About Grandparents~~~~

Mean Kitty you are a sweet thing! Hmmm I briefly checked out your blog, and I like what you have to say too, may I be as “feisty” as you are when I reach your 61 years of living, just too luscious.

I will address your question on the Grandparents, they did die when I was young before baby sis was born, Grandmother passed away when I was 7, and Grandfather just two years later. I never really knew them, we barely visited them, I really can only remember going to their house twice, and my memory of it was just as cold and friendless as my parents’ house, and Grandmother being like my mother only more so.

I do remember both Grandmother and Grandfather coming over to Father’s house one time and that was when Grandmother took care of me, she slept on a small camp bed in my bedroom, the same bedroom that I later shared with baby sis. I remember her being there for almost a week, now that I think on it I think I had chickenpox, and I was very miserable. But her holding me was comforting, it may have been the only time where she was her true self.

Grandmother never came over to the house again after that, the only thing I remember Father mentioning her is after she had died.

Father was gone from the house for a couple of days, Mother and I enjoyed the freedom, but when he came home he just said “Mother is dead” just cold and matter of fact, at first I felt sorry for him, but then I saw he wasn’t sad but angry, then he told me to go to my room.

I crept up the stairs but lingered on the stair landing to over hear Father being furious at Mother at what Grandmother had done, all I heard was the words “trust” “money” and my name and then he referred to Grandmother, his own mother, with awful words, the more he raised his voice, the more Mother cried, I even heard a slap and her cry out. I became afraid and quickly went to my room and sat by the window holding my little kitty doll.

Dinner that evening was very quiet, Mother’s eyes were red and there was a deep red mark on her cheek, Father never said a word all evening.

I only saw Grandfather twice after that, at Grandmothers funeral that occurred the next day at this funeral home, all musty and decrepit, and one more time at Father’s house, I remember Father calling me to come in from the kitchen and having me stand in the living room and Grandfather looking at me for a long time, then reading something out of his bible about being a woman and a sinful temptation to good honest men and I was going to hell for being a woman.

I never looked down at the floor, but at him, by this time Mother had already done her little act of rebellion and I was already wondering about the church that Father insisted we go to.

Grandfather just seemed like some sort of horrible ogre and I was wishing for a huntsman like Little Red Riding Hood had to take this awful person away.

After he said that to me, he said to Father something about “beating me would not drive the devil out of me” and that they had to obey the law and be sure to send me to school, it would be sinful if anything they did against me would send them to jail, that the only thing was to keep me away from temptation.

I thank a higher presence for school, homework and libraries. But for weeks when I combed my hair before braiding it, I would look into the mirror to see where was that so-called “devil”, I couldn’t find it.

A year after that Father was gone again for a few days, and again Mother and I enjoyed our freedom, she even took me to a movie theatre that showed old black and white films and that is when I first saw her, Ava Gardner in "One Touch of Venus". When we left the theatre I said to Mother that I wanted to be as beautiful as her, it was one of the few times I saw Mother smile as she said "Maybe you will when you are grown".

When Father came home he told us that his "beloved daddy" was dead and this time there were tears in his eyes, I tried to feel sorry for him but I couldn’t, Ooohhh sweet things I just couldn’t, in my heart I was glad that the ogre was dead. But I knew enough to look sad.

But what made me very angry was that ogre had a very elaborate funeral, flowers, music and a coffin that was shiny black with silver handles at a very fancy funeral home, and then they buried his body at this cemetery. And Father with tears in his eyes. It was nothing like Grandmothers’, she didn’t have any of that, and her coffin was cheap and plain and we didn’t go to a cemetery to bury her.

I found out later from Mother that Grandfather had Grandmother’s body cremated and then he bought a single size grave and had a fancy tombstone put on it with his name on top in large letters and his date of birth and blank for his date of death, that was to be added later, and a very fancy inscription about being faithful to god or something, and then much lower down in small letters Grandmother’s name nee something date of birth and death and in plain small letters the words “her deeds shall judge her” the box with her cremains were placed at the foot inside Grandfather’s coffin, it was his revenge. How she was shamefully treated in death, that memory still remains with me.

So no I never really knew them, just those three or 4 times did I ever see them, Father never talked about them, so I had little to go on, except what I learned much later after I left Father’s house permanently after I graduated from college. It was then that Mother slipped to me a piece a paper with the name and phone number of a lawyer and whispered to me to go see him.

At the lawyers office is when I discovered Grandmother’s revenge, it seems that she had a very sizable estate totally separated from Grandfather’s holdings, and when Grandfather had gone on a so-called ‘spiritual retreat’ Grandmother made use of the time she was free from his hold to have a trust created to transfer her estate into a trust into my name, with the provision that if I was still a member of Father’s and Grandfathers' church or married to someone of that church then the trust was to be turned over to several charities for women.

This trust was very well legally ‘locked up’, originally Grandfather thought that when Grandmother died (she hadn’t been in good health) that he would get her estate and use it to further his church’s work, it seems that he was a sort of “traveling pastor” for it. It was no wonder that both Father and Grandfather were furious, Grandmother had the last laugh at them. And I realized that all of their attempts to humilate her in death was for nothing.

No, sweet things I really didn’t learn a lot about both sides of my family until after I went to college and graduated.

And on that little note I say this to you my sweet luscious lady things, make sure that you keep back something for yourself if you want to be totally free and never surrender your will to anyone. It takes very special people to make a loving partnership, it can happen, but it does take surrender on both sides, not just one.

And did I grow up to be as beautiful as the wonderful Barefoot Contessa? Close, very close.

Now I must go, I have errands to run, people to see, and places to go, my car is waiting impatiently for me. Growl.

Thoughts and Answers~~~

A Basket ball bouncing and bouncing and bouncing~~~

Oh you sweet luscious yummy thing, think this song:

“Ride, Ride, Ride the wild Surf!
Ride, Ride, Ride the wild Surf!
Gotta take that one last Ride!”

Sometimes life is like that, tumbling in a wild surf that has you gasping and choking for air and yet there is none to breathe, what is down is up and up is down, the salt of the sea stings the eyes rendering it impossible to see, where do you break free??!

The rain has been pouring down here, making the streets and side walks slick, puddles deep with water and oil floating on top, people rushing, hunching their shoulders, but here we need the rain, it can mean life, but too much can mean death.

Now it is night and the rain is now coming down in soft sprinkles, causing an extra bite to the chill in the air and I, sweet things, I have had a lot to ponder on.

I’ve taken my evenings at home to curl up on my couch with pen and note pad and decided to write down things as they cross my mind….what is it that has created me the way I am…why do I write about my family members the way I do…why am I so disdainful of some things…why I express such negative passion about certain family members?

All good questions.

