Starring Tony, Guido, and Da Boid…
A short re-cap…
…and Damien ’15 now reigns
Damien declared the war of Two Ought One and Four was not over.
He was now spearheading the charge.
El Jefe sent his mangy minion “Mini Masher Mickey” to mangle my Mini
Mad as Hell Wonder Woman (that’s me…just ask my SideKick Mimi)
WW ready to kick some ‘service’ ass and take some names…
Alright…that brings us to right here and right now…
How DOES a mad as hell Wonder F-Ugly end up Whistlin’ Dixie?
After she hangs up the phone from the conversation with the Mini Service Manager, as follows:
Manager: I have some news.
Me: Oh yeah?
Manager: The warranty inspector was here today.
Me: Yeah, so I was expecting.
Manager: He looked at the engine.
Me: Right. That’s what he was there for.
Manager: He said it was a broken Tensioner.
Me: Yeah, you told me that already. Were you unsure?
Manager: No, he just confirmed it.
Me: Good. Now what?
Manager: He agreed the engine needed to be replaced.
Me: I thought you had NEWS? (Not OLDS!) You already told me that.
Manager: I also told you in my experience, they would not pay for it.
Me: Yeah, I didn’t forget that part.
Manager: They agreed to cover it.
Manager: Yes. They were going to cover a ‘used’ one but we ran the numbers an
it was within a couple hundred for a new one, so you’re getting a new one.
Me: I’d have gotten a new one anyway, but go on.
Manager: They are paying me directly, so all you have to cover is the new battery
and turbo oil line, which are not covered.
Me: How much?
Me: You do know both the battery and that oil line were replaced last year?
Manager: Yes, but since you’re getting a new engine, we don’t want to screw around with old parts.
Me: Ok. How much are the two replacements?
Manager: $350 for the battery, $200 for the line, plus tax and labor.
Me: $350 for a battery? Jesus, what the hell is it made of?
Manager: It’s specific to Minis.
Me: Really? No other car can use it?
Manager: Well, not exactly, but this one’s housing and stuff are made specifically
Me: Ah, I see. (You guys figure since I’m getting a new engine paid for I may as well just suck up a 300 percent mark up on a battery.)
Well, that’s good news anyway.
Manager: I need to order the engine, and once it’s in, we’ll need a few days. You
may be able to get the car by Wednesday.
Me: Actually, I’ll be able to get the car when I can get a ride to Hartford and not before.
Manager: I’ll call you when it’s ready.
Me: I’ll wait for that call.
THAT’S how a Mad As Hell Wonder Woman ends up Whistlin’ Dixie
And pay attention Girlies (and Nerdies too)…
It pays to let people (especially people ‘helping’ you) that you’ve done your homework.
It’s good to let them know that you know that they know that they are hiding/lying to you and you know it.
2014 – The Year in Review
I had the title typed before I saw the email with the gift from the WP helper monkeys that I assume we all got.
And I know this is a bit longer than usual, but if the ultimate goal is to kill a baby (the new years baby silly people…calm down) one can’t skimp on the details 😉
At first, I thought I’d just make the WP Review public and call it a day, rather than come up with a review of my own.
It does, after all, highlight our most popular posts, our busiest days, how many views, and how many countries.
Reminds us that this year has been spent like yesterday’s paycheck!
Proves in black and white that 2014 has slipped right through our fingers.
Shows us that we blinked and there it was….G O N E!
None of which are bad or surprising. Just not a true enough picture. At least not for me.
Can I say there’s something that makes me think it has been “The Best Year Ever”?
Not even close
(Though, I AM content knowing there were a couple events that will be remembered fondly. One of which was welcoming a beautiful new friend named Sadie into our hearts and our home and the landscape changed for the better)
If you are, or know, A Mama of Mayhem, A Deb of Destruction, or A Brittany of Breakage like me…then you understand!
Being a title holder of all three…this year is one for the books.
I actually shutter a little writing this ‘pre-midnight 12/31/14’ little tale, as it scares the SHITE outta me a bit! Lord knows, a LOT can happen in the 36 hours that remain!
