Goods and bads, either direction, I guess.
I have spent MANY hours today "shopping" around. (Any of you who know me at all know just how much I love shopping!)
I HATE shopping!!!!!!!!!!
I really dislike using the word "hate" ... think it's abominable, a word to avoid, a feeling that one should not have. Deep down, in the farthest depths of me, I try to not use that word -- or even think of that word! It's so (normally) outside of my everyday vocabulary usage that I have been known to go to great lengths to keep from uttering it.
ToDAY, however, I found myself spending (literally) hours on the phone, talking to receptionists, nurses, whomever the powers that be were that I reached on the phone, asking questions about my "WellCare" coverage.
Did it include this/that? What should I expect? Where do I go from here? Are you sure that I can do this/that?
WHY was I spending so much time on the telephone?
Good question.
I'll answer by saying that I am probably the world's worst procrastinator!! I put off until the very last second/minute/day something that should have been decided long ago.
We are now down to the 'nitty gritty'. Today is the last day to change one's coverage without penalty. Otherwise, one would have to wait until November.
You know what? I think I'm going to wait until November. Meanwhile, I am FULLY informed about all the "---------" that's currently out there, which is a whole lot more than I could have said for myself three months ago!
Monday, March 31, 2008
Fairy tales
I'm going to post this under "Funny things".
See "My first year teaching", posted January 27th, this year, for my account of a story my principal had related to me of "The Three Little Pigs" -- a story, he said, that he had heard first-hand, while he was 'observing' (circa 60-70-80 years ago, now, as of this writing).
You know, the thought of Grimm being the author of fairy tales was ALWAYS appalling to me. WHY should fairy tales necessarily be "grim"?
All that aside, and I hope you have gone back to read my post of 1/27/08, I would like to introduce you to (if you haven't already been so introduced!) an author that lends (in my opinion) a great deal of humor. I should say 'leant', as he is no longer with us, I'm sorry to say ... said author is James Thurber.
The story of which I'm speaking is the one about "Little Red Riding Hood". You know, the one where this sweet young thing goes through the woods on the way to her grandmother's house, gathering flowers, merrily skipping along, thinking cheery thoughts about her life and her grandmother, etc??
That's the one. You've got it!
All right. So, on she goes ... collecting, skipping, going along her way, and very much looking forward to seeing her beloved grandmother.
She gets to her grandmother's house and goes inside. (Meanwhile, of course, the big bad wolf has devoured her grandmother and is hiding in her grandmother's bed, trying to disguise himself in her grandmother's clothing.)
Well, you know at least one version of that story, I'll bet. I wonder if you know Thurber's version? ? ! ? ! ?
Thurber's version is that Little Red Riding Hood, upon entering dear grandmother's house, imMEdiately sees that it is not her grandmother lying there on her bed ... it is, instead, a wolf dressed in her grandmother's clothing. She pauses not for a millisecond, takes a pistol out of her little handbag, and shoots the wolf dead!!
Thurber's stories often had a moral attached (much like Aesop, I guess) to them.
THIS one's moral was, "It's not as easy to fool little girls nowadays as it used to be!"
I recommend Thurber. I also recommend those "Burma Shave" signs that used to appear along the the roadside, one after the other ... funny, funny, funny! (Again, you should probably allow for my somewhat [perhaps?] demented sense of humor.)
See "My first year teaching", posted January 27th, this year, for my account of a story my principal had related to me of "The Three Little Pigs" -- a story, he said, that he had heard first-hand, while he was 'observing' (circa 60-70-80 years ago, now, as of this writing).
You know, the thought of Grimm being the author of fairy tales was ALWAYS appalling to me. WHY should fairy tales necessarily be "grim"?
All that aside, and I hope you have gone back to read my post of 1/27/08, I would like to introduce you to (if you haven't already been so introduced!) an author that lends (in my opinion) a great deal of humor. I should say 'leant', as he is no longer with us, I'm sorry to say ... said author is James Thurber.