When I think of my Father---
The words dysfunctional, cold, abusive, miserly, controlling, misogynistic suddenly flash to mind, not a spark of kindness, things had to be exactly so, more than just an “oberfurer”, a jailer who has contempt for women, a person to get away from. I discovered years later that he was a supervisory martinet in the office and staff was very glad when he retired.

When I think of my Mother---
Before being in the hospital—brilliant, funny, curious, loving, voicing her own opinions in a gentle way---until she began to get “sick” a few months after baby sis was born---after--- a functional robot slowly losing any will of her own, quiet, meek, over eager to please, a whipped person hoping for a few crumbs of kindness, grateful for any, pitiful and sad, a person you want to set free, but who now at her elderly age will never be free in her mind.

For a brief time I believe she was an alcoholic, at least Father got her into some sort of care before she did any harm to herself, but I think where she was...well it may have cured her but it killed her spirit or a combination of that place and Father.

What cause things to happen I don’t know, I’d have to think on it a bit to see what was the “event” that turned things so bad for her that she had to resort to drink.

With Father I never remembered him as being different from the way he was when I was growing up or even after I left. But after I left a number of things came to light, Father didn’t have to be miserly, he was very well paid but it became sort of a mania with him, and him controlling us through fear and intimidation.

I believe that Father was shaped the way he was by his Father, and the extreme fundamentalist church they were members of and the “hellfire and damnation” preaching that they taught.

I remember his parents---Grandfather never had a smile on his face and thought women were whores, and Grandmother was always reserved saying hardly anything. One time when I was sick both Father and Grandfather said I was pretending but Grandmother said I wasn’t, and tended to me while Mother took care of the house hold chores, I remember her hands being gentle and her voice being soft and soothing, and her holding me when I was feeling so miserable, I wasn’t held often and I remember it as being something safe and warm.

When she died she left a surprise that made Father and Grandfather very angry and there was nothing they could do legally. Ooooh sweet things I still smile when I think on it, even now. Grandmother’s revenge Mmmmm purrrr

My Father must have had some core values that attracted Mother when she was young, but I think after marriage and after my birth she discovered that he was not the ‘prince’ she had hoped for and revealed his true inner self.

Mother was a Catholic but to preserve peace in the family went to Father’s church, only once did she take me to the Catholic Church, her little act of rebellion and for me a magical transformation that began my questioning Father’s religious values. I think he sensed the internal shift within me, and for that he became more restrictive.

Can you sweet things imagine a house without television, music, games, fashion magazines, even the Triple A’s Via magazine, no comic books, no laughter or even anything that resembled bright colors, I had no dolls to play imagination games with, no Barbie’s, I had one just one little stuff animal doll, it was a black kitten doll that was soft to touch, and it was designed to just lay on the bed, I had it as a baby and clutched it as I grew up.

I’m looking at that same doll now, all worn and mended; it sits my dresser where I can see it first thing in the morning and last thing at night. I think my Mother might have given me that doll. It was the only thing I took from that house.

Baby sis had a few more stuff animals than me, but not many, the last time I went home I saw that she had them on a shelf and also worn and mended.

Father’s church never believed in Christmas or Easter, we never went trick or treating nor offered candy to those who came to the door. Can you imagine a house without Christmas, Easter, Halloween, Thanksgiving, not even 4th of July? Father considered Holidays as a frivolous waste of the tax payers money and I hungered for the bright warm lights and tinseled trees that I saw in other homes, and the smell of bar-b-qued hot dogs on warm summer days.

I never met Mother’s family until after I left to go to college, such a difference, like day and night, what a revelation for me.

Why do I write about my family? Why do I reveal so much about them?

I think it’s in the hope that anyone who is in an abusive, controlling, dysfunctional situation might gain the courage to break free, not everyone can have someone be at the right place at the right time; I was lucky, twice. The first person was my teacher Mrs. Smith, I know sweet things, what a mundane name, but greatness can come from something that appears mundane.

The second person was Ms. Lambe (the e is silent) a reference and children’s librarian at the public library that I frequented, stylish, firm but kind. Both of them saviors and mentors and between the two of them I discovered the power of learning and knowing.

Mother in her own quiet way was also my savior. She worked hard to teach me how to read at an early age and to do basic math, in school it did give me an advantage, so that other processes were not so difficult to understand. And with that I had the basic tools or weapons if you will and fortunately a tremendous thirst for knowledge.

The public library after school and on Saturday afternoons was my salvation and refuge, and I was always disappointed when I couldn’t go because of rainy weather, fortunately Father always received one newspaper at the house but I couldn’t read it until he set it aside to go into the garbage.

Without him knowing I would remove the old issues to read on rainy days when he was at the office, the numbers and diagrams on the business pages fascinated me, so when I had a chance to go to the Library I asked Ms. Lambe what they meant and she explained them to me----what a revelation! A whole new door opened for me.

As far as Father and Grandfather were concerned I only needed an education to be a good wife, shopper and mother, all finances were to be handled by the Men in the family. But I wanted more.

I mentioned this to Ms. Lambe and she made a remark “I guess your Father never heard of women’s liberation” and then asked me to not to say anything to him about it, so there wouldn’t be any trouble. Thanks to the encyclopedia I learned what it was about, and the seeds for my contempt for my Father were planted.

As I got older with Mother’s quiet permission and without Father knowing, at my behest Ms. Lambe found scholarships that I could qualify for to pay my way through college, I would also have to work part time but work never frightened me. We used Ms. Lambe’s address to receive the mail from the different colleges.

Then I was accepted, I was over 18 and legally Father couldn’t hold me back, Mother, baby sis and Ms. Lambed saw me off at the bus station, Father never left the house nor said goodbye, he only mumbled something about me becoming a over glorified file clerk or working in a supermarket. His last little dig at me. Now these years later he cannot stand that I earn more than him, I don’t seek his approval, I have no need of it nor want it.

Baby sis pleaded with me to write as often as possible, I did but sent them to Ms. Lambe’s address, how Mother handled it at home I’ll never know, I did get letters from her once a month, she’d write them in fits and starts, on different pieces of paper, with pen or pencil all coming in the same envelope, but in her letters I could see that she was beginning to give up resisting.

Baby sis would manage to send me a letter when she could with Ms. Lambe’s help.

I came home after college, I already had a job and a place to stay lined up thanks to some friends from college, I wanted to see Mother, baby sis and Ms. Lambe before I went up north to my job. Such changes, baby sis growing up and as eager as I was to be free, Mother quieter, grayer, Ms. Lambe older but still with that presence and Father still the same.

I went north, to the City by the Bay, I’m home here, but still with ties there in that house that was never a home. Do I hate my Father? Not really, the words despise and contempt is more accurate and pity as well, he could have been a wonderful man but for circumstances.

