Truth from A Louisana Resident

I came across this video on Sandy's blog (Sandy's Walks About Town) and felt it needs to be heard by as many people as possible. It is a mother speaking at the Gulf Emergency Summit about her own personal experiences with BP and the oil spill. Its outrageous!! (15 minutes long but worth it.)

Dads' Life (3 minutes)

Super Glue

With a post title of "Super Glue", you probably already know where this is going, right? If we haven't personally experienced the amazing bonding effect of Super Glue, then we've heard stories about how it will glue anything. ANY. THING.

Darius now knows about it, too.

I was trying to fix a broken toy for the 5 yr old grandson and I asked him to get me the glue. Elmer's glue. In the background I heard 6 yr old Darius say in a helpful tone "Mom has some super glue!" I called back to him that super glue was too dangerous and that I don't touch the stuff.

After a few moments I gave up on trying to fix the broken toy. Then Darius slowly walked up to me from behind and softly said "gramma?" in that tone that says he's not sure how the conversation is going to go from that point on. Yup. He had glued his finger to the tube.

Confession. I totally lost it then. I'm sure it is going to cost me my nomination for gramma of the year award, but I couldn't help it. If you tell someone don't put your hand in that vat of acid and they turn around and put their hand in the acid, well, it has a tendency to totally tick me off. Sigh. But lets not dwell on this.

The only thing I could think of doing is to soak his finger (and tube) in some rubbing alcohol.

 

What doesn't show up in the photo is D's face as he wails about his dilemma. One of my endearing terms for D is Mr. Dramatic because it fits. Also, the poor dear was probably scared to death thinking he would spend the rest of his life with a tube of super glue on his finger.... or maybe something WORSE!

When his mom got home a few minutes later, she called the Advice Nurse to see what they knew. Fingernail polish remover with acetone was mentioned, but it could cause some irritation. Darius has sensitive skin, so that was a no-go. The next alternative was baby oil and yahoo... we had some. Well, we had a little.

We had just enough baby oil to cover the glued spot if the container was tipped in a certain way. It was, however, plenty of baby oil to soak the mattress and the front of D's shirt. Oh... and one of his mother's blouses. Ain't life fun?

The Group, as I sometimes call my daughter and grandsons, left and didn't return until evening. No tube on D's finger. Apparently the tube was stuck there all afternoon, but finally one of D's little friends helped him get it off. (Darius wasn't allowing any adult to try to remove it, no doubt thinking we would simply rip off his finger. It crossed my mind, but only once.) I don't know what happened to the tube of super glue. I'm guessing mom probably threw it away.

Retro Retribution - A Magpie Tale

19 year old Suzie hunched over the lamp scrubbing decades of grime out of the indentations as though she were digging for treasure. In fact it was treasure of sorts. Suzie had spotted the 1960s lamp in a secondhand store and squealed like a stuck pig, albeit a cute one. She was into ‘retro’ anything and this lamp was definitely retro. Except for the dirt.

Her first cleaning didn’t bring the results she had hope for, but the toothbrush was a perfect cleaning tool. It wasn’t long before the lamp looked almost new.

 

As she began putting away the cleaning supplies she heard her mother call from the bottom of the stairs.

“Dinner’s ready.”

“Okay. Be right there.”

After putting the small bucket and detergent under the bathroom sink she quickly put the toothbrush under running water for all of two seconds before putting it back into the toothbrush holder.

So my dear brother… remember my blouse you used to wipe off the engine of your car? she thought to herself. Well, I do. And revenge IS sweet. I don’t care what they say.

(Each week Willow, over at Magpie Tales, posts a picture as a writing prompt. Go check out the poems and stories by going here.)

The Watering Can

 
Wanda posted a photo of some watering cans and a few of us decided to try to "capture" them. I laid the trap but the can skittered by me. No "capture" today, but it was entertaining. For a while.

Check out what others have done (so far) here. To see the source photograph, go here.

(Wanda had gotten the photo from Abe Lincoln. Unfortunately I don't have his blog link right now.)

Coffee

 
I have a new favorite, now. I was a Starbucks consumer (from grocery stores, not retail coffee shops) but I am now a Seattle's Best fan. Do not cry for me, Argin... Starbucks, because there is no need to feel rejected. At least not in the corporate sense of the word. Seattle's Best is a subsidiary of Starbucks.

