WHY IS OUR HAIR SO LINKED TO OUR SELF ESTEEM AND SEX?????

 

 

 

Kama Sutra Look at all that long lovely hair.

 

 

 I had my hair straightened today, well, now it was yesterday, for the first time in 8 or 9 years. Instead of going through that expensive, time lengthy, bore me to tears, treatment, I've been flat ironing my hair instead.  It works nicely.  Well, maybe except in Florida.  It kinda limits has some  limits.

If I do anything outside in the humidity or rain, it poufs out and or frizzes and ripples.  If I go into the pool for a dip, I have to wrap my hair around my head like a Sikh would  his turban.

Ridiculous. I know. That, however, seems to have become the adjective I've adopted for me and my theories.

Don't laugh. I'd rather be ridiculous than redundant,  or redonculous. That's not a real word, [at least not one in my old dictionaries,] but I like how it sounds. I also don't mind being recumbent.

 

I have been distressed about my hair since I was 12.  The styles then, were bouffant, but you still needed straight hair for it to stay nice and look right. Of course, thin straight hair probably wasn't so hot either, but I don't think at that age I had a whole lot of empathy for straight haired girls. Or anyone for that matter.  I learned to deal with it. Not well, but back then, I didn't have much choice.  *(AD) I did a home hair straightening at around age 17. It looked great for a day. Then I washed it and it was like someone had poured a bottle of glue on my head.  Hello short hair. It grew back.  Then I used to blow dry it with the contraptions we had then, that had a hose and a shower cap bonnet> I would dry my hair while it was wrapped around my head with two ginormous rollers as anchors at the top. Since my hair was thick, I had to repeat this procedure  in the other direction. This process took about three hours.

  Every day,  before leaving for school, I would dial the weather on the phone to check the humidity. If it was humid, I would wear a hat and tuck my hair under my coat or jacket. I was 16 and very insecure. Surprise! Thinking on it now, it may have been a coping mechanism due to the loss of my sister and my parent's marriage falling apart. And that too, is another story for another day.

 

 

More Current History

 

It was watching the Oprah show, that I first learned about the art of Japanese hair straightening.  OMG!   I was so psyched I couldn't contain my joy.  Unfortunately I had to. My hair was fairly short and I  had to wait several  really long months to grow my hair enough so it could be straightened.  But I did it. I even went for two consultations with places in Manhattan that Oprah had mentioned. I think I felt quite "chic" going to Oprah's actual suggestions.

And then I had it done. That, was a nightmare, but the results were worth it.

It felt weird at first. Seeing myself  with a smooth head. I felt shorter. It looked like something was missing. However,

I got used to it  and haven't been a frizz head since. I've either had it straightened or worn is super short, or ironed it.

 

LESS CURRENT HISTORY

 

When I was 15 the only way you could iron your hair was if you had an iron, an ironing board and a willing friend. It was rather dangerous, painful and not so effective. So I gave that up.

Me at age 14 and 18.

An Aside:

 

I also have flat feet. It's kind of related. I couldn't get comfortable high heels and got back problems and bunions from pronating. High heels are sexy, like hair.

 

FLIGHT OF FANCY

 

A few years ago, in this age of miracles, I began to wonder: how different would my life have been,had I had my mother's beautiful thick, straight hair and her high arches instead of dad's waves and flat feet.

 

 

Dad is on the bottom left, Mom is on the top right. Of course her hair was permed.

I  tried to believe that I would have had much more self esteem and so therefore my life would have been so much better.  I told you before I could be shallow. Given the skills my parents had, though,  I still would have felt like road kill regardless, but fantasies offer a taste of what could have been. In looking at this fantasy, I realized that I certainly was not alone with my concerns about my hair.

 

And so I began to think about how EVERYONE seems to have  concerns.

 

 

THE QUESTION: WHY AND HOW LONG HAVE HUMANS BEEN OBSESSED ABOUT THEIR APPEARANCES, ESPECIALLY WITH THEIR HAIR?????

 

From Wiki 

 

Throughout times, people have worn their hair in a wide variety of styles, largely determined by the fashions of the culture they live in. Hairstyles are markers and signifiers of social class, age, marital status, racial identification, political beliefs, and attitudes about gender.
In many cultures, often for religious reasons, women's hair is covered while in public, and in some, such as Haredi Judaism or European Orthodox communities, women's hair is shaved or cut very short, and covered with wigs.^[3] Only since the end of World War I have women begun to wear their hair short and in fairly natural styles.^[4]

The Venus of Brassempouy

Paleolithic

The oldest known reproduction of hair braiding lies back about 30,000 years: the Venus of Willendorf, now known in academia as the Woman of Willendorf, of a female figurine from the Paleolithic, estimated to have been made between about 28,000 and 25,000 BCE.^[5] The Venus of Brassempouy counts about 25,000 years old and indisputably shows hairstyling.
In Bronze Age razors were known and in use by some men, but not on a daily basis since the procedure was rather unpleasant and required resharpening of the tool which reduced its endurance.^[6]

Ancient history

In ancient civilizations, women's hair was often elaborately and carefully dressed in special ways. Women coloured their hair, curled it, and pinned it up (ponytail) in a variety of ways. They set their hair in waves and curls using wet clay, which they dried in the sun and then combed out, or else by using a jelly made of quince seeds soaked in water, or curling tongs and curling irons of various kinds.^[7][8]


So, we crazy beings have been doing our do's since time began. Pretty interesting if you ask me. Even if you didn't ask me. How would I know? You never write, you never call, you never comment. Therefore, you'll get what I want until you let me know what you want.