The story of which I'm speaking is the one about "Little Red Riding Hood". You know, the one where this sweet young thing goes through the woods on the way to her grandmother's house, gathering flowers, merrily skipping along, thinking cheery thoughts about her life and her grandmother, etc??
That's the one. You've got it!
All right. So, on she goes ... collecting, skipping, going along her way, and very much looking forward to seeing her beloved grandmother.
She gets to her grandmother's house and goes inside. (Meanwhile, of course, the big bad wolf has devoured her grandmother and is hiding in her grandmother's bed, trying to disguise himself in her grandmother's clothing.)
Well, you know at least one version of that story, I'll bet. I wonder if you know Thurber's version? ? ! ? ! ?
Thurber's version is that Little Red Riding Hood, upon entering dear grandmother's house, imMEdiately sees that it is not her grandmother lying there on her bed ... it is, instead, a wolf dressed in her grandmother's clothing. She pauses not for a millisecond, takes a pistol out of her little handbag, and shoots the wolf dead!!
Thurber's stories often had a moral attached (much like Aesop, I guess) to them.
THIS one's moral was, "It's not as easy to fool little girls nowadays as it used to be!"
I recommend Thurber. I also recommend those "Burma Shave" signs that used to appear along the the roadside, one after the other ... funny, funny, funny! (Again, you should probably allow for my somewhat [perhaps?] demented sense of humor.)
Friday, March 28, 2008
On gun control ...
How did I get ever get to this issue, anyway, from "Memories of my mother ..." ??
This topic has almost nothing to do with my mother. It has much more to do with the 'news of the day', which at that date (not today, 3/31 ... I'm editing, only) was at the top of my mind, and a lot of the news, it seemed, was focused on the mayor of NYC's investigations into guns making their way illicitly into his city.
It appears as tho some of his investigative techniques were in question, one of which included going outside of his jurisdiction to try and counteract such imports.
Another 'question of the day' seemed to include, "Would Barack Obama embrace the endorsement of a person who would authorize such tactics?" Vitriolics ensued from both sides, and I found myself 'thinking' (almost always a pursuit in and of itself) about the subject of gun control.
Hence, this post. There are no politics here ... only my personal thoughts, O.K? I apologize for the abrupt deviance off topic, altho I think I might have already alerted you that these "Memories of my mother" would not be of a daily occurrence.
All right, now that all that has been explained (?), we'll get back to the subject of this post, gun control.
As a child, growing up, I remember that my parents did not own a gun, did not want to own a gun, did not want to even be around someone who owned a gun ... in other words, there was not a gun in our house.
I can remember thinking, "Guns are scary things."
And yes, indeed, they are.
There was a young man in my class in high school who -- it was understood -- would always miss class the 1st day of deer hunting season (he'd be out trying to get his buck).
Well, this one year, he was in class as per usual. "What happened?" everyone wanted to know. "Didn't you go?"
"Well, yeah, I did. I went out into the back yard and there was this 10-point buck. I shot him, and my folks said I had to come to school." (Needless to say, he did not appear to be very happy.)
(You might not think this is funny, but I think it's hilarious!! But then, my sense of humor is somewhat odd, as you might have noticed.)
My very first personal experience with guns was courtesy of my first husband.
We were newly-weds, and living 'out in the country'. He thought that I should know how to protect myself, just in case he wasn't there.
Heavens to Betsy!!
The thought that I might have to try and protect myself while he wasn't there (and why shouldn't he be there, for crying out loud!?!), however, caught my attention, and I watched (all wide-eyed) while he explained the various intricacies of loading and then discharging a 12-gauge shotgun. (And, of course, I had to know how to clean the darned thing, so we spent a bunch of time on that!)
He had other guns, by the way, but he wanted me to know how to use and handle the largest one. His opinion (and probably accurate) was that, if I could hit the person with a 12-gauge, there wouldn't be much left of that person to keep coming after me.
Well, the first time I fired the 12-gauge, guess what happened? (If you can't guess, you just have no imagination whatsoever.) I fell right on my behind, that's what happened!! (What did you think happened??)
(By the way, I gave him the 12-gauge back after he had incurred a robbery in New Orleans and all of his other guns were stolen.)
