If we find ourselves here…we must stop, open our minds, hearts, and eyes…for this is the time to ask for help.
We can see them; the people in our lives we love and respect; lining the shoulder of the roads we’ve walked…reaching out. They are waiting, they are willing, they are there to help you back on your path. But they cannot do it for you…admit you are lost, take the hands that are offered, and begin again. One step at a time.
It’s never too late.
It’s never too late to reach for the moon.
It’s never to late.
It’s never to late to get back on the road.
Safe travels my friends.
Wait Just One Bone-Pickin’ Minute…
I’ve got a bone to pick and I’m gonna pick it clean.
Then I’m gonna give it to my DOG to finish off.
Yes.
My DOG.
The same one that shared this day with me eating mini ice cream sandwiches and snuggling together in the rear-end of a Jeep…
In the Vet’s parking lot…
Staring death in the face with a face full of vanilla and teeth full of chocolate cookie crust (his too.)…
Yeah, that one…Ripken, my beloved 10 year old B’Lab
The subject of my last post celebrating his life and mourning his demise.
Why?
Because my Vet is a douche…that’s why.
Okay, maybe not a douche.
How about insensitive, callous, money-grubbing, gotta pull in the bucks to justify my position as the newest Vet in this practice, A’hole?
Yeah, that’s better.
- Here’s how it went down almost a month ago (I feel like I should put this to music like Harper Valley PTA or something):
Yearly check-up; three-year rabies shot; lyme vaccine; snap test
Vet says he looks good except…
I’m concerned about this growth, this tumor, in his right armpit
I’ve looked at his records, and I see he was here 6 months ago (for an intestinal problem) and this mass was not there
The fact that it grew so large, so fast, and seems tender to the touch tells me it’s something we need to be concerned with.
Normally, I’d say it’s just a fatty deposit, but not in this case. I believe we are looking at a malignancy here
ME: Can you give me an idea of how much I’m looking at to find out? Financially speaking, I need to know
I can certainly give you an estimate for how much it would be to do the pathology and remove the tumor, but subsequent treatment would be expensive
ME: OK, I’ll need that estimate before I make a decision
Of course
Estimate: $970 – (nothing specified about what the cost would be to treat the ‘cancer’)
ME: I hate that it comes down to money, but I can’t afford this
Oh I completely understand. Take some time to think about it and let me know
ME: Okay, but I know what my finances are…I can’t afford this
I completely understand, but just think about it and let me know. Take the time you need, but I don’t think you should wait too long
ME: Okay, I’ll think about what I can do, and I’ll talk to my family, but I can’t afford this only to find out it’s a cancer I can’t afford to have treated
- Here’s where we were two weeks ago:
Stopped eating
Stopped drinking
Lethargic
Acute diarrhea (sorry, but it does sound better than the runs)
I was out of town, get a call from my parents that the dog is sick
- Here’s where we were one week ago:
Not eating still so I boil hamburger and rice – nothing
Not eating so I notch it up to chicken and rice – not much improvement
Only think I can get him to eat are his biscuits…the dog effin’ loves those biscuits
Still not drinking
Still with the D-word adding in that straining would be an understatement
- Here’s where I was Sunday:
This can’t go on, he’s suffering, I can’t afford to see this through, I need to call the Vet tomorrow
Appointment made for Wednesday for euthanasia based on information known at the time
- Here’s where I was today – Wednesday – E Day
Get to Vet’s office – packed beyond belief – had to park in another county practically – no sweat, more time to sit and snuggle and eat ice cream sandwiches with the Dude
Go into office at scheduled time, 5:30 pm, alone, to complete all paperwork and pay fee without Rip having to be in there
Told they are waaaay backed up, would I mind waiting?
Ummmm, yes, in fact I WOULD mind waiting. This is not the kind of appointment one wants to sit and ponder amonst the other four-legged beasts running around.
Told it would only be a moment then…they’d get a room ready right away. She returns within seconds telling me to go ahead and bring him in.
I do that. We go to the room. The Vet comes in…
Aw, and how’s old Ripken?
{I explained the last two weeks in detail)
Oh, so he’s not eating or drinking. Well, let’s have a look see what a treat does for him
{I watch as Ripken about tears the guy’s fingers off taking the treat. Maybe I should have warned him about Ripken and those biscuits}
Wow…I have to tell you, this dog is not telling me he’s ready to die. His breathing is a bit loud and labored, but that’s his age. But he’s active and took that treat well enough
{I look at him like he’s gone mental. Was he suggesting I was there to kill my dog for no reason?}
ME: No…YOU told me that and based on the last two weeks, I believed it. This is NOT the same behavior of the last two weeks {except the biscuits}
Now, really, I’m not concerned with that growth. I feel it’s just a fatty deposit and as your dog’s advocate, I must tell you that based on what I’m seeing here today, this is a healthy dog, and in good conscience, I can’t do what you are asking me to do
What I”M ASKING? Do you realize what your comments to me during our last visit did to me? And how those comments lead to my sitting here today, in this office, having spent the last 4 days beating myself up and grieving for him? Do you think I’m here to rid myself of a loved family member for financial reasons?
I’m only telling you that I can’t do what you came here to do in all good conscience because I feel he’s healthy and just showing his age
{By now, I’m about hysterical, but from anger…}
I am not leaving this office until you do whatever you have to do to prove this is NOT a cancerous tumor; tell me the cause of the last two weeks; and I AM NOT PAYING FOR IT. YOU ARE.
Of course. I will aspirate the mass and I’ll take a stool sample. If, you’ll hold him
{Just give me a biscuit dumbass}
Aspiration done, sample taken, Vet disappears, returns 15 minutes later…
I was correct. That mass is nothing to worry about, for now, it’s just fat
And the stool sample shows he’s loaded with bacteria, which I can treat, with medication. And this bacteria is absolutely the cause of his lack of appetite and lethargy. It’s common and treatable.
All I ask is that you give him a fair chance. Let him take the medication for a couple days. If there’s no improvement, we can revisit it.
What? A fair chance? You tell me my dog has a malignant tumor, tell me to make up my mind quickly, it’s only $970 to be on the safe side, and you tell ME to give him a fair chance? Give him pills for a couple days and then you’ll revisit killing him?
That’s all I’m asking. I can’t stop you from going through with this, but I can’t do it. I’ll not charge you for anything but the pills and I’ll only charge you what they cost me.
{Lord, get me away from this man before I BITE HIM}
Get me the pills, refund my prepaid murder for hire fee, and we’ll be gone.
He did and we were.
FOR FUCKING EVER!
My Dude…alive and well…despite modern medicine! When did Vets become like all the rest?
🙂
50 Shades of Gray Hair 
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