"The pendulum of the mind alternates between sense and nonsense, not between right and wrong.".
C. G. Jung
OMG... My shrink prescribed Cialis... I looked up the side effects to make sure I wasn't going to sprout antennae and it appears that I will be sprouting something else! BOING! (Too late about the antennae since they disguise themselves as my Cindy Loo-Hoo curls) Cialis... No wonder my shrink was looking good! Little mix up... (caught just in time... I was thinking of names for the little guy). I should be taking Celexa - America's new happy pill... The mind numbing God Bless Amerika - now-I-fit-in-a-box! pill... Maybe now Walmart will hire me... (Did you know Walmart subjects all its new employees to a video tape series of propaganda which trains new staff how to respond to various customer approaches and questions? No wonder you can never get help and when you finally find someone, they have a Here's Johnny-look in their eye!) The Celexa commercial features a wind up doll that has wound down and a happy lady picks it up and is really happy... yeah... The how-come-my-poop-is-blue pill? (Did you know that victims of 9/11 pooped blue and it smelled like smoke?) Okay, maybe a side effect is random thoughts...
And what about @@@XXX@@!!! BP and the gulf..... arrrrrgh! Bush lifted the law so BP could break it and now we have environmental disaster!!! Eat my shorts Bush and Dick! Hey - men's shorts do not have that annoying elastic that squeezes the crap out of you legs and you have to go up to the next size! Do you think those SOB's will pay... Obama can get real mad :( but they will file a chapter 11 - reorganize - fatten up their pensions and make Amerika will eat their shorts... and not a bit of shrimp, crab, clams and lobster will be edible for decades! Why aren't we rioting in the streets, flipping cars, throwing all our bras and sinead o'connor cd's into a massive blazing pile and demanding our government to get a hold of their wee pricks ;) and demand electric only vehicles by 2012 (oooo)? No more oil or coal!!! What are we cave people (pc)? Quit sending crap into space - it doesn't work and it costs too much and it cost even more to fix it -you ding-dongs! Sanction Mexico's government to fix their own country if you want Mexicans to stop coming to Amerika, dumb asses! Start up the manufacturing plants in Amerika to create jobs and quit importing chinese shit! It's made with lead based paint and child labor! Legalize prostitution and pot so the creeps can mellow out and leave the school kids alone (Keep it in your pants, Padre!) Bring the soldiers home and don't worry about the infrastructure that we fucked up - (conscience all of a sudden?) They didn't have one to begin with - send them the money we are spending everyday and let them fix their own infrastructure!
I think I solved all the world's problems in a paragraph! Feeling better already! ;)
Alas, tonight... a shot of Sailor Jerry rum. Tickle your fancy and slap yur knee! What do you think about the name Fred? ;)
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Precious
"Gloriousness and wretchedness need each other. One inspires us, the other softens us."--Pema Chodron
Terrible two's my ass! I cherish those days. Countless stories from women my age say their parents raised them to be seen, not heard and with a belt (or switch if you're from back country). I had to beg for a quarter and get my drunk piss ant uncle a beer whenever he demanded it. Ocassionally, I might get a little affection from my dad while he combed my hair, and he licked his palm to help flatten the cindy loo curls on my head. I don't ever remember hugs or sweet nothings and I know there were no bed time stories. I hid under a blanket while attempting to doze off because I had a window in my room that opened to the basement stairs. I think it drove my parents crazy when I was really little because they eventually covered the window with contact paper, so I couldn't see out and "the Cacoohey" couldn't see in. The job was not exactly perfect because there was one little corner that was exposed, and I was sure something was peeking in, but I was too scared to find out. All that silence from being seen and not heard led to trouble but that is another story.
Women my age were placing their little monsters in corners and attempting to discuss behavior and consequences with their children. I tried the same damn thing - while allowing my children their creativity and passion. I was totally honest about the world around them. Ooops. It's difficult to raise children to become an original, thinking, somewhat compassionate person in a society that tries to deny it's ugly roots by promising an "American Dream." Meanwhile, it's religious elite, politians and judicial system are filled with criminals! How difficult to find the balance of a world full of possibility and one filled with darkness and fear. How do you teach children to find that balance of who and what to trust? How do you find that yourself? All that drama in my psyche and the fruit of my petard is bittersweet, yet I wouldn't change a thing.