My second husband, now, carried a concealed handgun in his briefcase. He "needed it", he said, to protect himself on the way to and from law school in downtown Houston.
I didn't like the fact that he was a law school student and had no permit to carry a concealed handgun. He (inasmuch) told me that my opinion didn't matter.
During my many years as a taxicab driver, I heard a lot of stories about drivers carrying handguns, some of which I believed.
I never did, some of which probably goes back to many years ago, when I lived in Columbus, Ohio.
This would have been in the 1960's, a decade of some trauma in this country.
My husband was teaching at Ohio State University, I was teaching in Hilliard, our daughter was attending the Columbus School for Girls, we were living in "Upper Arlington" (you kind of had to have your nose up in the air when you said that, you understand?) ... life was good ... I had more energy than I can even beGIN to imagine, tell you the truth!
I was doing some going out at night (not a lot, but some) ... either to play bridge or go bowling, one or the other.
There were stories of 'gangs' stopping cars on the city streets. Gang-raping the woman, if she was alone ... beating the man and then gang-raping the woman, etc. You get the picture, I'm sure. Ugly stories.
My husband and I discussed the option of my carrying a handgun in my purse. (Those were the days of long ago, when I actually carried a purse, I hope you realize.)
My comment to him was, "You know, by the time I could actually find a gun in this purse, I would have been raped and had the baby!"
I have never carried a gun to this day ... not in my purse, not concealed somewhere on my body, not in my car ... nor do I have one in my house.
It's not so much that I am opposed to guns, I don't think, as I am offended by the idea of having to use one, even in self-defense!
It is my very personal opinion that one ought to be able to go about one's own life -- whether it be in public or private -- with complete disregard for a possible need to defend oneself with the use of such potentially deadly force.
I'm living in a dream world, aren't I?
This topic has almost nothing to do with my mother. It has much more to do with the 'news of the day', which at that date (not today, 3/31 ... I'm editing, only) was at the top of my mind, and a lot of the news, it seemed, was focused on the mayor of NYC's investigations into guns making their way illicitly into his city.
It appears as tho some of his investigative techniques were in question, one of which included going outside of his jurisdiction to try and counteract such imports.
Another 'question of the day' seemed to include, "Would Barack Obama embrace the endorsement of a person who would authorize such tactics?" Vitriolics ensued from both sides, and I found myself 'thinking' (almost always a pursuit in and of itself) about the subject of gun control.
Hence, this post. There are no politics here ... only my personal thoughts, O.K? I apologize for the abrupt deviance off topic, altho I think I might have already alerted you that these "Memories of my mother" would not be of a daily occurrence.
All right, now that all that has been explained (?), we'll get back to the subject of this post, gun control.
As a child, growing up, I remember that my parents did not own a gun, did not want to own a gun, did not want to even be around someone who owned a gun ... in other words, there was not a gun in our house.
I can remember thinking, "Guns are scary things."
And yes, indeed, they are.
There was a young man in my class in high school who -- it was understood -- would always miss class the 1st day of deer hunting season (he'd be out trying to get his buck).
Well, this one year, he was in class as per usual. "What happened?" everyone wanted to know. "Didn't you go?"
"Well, yeah, I did. I went out into the back yard and there was this 10-point buck. I shot him, and my folks said I had to come to school." (Needless to say, he did not appear to be very happy.)
(You might not think this is funny, but I think it's hilarious!! But then, my sense of humor is somewhat odd, as you might have noticed.)
My very first personal experience with guns was courtesy of my first husband.
We were newly-weds, and living 'out in the country'. He thought that I should know how to protect myself, just in case he wasn't there.
Heavens to Betsy!!
The thought that I might have to try and protect myself while he wasn't there (and why shouldn't he be there, for crying out loud!?!), however, caught my attention, and I watched (all wide-eyed) while he explained the various intricacies of loading and then discharging a 12-gauge shotgun. (And, of course, I had to know how to clean the darned thing, so we spent a bunch of time on that!)