Do I hate my Mother? No. Do I feel sorry for her—yes. Do I feel love for her--in a way, wishing that she knew the freedom that I know, and fearing the emptiness that she will have to face when baby sis leaves and hoping somehow I can give her a taste of freedom.

The late Mrs. Smith and Ms. Lambe--life savers, whenever I had questions I’d write to her, now I e-mail her. Baby sis---now a co-conspirator and I know that I’m her life line as well, and I ask her to not feel contempt for Mother’s weakness but support her.

In thinking all of this I realize that Ms. Lambe is my “compass point of stability” she has saved me from a life time of the psychiatric couch, by helping my creativity come alive, by helping me see things beyond what they are and to look deep within myself to confront my demons; take them out of the closet and expose them to the light so that they will not have any hold on me.

I could have become hard and brittle, miserly, all the negatives that my Father is, but I have taught myself to try and see things from both sides, and acknowledge that, yes, I do have prejudices, and to be honest about it.

I also find that I am greedy, greedy for the natural sights, sounds and even smells of the world around me. The cold wet chill of rain feels different to me now than when I was a child, I can appreciate it crystalliness and the soothing sounds it makes, the soft, almost velvety breeze that begins to herald spring I enjoy even in its fleetingness. The spicy sent of roses, the song of a bird, the thrilling sound of thunder, the softness of a puppy’s fur, that is a wealth of freedom to be able experience all of that and not feel that it is sinful.

In regards to children? There are times when they are the most interesting creatures, their discovery and wonderment of the world around them. And then when I encounter those that are blasé about things with a “so what, whatever” attitude that is when I wish I could just shake them and say “WAKE UP!” There is a wonderful world around you and you are just letting it pass by.

Teenagers? I’ve come across too many with material thoughts and then there are those who seek to make positive changes in the world, I find that all children and teens and their values are shaped by their parents and the world around them. But I fear that in this world there are beginning to be too many without a sense of right or wrong. Born without a conscious? Bad Seeds? Living in an environment where only the strong survive? Shaped by the Myths of television? I have no answers, only more questions.

The rain is coming down harder now, Ooooh sweet things how we need it here, the air tomorrow will smell wonderfully fresh and clean. But for now, I’m going to snuggle up with my little kitten doll and wrap my warm soft blanket around me as I curl up in my couch and drink in the passionate music of Ravel’s “Bolero” and “La Valse” and Rimsky-Korsakov’s “Scheherazade”. Mmmmmmm

To whatever God there is out there I pray that more children find their life savers as I have, they are out there, I know they are…..

Links to my "Adventures"~~~

Hello Sweet Things,

Mmmmm after reading your comments (things are slow at the moment in the office), I've decided to post links to the places I've been and most likely will return to. (More to be added in the future)

Some of you on Blogging Lane like the idea of my including links of places I see and visit, and some of you like to envision my experiences and even make plans for the future.

Ooooh but remember sweet things, everyone's experience is always different, it's all in the matter of perspective and expectations.

To Fram, Mmmmm I'm thinking on your comment, I'll reply here to that later after I muse on it a bit. There is a reason, but Hmmm how to explain it, even I don't have all the answers, I'm still exploring my internal mind on that.

I must go for now into the dark recesses of the working world--there are times when I think of the visual images of Fritz Lang's film "Metropolis". Down, Down, Down into the depths of the fog......

Walking along Blogging Lane, back from a mini-vacation~~~

Well sweet things, it’s so nice to see you again on Blogging Lane, especially a certain sweet, yummy thing. Mmmmmm

I’ve been busy as usual with work and things, but not as intense as last week, I even had a chance to take in a mini-vacation. They didn’t expect me or some of my colleges to get back until today, it seems that some of them had tickets to the Super Bowl and were doing their usual male testosterone Hoo Rahs.

Which reminded me that my neighbors, although nice people, tend to have very noisy boisterous parties, which starts long before game time and continues long after, and last year I had decided to spend a Day in the City, but it wasn’t long enough for me. ***pouting***

Last year they still were going at it when I got home, with a few extra guests courtesy of the local police department; no sweet things I didn’t call our local gendarmes, someone else did, but Mmmmm I do love seeing men in uniform. One of those luscious yummy things came over and asked if I had seen what had happen, I told him and we exchanged business cards. We still have dinner from time to time when his schedule permits, a nice little arrangement (Purrrr).

So this last weekend was cold and clear, I awoke early finding myself feeling restless, and knowing I had to make plans in regards to this Super Bowl Sunday. Getting up early is something I do when I’ve had a restful night’s sleep and I did have one, but on this morning I wanted to go somewhere and driving in the early morning hours just before the sun crests the skyline I find something sooo otherworldly about that hour.

I remember that towards evening just past sundown but before night descends there is a time that the French refer to as “L’Heure Bleue” or the Blue Hour, when the sky can be so Maxfield Parrish perfect, a perfect time for reflection. But this is that hour in reverse when the blue can give way to rose, pink and gold and awakens the mind in preparation for the day.

Not being sure what or where my restlessness would take me I tossed an overnight bag with several changes into the trunk of my car, just in case; called my girl friend to see if she could pickup my mail and newspapers (she could, the sweet thing, I owe her one), stopped long enough at a vendor making coffee which I partake of; coffee that early in the morning has a special aroma and taste, and takes the chill off, it makes me want to stretch and prowl (Merrowl).

Now I find I’m feeling very restless and no sweet things it’s not because of the caffeine; at first I turned my thoughts to San Francisco, returning to my car, I start up the engine but as I’m going over the Bay Bridge I suddenly decide to go to Santa Cruz, its early enough, I knew I could be there in over an hour, and popping in a CD I listened to Vivaldi’s 4 Seasons as my car ate up the road.

The only draw back is that I hate the drive up the mountains on Highway 17, people drive like maniacs on that road irregardless of the dangerousness of it. (Growl) So I decide to take Highway 9, the back door as some people call it. It’s a road you have to focus on with all its twists and turns, but I found myself enjoying the little trip, seeing the blue of the night fading as I’m traveling.

Slowly the sun crests’ into day, but there is a sort of foggy haze among the coastal redwoods on Highway 9, and on occasion I see deer near the roadside. I’m beginning to feel the pangs of hunger as I approach the Brookdale Lodge, just 5 miles north of Felton. I remember that they have a very nice little café and friendly wait staff, as if left over from the 1950’s where they still “dear and honey” you. Sooo very precious and relaxing. But I decided to only have toast and coffee just to cut the hunger.

I was told that the Lodge is now under new management and is upgrading things, I stayed there two years ago on what turned out to be the hottest, wildest, wackiest, wooonderful weekend of the entire year, and the use of that pool was a blessing. The dinner at the Lodge, fantastic! With a real brook running through it, how 1920’s!