Alas - tonight - Tres Generationes -one Margarita good - friendly state. Two Margaritas - not too bad - truth or dare state. Three Margaritas - dios mia! - you lousy cabrone state!
Terrible two's my ass! I cherish those days. Countless stories from women my age say their parents raised them to be seen, not heard and with a belt (or switch if you're from back country). I had to beg for a quarter and get my drunk piss ant uncle a beer whenever he demanded it. Ocassionally, I might get a little affection from my dad while he combed my hair, and he licked his palm to help flatten the cindy loo curls on my head. I don't ever remember hugs or sweet nothings and I know there were no bed time stories. I hid under a blanket while attempting to doze off because I had a window in my room that opened to the basement stairs. I think it drove my parents crazy when I was really little because they eventually covered the window with contact paper, so I couldn't see out and "the Cacoohey" couldn't see in. The job was not exactly perfect because there was one little corner that was exposed, and I was sure something was peeking in, but I was too scared to find out. All that silence from being seen and not heard led to trouble but that is another story.
Women my age were placing their little monsters in corners and attempting to discuss behavior and consequences with their children. I tried the same damn thing - while allowing my children their creativity and passion. I was totally honest about the world around them. Ooops. It's difficult to raise children to become an original, thinking, somewhat compassionate person in a society that tries to deny it's ugly roots by promising an "American Dream." Meanwhile, it's religious elite, politians and judicial system are filled with criminals! How difficult to find the balance of a world full of possibility and one filled with darkness and fear. How do you teach children to find that balance of who and what to trust? How do you find that yourself? All that drama in my psyche and the fruit of my petard is bittersweet, yet I wouldn't change a thing.
Alas - tonight - Tres Generationes -one Margarita good - friendly state. Two Margaritas - not too bad - truth or dare state. Three Margaritas - dios mia! - you lousy cabrone state!
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Crazy Heart
""Abandon hope."" — Pema Chödrön
I packed hundreds of boxes, and sent them in a tractor trailor across the country. Three days, in a tiny 2000 Saturn, with two kids, 2 rats, one guinea pig, one hamster, one turtle and my crazy heart, I drove 1684 miles across the states to live in what I hoped would be paradise. I wanted to make it a memorable trip (as if we wouldn't remember the traveling circus) so we stopped at various offsites and visited the Muffler Men (google it ;) along the way. Funny, the only thing I remember is cleaning poopy cages every night and stopping at Krispy Creme in Asheville, NC at 6 am. We grabbed a few donuts (it wasn't a chain yet so this was a real treat) and headed into Winston Salem traffic. Traffic was bumper to bumper and 60 miles to town. This is a good time for a Krispy Kreme! As I bit into the the satanic morsel, the sugar encapsulated my teeth and danced a jig in the roots. Pepper spray couldn't have been more effective. With tears pouring, I forced my way over to a gas station. Toothpaste was my only quest. I should have taken this as a sign.
Two years later, and all the wiser (not) I returned home. The hardest thing I ever did was leave someone I loved. Harder still is leaving someone that you know loves you. I filled my heart with hope and wrapped it around a dream. It truly was a dream to live near the Atlantic Ocean and be in love but I was so alone. The seagulls' caw only reminded me of my sorrow. I had to return to a place where I was physically and emotionally stronger, for my children's sake, and my sanity. How much of ourselves we lose in desperation to be loved. Trying to fill that lonely place is like filling a sieve with sand. It is the nature of our humanity and the nature of samsara.
Alas, tonight, Cecchi-Chianti-Classico, a tart red that will tie your belly hair in knots. Good for those I-hate-you-days. My mom likes to sweeten it up with 7up. I know, we make terrible sommeliers but the best consumerliers.
I packed hundreds of boxes, and sent them in a tractor trailor across the country. Three days, in a tiny 2000 Saturn, with two kids, 2 rats, one guinea pig, one hamster, one turtle and my crazy heart, I drove 1684 miles across the states to live in what I hoped would be paradise. I wanted to make it a memorable trip (as if we wouldn't remember the traveling circus) so we stopped at various offsites and visited the Muffler Men (google it ;) along the way. Funny, the only thing I remember is cleaning poopy cages every night and stopping at Krispy Creme in Asheville, NC at 6 am. We grabbed a few donuts (it wasn't a chain yet so this was a real treat) and headed into Winston Salem traffic. Traffic was bumper to bumper and 60 miles to town. This is a good time for a Krispy Kreme! As I bit into the the satanic morsel, the sugar encapsulated my teeth and danced a jig in the roots. Pepper spray couldn't have been more effective. With tears pouring, I forced my way over to a gas station. Toothpaste was my only quest. I should have taken this as a sign.