(Seattle's Best history is interesting if you're bored and are curious about hearing how startup companies become national products. Check out Wikipedia's article.)

This month I managed to get a bag of both Starbucks and Seattle's Best coffees together. (I bought one, my daughter bought one.) This was the first time I could compare the coffees to each other, back to back. I typically use Starbucks and occasionally I have had Seattle's Best. (When its a case of needing to count each penny...Seattle's it is, otherwise its Starbucks. And this is because of the consistently good taste of Starbucks, not because I'm a designer snob.)

I remember the moment, the sensation, when I switched brands. It was much like today. I was sitting at the computer having a cup of coffee when I suddenly became conscious that the coffee was tasting especially good.

"yummmmm... this coffee is tasting especially good."

The next pot I made was Starbucks. It was fine. Nothing to complain about. The following day it was back to Seattle's Best.

"yummmm... this coffee is tasting especially good."

That's when I knew for sure... I'm a Seattle's Best fan, now.

I don't think Seattle's Best is available nation wide currently, but if you wanted to try it, I suspect online ordering is available. Do not misunderstand things, though, I'm just voicing a personal preference based on my personal taste buds which may be different than yours. I'm just saying....

oh... oh... speaking of coffee, I have a little fun with iced coffee when the boys are around. They see the dark liquid in the glass with lots of ice cubes. The glass shimmers with beads of condensation. It looks good to me, so I know its gotta look delicious to the boys.

"Is that pop, gramma?"

"ah, ah, why no, its not. Its iced coffee."

"hmmm. It sure looks like pop."

"Well, do you want to taste it?"

"Yes."

And thats the fun... watching their faces squinch all up when they taste it.

"Yuck."

And because they're such bright young boys, the second one still takes a drink, too. You know. Just to make sure.

A Studio at Last - A Magpie Tale

 
Sarah sat at the drawing table and looked about the room. She had worked hard to remove the bedroom furniture. Thank goodness it hadn’t involved stairs. The furniture was now waiting in the garage, its fate unknown.

In its place sat a drawing table lined up parallel to the window for the light. Of course it wasn’t the famous ‘northern exposure’ artists were suppose to seek, but Sarah felt fortunate just having a studio, period. In the corner stood a large wooden easel waiting for duty. A few random paint splotches rested on the frame, proving it had been used at least once.

Two shelves sat side by side against one wall holding Sarah’s art books, pads of various sized paper and colored pencils, pastels, all the little supplies one picks up over the years. The overflow sat around the room on the floor.

Sarah turned back to the table and pulled out one of the sharpened pencils from their container. A large piece of paper sat directly in front of her. She looked at its huge blankness. It was so damn white!

She tentatively made a few pencil marks.

Three hours later Sarah still sat at the drawing table, a blank whiteness still staring at her. In the wastepaper basket near her feet were four crumpled pieces of drawing paper. She finally stood up, threw the pencil against the wall and walked out of the room mumbling sarcastically to herself.

“Just follow your passion. What if you don’t have any passion? What then!”

“Just express yourself. Yeah, right… gawd damn it!”

“I’ve been painting since I could pick up a brush, blah blah blah. Well good for you. Aren’t you special!”

When she reached the end of the short hall the sarcasm was gone. Sarah went into the kitchen. “Well, I think I can fix dinner okay… but we’ll have to wait and see, won’t we.”

She opened the freezer and grabbed a TV dinner.


This is an entry to Magpie Tales' weekly challenge. You should go check it out here.

Work of Art - Bravo TV

Did you happen to see the premier of the show Work of Art: the next great artist last night on Bravo TV? Its a reality show set up like Trump's The Apprentice, except its showcasing artists. (although it looks like the boardroom is a gallery.) Sarah Jessica Parker is the exec producer.

If you missed it, you can watch the episode on your pc (45 minutes)... check it out here. (I had to do some searching to find where to click for the full episode, but it could just be me. They also have it separated into individual video segments, too, about 7 minutes at a time. Either way, you are forced to watch some commercials, but I'm just glad its available to view. Thank you, Dove.)