Mmmmm recalling that memory at first I think I might stay there, but no I decide that I will go all the way to Santa Cruz.

As I’m pondering “where will I stay” and finishing my coffee, my eyes stray to an ad in the travelers’ magazine, what a quaint name “The Sea and Sand Inn”, Oooh how luscious! And how ridiculous, and yet it intrigued me, the location sounded good but if it didn’t please me there was always another hotel.

I cut through the town of Felton to connect to Highway 17 for the last leg of my journey, Hmmmm I remember they have some quiet amusements here that I’m going to have to check out when I want to get away from things and have my mind relax.

You know sweet things, it does pay to check to see what is in your own “backyard”, and I have no idea why people feel that they haven’t taken a vacation unless they’ve traveled to Paris or Istanbul or Cabo San Lucas, unless you have to take the “kids” to Disneyworld.

There is nothing wrong with that, but in these economic times why spend money over seas when there are some wonderful places to see here and there are tons of them, beautiful, relaxing, funny, strange, quaint, old-fashioned, child oriented, adult oriented, you have to look sweet things, it can be such a yummy bit of research. Unless one is in the ice-locked states, then a trip to Florida or Palm Springs just might do the trick.

I remember when I saw the grand, expansive beauty of the Grand Canyon, it took my breath away, Nature or God (take your pick) carving out its own majesty. (Think sweet things, the Grand Canyon Suite by Grofe for a musical interpretation) I remember hearing some children of the obnoxious ages of 10 and 12 saying to their Father, with awe in their voices “Dad, thank you for bringing us here, it’s like Wow!” Even I had a secret smile on my face at their reactions….remember it you young sweet things and keep it in your hearts.

The Inn did have a room available, I was very pleased with it, all the nice amenities, but the parking was a bit tight. Just a short walk from the beach, the wharf, dinning and not far from the old Boardwalk. Hmmmm It seems I can’t get away from “Harry Callahan”, if I remember right Clint Eastwood filmed one of the “Dirty Harry” films here. Hmmmm maybe I should have a framed photograph of him in my living room, he seems to be following me everywhere.

It seems there were not too many guests this weekend so a drop-in guest such a Moi was very welcomed. The place is right out of the 1950’s but with some modern upgrades, I had a nice spa in my room and the baloney had an ocean view. The only drawback is that I couldn’t check in until after 3 p.m., the policy with most hotels but for security they locked up my bag and laptop.

While making arrangements I made the acquaintance of an elderly couple Mr. & Mrs. G… who were visiting their Grandson and his friends. Their Grandson attends the nearby University and they were in the same situation as I, having just arrived. As we had a few hours to “kill’ they invited me, a stranger, with them to meet their grandson and his friends at Gilda’s for breakfast, on the wharf.

Oh sweet things, I do love the Wharf, all that tangy salt air, early morning fishermen, fresh fish, the smells that can get your stomach to demand food. The downside is you have to watch for fish innards and scales, but that is part of the ‘charm’, earthy and real; the other downside is that they have these shops which cater to tourists with all their ‘kitschy’ things to clutter up one’s home. But they have to bring in an income to keep it running.

Taking a table, waiting for their Grandson and drinking coffee, Mr. & Mrs. G were telling me about their memories of Santa Cruz, they honeymooned there many years ago, pointing out to me all the changes, some for the better and some they felt, for the worst. I love old things and I had to agree with them in part but I said to them “Isn’t it better to try and preserve something, but bring into it something that the young people will be attracted to, to create interest so it can continue to exist?” They had to agree, time stops for no one.

Mr. G said a quote to me, about “the moving finger writes, and having written moves on. Not all thy piety nor all thy wit can cancel half a line of it” (Omar Khayyam), it felt a little sad to me, especially when I looked at them in this honest morning light, in their early 70’s, time fleeing by, but still with a certain gusto for life.

Mrs. G said when she was young she couldn’t understand why the “old timers” didn’t like things to change, “now we are the old timers and we find that we hate change”, not change in attitudes like equality and liberty, a lot of that is for the better, but familiar things that by their familiarity is comforting when struck by tragedy, a compass point of steadiness in a fast moving world that they are afraid of being destroyed.

That idea struck me at being so true, the idea of a “compass point of steadiness”, but lose that and what could happen? Depression, desolation, loss, fear, even terror, a general sense of giving up? I found it food for thought to ponder on further, and what was my compass point?

Just then their grandson Joe showed up with his friend Dan. Since I was a guest, the conversation revolved around Mr. and Mrs. G catching up with their Grandson’s life; every now and then I would ask questions about the classes he was taking and his career goals. I offered him and his friend Dan, my business cards since they were going for the same degree; I felt that it would be a good thing to help network them.

I made some suggestions to them as to how they could go about looking for jobs, and that I would be happy to help them with some leads but that for them to get the job it had to be on their merit, I did recommend that they continue with school but see if they could take on internship programs where they could learn and still go to school. It would look good on their resume. They agreed that right now it would be best to stay in school and do internships’, getting experience and using that to network.

I felt that they were ‘hungry’, they had a ‘fire’ in them, they said seeing how the economy was going they want to learn from the mistakes, and get a better idea on people’s thinking. Hmmmmm I thought these luscious young men would bear watching and we exchanged e-mail addresses, even if I’m further up the ladder than they it always pays to network, who knows where it may lead.

After breakfast they all got into their car to go some place else that was on their plans and I thanked them for such a wonderful morning.

Oh sweet things I had soooo much fun, I checked out the Wharf and the Boardwalk, only a few of the rides were running which was fine given the time of year and the Casino was open; I had fun at the arcade games, I gave my tickets to two little sisters who were just short of winning a particular prize they wanted and I had enough to help them get it, they hugged me, Hmmm simple random acts of kindness.

I checked out the Miniature Golf in the Neptune Plunge, and even rode the Carousel, no matter what age you are when you’re near a Carousel you can become, for a short while a child again, to grab that brass ring and toss it into the Clown’s mouth.

In the evening I sat back and relaxed in my spa drinking my glass of wine from a small sample bottle that I bought and watched the night ocean, it was such a fun day that I found myself just stretching like a satisfied cat. Merowl.

I spent Sunday going through town and found some very interesting and creative shops, and made notes of places that I would like to go back and see at another time. Later I walked along the Boardwalk and the Wharf just taking in the place at my own pace, the exercise did me good. Mmmmmm it felt good, the fresh crisp salt air, hearing and seeing the ocean waves, it was so relaxing.

I wasn’t planning on leaving until Monday morning but after the worse of the commute rush, and then checking in at the office to see if any ‘disasters’ had happen.