He had other guns, by the way, but he wanted me to know how to use and handle the largest one. His opinion (and probably accurate) was that, if I could hit the person with a 12-gauge, there wouldn't be much left of that person to keep coming after me.
Well, the first time I fired the 12-gauge, guess what happened? (If you can't guess, you just have no imagination whatsoever.) I fell right on my behind, that's what happened!! (What did you think happened??)
(By the way, I gave him the 12-gauge back after he had incurred a robbery in New Orleans and all of his other guns were stolen.)
My second husband, now, carried a concealed handgun in his briefcase. He "needed it", he said, to protect himself on the way to and from law school in downtown Houston.
I didn't like the fact that he was a law school student and had no permit to carry a concealed handgun. He (inasmuch) told me that my opinion didn't matter.
During my many years as a taxicab driver, I heard a lot of stories about drivers carrying handguns, some of which I believed.
I never did, some of which probably goes back to many years ago, when I lived in Columbus, Ohio.
This would have been in the 1960's, a decade of some trauma in this country.
My husband was teaching at Ohio State University, I was teaching in Hilliard, our daughter was attending the Columbus School for Girls, we were living in "Upper Arlington" (you kind of had to have your nose up in the air when you said that, you understand?) ... life was good ... I had more energy than I can even beGIN to imagine, tell you the truth!
I was doing some going out at night (not a lot, but some) ... either to play bridge or go bowling, one or the other.
There were stories of 'gangs' stopping cars on the city streets. Gang-raping the woman, if she was alone ... beating the man and then gang-raping the woman, etc. You get the picture, I'm sure. Ugly stories.
My husband and I discussed the option of my carrying a handgun in my purse. (Those were the days of long ago, when I actually carried a purse, I hope you realize.)
My comment to him was, "You know, by the time I could actually find a gun in this purse, I would have been raped and had the baby!"
I have never carried a gun to this day ... not in my purse, not concealed somewhere on my body, not in my car ... nor do I have one in my house.
It's not so much that I am opposed to guns, I don't think, as I am offended by the idea of having to use one, even in self-defense!
It is my very personal opinion that one ought to be able to go about one's own life -- whether it be in public or private -- with complete disregard for a possible need to defend oneself with the use of such potentially deadly force.
I'm living in a dream world, aren't I?
Memories of my mother ... (part two) ...
Unlike the series of posts about my brother and sister, these will not be chronological.
My mother wasn't particularly tall, probably around five and a half feet (maybe half an inch less), but she wore a fairly unusual shoe size, a 10 1/2 AAAAA. None of the stores in the UP (Upper Peninsula of Michigan) carried that size, she said, so she either mail-ordered them -- or, perhaps once every couple of years, we would take a trip to Chicago.
We were in Macy's, I think, four of us -- Mom, Peggy, Johnny, and me. Dad wasn't with us. I don't think he liked to shop. (I must take after him, huh?) "Stay close to me," was the constant admonition. And we did -- well, most of the time.
A small panic ensued a little later when we realized that Johnny (he couldn't have been more than four years old) was nowhere to be seen. We looked down this aisle and then that one ... no Johnny. Mother was getting somewhat frantic, and Peggy and I were worried, as well. After all, he was small, and this was a huge store!
We noticed a number of people who were all gathered around 'something', pointing and laughing amongst themselves. We inched closer to see what the attraction might be, all the while keeping a keen eye out for Johnny.
Do you remember those concrete water fountains, by any chance? The ones where water was always bubbling up at the top? You could lean over and take a sip or two without having to try and locate a lever or button.
Well, Johnny had discovered, simply by placing his thumb over part of the fountain, that he could direct the water in any direction he chose, and was having the time of his young life doing so!
One of us girls shouted, "There's Johnny!" He heard it and looked our direction. At this point, Mother firmly grabbed both of us by the hand and quick-marched us away, saying, "Come, children. I never saw him before in my life!"
Johnny quickly left his experiment and ran to his mama. He stayed pretty close to her side for the rest of the trip.
That tactic wouldn't have worked with my daughter, I don't think. Once, while shopping in a pretty large store, we were accidentally separated.