They have all levels of artists.... professional, probably students, a self-taught artist, etc. Plus a wide range of personalities. Of course, one of them has been assigned to be the one everyone hates. The one that makes you turn on the show to see if she got her butt kicked, figuratively speaking. No matter what she does artwise, she'll last a few episodes to help with ratings. (Based on what she created, I thought she should have been send home first, but I don't disagree with the judges choice, either.)

I thought I'd just spread the word about the show a little.

Still Missing

 
Seven year old Kyron Horman is still missing after a week. Today is day 8 in the search for him. Perhaps you've seen a quick mention of it on the national news. You probably won't hear about it again for a while because the national news staff have left. There's nothing to report on because the authorities are keeping quiet. They have from the start and its the first reason one would have to wonder what the hell is going on?

The whole thing seems very strange. Very strange, indeed.

Kyron was last seen by his stepmom as he was walking down the hallway towards his classroom after they had both gone thru a science fair at the school. The mom had taken a picture of Kyron standing next to his entry in the fair. (His display was about tree frogs. I'm guessing some of you might wonder.) Apparently he never made it to his classroom and the substitute teacher marked him absent. It wasn't until Kyron didn't get off the school bus that afternoon when they realized he was missing. The mom called the school right away and then called the police. The search was started immediately.

They are only allowing certified searchers to work the case. The area is in a semi rural area, some places are very rugged and they don't want Joe Public to get lost or hurt themselves.

The parents are "cooperating fully" which, I think, is police talk for they are not people of interest. I read a comment of someone who said they knew the family and it was a very loving situation.

The police hold press conferences every day to state that the search continues and they have no comments. They aren't sharing any information. Its all vague. For example they may say something like this: "We are searching specific areas as well as the general area around the school." That tells you nothing. (They have searched the school three times.)

We also have not seen the parents at all. They finally gave a statement that was read by the police officer who has been staying with them. Apparently they aren't appearing in public because they want to keep the focus on Kyron and not them. Okay.

The police claim it is still a missing-child search but their actions scream criminal case. Very little has been mentioned about the biological mother. I seem to have the impression that she lives in another state, but I don't know that for sure. And the authorities have interviewed her... but that's all we've heard about the birth mom.

After 8 days, I'm hoping for an abduction. That would mean there is still a chance that Kyron is still alive and hopefully being taken care of... by someone who is not crazy. (Odds of that last part being true is slim.)

Little Kyron has touched a bunch of hearts around here. Even the police get emotional at times. I hope there's a break in the case soon.

Rain

Rain. Its raining. Its been raining. Its been raining for months!! Did I mention how wet it is? Rain. Rain. Rain. What's the forecast for tomorrow? Rain. Gasp... no! You mean its going to rain again, and again, and again.

Its been so wet around here we've got mushrooms growing every where.

 

 

I know nothing about mushrooms except that some will kill, some will taste wild (aka dirt), and some will take you on a trip from which you may or may not return. I'm not much of a risk taker either, so I will leave them alone.

I'm just tossing this photo in because I haven't posted it yet and I've got nothing else to share.

 

Coming next: whining about hot weather. Stay tuned. Film at 11.

Miscellaneous Monday... again

 
 
I wanted to try my hand at foreshortening.

This little sketch pad caught my eye... first it was because of the square shape, then I felt the paper. Its heavier than regular paper so it will take a light wash better.

Yesterday it stopped raining for about 5 minutes. During that time my five & six yr old grandsons grabbed the squirt bottle and ran outside, cause you know, the grass needed more water. They forgot a couple of things out there when they came in; they remembered them right when we were having a hard downpour. "Gramma! (gasp) The skateboard is still out there!!" I don't think I need to describe their stunned looks when they were allowed to go get the toys. In the rain. In the hard rain. "But it was a warm wet."

They really enjoyed that... running like crazy in the rain. They were all smiles and giggles when they dashed back inside. Ah, the small things. Try to get away with that when they're teenagers. "Oh Look... its pouring. Lets go play in the rain, whadda ya say, guys? Guys?"

ohmygawd, you know you're old when you turn into one of those crones who fall asleep mid-sentence. I did that on Saturday. It wasn't mid-sentence, but I was in the middle of a Big Boggle game. I was trying to spot words, I was actively using my mental abilities... sort of, and next thing I know my friend is calling my name. I had fallen asleep. (00) I repeat... OH. MY. GAWD!!! I'm blaming it on the allergy pill had I taken. The non-drowsy kind. And it had nothing to do with being bored. (I managed to lose the game by two points. If I had been awake, well, it would have been a different outcome.) Now I'm going to forget this whole incident. It shouldn't take long.

