In California, New York, and some parts of New England there have been signs posted at places like Costco and Sams Club rationing bulk items such as rice and other staples according to the “buyers previous purchasing record”.
If you are not old enough to remember these from history:
Perhaps you can imagine an updated design for new ones in the near future.
When is the last time you really thought about your fingernails?
I keep my nails trimmed short because I paint, sometimes play the guitar, pet my cat, and because hygiene is one of those things that enhances the quality of my life.
Lee Redmond, a woman in Salt Lake City must not play guitar (and hopefully, does not have a cat that likes to be scratched behind the ears).
Her fingernails are a world record at over 24 and a half feet!
This is her:
Shridhar Chillal went 48 years without trimming his nails and they grew to over 20 feet long!
This is him:
Okay, now, what do you think these two would do if they had to live together?
Seems like a house work nightmare to me (who would do the dishes?).
My brain is whirling with possible movies that could be made and tragic insurance claims that could ensue and ridiculous feats of manicurical proportions. Not to mention, health issues (I shall not go there).
I am thankful for my own fingernails and my shiny, sterile nail clippers.
It is raining outside and I am in a stay-at-home-in-my-jammies-mood-of-malfunction.
After making coffee this morning I discovered my half and half had half the have and I have to have half and half or I cannot have coffee because I am a Cream-a-Donna.
This morning I borrowed a bit of milk from my friend and neighbor, Jack. He lives downstairs from me so I crept down the stairs in my fluffy robe and fuzzy slippers for the precious moo juice that would ease the bitterness of my coffee and the dark cloud that was my attitude.
I was not caught by anyone who was dressed appropriately in the stairwell. I snuck down each step and made it all the way to Jack’s refrigerator in which he so graciously had a gallon of brand new milk.
I did not even get noticed by anyone that would recognize me and be all “Hi Lea!” and be all sneakin’-up-on-me-in-my-jammies-tryin’-to-get-together-a-damn-cup-of-coffee-so-I-can-get-on-with-my-life-before-anybody-discovers-the-real-me-before-coffee gives-me-back-my-soul-in-the-morning, and they would be all “Hey, how ya doin’ today, Lea?” and try to have some kinda swell chit chat with a demon woman while she growled in fluffy slippers on her way to sneakin’ down the hall for cream.
It is very fortunate on account of my mood of malfunction is pretty scary when somebody is used to seeing a cheerful lady in the hall after her coffee.
So, I muddled through the much appreciated coffee with milk, still longing for real half and half, but just sooo thankful for at least a cup of Jo.
It was enough to make me almost friendly but not so much as to inspire me to go out to the store in the rain.
Now, it’s about 3pm.
I’m still in my fluffy robe.
I just answered the door ten minutes ago.
It was Jack.
He had raindrops on his Fedora hat.
He reached up from his Electric Wheel Chair to hand me a quart of Half and Half and said “I was going to the store anyway.” as he flashed me a magnificent smile.
My slippers are not the only thing that is fuzzy right now.
One of my brothers lives in Oklahoma. I spoke to him on the phone yesterday to make sure he was not one of the folks who have been tragically effected by the tornados ripping through that area.
He is fine and I am thankful.
It is being said that this is the worst tornado season in ten years.
Also, with the Earthquake in China, the Cyclone in Burma, and a treacherous week of catastrophe for so many, my heart goes out to those who have lost loved ones, been injured, and are scrambling to find food and shelter in the wake of devastation.
I am thankful for the safety of my brother as I feel sympathy for so many sisters (and others) who cannot feel that way this morning.
By Julia Ward Howe 1870
and it is still very relevant today…
“Mother’s Day Proclamation”
Arise, then, women of this day!
Arise, all women who have hearts,
Whether our baptism be of water or of tears!
Say firmly:
“We will not have great questions decided by irrelevant agencies,
Our husbands will not come to us, reeking with carnage, for caresses and applause.
Our sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn
All that we have been able to teach them of charity, mercy and patience.
We, the women of one country, will be too tender of those of another country
To allow our sons to be trained to injure theirs.”
From the bosom of the devastated Earth a voice goes up with our own.
It says: “Disarm! Disarm! The sword of murder is not the balance of justice.”
Blood does not wipe out dishonor, nor violence indicate possession.
As men have often forsaken the plough and the anvil at the summons of war,
Let women now leave all that may be left of home for a great and earnest day of counsel.
Let them meet first, as women, to bewail and commemorate the dead.
Let them solemnly take counsel with each other as to the means
Whereby the great human family can live in peace,
Each bearing after his own time the sacred impress, not of Caesar,
But of God.
In the name of womanhood and humanity, I earnestly ask
That a general congress of women without limit of nationality
May be appointed and held at someplace deemed most convenient
And at the earliest period consistent with its objects,
To promote the alliance of the different nationalities,
The amicable settlement of international questions,
The great and general interests of peace.