Two years later, and all the wiser (not) I returned home. The hardest thing I ever did was leave someone I loved. Harder still is leaving someone that you know loves you. I filled my heart with hope and wrapped it around a dream. It truly was a dream to live near the Atlantic Ocean and be in love but I was so alone. The seagulls' caw only reminded me of my sorrow. I had to return to a place where I was physically and emotionally stronger, for my children's sake, and my sanity. How much of ourselves we lose in desperation to be loved. Trying to fill that lonely place is like filling a sieve with sand. It is the nature of our humanity and the nature of samsara.
Alas, tonight, Cecchi-Chianti-Classico, a tart red that will tie your belly hair in knots. Good for those I-hate-you-days. My mom likes to sweeten it up with 7up. I know, we make terrible sommeliers but the best consumerliers.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Disfigured
"How come ''fat chance'' and ''slim chance'' mean the same thing?" --Ziggy, cartoon
Big O swears by the Spanx! After a couple of weeks, struggling with eat this and not that (fats vs. sugars), I decided to eat handfuls of bacon. I then washed it down with a few handfuls of chocolate truffles and Mexican Coke (real sugar not corn syrup). I never want pastries, gravies, and lard unless I tell myself I cannot have it. I always live and eat moderately with occasional hedonism, (usually liquor not food). After reading an Oprah article, I splurged and bought myself a Spanx (singular? plural? masculine? feminine?) in size extra large. This will give me a little extra breathing room and still hold in the goods - I thought. OMG! If I bought the triple extra large, it would not have mattered. The Spanx were all the same size on the rack and very pricy. It is a definite cash-in on your Twiggy fantasies. After a half hour of horizontally packing my fat ass into this tube (no zippers, no little 1920 lace and eyelets, not even 1970's snaps in the crotch ), I swore to bejesus that I was going to squeeze out a poop! I don't think that the inventor of Spanx has claustrophobia. My trepidations of being buried alive and my recurring nightmares of waking in a house so small, I hit my head on the ceiling while springing out of bed, bubbled into blazing anxiety! After rolling myself off the edge of bed, in an attempt to stand - cold sweats, hot flashes, dry throat, nausea, vertigo! A worried cat watched me flail out of this rubber band, as it snapped off and flung across the room, and I crumpled into neonatal relief.
I can't imagine Oprah or any other woman can actually wear Spanx for any length of time. Our society is slowly creeping back to the dark ages, binding ourselves and taking potions so that we can continue to indulge without regret. We base our self worth on our outer beauty and other's opinions about ourselves. 50 is the new 40, 30 the new 20! Keep lying to us media! We try to achieve eternal life without accepting our fate and compassionately caring for each other.
Alas-- tonight Black Box Merlot - 5 ounces. Heh - 4 bottles in one box for half the price! Gotta support my indulgence within budget and environmentally friendly! :)
Big O swears by the Spanx! After a couple of weeks, struggling with eat this and not that (fats vs. sugars), I decided to eat handfuls of bacon. I then washed it down with a few handfuls of chocolate truffles and Mexican Coke (real sugar not corn syrup). I never want pastries, gravies, and lard unless I tell myself I cannot have it. I always live and eat moderately with occasional hedonism, (usually liquor not food). After reading an Oprah article, I splurged and bought myself a Spanx (singular? plural? masculine? feminine?) in size extra large. This will give me a little extra breathing room and still hold in the goods - I thought. OMG! If I bought the triple extra large, it would not have mattered. The Spanx were all the same size on the rack and very pricy. It is a definite cash-in on your Twiggy fantasies. After a half hour of horizontally packing my fat ass into this tube (no zippers, no little 1920 lace and eyelets, not even 1970's snaps in the crotch ), I swore to bejesus that I was going to squeeze out a poop! I don't think that the inventor of Spanx has claustrophobia. My trepidations of being buried alive and my recurring nightmares of waking in a house so small, I hit my head on the ceiling while springing out of bed, bubbled into blazing anxiety! After rolling myself off the edge of bed, in an attempt to stand - cold sweats, hot flashes, dry throat, nausea, vertigo! A worried cat watched me flail out of this rubber band, as it snapped off and flung across the room, and I crumpled into neonatal relief.