For example…I sit here writing in a room that houses nothing that could hurt me, yet I still feel as if I am in a militarized zone. I almost want to ensconce myself in the bathroom, where, if I manage to not fall into something wet and drown, I’ll be good to go.
There will be no daily, weekly, or monthly, blow by blow review of the past year here. Not even a highlight reel. You’ve heard all of that before. No need to rehash old shit storms.
However, it appears this almost year-old ‘baby 14’ is not done with me.
He did, yet again, set his sights on my ample bottom, reared back his infantile, yet strangely fat and hairy leg, let loose, and kicked me in the ass.
Yup, this over-grown, tantrum throwing, troll doll, is still flinging the contents of his dirty diaper my way, and frankly, I’m sick to death of the little shit!
I Am, in fact, celebrating the fact that in 36 hours, this mini monster will be
D E A D
D O N E
H I S T O R Y
W O R M F O O D
But, before his happy demise, the little bastard thought it would be funny to inflict a bit more madness and mayhem into my life.
How you wonder? Ooooh, he’s nothing if not imaginative, the little Attila.
(cue dreamy, going back in time music now…)
I left Virginia in Mini Me, primed and ready for my 700 mile trip to the frozen north to spend time with Superman and Lois
Well prepared, reasonably rested, I hit the nearly empty highway in good form
350 miles in, I was awed by the mile long caravan of flashing lights; cruisers, suvs, vans, and buses, of law enforcement vehicles from all over the south, headed to New York City for the funeral service of two fallen comrades
I cruised through NYC (okay, the Bronx) in record time
(Guess everyone had the same thought…no troopers on the road)
I reached the interchange of Interstates 95/91 in New Haven at 11:30am
Considering I’d stopped for breakfast and a fill-up, I was making good time
The GPS said I’d be there by 2:45pm, just a bit over a 12 hour trip
Right on schedule (Lobster dinner tonight!)
Then…that big, bad, baby decided to wake up
With a shitty diaper
And he reached into that shitty diaper
Grabbed a handful
And flung it in my direction
It was a direct hit!
At 75 miles per hour
Traveling in the left lane
Interstate 91 Northbound
Exit 5 (I can’t get away from details)
Mini Me died
Foot on gas pedal…nothing
I was surrounded by flying traffic by this time of the day, and just north of New Haven, CT
No where to go that didn’t already have a vehicle occupying that same space
There was no left shoulder
I had no choice
One look over my shoulder resulted in a “FUCK” and prayer to God that I had enough forward momentum to reach the right shoulder alive
I shut my eyes and turned the wheel
I drifted…just drifted…amid honks and screeches which I had no choice but to ignore in an effort to get to safety, but sick to my stomach and shaky with fear of being Johnny Hot Rod’s New Year’s Roasted Road Kill
When I opened my eyes, I realized, had I waited to do that one second later, I’d have landed in the middle of the entrance/exit ramp and been no better off, and just as likely to be creamed
But, as it happened, I opened my eyes just in time to two-foot the brake and stop right before the shoulder/guard rail ended
After regaining the ability to breathe and pick up my phone without dropping it from shaking, I realized I only had 27% left on my battery with no power to re-charge
Panic set in, knowing I had to have my phone to get out of this mess
I tried to call my husband at his job in Virginia
I didn’t have the damned number in my phone as he’d just been transferred
SHIT (not that he could have done anything, but I needed to hear something, anything, besides whizzing traffic)
I called Lois…hoping she answered and not Supe, because I didn’t want him to worry. She was gone, he answered
He reminded me his best friend lived about an hour away, was a mechanic, and calmed me a bit. (so much for me worrying about him eh?)
I called this friend, but he knew nothing about good ol’ Mini Me, but would pick me up if I needed
All I knew was I needed off the road but was not willing to leave the car sitting there
I called my insurance company thinking I had roadside assistance coverage
NOT (but she offered to sell it to me, the bitch)
After a Google search, found the number to hubby’s new location, called him and cried all the way through that conversation (ugh, what IS that anyway?)