Hope you had a good weekend, cause another one is coming up in five days.

Art Masks

I watched Oregon Art Beat last night and saw a segment about Deb Fisher, Maskmaker extraordinaire. Check out her web site here.

There's a video available of the tv segment HERE if you wanted to watch it. (I don't think it will be available for long.)

If you have a few minutes, check her out. The masks are fantastic!

The Fancy Shoes - A Magpie Tale

 82 year old Annie sat quietly at her small kitchen table looking down at the old shoes that lay haphazardly on the floor.

Looks like I waited too long, doesn’t it, sis Annie thought. Soon she was lost in her memories.

Her older sister Susie had been sunshine personified. There wasn’t a room she didn’t light up, there wasn’t a stranger she didn’t get to know. A cynic didn’t stand a chance. Suzie brought about a new hope for the human species.

Annie remembered when Susie was able to finally buy the open-toed slings that now lay on the floor in front of her. Back then you didn’t waste hard earned money on fancy shoes. There was a war going on and money was tighter than tight. You were expected to do without for the war effort.

And Susie did her part just like everyone else in those hard times. But when she saw these particular shoes in the window of Viter’s Shoes and Boots, she became obsessed. She had to have them for the final dance of high school. It was her last hoorah as a young lady. After the dance, she was expected to take her place in the adult world and get married. She would be expected to wear sensible shoes and practical clothing, to become a serious and responsible adult. Susie was willing to do that… but after the dance. Until then, these beautiful shoes represented the existence of possibilities.

Her sister worked hard to earn the money for the shoes. She put in extra hours on her part time job at the drug store whenever she had the chance. She became a popular babysitter who was liked by the children as well as the parents. Susie even hired out as housecleaner a few times, but she wasn’t a good one. She tried, but housework wasn’t something she took to naturally. No one minded, though, because she was such excellent company on boring afternoons.

Susie was finally able to buy the shoes in time for the “Big Dance.” She looked beautiful and the fancy shoes were perfect. They were sophisticated yet fun. They made her feel glamorous. Susie and her boyfriend Teddy Spencer were the hit of the dance. It couldn’t have been any other way.

It was a week later when Teddy was drafted. It wasn’t a surprise. All the young men were being drafted.

The other shoe had finally dropped, so to speak. There was a tearful goodbye but Susie held up well. Once Teddy left for boot camp, Susie put up her fancy open toed shoes. “I’ll wear you again to dance, but not until the war is over and Teddy is safely back home.” And she put them up on the closet shelf.

And not to worry, because Susie was able to dance in her fancy shoes again. Teddy made it back home and all in one piece. He had emotional issues that typically accompany war, but he seemed to be adjusting as well as could be expected. It wasn’t long before Teddy and Susie had set the date for their wedding, but for efficiency sake they ended up eloping. Most people secretly felt a sense of relief. It was less stressful and certainly less expensive.

In the mean time, Annie’s boyfriend Billy Johansson had been drafted and still remained over seas somewhere secret. It was assumed that they, too, would marry when he returned. It’s what was expected of you.

One day when Annie was visiting Susie she did something she thought she would never have done. She stole something. She stole something from Susie. Annie had noticed the shoebox sitting in the back of the closet on the shelf and she took Susie’s fancy shoes. In her childishness, Annie wanted to have the shoes to wear when her boyfriend returned from the war like Teddy did.

“I’ll wear you when I dance with Billy after the war is over” Annie made the same promise to the shoes. “Please just bring him back safe and sound.”

But Billy never returned. He was killed in action. The news was hard to take. Everyone in the small town grieved for him as they did for all the servicemen like him. It was hard on Annie too, of course. The promise made to the fancy shoes hadn’t worked to keep Billy safe like it had Teddy. The shoes were forgotten in the grief.

Life has a habit of moving along even if you’re not looking. Each sister went through the same ups and downs as everyone else; there were marriages, divorces, children, grandchildren, good health/poor health. Throughout the years, each time Annie would pack to move she would come across Susie’s fancy shoes and make herself a promise to return them. And each time, because life can be so hectic, she would forget. Now it was too late. Susie was the first sister to die.