^{I just looked up the words hair and sex. I will only say that there did not appear to be any scholarly research on the subject.  There was mention of body hair which I will only touch upon , (or not) in trying to understand its evolutionary need. Things that didn't help us survive were shed along the way.  From what it looks like, a lot of that was full body hair. At least for most men. I'm not sure if I'll be able to find any research on this subject. If not. I'll just make it up. Using my extensive knowledge of psychology, people and bullshitting.}

 

              WIKI AGAIN

A special case of natural selection is sexual selection, which is selection for any trait that increases mating success by increasing the attractiveness of  potential mates.^[124] Traits that evolved through sexual selection are particularly prominent among males of several animal species. Although sexually favored, traits such as cumbersome antlers, mating calls, large body size and bright colors often attract predation, which compromises the survival , this survival disadvantage is balanced by higher reproductive success in males that show these hard-to-fake, sexually selected traits. 

 *  me, not Wiki.   Hard to fake. I like that. Wigs, comb overs, liposuction, penis extensions, face work.  No wonder we're producing so many individuals who could not actually survive on their own. Example. Man, aged 38, still living at mom's. Enough said.
Hmm..... They seemed to focus on the attractiveness of males. And, if you remember your biology, males of all other species are the more colorful and attractive of the two sexes.  It's only in humans that things got reversed.  Why did that flip?  Is it possible that  this is what happens to the species who has can think and has opposable thumbs.  Which you really, really need if you're combing or braiding your hair.


WHAT DOES ANY OF THIS MEAN OR HAVE TO DO WITH THE PRICE OF EGGS?

^{Nice pun and idiom. I'm patting myself on the back but you can't see me.}

 

 

^{America was built on Puritanical principles. Although we went through the sexual revolution in the 60's and 70's, I am old enough to be clueless about today's youth culture and their actual practices and attitudes about sex and reproduction. However, they still seem to be quite keen on hair.}

 

^{"I'm having a bad hair day"}

^{Given what you've just read, you might now understand why this is really an important, statement and not just some flippant remark.}

 

^{ACTUAL FACT}

^{I don't know if you realize that the first thing an individual notices about someone they meet, or see, is their gender. Not race which you might think would be first. Not even age.  It seem to register, almost unconsciously.}

 

^{It seems that we need to know how to classify this individual by their sex.}

^{This appears to be instinctive.}

 

^{Back to evolution and survival. I'm a cave man. I see you across the horizon. Are you friend or foe? I must know if I am to get out of this situation alive. Can I tell from the distance? I suppose if you are hairy all over and have facial hair and head hair, I better gear up.}

 

  ^{Hair, Dok*, stick with hair. I seem to have digressed upon the Serengeti.}

 

 ^{Hair is a symbol of virility and sexuality.}

^{Way back when, when I would have been decorating an actual cave, not just a man cave,  we were probably lucky to live to  be 20 or 25. Hair was therefore vital to passing down one's jeans. No, I meant  genes.  oops. I mean in having children before you died. That is of course assuming you can't have children after you've died. Well, you can now, but you couldn't then. Unless those ice age people were smarter than we thought.  As you can see. I can't stay on topic for long.}

^{Attraction to the opposite sex was vital. And apparently still is. (That is kind of funny. Like it never stopped being vital.)} 

 ^{Our hair was probably one  of the ways to tell whether we had a disease or were in someway not a good choice to pass on our genetic code.   *(AD)  {Not that that was what the man was thinking. Not consciously.  He was still like probably, ooh, there goes a piece of meat. I'd like to  give it to her.  Let me club her on the head and see if she puts up a fight. }}

 ^{Like glowing skin ( not from radiation) or uneven features or things that made us look different from everyone else.}

 

^{Listen  and look at the commercials. "Your hair will look healthy and full and  feel silky  and glow and bla bla bla."}

 

^{For men, balding is the ultimate enemy. I'm not sure why curly and/or frizzy hair is "unsexy" on men, or when bald, but not balding, became a turn on for women.}

^{Obviously there were cultural factors long ago that have changed.}

^Alas,

^{No matter how old we get, we still think of ourselves in such a way as to want to be seen as attractive, if not sexy.}

^{Hair seems to be the crowning glory of that symbol.}

^{The hairstyles change over the millennia. But the fact remains, that hair still rules.}

^{*Dok is how I spell Doc.}

 

^{PS.  I was born in 1949.  If I was being reincarnated , I did not take the future into account. Wavy hair was in and if that's why I chose it, I hope I learned from my selection.  If we are allowed a glimpse of the possible futures,  next time around, I'll pay more attention to hair and feet.  Please don't judge me.}

I could still fit in my dress, 16 years later. It was Halloween.