He too reminded me (needed a lot of reminding that day) that I had an extended warranty that included roadside assistance (duh)
So, I called them and after a lengthy discussion, was relieved to hear that by 12:50, there would be a tow truck there to take us to a service location.
PHEW because I was down to about 12% on the phone and sweatin’ bullets
Tow truck arrives
Mini Me quickly and expertly man handled onto the flat bed
Passenger (moi) rudely told “IN. Don’t Smoke. Don’t Eat”
Passenger (moi) just as rudely yelled (in my head of course) Fuck You. Drive.
Reach our destination
Driver takes Mini Me off the rig, gets her safely into a parking spot behind the dealership
Waves me off and drives away
I go into the dealership to seek guidance
(after noticing the service department was closed baby closed)
Information desk girly pages the manager who informs me they don’t service Minis, so even if they had been open, they could not have helped me
Water works begin in earnest
To say anyone within spitting distance was a tad uncomfortable with this 54 year old lady, blubbering in the middle of a BMW dealership would be an understatement
(and worse still-they were having an ‘event’ and the place was packed!)
To say I gave a shit would be a lie
After being herded off by the dealership manager
(to a padded, all but sound proof, cubby hole)
Where I was to sit and get things figured out
(offering to keep me in coffee and food, a power outlet, and a phone at my disposal)
I called the warranty eeeedjit back
One point five hours later, having listened to this dickhead tell me it was my fault I’d landed in “A place no Mini has gone before” (really?)
I told him to shut it…get me a new tow to somewhere that could actually SERVICE my car, and I’d deal with his incompetence later
Got a text ten minutes later that the tow truck would be there at 3:50pm to tow me 45 miles further north, to Hartford, where there was a Mini dealership whose service department was closed, but they were open until 5 and I could get my car checked in and arrange for a rental to continue the 300 miles I had left on my journey north
That left me about 10 minutes to spare, provided the tow truck arrived on time
The truck did NOT arrive on on time, and I knew I needed a new plan
I couldn’t be stuck at an empty dealership in Hartford, CT with no way out
Lois to the rescue…she calls my cousin in Massachusetts and arranges for her and to pick me up in Hartford and drive me to Brattleboro, Vermont where my visiting brother would drive to and pick me up to take me the rest of the way home
All told, cousin Shari and brother Allan would spend 3 hours and 4 hours respectively, driving on my behalf, all because a warranty roadside assistance representative didn’t think it was necessary to find out if the destination HE chose to have me towed to, actually serviced my vehicle
(I’m lucky to have the family I do…at least there IS that)
The second tow truck finally arrives
Getting to Hartford in time to talk to a person was already completely out the window
Good God, they sent me a fucking jaw bones!
(In an antique truck to boot)
The driver (Randy) finally gets to doing what he’s there to do
While he’s putting her on the truck, I notice the driver’s side window slowly inching down
And of course, there’s no power to raise it back up
OMFG…wanna guess the forecast for that night and the next day?
Oh well, another phone call to Shari to let her know I wouldn’t be in Hartford by 5 and to go ahead and get something to eat in the meantime
Sometime after 5:00 but before 6:00
Arrive at dealership in Hartford
Hugs and kisses for Shari and Jimmy
Off load Mini Me to spend the night, the next day and night, and the next morning exposed to the elements
Transfer all my shit to Shari’s car
Pay Randy (a.k.a. driver jaw bones)
(and I hugged him actually…he turned out to be good company and a much needed source of laughter and companionship on the drive to Hartford. He told me I was his ‘best tow ever‘ and I told him that’s only because I like to use the F word, tell raunchy jokes, and smoke (so he could smoke and he was good with that!)
We meet up with Brother in Brattleboro Burger King
I got a drink while he sat staring at what he dubbed his “ass burger”
After a few minutes of visiting for the brother and the cousin, the eventual garbage can burial for his ass burger, we hit the road for our 2 hour trip home
ps…My brother is a genius! He brought me a bottle of wine and a plastic cup for the ride home. Does he know me or what? Update: I’ve been informed that it was brother number 2 who told brother number 3 to bring the wine!
