Monthly Archives: November 2014

Let It Snow

This is just going to be babbling, so ignore it if you choose. The snow that came up the east coast on Wednesday into Thursday was joined by some unpredicted snow over Thursday night. That meant I had more snow than I had counted on to clean off my car this morning. And what this has all led me to is the conclusion that the primary reason for my isolation and being a hermit is not indeed because of my depression, but because of the damn weather. There is very little incentive to go out in frigid weather, freezing one’s fingers off trying to clear snow from a car, just to go run errands. With the miracle of the internet, one can easily stay home and have everything delivered.

Ahem, this is pure sophistry. I have workshops and physical therapy to attend to. I must go to the bank on occasion. And there is church, though it is not quite as attractive now that the labyrinth is under enough snow that its trail is harder to discern. The woe is caused by the misery of getting to all these places after the carefree summer. It’s like going to a very strict boarding school after a wild vacation. It’s like having to eat liver cooked to death with onions and mushrooms after having the world’s best hot fudge sundae over the world’s best cookies and cream ice cream. This simile thing is fun. I wonder how many others I can come up with. This is one of the amusing parts of staying at home. One can play with words and symbols and poetical forms with wild abandon. I should tell you that I managed to write a double dactyl that was not snarky or sarcastic but laudatory. Of course the subject was Gandhi, so it wasn’t that hard.


Wunditly, punditly
Gandhi, enlightened one,
Made salt at seaside and
People felt strife

Never religious dis-
Hunger strike sickened him
Gun took his life.

So some good can come from snow after all. Unless of course you all hate the poem.

Sh*t People Need to Stop Saying to Deaf and Hard of Hearing People Immediately – Mic

This is a wonderful piece about a video made by a deaf woman, talking about the things it is not okay to say to a deaf person. My mom was mostly deaf, and we teased her miserably but with love. The things these idiots are saying to a deaf woman are not okay.

Sh*t People Need to Stop Saying to Deaf and Hard of Hearing People Immediately – Mic.

Get Your Mug On

Any Princess Bride fans out there? You might like this satirical mug if you enjoy that morning joe!

Mommy Needs Wine, Not Whine


About time, right? I know, I hate waiting, too.

 Order your Inigo Montoya mugs now!!! If ordered by November 30, they will arrive in time for Christmas! After that date, I can no longer promise holiday delivery.

US only, folks. Sorry.

Get Your Mug On Here

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I just tried to post a comment on a friend’s blog. He’s on Blogspot, not wordpress. As I was finishing up, it asked me how I wanted to sign it, and I decided to use my wordpress account. I hit that option, put in my user name as requested, and received a notice that I did not own that name. When I went back to try to sign in with Google+ instead, my post had been deleted as by someone fraudulent. Obviously, the wordpress id was correct, since I’m here now and ranting. I was only trying to encourage my friend to write some more because I loved his first pentology and wanted some more. But wordpress got in the way. I am not amused.

Daily Prompt: Cousin It

We all have that one eccentric relative who always says and does the strangest things. In your family, who’s that person, and what is it that earned him/her that reputation?

What should I do if we all qualify? There is not a normal, mainstream character in the family, at least not in my generation. At least as far as I know, since they all wrote me off earlier this year, so I wrote them off too. But I do have a great story about my father’s parents and my grandmother’s parents.

My grandparents grew up in midwestern Canada, probably Manitoba. They were from different sides of the tracks, and she was the one from the hoity-toity family. We’re talking the late 1800s. They fell in love and waited for her parents to come around to the idea. And waited. And waited. In their early forties, they married without her family’s blessing and had two sons, my uncle first and then my father. When my uncle was born, my grandmother took him to her family’s house and knocked on the door. This story is probably apocryphal, but my greatgrandfather answered the door and stood there silent. My grandmother said that she thought he and her mother might like to see their first grandson.

Her father replied, and this is what is questionable, “I don’t have a child. How could I have a grandchild?” And he shut the door.

MY grandmother went on to die in the 1918 flu epidemic, and I have one picture of my grandfather with his two sons. He died a few years later, and my uncle always hinted it was a suicide.

The two boys went to live with cousins, where they were treated like second class citizens. Only one cousin was nice to them, and I was honored by getting her name.

So there’s a lot of cruelty on that side of the family, but my father loved children passionately. He would have had a dozen if my mother had not forced him to stop. As it was, I was the last and an accident. My mother later told me that they never figured out if they didn’t get the diaphragm in right on New Year’s Eve, or whether they forgot it completely, but I came along about 9 months later, and my mother had three children under the age of two and a half.

My father died nine and a half years later, and we only had occasional contact with the Canadian relatives, usually limited to summers in Vermont. My uncle was harsh and strict with his son, and my cousin was harsh and strict with his kids. They are also estranged from me.

Sorry, I digressed a little. But the romantic love of my grandparents, their refusal to give each other up, has been a clarion call to all the other generations down through the ages that true love is possible, even though it may last only a short time.

Strange exercise in class

I’m sitting in my  creative writing class and we have just watched the episode from the Twilight Zone of An Occurrence at Owl Bridge, based on an Ambrose Bierce short story. Set, as many of Bierce’s are, in the civil war, it shows a hanging of a rebel by Union soldiers. If you haven’t read the story or seen the short film (maybe half an hour) I strongly commend it. The interesting thing is that we are using it as a prompt of sorts.

If you’ve been following my blog, you will not be surprised to learn that I have written a double dactyl in response. I am writing this as the professor is waiting for us to finish up, and I will tell you the poem and his reaction after they have happened.

Well, he wasn’t surprised I wrote a double dactyl and saved it until last to be read. Which I suppose is an honor, but who knows. Here it is:

Wisherly, fisherly
Payton was hanging there
Union men planned to kill
Rebel with cause

Rope was all broken up
Payton ran home again
Rope gives him pause

It will make sense if you look up either the story or the Twilight Zone episode. It won the Cannes Film Festival award for best short film in 1962.

Daily Prompt: Waiting Room

“Good things come to those who wait.” Do you agree? How long is it reasonable to wait for something you really want?

It depends on what it is. I want many things I will never have, but the desire for these things fuels my writing, where I can have them and so much more. On the other hand, waiting for a bus, even in the shelter, can be a bear in winter, and the patience wears thin in just a few minutes. We live in a world of acquisitiveness and excess consumerism. I don’t need anything that world can foist on me. Black Friday? Who cares?

And then there are the changes that come too fast, like shopping on Thanksgiving Day.  Nope, not going there. Christmas decorations up the day after Halloween. Not my cup of tea. The whole world has gone crazy with this cupidity, this desire to have and acquire. And to have to have it right now, whomever it discommodes. Even the fanatics in the religious world have to have it right now. Either the Caliphate or the Second Coming, take your pick.

Acquisitiveness is a double edged sword. When you get something new, the newness wears off and you need a new target. So you can be satisfied, but it’s temporary. It’s like a hamster running full tilt on its wheel in its cage. But give him a liberty ball and he can see the world, and lie down and sleep when he’s had enough. If we had learned that lesson, it would be okay. But look at the ads on tv and the social media circus which gives new meaning to “keeping up with the Joneses next door.”

Thank you, I will wait, as patiently as possible, for things to come to fruition. Baby steps of progress are fine with me. I will use my time well while waiting, so I can start waiting for the next thing, when the first thing comes in. It improves the mind and chastens the soul. The world should try it.