Hubby and I were increasingly anxious to find her (she must have been about the same age as Johnny when he was having all that fun with the fountain) and searching more and more frantically when all of a sudden we heard, over the loudspeaker, "Will the parents of ----- please come to -----?"
I mean, we RAN!! A tearful reunion, lots of kisses, hugs, and smiles all around.
Well, the very next time we were in a fairly large store, my daughter must have remembered all of the attention she had gotten the last time. She had heard her name called over the loudspeaker, we had run to her, lots of kisses and hugs had been exchanged, etc.
She waited until we were a little preoccupied and then made a tearful dash for the nearest person with a badge, telling him/her that she couldn't find her parents!
Sure enough, her name was clearly announced over the loudspeaker and the reunion was accomplished. This time, however, we were a little bit suspicious ... and, the next time it happened, we told her, "If you do it again, we're just going to leave the store without you!" (By the way, she never did it again.)
So, Mother's tactic did work, right? What do I know?
My mother wasn't particularly tall, probably around five and a half feet (maybe half an inch less), but she wore a fairly unusual shoe size, a 10 1/2 AAAAA. None of the stores in the UP (Upper Peninsula of Michigan) carried that size, she said, so she either mail-ordered them -- or, perhaps once every couple of years, we would take a trip to Chicago.
We were in Macy's, I think, four of us -- Mom, Peggy, Johnny, and me. Dad wasn't with us. I don't think he liked to shop. (I must take after him, huh?) "Stay close to me," was the constant admonition. And we did -- well, most of the time.
A small panic ensued a little later when we realized that Johnny (he couldn't have been more than four years old) was nowhere to be seen. We looked down this aisle and then that one ... no Johnny. Mother was getting somewhat frantic, and Peggy and I were worried, as well. After all, he was small, and this was a huge store!
We noticed a number of people who were all gathered around 'something', pointing and laughing amongst themselves. We inched closer to see what the attraction might be, all the while keeping a keen eye out for Johnny.
Do you remember those concrete water fountains, by any chance? The ones where water was always bubbling up at the top? You could lean over and take a sip or two without having to try and locate a lever or button.
Well, Johnny had discovered, simply by placing his thumb over part of the fountain, that he could direct the water in any direction he chose, and was having the time of his young life doing so!
One of us girls shouted, "There's Johnny!" He heard it and looked our direction. At this point, Mother firmly grabbed both of us by the hand and quick-marched us away, saying, "Come, children. I never saw him before in my life!"
Johnny quickly left his experiment and ran to his mama. He stayed pretty close to her side for the rest of the trip.
That tactic wouldn't have worked with my daughter, I don't think. Once, while shopping in a pretty large store, we were accidentally separated.
Hubby and I were increasingly anxious to find her (she must have been about the same age as Johnny when he was having all that fun with the fountain) and searching more and more frantically when all of a sudden we heard, over the loudspeaker, "Will the parents of ----- please come to -----?"
I mean, we RAN!! A tearful reunion, lots of kisses, hugs, and smiles all around.
Well, the very next time we were in a fairly large store, my daughter must have remembered all of the attention she had gotten the last time. She had heard her name called over the loudspeaker, we had run to her, lots of kisses and hugs had been exchanged, etc.
She waited until we were a little preoccupied and then made a tearful dash for the nearest person with a badge, telling him/her that she couldn't find her parents!
Sure enough, her name was clearly announced over the loudspeaker and the reunion was accomplished. This time, however, we were a little bit suspicious ... and, the next time it happened, we told her, "If you do it again, we're just going to leave the store without you!" (By the way, she never did it again.)
So, Mother's tactic did work, right? What do I know?
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Memories of my mother ...
This post is the first in what will probably be many ... 5? 6? 7? 8? ??? ... in a series I have entitled, "Memories of my mother ..."
I must tell you that they will not be posted daily. THIS one, however, I feel an almost compulsion to write, or at least begin the series.
First off, I will say that I have no 'bad' memories of my mother. There are some sad memories, of course!
The occasion of my mother's death is the primary reason I left my first husband. (That's not HER fault, I hope you understand! Please read on.)