Could they both be geniuses?
It is now Tuesday, 12/30/14
I know absolutely nothing more today than I knew Saturday about the state of Mini Me
All I know is she’s there and I’m here
I’m already $260 bucks in the hole for which they called me to authorize, yet they’ve not even looked at her
Unsure if any or all or none of her ailments are covered by the warranty or if it’s gonna cost me an arm or maybe the one good leg I got left
So…let’s try this again:
2014 – The Neverending Story?
2014 – The Worst Story Ever Told?
2014 – It’s A Wonderful Life For Somebody Else?
2014 – Kill Me Now and Get it the Fuck Over With?
Sure…they all could work
But, since the little cuss ‘Atill-ito de Hun-o’ seems to like it when I get upset or angry or depressed when he slings his excrement my way…I’ve decided to take his poo and make poo-ade
I’m looking for and looking at, the positives that came out of this.
1. I’m alive
2. I’ve got great family
3. I made a tow truck driver’s year
4. That same driver made my fucked up day not so fucked up
5. I still made it up north to be with Superman and Lois
6. Mini Me is where she needs to be – in a Mini Hospital where she’ll get the care she needs
So, little baby butthead, go ahead ya filthy animal
You’ve got 36 hours to do your worst
I’ve got a hell of a lot more time than you do, so there IS that, right?
In a little while, the world will be celebrating YOUR demise and your REPLACEMENTS arrival
How does that feel?
For me…it’s p r i c e l e s s
Happy New Year to all of you
As for you Baby 126.96.36.199.
Maybe, maybe not
But I’ll tell you what I’ve told your predecessor…
“I’ll be around a lot longer than you (God willing), so go ahead…
Bring. It. On!
(Yes, you have to sing it!)
On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me
A bill that was way oh-ver due
On the second day of Christmas my true love gave to me
Two fucking chances
To eh-splain why the bill was oh-ver due
On the third day of Christmas my true love gave to me
Three dirty looks
Two fucking chances
To eh-splain why that bill was oh-ver due
On the fourth day of Christmas my true love said to me
“Four bill collectors
Three rotten voice mails
Two fu-cking chances
Now eh-splain about that fri-hi-ggin bill”
On the fifth day of Christmas my true love went to work
Missing fiiiiiiiiiiiiive of his teeeeeeeeeeth
Fo-hor missing buttons
Three rips and tears
Two-hooo franctured toes
And a mouth full of oh-ver due bill
On the sixth day of Christmas my true love asked of me
Please call the dentist
Foooor my mis-sing teeeeeth
“Fo-hor days ago
I lost my mind
Please do not kill me
And from now on you ge-he-het the mail”
On the seventh day of Christmas my true love brought to me
Seven wrapped up presents
Six pounds of chocolate
Fiiiiiiiiiiive din-ner coupons
Fo-hor smelly candles
Three movie tickets
Two-hoo spa-ah days
And a day for our dog at Pup’s R Us
On the eighth day of Christmas my true love asked of me
Please stop obsessing
Let me say “I’m sorry”
We can have a re-do
IIIIIIIIIIIII was a shiiiiit
I promise not to question
What you do or don’t do
Because I don’t know shit
When it comes to making it ah-all work
On the ninth day of Christmas my true love hid from me
Fear of what would happen
D’nial that was his mantra
Refusal to believe that
The fact his Mother was right
His wiiiiiiife wazzzz such a biiiiiiiiiiiitch
Oh-ho-ho who does care
That he had invested
More than you may know
And that his partridge left long-ong-ong-ago
On the tenth day of Christmas my true love said to me
1 thru 9 are awesome
10 thru 12 are missing
This is so distracting
I only wanted quiet
Is that too much to ask for
Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiive Golden Rules
Fo-hor pleading men
Three spanish prayers
Two birds in a bush
And I won’t tell the partridge he is di-hi-hi-in-er
No I won’t tell the bird that he is toast
T’was the Year Before This One
They had dealings with elves Satan had sent their way
Cleverly disguised as movers, those elves
Had completely and thoroughly, distinguished themselves
Whose Coup de Grace was an utter Grace de Poop
Pa on the phone with Satan’s head guy
Ma was outside screaming her battle cry
When all of a sudden, there rose such a clatter
Pa sprung from the house to see what’s the matter
He saw flashes of fire coming out of her eyes
And heard “I. Am. Leaving. Before someone DIES“
Of the Battle O’ the Bunglers (Satan ended up winning)
But through all the breakage of glass, wood, and legs
They stopped trying to fill their round hole with square pegs
Try though they did, there was no talking to Boss Putz
They had no control over Dumb, Dumber, and Numb NutZ
So they did what they could to get through that last year
Now damn it all, damn it all, there’ll be Christmas this year!