Mr. and Mrs. G and I had breakfast together Monday morning at Gilda’s and we talked further about our interests. I was happy to discover that they were members of the Single Action Shooting Society, Ohhh that was so sweet and yummy to discover that.

It seems that Mr. G favors the Ruger Vaqueros and saves his Colts as back up guns, he stays with .38 cal but has to use cowboy loads that have a lower grain count, shooting at metal targets it would be very bad to have anything ricochet, thus the lower loads. We talked about upcoming gun shows, so there is a possibility we might meet again, we exchanged addresses and e-mails, and they said they would let me know about upcoming meets. We had a wonderful time, Hmmmm I would say it was so serendipitous.

There is something that I constantly discover….going some place is always a discovery, and up to a point coming home is fine… until you reach a certain area of familiarity on the road and then all the old tensions come back, the dream is over and reality begins, pooh!

There are times I wish I could just jump into my car and drive, drive, drive, seeing where the road takes me, finding what I can around the next turn, some people when they retire decide to live in an R.V. but I don’t want all that responsibility…no matter what it’s still repairs and insurances that you have to drag around. To be so unencumbered seems to be a free way to live.

But you still have to come back to some sort of nest to do doctor and dental appointments, having the car maintained, doing taxes, and it takes money, you can’t carry all that money with you, so you have to use a debit card and you need to maintain a certain balance within it.

Oh Growl!!! Sometimes I feel like I’m caged up! Constantly pacing the same 4 walls!
There are times when I feel I could claw things to shreds!!!!

“Be happy in your work” my father would say…not if you feel like you have a choke collar on you! (Snarl)

Hmmmmm I think I’m going to have to find a way to balance all of this out.

I’ve been having fun looking at the news reports, Louis Uchitelle’s column in the New York Times Jan 31 caught my eye; I found it interesting in regards to the Economic situation. I devoured the Saturday business section; everything is going to need to be watched very carefully we are a long, long way to even start getting out of the woods and things are still tumbling down. Macy’s, another one to “bite the dust”.

I find it interesting that the GOP elected Michael Steele as the new party chairman, an African American. Is the GOP trying to put a new face to their party Hmmmmm? Are they going to prime him up for the next election? An Obama clone?

And now some utility companies in California are putting smiley faces on their bills if their customers are good about conserving--- (Snarl) Grow UP!! We are not infants!! What a waste of money to add to the bill printing system.

And that woman having 8 babies! 8 of them!!! And she already has 6 and all by in vitro fertilization, not married, living with her parents, Ohhh sweet things you know that this is going to be a welfare Mom and all because she “likes” having babies.

I thought that one of the reasons women got the vote and finally a bill for equal pay for equal work was to be emancipated from being baby machines and this one wants to be one??!! (Snarl) This is one mentally ill woman, and yes, there should be some sort of ethics about this, this is too extreme, just watch my sweet things some new legislation is going to come about because of this.

I don’t mean the one child policy that China has, which is upsetting their racial balance, all things in moderation. 14 children! 14 Children!!! And no father in sight! Well if one thinks in terms of 2 children per family that takes care of 7 families. And this woman has a public relations manager and is being offered book and television deals???!!!----what she needs is a psychiatrist!!!!! (Rowl!!! Snarl!!!)

And in Japan the government is pleading with their people to have children, while in Africa children are dying from wars and starvation. In Europe they are worried about the Christian population being out numbered by the Muslim population. Well sweet things you better get started and be baby machines! (Growl, Roar!)

I for one will not! I think it’s because I don’t have a maternal bone in my body and I admit it!

Ohhh darlings I’d never harm a child and I would never put one in danger, but I do not feel the urge to be a mother. And I am not alone.

Maybe it’s because when I was young I had to take care of baby sis. Changing diapers, feeding, bathing and burping her, washing her diapers and they were cloth diapers too and no diaper service, Oh I won’t go into that, it would put anyone off.

I had to do it because Mother was “always sick” as my Father would say, he didn’t find all the bottles that I did. Then Mother was gone for three months, and it was during the summer too, could I go out and have fun? Would Dad allow someone to come in and help me? Give me a few hours of freedom?? No, someone had to watch baby sis while Daddy was at work and Mother was at the hospital drying out, and as Daddy said I had to learn responsibility---Oh Dad that was a lesson learned very well!

It did get a little better when Mother came back and starting to take care of things, but she wasn’t the same as before, poor thing, she hardly spoke and never went against Dad, behaving just like a whipped dog and they say their marriage is a partnership---In whose eyes?

I still was restricted, only at the Library could I be free at least in my mind, I’d do my homework which I brought home and Father would check it and made me do it over, even when I had the right answers, and it wasn’t because it was messy, I had messiness disciplined out of me. No, he was afraid of any free thoughts my mind might conjure up or any thoughts of freedom; Dad, you never knew how I had carefully planned my escape, that is why you still regard me as the “black sheep” but frankly…Mmmmmm I look good in black.

No sweet things no children for me, I feel that it takes a very special person to willingly give up their personal life to have and raise children and I admit I’m too selfish. I don’t feel the need to listen to my ‘biological clock’.

But I do understand the Grandparent thing, we have several women here, who within months of each other became Grandmothers, it was nice seeing them all happy, and with pictures of their little grandbabies. They even ask me if I plan to get married and have children and I said “No, there are not enough Aunties in the world and children need Aunties who are career women to get an idea of the other side of life. Besides, Aunties are one’s you call on in an emergency; we are the aids to the Super moms.”

Were they shocked? No sweet things, they agreed, Aunties are important.

Hmmmmmm now this has been a very long post. I’ll have to save my opinions on other things for another time.

For now I’ll comfortably curl up on my couch in my red satin pajama’s, listening to Frank Sinatra and putting together my list of other lovely, quaint places to go to when the restlessness is upon me and I need to feel the power of the car engine and thrum of the road.
Mmmmmmm Rowllllll.

Once again I emerge out of the Fog~~~

Once again sweet things, I have emerged from the dark recesses of my work, and can again feel the winter sun gently caress my cheek. It feels good, everything feels good.

Mmmmm~~~and the project? In a word~~~Success! Such a satisfying word, that and victory, completion, attaining the goal, grabbing the brass (although I prefer gold) ring, all those words have such a wonderful sound, and it makes a person like moi, want to celebrate.

Did I celebrate? Of course I did sweet things. I and a few of my colleagues had lunch at John’s Grill; I enjoyed my broiled salmon, salad and coffee, while the “guys” had their steaks and drinks; after all that work I needed the protein, but no alcohol, I still needed to keep a clear mind and not feel loggy headed, one can make too many mistakes in that condition.

Even when we were successful, there is still always that ‘nagging’ sense of ‘did you cover everything’, and we wanted to go back and review things now that the pressure was off. I can tell you that all was fine.