When she found out that she was dying of lung cancer in 1976, I went back to Munising (in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan) to see her for the last time. I wrote her a letter, in which I said, (something like, because I don't have a copy of that letter) "I will try to conduct my life in such a manner so that, when you see me, you will not be ashamed."
At that time, I believed (and maybe still do, but I haven't taken the time recently to reexamine my beliefs) that a person exists/lives on in some fashion after death and 'knows' what's happening.
Honestly? At that time?? I disgusted myself ... truly!! I could no longer look at myself in the mirror with any kind of favor.
I had gone outside of the marriage to try and 'fulfill' my fantasies ... not once, but many times!
Really, I was less than pitiful. (You might think I am being too hard on myself here. We will probably disagree.)
Sorry. I have to stop. I didn't initially intend to write what I did ... but, now that I have, I'm not the least bit interested in deleting it. If I lose some or all of you due to what I am about to post, so be it. The 'truth will out', as it were. I'll be particularly sorry to lose you, Tammy, if you decide you'd rather not stick with me, but I will try and understand.
O.K. It's shortly to be 'out there'. I feel a great deal of relief. No regrets.
I must tell you that they will not be posted daily. THIS one, however, I feel an almost compulsion to write, or at least begin the series.
First off, I will say that I have no 'bad' memories of my mother. There are some sad memories, of course!
The occasion of my mother's death is the primary reason I left my first husband. (That's not HER fault, I hope you understand! Please read on.)
When she found out that she was dying of lung cancer in 1976, I went back to Munising (in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan) to see her for the last time. I wrote her a letter, in which I said, (something like, because I don't have a copy of that letter) "I will try to conduct my life in such a manner so that, when you see me, you will not be ashamed."
At that time, I believed (and maybe still do, but I haven't taken the time recently to reexamine my beliefs) that a person exists/lives on in some fashion after death and 'knows' what's happening.
Honestly? At that time?? I disgusted myself ... truly!! I could no longer look at myself in the mirror with any kind of favor.
I had gone outside of the marriage to try and 'fulfill' my fantasies ... not once, but many times!
Really, I was less than pitiful. (You might think I am being too hard on myself here. We will probably disagree.)
Sorry. I have to stop. I didn't initially intend to write what I did ... but, now that I have, I'm not the least bit interested in deleting it. If I lose some or all of you due to what I am about to post, so be it. The 'truth will out', as it were. I'll be particularly sorry to lose you, Tammy, if you decide you'd rather not stick with me, but I will try and understand.
O.K. It's shortly to be 'out there'. I feel a great deal of relief. No regrets.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Polls
O.K. My dinner is in the oven ... spareribs and sauerkraut, in case any of you want to know, and (It's going to be absolutely yummy -- this a courtesy of my long since departed mother -- and, if you want the recipe, [I can absolutely guarantee you that it will be the easiest dish you have EVER concocted! Take it from one who is a certified 'non cook'.] just let me know and I'll post it, O.K?) ... it'll be ready to eat in another hour and (maybe) 15 minutes. No fuss, no muss, no bother ... but deLIcious!!
Now, where was I, anyway? Oh, yes! The subject of this post ... polls.
I was watching ABC. It seems that they were posting the results of (what seemed to them, anyway, to be somewhat tainted) polls. At least, that was the gist of their commentary as I understood it.
The poll/s was/were on the subject of --------- who the devil cares what the subject was, anyway???
ABC's objection was that the study (and it, supposedly, was a scientific study) was funded by a group whose interests were obviously 'suspect', according to ABC, because there was a vested interest in the outcome of such a study.
Have YOU ever been called upon to venture your opinion? (I have not.) If you indeed were, did you respond honestly, or did someone offer to 'pay you' for your opinion? (I have experienced neither. And, if I do in the future, I will be sure to take copious notes and report the inquirer to the 'powers that be' that regulate such things -- this is all assuming, I hope you understand, that there IS such a thing as the 'powers that be that regulate such things'. At this stage in my life, I tend to doubt any and all such possibilities.