“I waited too long, didn’t I. I’m sorry” Annie said to the room. “I’m going to ask that I be buried wearing your fancy shoes. I hope you don’t mind, Susie.”

Annie stood up and started to put on the shoes so she could dance in them, but stopped midway. Oh no I don’t. I have better sense than that! I’m not going to put these on so I can fall and break a hip. Annie had always been the practical one.

As she picked up the shoes again and shuffled out of the kitchen Annie began to sing to herself.

“He makes the company jump when he plays reveille….
He’s the boogie-woogie bugle boy of Company B…

A-toot a-toot diddle-ee-ada-toot…
He blows it eight to the bar……. “


(Check out Magpie Tales for more entries in Willow's weekly writing challenge.)

Well Fine Then!

I'm having a crappy day. A crappy day, week, month, year. Everything is ticking me off. The damn air is even ticking me off, truth be told. Its too humid and wet.

Bloggers that I've read every day are leaving bloggerland. They start off with "taking a break" and before you know it, they're signing off for good. Another one bit the dust today for me. And just because it was another damn straw, I deleted their bookmark so even if they change their mind, its too late. That'll show 'em!

I finally thought of something to write for Magpie Tales (the shoes)... got to the end of the first sentence and the rug rats started making their demmands for the day. Now their very breathing makes me growl under my breath. However, soon they will be taken away to the babysitters. (I refused to babysit when mom goes to work. Its my only alone time.) I might get 5 hours to myself. Just enough time to clean up after everyone. If I put my mind to it.

Sigh.

Miscellanous Monday

 
This picture is a still from the movie Under the Tuscan Sun. (I got it from Hooked On Houses) I like it and thought it might be make an interesting painting. I seem to have a thing for the type of robe she is wearing. (Surely there must be a better word to use than robe, but it escapes me at the present. I'm so not into "fashion.") I'm guessing it comes from seeing some old 1930s movies with glamerous women wearing them. When I've tried wearing one I would just get the sleeves caught on door knobs and skillet handles. I would also get the sleeves wet by either drifting it across a full cup of coffee or over a sink full of water.

I'm getting over a messy head cold. Now I may be just dealing with allergies. Colds and allergies are basically the same, except one is contagious and the other isn't. Messy, either way.

My car is sitting on a flat. I'm not sure how I'm going to deal with this situation yet. If someone had their shit together they would have already joined AAA.

Weekend television programming (network channels) really sucks.

I wonder if my camera still works.

Time for my second cup of coffee.

55 Words

She looked in the mirror.

“Where did I go?” she whispered. “What happened to that beautiful, intelligent woman I use to be?”

The image returned her stare with the same look that she was feeling. Disappointed confusion.

You’ve got to be kidding, the answering thought persisted. I’m still here. You’ve just got me buried. Alive!

DISCLAIMER: This is a fictional piece for '55 Flash Fiction Friday', where participants are required to tell a story in 55 words. If you give it a go, be sure to go tell g-man.

In An Ideal World

 
 
 
I'd be beautiful and wealthy in an ideal world. But face it, that ain't gonna happen.

Every child needs to come with a control panel. A control panel and a user instruction manual. Its ridiculous to give us total responsibility for a living creature and no training or anything. Ridiculous, seriously.

Wouldn't it be great if they had control panels?

On/Off switch, of course. This would be available, but hopefully would go unused. On, you have a living creature. Off, you have a doll.

Volume control. An absolute MUST HAVE option. It would include a mute button, of course.

Stand-by Mode. Same as being asleep, but will perk up immediately upon being awakened.

Reset Button. Basically, a do-over. Child has made a great mistake and heads will roll, unless the reset button is pushed.

Upgrade Button. As child matures, different options are made available.

I suspect there may be a lot more options needed that I haven't thought of, but this is what might work.

The Blue Willow Plate - A Magpie Tale

Magpie Tales posts a visual prompt each week and invites others to write a short story or a poem about it. Check it out here.

 

The two older women sat across from one another at the small kitchen table, coffee cups close at hand. With just a slight turn of their heads they could each view the sunny courtyard on the other side of the twin windows. It was going to be one of those rare perfect days. Warm, but not too hot.