Now for some of you who’ve never visited John’s Grill, the lovely place just celebrated its centennial, the name may ring a tiny bell---it’s the place where Sam Spade would grab a bite to eat; Dashiell Hammett in real life did eat there when he worked as a detective. The ground floor has kept much of its dark wood, it has been cleaned up a bit since the 1930’s, yuppified and all those celebrity portraits, upstairs is dedicated to “The Maltese Falcon”.

I do run into a number of business associates there, and there are one or two detectives that come in there, but you can spot the tourists, they keep looking for Sam Spade. I’m not sure if it would be a place for Bullitt or Harry Callahan, Hmmmm but then again it just might be.

Oh but sweet things, I know it’s not wise to just sit on one’s laurels, even if I do have wonderful form. No my darlings, I’ll simply use the time to take a deep breath, re-group and prepare for a new campaign. Hmmmm I know that sounds like going to war, but sweet things, life is a war.

Take a look around you. Everyone fighting to keep their jobs, fighting to find a new job, fighting to keep their heads above water, to not lose their homes, their 3 cars, the expensive schools that their over indulged teenagers go to, to not lose their expensive way of life.

Ohhhhh all right I know that sounds petty, even I admit it is, there are some I know who have earned everything by their hard work, raise their children right and life decides to “taser” them in the face. To those I lend a helping hand in ways to lead them to another job. I’m mean but not that mean.

No sweet things, there are those whose mistaken and misplaced sense of “entitlement” earns them the reality shock of life and to teach them what is really important. And for them, it is a lesson they deserve.

I had a chance a while ago, to watch an old Steven Boyd movie “The Oscar”, a melodrama with a morality tale in the best, or worst 1960’s style. Boyd plays a so-so actor, who is nominated for an Oscar, he becomes completely rotten in his chase for the gold, destroying working relationships, friendships, losing all sense of reality and then in the end when he thinks he’s going to win it…….he loses everything. Boyd was woooonderful in the role. Hmmmm It reminds me of some former co-workers who acted like that.

Morality tales, they were created to learn from sweet things. It’s too bad there are so many who have not learned the lesson, the dot com boom that went bust, the housing market bubble that popped, all the warning signs were there but too many chose to ignore it, much to their regret. Too much lascivious and conspicuous consumerism, must have the latest toy, the latest gadget, and where will it get you now?

So now I’m taking my deep breath, catching up with errands, watching the Tivo’d News programs and reading my stack of newspapers. Mmmm yes sweet things, I’m “old-fashioned” I love to read the papers, to spread them out, scanning the columns for key words that jump out at me, circling articles that may have that tidbit of information that I’ll need and scanning news reports on line as well for updates.

So much has happened in the world; the Gaza situation has heated up again, and I think naughty Hamas started it, but as you all know Israel will finish it, even if it means destroying everything.

A second Bart Police officer is now on the hot seat for the Oscar Grant shooting, the only problem with video is that there is no sound, if sound was available I think much would be answered, they say “a picture is worth a thousand words” but I think hearing and seeing it in its proper context is more important. I still would love to be on that jury.

The Oakland police chief resigned and now fellow police officers are glad he did----Hmmmm I wonder why?

The FBI is now involved in investigating the Oakland police for falsifying reports which could compromise the Chauncey Bailey investigation. Oh a twist in the situation, not good.

And again there were some minor riots and arrests in Oakland when the Mayor’s office mistakenly put out a news bulletin that the ex-Bart officer that shot Oscar Grant was released on bail-----and then it turns out “oh sorry darlings it was a mistake”, the man in question is still in jail but separate from other prisoners, security you see.

It seems that if Joseph Meserleigh wants out, his family has to put up 3 million in bail or show that they have 3 million in assets, which means if they go through a Bail bondsman they have to have 3 hundred thousand. But what the Mayor’s office has done is even worse, (slightly singing) some one is going to get fired.

Some pods of migrating Gray Whales appear to be very lean as if they were starving---the blame being put on global warming.

And in tiny, somewhat quiet Alameda they have a 90 year old mystery, when the maintenance men were digging up the street to fix an old clay sewer pipe that caused a sink hole, less than 5 inches below the asphalt they found bones, human bones and a skull. The body had to have been buried there before the houses were built in 1926, but whose body is it? Hmmmm, they say it’s not Native American and no sign of foul play. Oooooh I just Love a mystery, unfortunately I’ll have to wait for the conclusion on this, pooh!

Blagojevich and Madoff have been knocked off their pedestals, which they never deserved to be on in the first place, one with hair that is just too unreal and the other…also unreal.

Ex-President Bush is now living a quiet life in Texas, only 50 years later will anyone fully understand his place in history, poor man….in the same position as Herbert Hoover….despised by liberals….loved by conservatives….I think Cindy Sheehan can forget that “apology”. Although I think she never deserved one. Hmmmm I think she’s living in Berkeley now, a perfect place.

I have a friend of mine who is a chocolatier, it’s more of a hobby of his, but he loves to discover wonderful candy recipes, he calls his hobby candy shop “The Berkeley Nut Company---where the nuts come from”, he does have a strange sense of humor.

Obama is flogging his stimulus plan which I have questions about since it doesn’t seem to reflect his so-called reformist thinking and appears to neglect projects that really could make a difference, and the NY Times seems to be thinking the same as I am. And will it work fast enough before the situation deteriorates further?

I feel that only the people being creative and cash conscious will make anything work. In Europe things are bad as well; the Euro currency (which is a joke) has lost ground, I always felt that it was another bubble that had no solid gold standard foundation which is why I steered away from investing in it.

I won’t talk about the increase in layoffs, soooo depressing. It’s like hitting a brick wall going 100 miles an hour, do you survive or do you crash and burn? And everyone else gawking at the train wreck in shock.

The whole economy situation is like being on bumper cars, you try to avoid being bumped and steer a safe path, if you can.

The state of the City of San Francisco and Oakland is ridiculous and Berkeley is even worse.

I am so glad I don’t live in Berkeley, they, (being some nuclear free commission) refuse to allow a waiver to the public library to have a well know company come in and service the library’s copy machines and self check out stations because the company refused to state if they deal in any sort of nuclear technology---What idiots!! What Fools!!! A public library is the best investment in this tottering economy and that is when a city should invest more into it and not deny it a good working service program to aid the Library---

But NO!! (Snarl) Berkeley has to be so PC that it will cost the city more to find another service program and in the mean time machinery cannot be up and working to assist the public. Fools!! Idiots!!! It is thinking like that that has boondoggled anything that could be of vital use to people in the world. No wonder Berkeley has earned the title of being a city of insanity.