What a difference a year makes!
Barbara Walters, of 20/20, did a story on gender roles in Kabul, Afghanistan, several years before the Afghan conflict.
She noted that women customarily walked five paces behind their husbands.
She recently returned to Kabul and observed that women still walk behind their husbands.
Despite the overthrow of the oppressive Taliban regime, the women now seem happy to maintain the old custom.
Ms Walters approached one of the Afghani women and asked,
‘Why do you now seem happy with an old custom that you once tried so desperately to change?’
The woman looked Ms Walters straight in the eyes, and without hesitation said,
Ah…the good ol’ summertime.
A time for beaches and bicycles and picnics and bbqs and vacations and staycations and more likely than not… family.
Whether you’re a nut from a towering oak, have a touch of sweetness like the magnificent sugar maple, are tart and tangy like the bounty that falls from the fruit trees, or run more to the quiet strength of the whispering pine…we are all branches of our family trees.
As it will, nature steps in to prune our branches. Our leaves fall through the natural process of age and death, or in times of storm and disease, we sadly lose precious limbs way before their time.
Nature will…have its way.
But because our roots are so deep, we continue on…new saplings sprout from new seeds and new blood.
Often, we are stronger and more resilient for it. Having richer hues and sweeter fruit.
Or, as is common enough in my family to be the rule and not the exception, (leaves fall too close or too far, whichever the case may be) we end up with nuttier nuts and fruitier fruits.
Which leads me to:
“The Family Reunion”
For the good folk up here in the extreme north, the best thing to be said about summer is …NO SHOVELING!
Next to that…there is reunion season, which in my case, consists of the following:
Mother’s Mother’s side
Mother’s Father’s side
Two distinct and unique trunks of my maternal grandparent’s tree.
Let’s say it’s where the Spruce meets the Elm.
Now, the Spruce and the Elm don’t share the same patch of ground. Perhaps because the Spruce is pretty rigid and doesn’t change much, and the Elm, while close when push comes to shove, has a history of infection and being hard to find (much loved all the same).
But…two distinct and separate genus with two distinct and separate reunions.
Which brings me to the other half of my tree:
Father’s Mother’s side
Father’s Father’s side
Or, as is our case…
ONE trunk for my paternal grandparent’s tree
(It’s a damned big tree!)
This is where the mighty Oak meets the Sugar Maple and rather than remaining as such…they became a whole new tree.
The Maple Nut Tree (Don’t Google it…no sucha thang)
Here’s the roots…
The George boys had a thing for the Smith girls…
Brothers marrying sisters…
(No, not their own sisters…we may be hilly people, but we don’t all play the banjo!)
Anyway…because more than one George married more than one Smith, the reunions are Smith/George amalgamations rather than just Smith or just George.
We even have Smiths who married other Smiths and those Smiths married Morrisons who in turn married other Morrisons…
EEE GAD, it’s enough to make you dizzy!
Anyway, the reason I started this, besides having just attended above mentioned gathering of Maple Nuts, is to do with names.
It really is about names.
But not just any names.
One would think, with sir names like Smith and George, the given names would be rather vanilla, wouldn’t you?
