Sunday, July 19, 2015

The Spectrum of Bitterness -- part four

Image result for image of girl chased by crowd

Image result for image of girl chased by crowd

"The last time I saw Richard was Detroit in '68 and he told me. . . "

                                                                           Joni Mitchell

Last night I spent about three hours on a three -way, (don't get your hopes up. . .) cell phone, voice and text message discussion.  A person close to me called.  They were in distress half-way across the country from me.  I spoke and texted with all three members of this debacle, until my wi-fi finally said, "Fuck this." and gave up the ghost.

Among other things, I was told pieces of family history that a person had told another person that were part enhancement, part disremembering , and part hog wash.  I dealt with tears, lies, condemnations, praise, laughter, pleading, drunkenness and despair. This morning I was texted that every thing was hunky dory and they were going to experiment with one of the pieces of advice (Not the one where I said shut the fuck up) and see how that worked out.

I responded, since they were all in search of emotional peace of some sort and none of them had a handy firearm, that the texter should tell one certain member of the triad that I find it very difficult to text while my tears are pouring over the keyboard. I pretty much felt like I was run over by a truck.

It isn't like this same horrible blood-letting drama hasn't unfolded on at least three other ocasions, word for word. No. This was all new, fresh wounds and never before experienced pain and anguish.   Remind me to press record call the next time it happens.

One of the persons, near and dear to me, is very well known to react, or should I say 'lose her shit' over specific issues that this unnamed person does not care to deal with at that moment, which is 99% of the moments in that person's life.  So I am hoping that some of these people will soon learn not to rock that boat, or pull the tail of that tiger, or poke that hornet's nest, Of course I admonished one and all that it would be very difficult work to even reach 50/50 compromises on these hot button issues and they all agreed that they would whole-heartedly make that effort. Again.

I am thinking of ordering a t-shirt that says, "I am not Ann Landers."  but no one knows who that is anymore.  I am a rather socially solitary person and I cannot figure out how I end up in the middle of these things.  After each one of these crises has passed, if I dare say, "So, how's it going" or "So, what's new?" I usually get the "Go away, you meddlesome bitch" sneer.

My brothers were feuding for a good many years.  I felt like a frigging ping-pong ball.  They actually, were they to accept an inquiry, could neither of them remember what the feud was about. The demise of our beloved father caused them to put the conflict aside and be "brothers" again. This, of course, since I am not only the middle child, but also an ignorant female whose life experience with dealing with  aging and dying parents and rest home bills, etc. counts for naught, means the ping- pong table was folded up and put in the crawl space, and this ping-pong ball was immediately relegated to a dusty corner of the "high, high" shelf. And, since I have had many a year to develop certain scars and calouses, I just don't give a shit.  I am just me.

It isn't even reality.  Everything that I experience takes place only in my brain, a beautiful garden where I am very content.  Lots of weeds, but I know how to get rid of them. I am quite capable of generating a colorful alternate history. (Which any of you that wish to, can delve into.  Google me. Cherry pick from the reality and the fiction. Whatever suits you.)

"No man is an island."  That's baloney.  I am an island and if you are on it, be it ever so briefly, it is because I allowed it.

And Richard died, so I don't have to deal with that anymore either.

Sunday, July 05, 2015


To night I went to the most glorious fireworks display at Great Lakes Naval Station.  The xanax kept me from having a panic attack because I genuinely  believed that ISIS could launch an RPG into the crowd from some cabin cruiser off shore, where many gather in their boats to watch the show.

But at each surge of emotion, each patriotic song, crying  when Toby Keith says "we'll put a boot in their ass" (he would, we could, we should) I  thought "Why are people  trying so hard to fuck up our Nation from inside and out?

And let me add, there were far fewer people there this year. Maybe fear, maybe apathy, maybe more haters. But there were plenty of people there that would stand up next  to you and fight for our country's values. Of course I would. I have nothing to lose.


Friday, July 03, 2015

Maybe The Last One

Tomorrow, celebrate our wonderful Nation's  birthday, joyfully and safely.

United we stand. Divided we fall

Tuesday, June 30, 2015


Thursday, June 25, 2015


Hope this announcement does not offend any one or trifle with their feelings, but it is serious and important to me which is why I keep forgetting to mention it.

At my last doctor appointment my doctor upgraded me from bipolar disorder to dysthymic condition.  This means I am not crazy anymore. Just a little sad.


Wednesday, June 24, 2015

Tempest in a Tea Pot

Another forced attempt to distract us from what is going on.  Divided we fall.

Big fuss over a flag. How 'bout we forbid ten percent of the displaying of the Confederate Flag?

And, by the way, George Washington owned slaves. I want to say something about pigeons coming home to roost, but probably not politically correct -- a HUGE concern of mine. Not.

Tuesday, June 23, 2015


This is an opinion piece, not a paid advertisement or solicited review.

We quite frequently shop at our nearest military commissary.  There are many advantages. Too many years ago, I would always use only Parkay or Imperial margerine as a spread or whatever. I felt other brands were noticably greasy. Then someone mentioned that margerine was one molecule away from being plastic and I heard from another person that butter was "natural". At that time butter was considerably  more expensive, but I made the change and have never veered from my choice.

While shopping one day at the  commissary  (they often carry locally unfamiliar brands) I noticed  Challenge butter. It was packaged by the pound in two different shapes. The conventional stick and a short chubbier stick. The pound of shorties must have been priced as an 8 oz. package because it was, and still is, cheaper than the conventional  size. Thus we became Challenge users. We noticed immediately that it tasted wonderful, used as spread or in baking. I make Baker's one-bowl brownies and you can totally experience the difference.

Then I began to hear of Kerry Gold. One person said she was a strict vegan except for Kerry Gold. I ran out and had to borrow a pack of Kerry Gold from my daughter. It is an unnatural shade of yellow that is surely  enhanced unless they feed their cows only carrots. It is prohibitively expensive and it has no taste experience, much less delicious or "better".  I feel like I am changing a passage in the Bible. Kerry Gold fans are rabid. But Wal Mart generic tastes better and, hands down, Challenge wins the taste war. It is delicious. The acid test is melting it for popcorn and it cannot be beaten. You can just take my word for it cuz if you ever try it, you will know for yourself.