For me the Public Library was my safe haven from the coldness of my parents, all those books waiting to “speak” to me, and the library staff, always helpful and so patient with even the most difficult and demanding of people. I remember as a child one Librarian through her sheer force of will, cowered a gang of boys who were acting out until the police showed up and arrested them. She called each one of them by name and said that she would personally contact their parents who would be ashamed of how their children were acting.

Those boys never showed up again, at least not together.

I talked to one of my co-workers the other day and she was shocked! Shocked!! And about what? Ha, ha, ha, her son who has been taking business courses in college, has decided to study to be in …….oh sweet things are you ready for this?.....to be in the Funeral business…….I just LOVE that young man’s thinking. It’s absolutely luscious!

We are born, we live and no matter what….we eventually die….When you are born it’s in a hospital, usually….when you die…well that could be anywhere…..what happens in between the services needed depends upon your choices and lifestyle….but no matter what, we need to have our bodies (after the spirit has left) properly disposed of….either simply or elaborately and that requires a service that almost everyone will need. Ooooooh it makes such purrrrrrfect sense.

I told her to allow her sweet son to go ahead and follow his dream, his goal and to stop being shocked but be proud of his choice.

And speaking of hospitals, there is an increase in the need for trained medical assistants in all fields of medicine, Hmmm it seems sweet things, that one cannot stop being ill, even if one is out of work.

One of my friends, who had been out of work for 6 months, borrowed some funds from the bank of Mom and Dad and went back to school to be a phlebotomist---Mmmmmm try wrapping your tongue around that word. It means drawing blood and analyzing it or something of that sort, now she’s working and she’s thinking of going back to school, (after repaying the Bank of Mom and Dad), to learn more lab studies. More power to her.
And she told me it fits right in with her Goth life style, she no longer feels like a stranger in a strange land.

Mmmmm Isn’t that wonderful to find something that feels so right for you, your outlook, your life style? It makes things so harmonious.

At least we have one hero, a modest one, ‘Sully’ Sullenberger, who landed that plane in the Hudson River and everyone survived. I saw the video~~~~a perfect textbook landing or as the Los Angeles Times headlines said “Two wings and a prayer”.

But now I have to get my paperwork together and give it to my tax preparer, pooh! Such a boring thing to do, that is why I prefer to give it to someone who has the right expertise, and what I pay him I can use as a tax deduction for next year.

When I was young it didn’t take me long to learn what was good debt and what was bad debt. Bad debt is credit cards, Good debt is a home mortgage, of course I’m over simplifying my sweet things, but if I put legitimate business expenses on my credit card it becomes deductions.

Oh there is so much more, and I find it exciting to learn what I can use to gain more money~~~~ Am I avaricious? Growl~~~ Of course I am, and I admit it gladly to all you sweet yummy things.

Mmmmm at least I’m honest.

Now Valentines Day is coming and what am I going to do for that weekend? Oh wouldn’t all of you sweet, luscious, yummy things like to know~~~but….I’ll give you an idea….there is a gun show that very weekend….and I’m going shopping….I’m not sure what I plan to get, but I will look at some suggestions….like a Colt 1911….Thank you Fram, I had completely forgotten that Colt had put it out…..but I think it might be too heavy fire power for my hand….Hmmmm maybe I can find someone who can give me a “test drive” with one……Ohhhh I love that thought.

For tonight I’ll enjoy my glass of Merlot, listening to Benny Goodman play “Body and Soul” and look out onto the cold, cold skyscrape and the twinkling lights of the “city by the Bay” as a sliver of moon slowly descends the night sky.

And with that I’ll say Sweet Dreams my sweet things.

Answers and other things~~~

Ooooh I’m sorry Sweet Things, but it seems I won’t be able to post for a while. Pooh!

I’m going to be “tied up” with a special work project that has to be ready by the end of next week for finalization and then presentation. Sooooo much work, and soooo little time, but business is business and it’s always important to make a good impression if one wants to earn serious money. And money is always sexy, LOTS of money.

Hmmmmmm I received a lot of questions in regards to some things, so I’m going to answer some but not all of them.

You see my sweet things I decide what comments I will post and which ones I won’t.

Unfortunately all, except one, I had to delete----after all you sweet things I don’t want to be banned from bloging, you bad, bad yummy things.

There are two naughty, naughty’s, even I know when someone is underage. Sweet things, take your time, learn things, learn from the mistakes of your parents, and learn from what they’ve found that works, find positive mentors, and take your time growing up, don’t rush, old age comes quickly enough. (Merrowl)

As to what I look like, I have described myself in other postings and I think the pictures come close to what I look like.

I love dressing up in styles from the 30’s, 40’s and 50’s. Much of my wardrobe reflects that. The Art Deco and Art Moderne period of furniture, such style, not like boring IKEA. Pooh!

I like classical music, big band music, the mellow tones of Dean Martin and Frank Sinatra especially late at night, when I’m looking out from my balcony onto the city lights of the “city by the bay”, especially when there is a full moon and it’s reflected off the water. I feel like I could just drink it all in and never get my fill of it. Mmmmmmm

I love Noir Films; Val Luton is my favorite director. There is one sequence in one of his films when the ‘heroine’ enters a nightclub with a black panther on a leash, I love that image.

I love old cars, Packard’s, Buick’s, and Dussenburg’s. When I have a chance I love to go to the Pebble Beach auto auctions, all that power hidden under the hoods. Real leather seats, beautiful interiors, it makes me purrrrrrrr.

I love the freedom of being able to drive where I want and when I want, unfortunately I do have a job that helps pay the bills, pooh! How mundane.

To Fram, Oooooh I’m sorry sweet thing, but I’m not the ‘young’ lady that was in the competition, that’s too bad in a way, ***Pouting*** I’m soooo sorry.

And “looking over”? Hmmmm I do believe that one sexy woman said “That it’s better to be looked over than overlooked”, so don’t be bashful sweet thing the next time you’re out on the shooting range with your Tarus 1911. I do believe that it comes in a .45 cal if I’m not mistaken, a beautiful weapon, but it needs to be handled just right, no false starts, it takes a strong person to handle it just right.

Now as to guns, I love guns, a lot of you sweet yummy things asked me about my ‘guns’.
I started out with a .22 Ruger Target pistol, Mark 2---good for practice and ‘plinking’.

Then I purchased a 9mm Beretta 92 FS, an older model, not the ones they are currently offering. I still have her, I take it out from time to time, keep it in good shape. She has such a lovely, self satisfying kick.

I have a Beretta .32 cal Tomcat, she’s sweet but I’m not totally happy with it, I think eventually I will sell her. All done legally of course, all that 10 day waiting period, with a Federally licensed firearms dealer to hold her, after all we must do things by the law. But I’m not in any hurry.

I also have a Cimarron .38 cal revolver 5 ½ inch barrel, but I’m not happy with the heft, I’m going to use her to trade in for a Ruger .38 cal Vaquero revolver that I’m coveting. This is the older model, I’ve tested her and she responds very well.