Tom, Dick, and Harry kind of names. But no.
And it just tickles the shit out of me to sit around listening to the older folk talk about their parents and grandparents, aunts and uncles, bandying around some names not heard 100 years from here.
Kids my age, and those after, hear these names and think
“What the hell were they thinking?”
But I disagree. I think there is something strong, and connective in these old names.
It speaks of family more than the color of our eyes or the shape of our nose.
Names that are passed down in an obvious attempt to keep a loved one alive are beautiful names.
Okay, I shall.
Just a tiny sample.
Great Grandfather Smith (ok…the next part is a sing along)
M.U.R.D.O. M.U.R.D.O. M.U.R.D.O. and M U R D O was his nameo!
Now, farmer Murdo Angus Smith married the lovely Rose La Brecque. They had 11 children (that’s Family #1).
Norman George, Mary Ethel, Eva Maude, Christie Rose, Margaret Leona, Clara Esther, Gladys Irene, Pauline Mae, Paul Angus, Walter Robert, and Baby Girl.
These names that don’t quite rrrrrrrrrrrroll off the tongue like names do today, but, it was all about continuity.
The lovely Rose died at the tender age of 36 (she needed a rest I think), whereby farmer Murdo married Marion who had another 5 children (that’s Family #2).
Murdo Harold, Joyce Ann, Fred Donald, Gerald Lloyd, and Virginia Maggie.
Again, these names don’t effortlessly fall off the tongue, but suggest a ‘reason’ behind them.
Nothing trendy here.
Great Grandfather George
Elmer Eugene George
(The only other Elmer I know lives in Cartoonland!)
Now, Elmer married Sophi (pronounced so-feye) Laundry and they had two sons
Raleigh Royal Eugene George and Morton Guy George
(So much packed into two little boys right? Oh, and a side note on Sophi~she had sisters…Mary, Maude, and Mert. LOL. Great huh?)
Both these George boys married Smith sisters:
Raleigh Royal Eugene George married Mary Ethel Smith (my grandparents) and had two children
Roy Eugene and Betty Rose
Morton Guy George married Christie Rose and had four children
Stanley Morton, Philip Dale, Beverly Ruth, and Harvey Elmer
Sadly, after my parents’ generation, the names became more normal(?)
Gone are the Murdos, Elmers, Mortons, and Raleighs.
No more Claras, Maudes, and Gladyses (Gladi?)
I’m as guilty as the next gal. I named my kids rather trendy names, but I think if I’d spent more time sitting under that big ol’ Maple Nut tree, I’d have found the courage to be different in the pride I feel when I’m sitting in that big pile of leaves.
Had that been the case, perhaps I would be the proud mother of Raleigh Murdo Elmer Roy?
Or if I’d had a girl…Mary Clara Maggie Rose?
And the groaning you hear in the background is my husband who has NO room to talk…he is the son of ELBO.
But THAT is another mango tree altogether!
I hope you’re enjoying the summer, and hoping too, that you’re gathering round the base of your own magnificent family trees. There’s nothing quite like it.
And for those nuts that are part of my Maple Nut Tree…here’s a reminder of the beautiful day spent reminiscing about the old times and creating new ones. (Thanks Debbie and Henry)
-Click on a circle to bring up the full size photos-
I’ve been MIA for a while, having traveled to Vermont to spend some time with the folks, and since, have decided to stay another couple weeks…so, I thought I’d share a little quirky quickie so you don’t COMPLETELY forget me 😉
A husband went to the police station to file a “missing person” report for his missing wife:
Husband : I lost my wife, she went shopping & hasn’t come back yet.
Inspector : What is her height?
Husband : I never checked.
Inspector : Slim or healthy?
Husband : Not slim, can be healthy.
Inspector : Color of eyes?
Husband : Never noticed.
Inspector : Color of hair?
Husband : Changes according to the season.
Inspector : What was she wearing?
Husband : Not sure whether it was a dress or a suit.
Inspector : Was she driving?
Husband : Yes.
Inspector : Tell me the number, name & color of the car?