I can't imagine Oprah or any other woman can actually wear Spanx for any length of time. Our society is slowly creeping back to the dark ages, binding ourselves and taking potions so that we can continue to indulge without regret. We base our self worth on our outer beauty and other's opinions about ourselves. 50 is the new 40, 30 the new 20! Keep lying to us media! We try to achieve eternal life without accepting our fate and compassionately caring for each other.
Alas-- tonight Black Box Merlot - 5 ounces. Heh - 4 bottles in one box for half the price! Gotta support my indulgence within budget and environmentally friendly! :)
Monday, February 1, 2010
Groundhog Day
Only to the extent that we expose ourselves over and over to annihilation can that which is indestructible in us be found." --Pema Chödrön
Leave it to someone with a fresh mind and bitter heart to rip out mine. I like to think myself strong and balanced, capable of taking on the world and (with all the merit I attained during the day) capable of saving humanity from it's ignorance. Hah! The only thing I am capable of saving is a spider from going down into the garbage disposal. My success, measured by my grown children's sentiments, keeps me in fear of the day they publish their autobiographies "Mommie - not so Dearest." Is it really just the time in their lives when they seek autonomy and pleasure in the world, then experienced gained, they go about becoming contributing members? I remember feeling that fire too but I only remember once that I directed it toward my mother. I still feel guilty because I did not take the time to have more compassion.
It is not my job to make them honor and obey. I am just not interested in the root of ego. I am not looking for their apologies nor their regrets. I only wish I could redirect their ardor toward solving the world's problems. Yet the paradox of knowing that the heartbreak will come from broken dreams and desperate hope. Perhaps my own weariness and frustation is that I am still trying to protect them from living a jaded and complacent life. Perhaps to their chagrin, as much as they are fighting, they are following in my footsteps and the footsteps of our forebears. How difficult - a little family drama is the drama of samsara.
Alas-- tonight, Castello di Gabbiano Chianti. An absolute delight to the pallate and the mind.
"Here's to alcohol, the rose colored glasses of life!" -- F. Scott Fitzgerald
Leave it to someone with a fresh mind and bitter heart to rip out mine. I like to think myself strong and balanced, capable of taking on the world and (with all the merit I attained during the day) capable of saving humanity from it's ignorance. Hah! The only thing I am capable of saving is a spider from going down into the garbage disposal. My success, measured by my grown children's sentiments, keeps me in fear of the day they publish their autobiographies "Mommie - not so Dearest." Is it really just the time in their lives when they seek autonomy and pleasure in the world, then experienced gained, they go about becoming contributing members? I remember feeling that fire too but I only remember once that I directed it toward my mother. I still feel guilty because I did not take the time to have more compassion.
It is not my job to make them honor and obey. I am just not interested in the root of ego. I am not looking for their apologies nor their regrets. I only wish I could redirect their ardor toward solving the world's problems. Yet the paradox of knowing that the heartbreak will come from broken dreams and desperate hope. Perhaps my own weariness and frustation is that I am still trying to protect them from living a jaded and complacent life. Perhaps to their chagrin, as much as they are fighting, they are following in my footsteps and the footsteps of our forebears. How difficult - a little family drama is the drama of samsara.
Alas-- tonight, Castello di Gabbiano Chianti. An absolute delight to the pallate and the mind.
"Here's to alcohol, the rose colored glasses of life!" -- F. Scott Fitzgerald
Monday, January 11, 2010
Big Momma's House
"How few there are who have courage enough to own their faults, or resolution enough to mend them'"
Ben Franklin
So the new year offers inspiration to begin again. I know - it has taken me 10 days to put my resolution together! Everyone who knows me, knows I get things done - eventually. It takes time for me to put it together in my head, and once written, ZING! So there are areas I definately need to work on and maybe by the end of the year, I will be free!