“How are you holding up?”

Annie looked up at her friend Ruth and slowly shook her head. “If I have to move one more time I think I’ll just…."

She didn’t know what she’d do if she had to move again so she let her answer drift off unfinished.

“They always say they’ll help, but they don’t. My seven year old grandson Tommy was more help than all of them combined.”

Ruth nodded her head in agreement. She knew exactly what Annie meant. The younger generation seemed to abhor physical labor. Their intentions were sincere and true, but they all had lousy follow-thru.

“Where is Tommy?” Ruth asked.

“He’s next door playing. They have a couple of kids around Tommy’s age, which is handy. Now he’ll have something to do when he comes over to visit. Grace is going to pick him up later tonight.”

Annie put her hands on the tabletop and pushed her stiff body up, joints creaking. “Gawd, I’m too friggin old for this shit!” she muttered as she shuffled over to the counter. Every muscle yelled at her. She moved the sugar canister and grabbed the pint of brandy from behind it.

“Want some meds?” she asked, waving the bottle a little.

They each poured a little brandy in their coffee. Annie started quietly singing as she added some sugar to her cup.

“Just a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down, medicine go down… “

Ruth inspected the room.

“Looks like you’ve got everything put up or put away.” She turned her head to look at the whole room again. “Where’s your great grandmother’s plate?”

Ruth was talking about the blue willow plate Annie had always guarded with her life. The one Annie’s mother had handed down to her with great ceremony.

“I don’t have to worry about it any more.”

Ruth’s question displayed on her face. “huh?”

“Well, I was in my bedroom and Tommy was helping by putting things in their proper room. I heard this loud crash and rushed out to the living room to find Tommy standing over a pile of blue and white shards. He was paralyzed with fear. He knew how important that plate was to me.”

“oh no” gasped Ruth.

“Oh Ruthie… you should have seen his poor little face. He looked like someone had just told him that he had killed Bambi!”

“Ohmygawd… what did you do?”

“What could I do? I said Thank you."

Ruth just stared.

“I told him Thank You! I’ve been worrying about that plate for years and years. Now I’m free. Thank you very much! I don’t have to worry about it any more.”

A small smile spread across Ruth’s face as Annie continued.

“I made him clean up the mess, of course, then we walked around the corner to the little café and had a treat. Afterwards Tommy looked at me very seriously and said if I ever needed anything else broken to just let him know and he’ll take care of it for me. I thought that was very sweet of him.”

The two old ladies chuckled as they lifted their cups to toast Annie’s finest hour as a grandmother. And to bid farewell to the blue willow plate.

Promoting a Charity

I don't usually promote a charity but I came across this site and it struck me as a terrific idea. 800 Charity Cars. Check them out HERE. They help struggling families with transportation in the form of giving them their own cars. It looks like they accept cars or you can donate money (scroll to the bottom of the home page for $$ donation link.)

If you don't have a car to donate now, maybe you can bookmark it. Later, when your neighbor is trying to figure out how to unload his hooptie you can come to his rescue and give him the link.

I just know from personal experience how difficult it is to raise a family without personal transportation. Doctor appmts, emergencies, getting to the stores with the best sales... sometimes just getting out of the house for a short drive to keep a mother from leaping off Insanity Ledge.

(for those who may not be familar with a "hooptie", just think of a car costing $500 or less.)

Untitled - Another Magpie Tale

Check out Magpie Tales here.

 

The room was dim. The light from the computer monitor was the only illumination. The old woman put on her reading glasses and leaned in closer to the monitor.

What the hell… she thought to herself.

She sat back and continued looking at the image on the screen. A slow grin appeared.

What kind of weirdness is this? Geesh, Willow likes to set a good challenge, doesn't she. Crazy woman. Where does she get these images from anyway?

The woman, hair askew, leaned forward again to study the image as she tried to think of a story line.

“Fried eggs, anyone?”

“Wait a minute… I wanted my eggs scrambled!”

None of them worked for her.

Well, that’s okay, the wrinkled woman thought to herself. Its all voluntary and I just won’t volunteer this week.

Without moving her body, the woman turned her head slightly to the right and stared over her shoulder at her readers. “Okay… then you do it. You write a tale. Just let me know by leaving a comment. I want to see what YOU come up with. K?”