So, what's my point?? I guess my 'point' is that you can only trust your own instincts/beliefs. Try not to be dissuaded by public opinion polls. Try not, in particular, to be influenced by the media. (Barf, and double ugh, OK?)
Try, instead, to listen to your own heart and watch &/or listen to each candidate's public interview and hope for an opportunity to meet with him/her in person sometime down the road so that you can decide for yourself what their deepest down thoughts are ... ... and then it's still a 'crapshoot', isn't it?
Now, that thought's kind of scary. Now that I bring it up, however, so is LIFE!
Now, where was I, anyway? Oh, yes! The subject of this post ... polls.
I was watching ABC. It seems that they were posting the results of (what seemed to them, anyway, to be somewhat tainted) polls. At least, that was the gist of their commentary as I understood it.
The poll/s was/were on the subject of --------- who the devil cares what the subject was, anyway???
ABC's objection was that the study (and it, supposedly, was a scientific study) was funded by a group whose interests were obviously 'suspect', according to ABC, because there was a vested interest in the outcome of such a study.
Have YOU ever been called upon to venture your opinion? (I have not.) If you indeed were, did you respond honestly, or did someone offer to 'pay you' for your opinion? (I have experienced neither. And, if I do in the future, I will be sure to take copious notes and report the inquirer to the 'powers that be' that regulate such things -- this is all assuming, I hope you understand, that there IS such a thing as the 'powers that be that regulate such things'. At this stage in my life, I tend to doubt any and all such possibilities.
So, what's my point?? I guess my 'point' is that you can only trust your own instincts/beliefs. Try not to be dissuaded by public opinion polls. Try not, in particular, to be influenced by the media. (Barf, and double ugh, OK?)
Try, instead, to listen to your own heart and watch &/or listen to each candidate's public interview and hope for an opportunity to meet with him/her in person sometime down the road so that you can decide for yourself what their deepest down thoughts are ... ... and then it's still a 'crapshoot', isn't it?
Now, that thought's kind of scary. Now that I bring it up, however, so is LIFE!
Planning a party ...
... can be a whole lot of fun, particularly if you're just a little bit on the 'outside' just looking in.
That was the situation in which I found myself, maybe a month or so ago, when one of my very dear friends asked me to compile a list of names/addresses/phone #s, etc., of those people in the bridge world who might possibly still 'be around' -- in other words, still alive and among the living -- and who would remember same 'honoree' and might want to be included in an invitation list to his 'surprise' 60th birthday party.
Understand, mind you, that said honoree doesn't live here -- and hasn't, for many many years. However, his sister does, and SHE is my 'very dear friend'.
Does that not strike you as unusual?? It does me!! (I'm sorry. There are probably a BUNCH of you who don't know that he and I were, at one time -- again, many years ago -- engaged to be married.)
I think I have gotten very much off track here. Suffice it to say that the party will go on, as scheduled, this Saturday (3/29), from 6-9pm.
My daughter wanted to know what they could bring ... the suggestion was a bottle of red wine. I will be bringing one of the raciest cards I can find, along with a small container of prophylactics.
More later. (??)
That was the situation in which I found myself, maybe a month or so ago, when one of my very dear friends asked me to compile a list of names/addresses/phone #s, etc., of those people in the bridge world who might possibly still 'be around' -- in other words, still alive and among the living -- and who would remember same 'honoree' and might want to be included in an invitation list to his 'surprise' 60th birthday party.
Understand, mind you, that said honoree doesn't live here -- and hasn't, for many many years. However, his sister does, and SHE is my 'very dear friend'.
Does that not strike you as unusual?? It does me!! (I'm sorry. There are probably a BUNCH of you who don't know that he and I were, at one time -- again, many years ago -- engaged to be married.)
I think I have gotten very much off track here. Suffice it to say that the party will go on, as scheduled, this Saturday (3/29), from 6-9pm.
My daughter wanted to know what they could bring ... the suggestion was a bottle of red wine. I will be bringing one of the raciest cards I can find, along with a small container of prophylactics.
More later. (??)
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