Writing, eating and exercise, relationships, and boxes of clutter are areas that have always challenged me and I am so eager to resolve. My bulging belly and my hair falling out are physical signs that all is not well. I resolved today to begin to eat properly watching carbs and sugars (following Jorge Cruise) and I have a good understanding of the basic plan.
I packed a "nutritious" lunch. I look at the containers prior to devouring the contents and OMG! A "healthy" greek fruit at the bottom yogurt has 18 carbs - so it counts for one serving, not bad - and 17 grams of sugar! WTH! WTH! WTH! (story later). I am only supposed to eat 15 grams of sugar total - all day! I already blew it with breakfast. So I decide to keep track of the sugar and carbs and keep on track. Mozerella cheese stick - no carbs (yeah cheese!) but 6 grams of sugar! In cheese! Two mini ready to eat bags of carrots - 12 grams carbs so just one serving - and 8 grams of sugar! In carrots - peeled and ready to eat? WOW! The "Healthy" oh so bland Lean Cuisine - 47 carbs 2 servings- and 25 grams of sugar! Balancing all of this out, I grab innocent garbanzo beans -20 grams carbs 1 serving - and 1 gram of sugar (whew! ). I haven't had dinner yet but I really blew it with the Queen Anne milk chocolate cordial cherries I rescued from a coworker. These actually had carbs and the sugar content - 25grams each! This I expected. Sugar is as sugar does... so I ate four and grabbed my muffin top (the way my stepmother elegantly does) and thought to myself "Look at my Yanta!"
This is tougher than it looks and you just can't eat healthy off the shelf! I have a whole week of the stuff so I will start again when the yogurt's gone and maybe take a walk (in my mind). Maybe I should try the inside out method and look for fiber pills.
Alas - tonight Robert Mondavi Woodbridge Merlot - good for the price and for what ails you. Good News - Red wine counts as one carb (yes!) and zero sugars (oh yes!) because something about alcohol sugars and blah blah blah... I stopped reading once I knew I could fit it into my daily allowances! ;)
Ben Franklin
So the new year offers inspiration to begin again. I know - it has taken me 10 days to put my resolution together! Everyone who knows me, knows I get things done - eventually. It takes time for me to put it together in my head, and once written, ZING! So there are areas I definately need to work on and maybe by the end of the year, I will be free!
Writing, eating and exercise, relationships, and boxes of clutter are areas that have always challenged me and I am so eager to resolve. My bulging belly and my hair falling out are physical signs that all is not well. I resolved today to begin to eat properly watching carbs and sugars (following Jorge Cruise) and I have a good understanding of the basic plan.
I packed a "nutritious" lunch. I look at the containers prior to devouring the contents and OMG! A "healthy" greek fruit at the bottom yogurt has 18 carbs - so it counts for one serving, not bad - and 17 grams of sugar! WTH! WTH! WTH! (story later). I am only supposed to eat 15 grams of sugar total - all day! I already blew it with breakfast. So I decide to keep track of the sugar and carbs and keep on track. Mozerella cheese stick - no carbs (yeah cheese!) but 6 grams of sugar! In cheese! Two mini ready to eat bags of carrots - 12 grams carbs so just one serving - and 8 grams of sugar! In carrots - peeled and ready to eat? WOW! The "Healthy" oh so bland Lean Cuisine - 47 carbs 2 servings- and 25 grams of sugar! Balancing all of this out, I grab innocent garbanzo beans -20 grams carbs 1 serving - and 1 gram of sugar (whew! ). I haven't had dinner yet but I really blew it with the Queen Anne milk chocolate cordial cherries I rescued from a coworker. These actually had carbs and the sugar content - 25grams each! This I expected. Sugar is as sugar does... so I ate four and grabbed my muffin top (the way my stepmother elegantly does) and thought to myself "Look at my Yanta!"
This is tougher than it looks and you just can't eat healthy off the shelf! I have a whole week of the stuff so I will start again when the yogurt's gone and maybe take a walk (in my mind). Maybe I should try the inside out method and look for fiber pills.
Alas - tonight Robert Mondavi Woodbridge Merlot - good for the price and for what ails you. Good News - Red wine counts as one carb (yes!) and zero sugars (oh yes!) because something about alcohol sugars and blah blah blah... I stopped reading once I knew I could fit it into my daily allowances! ;)
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)