I also have an antique 6 mm Browning automatic, a very old model, I had her checked out by a gun smith, and he was surprised at the excellent quality she was in. I treat her very gently; after all she does have a bit of ‘history’ behind her Mmmmmmm.

But my favorite baby is my 9mm Beretta Cougar, the older model, not the more recent models that are made in Turkey; she fits my hand like a dream, but she is fussy, only likes top quality ammo, none of that junk from the old Czech Republic. The 92 eats that up like candy. My Cougar has expensive tastes, Mmmmmm just like me.

I’m also thinking of getting a hammerless Smith and Wesson, but I need to check it out more thoroughly; there is a gun shop that I know that has an indoor range and I can test fire there. I do love to shop, but *** SIGH*** all of that is going to have to wait until after the project. Pooh!

Of course I had to get a gun safe, all bolted to the floor, combination lock, high fire resistance, I tell you sweet things it is a goooood investment. Oh yes.

But when I’m feeling mean, angry and just plain out of sorts I take the 92 FS to the range, I just love all that firepower that she has to offer.

And yes my sweet yummy things, I do refer to my guns as “she”; after all they are “Ladies” treat them right and they will respond beautifully, but treat them wrong and they will turn on you.

Once I’m past this project I think I will treat myself to the Gun show that will be coming up in the next month, ooooohhh I doooo look forward to that.

But for now my sweet, yummy luscious things, I’ll have to fade into the fog of the city to finish my project, but don’t worry I will emerge again. Mmmmmmmmm Just listen to the sharp clicking of stiletto heels on wet pavement in the night, in the fog, be careful, it just might be me.

Stream of Consciousness, Guns and Soldiers

Oh Fram you are such a tease~~~~Hmmmmmm I like that.

You prefer “dark and stormy” instead of “Cold and Snowy”? I do too, unless I’m at an expensive ski resort. I’ll talk about “Dark and Stormy” sometime, there is something about thunderstorms, all that wild power that answers to no one.

“Stream of Consciousness” Mmmmmm Oh yes I can accept that. Much better than tearing down the drapes, and less expensive than the cost of bullets.

Mmmmmm but there is something about going to the range when I’m in a major rage, all that pent up anger, putting up a silhouette target, sometimes I’ll even tape a sort of name to it like “IRS”, or “Idiot Who Nearly Got Me Killed on the Freeway”, or something like that.

Putting the target out a few yards, then sighting down the sights on the top of the barrel of my Beretta and feeling the kick and seeing the hole appear on the target, blasting the center out until nothing exists of it. Growl!

Take that you fool who nearly got me killed!
Take that IRS for taking so much money out and spending it on Pork Barrel things like a bridge that goes no where!
Take that you idiot who stepped on my foot and didn’t even have the courtesy to apologize!
Take that you Bitch for talking so loud and using foul language that everyone can hear your life story---Did we really need to hear your pitiful excuse for a Soap Opera? (Snarl, Hiss)

That phrase from “Apocalypse Now” --- ‘I love the smell of cordite in the morning’, it’s true, and it can be like a perfume for me once the anger is released.

Then when I’m done, backing away from the firing line, taking off my safety glasses, sizing up how well I did and then turning and raising an eye brow at the iddy-biddies who were watching me shoot or maybe my form in my jeans, of course when I look at them with the raised eyebrow they quickly cough and turn away or pretend to be doing something important.

Hmmmmm I wonder what those sweet yummy things were thinking, besides how well I can shoot. Mmmmmmmm

I find that going to the range is good therapy, and it’s more therapeutic than going to a ‘shrink’. Hmmmmm I can understand when all those grown up men act like little iddy-biddies when they play paintball. But then they’ve never been really shot at. At least the one’s I’ve talked to.

Oh that sweet young thing that talked to me last year, we’ve been seeing each other as time permits, he’s such a sweet luscious thing, and even he’s trying the paintball game. Trying to get an idea on things.

(Snarl) I told him talk to a Vet who has been there, lost a leg, an eye! Whose face has been burned off, scared for life, saw their friends die. Anyone from Iraq, Afghanistan, Kuwait, Vietnam, Korea, even World War II !!

Last year I was at a Memorial Day Service, my best girl friend took me, her Grandfather was going to be at the services, he’s a 30 year man she said, retired only a few years ago, I was watching all these Majors, and Captains and Colonels there with all their service ribbons attached taking up much of the area over their hearts.

Sitting just in front of us were two 2nd Lieutenants, still green behind the ears, but looking so yummy in their uniforms, I was thinking of how I could seduce them, when out of the corner of my eye I saw this very elderly, thin, small man, so bent over, he was being helped by a younger woman, his daughter I think.

Quickly the Colonel who appeared to be in charge, came rushing down the platform to take the man’s arm but stopped short, straitened and saluted this small, thin elderly man, the little man straighten his back and saluted the Colonel. And as one all the officers on the platform saluted the little man in civilian clothes.

I overhead the luscious lieutenants wonder who was that little man for the Colonel and the others to carry on so, I stood up, leaned over them and said “Stand up and salute soldiers, that is a Medal of Honor Man!” Mmmmmm I just loved the embarrassed looks they had when they stood up and saluted.

Growl, I still smile when I think about that. What a brave little man, and being honest too, said he was scared, a young boy at that time. Now who was it that said “Courage is being scared but saddling up anyway.”

ENOUGH OF MEMORIES.

I skipped all the inaugural festivities, although it didn’t skip me, pooh! At my work, staff radios were turned up listening to the words. I focused on my work; words are only words when coming from politicians, its deeds that count, I wonder how quickly the honeymoon will be over when the critics raise their heads and start sniping.

Although my ears did perk up at his “unity” statement, an echo of FDR’s “we have nothing to fear but fear itself” and JFK’s “Ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country”, although I felt Obama’s phrase didn’t flow as well. Pooh!

Oh but how Boring when staff started talking about what a change he’s going to make, as if he can walk on water. Naughty, Naughty people, don’t start putting someone on a pedestal, you’ll only get hurt more. It’s dangerous to do that, Mmmmmm much too dangerous.

I watched the BBC news tonight instead of the usual local stations; I’m more interested in what they are thinking overseas. It gives me a much better perspective on things. Especially for my work.

Mmmmmmm I think I’ll take a nice yummy, luscious bubble bath tonight, with soft music and candles, I feel the need for romance.

Mmmmmmm I’ll think on Sam Spade, Steve McQueen or even Harry Callahan, “It’s the black bird Mr. Spade” “The stuff that dreams are made of.” Hmmmmmm I’ll talk about San Francisco another time. What a luscious, yummy but dangerous city.