Husband : Black Audi A8 with supercharged 3.0 litre V6 engine generating 333 horse power, teamed with an eight-speed tiptronic automatic transmission with manual mode. And it has full LED headlights, which use light emitting diodes for all light functions and has a very thin scratch on the front left door.
(And then the husband started crying…)
Inspector: Don’t worry sir…We will find your car.
Hope you are all doin’ fine!
I’m sure this image spoke to me the day I snapped it
Was it the flowers the drew my eye?
Was it a feeling of being on the outside looking in?
Getting my head caught in the ropes (a.k.a. arghhhh)?
Swiss cheese being what it is…I’ve forgotten it or lost it or maybe I just thought it was pretty at the time
However you look at it…I’m damned if I know now
So…as I often do when this happens, I just sit and stare at it.
Sometimes I fuss around with it…change a filter here, contrast there, funk it up a bit to see if it yells something out.
The funk didn’t help, as it is not telling me what it wanted to say, but it did put me in mind of something…
Don’t ask…as I haven’t a clue
You know…that fabled and famous guy that no one seems to be able to say exactly who or where or when or why…
There are as many stories as to how Murphy came to be associated with the worst luck ever as there are variations of the language of the law itself
Anyway…Murphy’s Law as I know it
“Whatever can go wrong, will go wrong”
Okay…well, if you think about it, it’s not so bad really
Without things going wrong, we wouldn’t use our noggins to figure shit out
Even those folks for whom everything seems to go wrong (ahem), it’s still not always a bad thing if those ‘wrongs’ turn into learning opportunities.
Learning to do things a different way, a better way, an easier way, the ‘right’ way?
Seems so to me anyway…and I consider myself in a good position to say so, considering the shit storm my life has been the last couple years
But hey, that’s Life and Life comes with just one promise…
Your Life promises to be your greatest adventure
Yes, it does
Where else can it be said that every minute of every day has the promise to be different from the one before?
If it isn’t, it’s not because it’s Life’s fault…it’s ours
We have the choice…sit in one spot, don’t move, don’t think, don’t eat, don’t drink, don’t sleep…die
Get up, move around, go up, go down (sure…that way too), get outside, go inside, walk, drive, sing, love, laugh, cry, pout, clean, drink, eat…
Need I go on?
Every single one of those things is part of the adventure promised with each new second
Every promise can be fulfilled if we choose to make it happen
Sure, why not
But let’s go one better…
How about adding some new laws?
Just to keep us on the ‘that’s Life where every second promises a new adventure’ track
And to absolutely keep us on those ‘things on our feet that help us find furniture in the dark’….TOES
So in keeping with that…
Anytime you have a 50-50 chance of getting something right, there’s a 90% probability you’ll get it wrong.
The things that come to those who wait, may just be the things left by those who got there first.
If the shoe fits, get another one just like it.
Change is inevitable, except from a vending machine
A day without sunshine is like, well, night
He, who laughs last, thinks slowest
Good, I was hoping you did
Share them here so we can all add them to our ‘Today’s Problems are Tomorrow’s Opportunities” catalogs
And now…I’m venturing off to enjoy this second’s adventure and it involves a date with a certain “John”
Our bus stopped and 2 Italian men got on.
They sat down in the seat in front of me and engaged in an animated conversation.
I ignored them at first,
But my attention was galvanized when I heard one of them say the following:
“Emma come first.
Den I come.
Den two asses come together.
I come once-a-more!
Two asses, they come together again.
I come again and pee twice.
Then I come one lasta time.”
I can’t take it anymore…
“Hey, you foul-mouthed sex obsessed pigs!” I retorted indignantly, hissing between my teeth.
‘In this country, we don’t speak aloud in public places about our sex lives!”
“Hey, coola down lady,” animatedly exclaimed the one.
“Whooza talkina about sex?” asked the other, looking completely perplexed.
“I’m a justa tellina my frienda how to spell Mississippi” the first cried, looking at me like I had two heads.
Bet ya a buck you’re going to read it again!