ALSO: for a rerun of “Thank you for The Mother of my Invention” click the following link…
THANK YOU FOR THE MOTHER OF MY INVENTION
Free Bird
free lunch
free from harm
toll free
the first one is free
free credit report
free time
buy one get the second one free
nuclear free zone
free wi-fi
free falling
freecell (card game)
free exchange
free shot
free drinks for the pretty (which is everybody after three drinks)
free downloads
free hand
free sample
home free
free will
free of debris
free advice
free Republic
free ride
free to speak
free love
free press
free puppy to good home
free minutes on your cell phone
care free
free lesson
free rent
free thinkers
breathing free
free hugs
free poster on faces of bellingham©
break ups
break downs
break through
break wide open
breaking bread together
coffee breaks
breaking clouds
break a trail
commercial breaks
break in the conversation
“your voice is breaking up”
break waters
lucky breaks
break dancing
break wind
prison breaks
breaks in the music
breaking away
breaking down an idea or concept
breakfast
break even
break the barrier
break in the circuit
break formation
break a habit
break a sweat
break into portions
break a code
break through security
break a leg
breaking ground
break into a smile
break the ice
make a break for it
and…
Break out of a rut!
I just returned home from Kaelin Glazier’s memorial in Southern Oregon.
It was a confusing emotional experience that left me unsettled and sad for the loss of a precious fifteen year old girl who was a delightful example of innocence and joy.
The memorial was dominated by religious propaganda except for the few actual words about Kaelin spoken by her father Paul, her grandfather Otto, and her mom Kim.
I was disturbed by the attempt to assuage such great sorrow with impersonal references toward a certain organized religion and the agenda to penetrate my own soul with completely inappropriate songs about being “buried” in the ground and “the bride of Christ” and “the rose beneath the snow” and “the purpose of this life is only the seeds of a beautiful rose to bring us together in Christ, not the beauty itself”.
Kaelin’s middle name was Rose. She was the personification of beauty.
Her body was found in a field and she never got to bloom and she never got to be a bride to anyone, let alone the bride of Christ as though she was a sacrificed virgin to appease the Church and all it represented with its ostentatious amphitheater and mind numbing diatribe designed to create followers without questions or authentic feelings and thoughts of their own.
It felt like we were supposed to forget that Kaelin was a living breathing child with dreams and laughter and sweetness that will never be experienced again.
We were instructed to celebrate her death with “hallelujahs” because she was with Christ now.
I was offended and I felt like the “fellowship” leader made Kaelin disappear AGAIN.
I felt like this was the kind of denial and insidious brainwashing that oppresses humanity.
Even elephants honor their dead. They visit burial sites and poke through remains as though they recognize that one of them has passed.
I am not an expert on Loss or Grief but I have experienced it enough to know that it is not something that withstands denial for long.
I am reminded of those I respect immensely for demonstrating amazing strength to honor lost loved ones so that we may honor them as well.
My friend Linda honors her son Owen, reminds us daily of what an amazing young man he was, speaks of him so we can remember how much we loved him and that he is a part of us.
Paul spoke of his daughter, Kaelin in this way. He spoke her name, talked about her eyes, the joy she spread, and the delight of her existence among us who will never forget her.
Otto, her 93 year old grandfather stood before this congregation that would have us look through the veil of their prosthletizing, ripped the veil back and spoke of Kaelin and told real stories about a real girl who’s life was not saved by being a member of a church that would have us celebrate her death.
WE did it!
I am about to embark on a road trip with my pal, Karma.
The destination is for a very sad occasion but the road trip from Bellingham, Washington to Ashland, Oregon should be interesting because Karma and I know when to talk, when to be quiet, and when to laugh so hard we have to pull over.
With the present petroleum situation, road trips are generally a thing of the past.
I have had many amazing and memorable road trips in my past.
Some of them took a day, some a couple weeks, and some a down right adventure of meandering without a time limit.
Just a few of my most memorable road trips…
In a Ford Pinto from Chicago to Los Angeles where a transvestite stole my shoes (with Paul)
In a Dodge Dart from Michigan to Oregon and almost back to Michigan until the drive shaft fell out in Tuscaloosa, Alabama (with Stephan)
In a ‘68 Metro Step Van decorated like a hippy gypsy wagon, and then a tiny pick up truck with a leaky camper shell, following The Grateful Dead to Boreal Ridge to watch the moon pop up over the mountains behind the band while the crowd grooved on the Nature (with Brett)
Cruising in a shiny red convertible Le Baron onto an Indian Reservation to get my Grandfather’s papers and find my roots after checking out every possible beautiful spot this side of the Mississippi (with Beverly)
In a Volvo Sedan from Pasadena to Oregon where I threw a fit and flung an Ice cream cone out the window going over the Grapevine, for which I am still ashamed (with Karma)
In a Volvo Station wagon loaded with everything I own and someone else’s rocking chair from Sacramento to Baltimore to discover I can work pretty darn hard at making a happy home before I figure out that fairy tales don’t come true (this scenario is repeated a couple times but the names change to protect the ignorant)
In a speed demon Mazda from Petaluma to Malibu to pick up my paintings at an art gallery and be back by midnight (with Linda driving the whole way on seven cups of coffee)
In a UHaul truck from every point South and North and East and West moving Me, Linda, Karma, and various kitty cats to new homes while stressed out, sick with the flu, or excited about a new life and chain smoking cigarettes, singing silly songs, whining about having to pee, eating junk food, and bribing coffee baristas to give us coffee after closing time
And many solo adventures in road tripping that have taken me all over this country and allowed me to explore the beauty, the quietude, the people, and my own reflections on life while driving through rain storms, desert sunsets, crazy mountain ranges, endless corn fields, winding roads that end in a herd of sheep, chaotic one way streets in Urbanity, and miles of pavement that connects it all together.
Even if the day starts out less than optimum, we have the ability to “Turn ourselves around”.
Go ‘head, do the hokey pokey!
When I get a little too full of myself or feel like I have accomplished some great feat, I stop and do a background check.
This means I look at the folks in the background who helped me accomplish that feat or finish that project or get to that place of “self” fulfillment.
The folks in my background are the ones who taught me things, showed me I could do things, gave me encouragement, tools, and continuous support for my endeavors in all manner of ways.
These folks in the background, they don’t ask for credit or stand up and yell “You could not have done this without me!”
But most great things do not happen without them.
Some background people are completely satisfied with just knowing they helped someone.
Some background folks are just fine with being in the background. They do not need a lime light. They have all the light they need on the inside.
I think of all the amazing things in life that just would not happen without the folks in the background.
Have you done a background check lately?
I am doing one this minute.
Thank you.
I see you, and you should know I could not be me or do what I do without you.
There are some things we know about Hell and some things other folks would like us to believe about Hell.
We use Hell in our language as though we have been to Hell and back, as though we know all about it.
But what we really know is that it serves a purpose in our language when other words just will not do.
Some Examples:
Mad as Hell
A living Hell
Go to Hell
Aw Hell, Matilda…
Hell of a lot
To Hell with it
Hell hath no fury like…
Hell’s Bells
Hell on Earth
Going to Hell in a hand basket
Hells Kitchen
Hell, Michigan and Hell, Norway
Who the Hell took my…
What in Hell’s name…?
Farmer in the Hell (oh wait, that ain’t right)
Hell’s Angels
From the gates of Hell
Hot as Hell
Hell O Kitty
Where the Hell is Waldo
Like a bat outta Hell
Highway to Hell
Hell Hole
What the Hell happened to Baby Jane
Raising Hell
Give ‘em Hell
Hell money ( from China —and I don’t think this is a coincidence, considering our national economics these days)
The only thing I know for sure about this mysterious place that provides cult leaders with a tool to scare the bejeezus out of average folks is…
In Hell, there are no cupcakes.
The Edge: The outside LIMIT of an object, area, or surface.
So many people live on the edge of something;
addiction
poverty
collapse
isolation
bankruptcy
blissful ignorance
destruction
life
Can we get pushed to the edge, led to the edge, or dangled from the edge and still function as a society with our empathy and humanity in tact? For how long?
They say the view is better from the edge.
What do YOU see?
Keep in mind where you are standing when you get hypnotized by the expansive view.
Step away from the edge, Ma’am. (Hillary)
Maybe others will follow your lead.
When a person has Long hair, Long legs to shave, and Long days to wash off, a shower that does not run out of hot water before the finish is mandatory.
My pal came over yesterday to borrow my shower because her hot water heater is limited. (She just moved into a new place and will remedy this soon)
I was reminded of all the times when a good shower is a glorious experience.
After camping in the wilderness for a week or two
After traveling in third world countries
After staying with hippies who only have an out house in the mountains but don’t care how you smell and love you anyway
After a stressful social event
After finishing a painting that you put your whole body into
After playing basketball
After talking to somebody that was just a little bit too creepy and kept staring at the wrong parts of your being
After hanging drywall
After climbing in an attic full of insulation
And just any time when we need to feel brand new and shiny, thanks for long showers.
(but try not to waste the water)
Rumors
Heresy
Gossip
Hunches
Propaganda
Opinions
Perceptions
Biases
There are so many things that can influence what we believe to be true.
How can we possibly KNOW when something is the truth?
What voice do we trust?
Even our own intuition is influenced by external factors most of the time.
Our life experiences guide what we pay most attention to.
What we pay most attention to is not always true.
But we sometimes settle for those things that are in our face.
I am thankful for those who are tenacious enough, and have the integrity to keep looking past the things that slap us in the face or hit us over the head.
I think maybe these truth seekers may be good conversationalists but they are generally folks that know enough to refrain from such distractions.
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