^{PPS  Here are two pix of the straightened hair. It looks shorter than I thought it was. Oh well. It's hanging.... straight.}

would you believe, I posted the pss and forgot to post the pictures? Yeah. I'd rather not believe it either.

Hour good luck to be razed hear. Eye am a lcuky dog.

 When I was younger, I had to learn, what in school, was classified , "foreign language".   In High School I took Spanish. In College I took French.

In life, I lived in Israel, and tried to learn Hebrew.

The picture on the left was around that time. And yes, that is what my hair looks like when it's not ironed. Now you no.

 

 

 

Somewhere in my brain are layers of languages, that although still used in the world of the living,  are close to dead in my brain.

 

 

I lived in Israel for 6 months when I was 26 years old. Long enough ago to not remember the other languages I had by then, mostly forgotten.

I came home by way of Brussels. One night in that beautiful city.

In the morning, my friend and I had to get back to the airport. For that, we need to find a train.

 

 

We stopped a gendarme and I gave that most difficult question some thought. How to say it in French?  First to come was (transliteration) "eyfo ha rakeffet l"..... No. I realized,  that's Hebrew. Way too fresh in my head.  I need the French.

Although that should have been in the next, layer of language,  the Spanish came to mind. Living in New York and working in the school system, I heard a lot of Spanish.

:Donde esta la"....... No I thought. Wrong again.

Ah. Blanking again on the word where. Again, a Hebrew word comes, "le an" which is also not what I needed then or now. 

I had to look it up. I feel so dumb. I suppose that's better than old. I know I'm not really dumb.

"Ou et la tran por airport?" I said in my very best French accent.

The gendarme replied, " you walk down two streets and make a left".

I was stricken. As they say in Hebrew, "I had broken my teeth to find the words" and all for naught. He knew English.  Bastard. Could I have been that naïve to not realize he probably spoke English?  Short answer, yes.

 

I know many people since that time who have learned English as a Second, Third or Fourth language.

 

Still, unless they are gifted, I really pity them.

 

The "American Language" is considered to be very difficult to learn. I can see why. The few languages I have encountered appeared to have a certain order or logic to them. I love Spanish. There are only just so many ways to say the vowels and that's it. You write it as you hear it. Isn't that lovely?

I don't think I should speak about French. Except that when I took it at 18 I had a huge crush on the teacher, Mr. (I'll have to look up how to spell that in French, I'm so far off the dictionary on here is of no use)  Monsieur Montrose.

I probably would have cut class which I did eventually start to do as the language got harder on the tongue and the teachers got harder on the eyes and ears.  Looking back, not going was probably not the best choice of improving.

 

Even Hebrew, writing right to left, and with different alphabet, has a wonderful logic to it. Almost all words stem from a root word, usually it consists of three letters.  You add letters in the front and or end of the root and you can conjugate the past present or future. I'm not saying it's easy. And of course there is a lot more to it. Just sayin.

 

What these other languages seem to have is some sense of predictability.

 

Just like English/American. Right??

 

Hell no. Between the homonyms, synonyms and idioms alone, you could send a person to the insane asylum. If we still had them. In the 1970's they were not considered cost effective, and with the new medications, they were all closed down i.e.  they let all those people out of the  safe, funny farm.  *(AD)  That was a great idea. Let the mentally ill be in charge of taking their own medication and themselves.  

That was probably the beginning of the largest resurgence of homelessness since the depression had ended.

 

Man. Can I get off track or what? I had planned to write, a bunch of sentences as you saw in the title, and I've yet to get there.

But I will. And soon.

 

 

 

And, sew, how do yew learn to reed English?  Or too speak it?  Isle have to think.  Does won tuff it out aloan, or does one take sum lessens with a teem?

Their are whey's two fined out.

Ware should you go?

If I only gnu, I mite tele yew.

 

Allrite, I'm tyred of this. Wen you urn you're degree, shoot me a facts and I'll ask witch cellar you got this diploma frum and what grayed you finished.

 

When I taught University, my students did not know the differences in weigh two many words. I did try to teach them. I even tried memory tricks.

To no avail. And now, with texting and emojis one may no longer need to no how to spell or wright.

 

Y this bothers me, I do no know. But it does. Which is funny, because I have so much trouble with spelling. You would think it would bring me relief, but to me, it's just a little bit of my history that's dying. And that's a big deal.

 

 

 

 

Hee got da hole whorl in his hans.

I jess hope he don't drop it.

 

OFF THE RAILS WITH HONEST ABE * IT IS GOOD HE'S NOT ALIVE TO SEE THIS MEN'S WEAR CATALOG +++

I received a new catalog last week. It pictured Abe Lincoln splitting logs on the cover.  Even though it wasn't something that would usually appeal to me, like jewelry,   I like to look at the pictures while eating at the table when I'm by myself. 

 

After perusing it, I started to read some of the copy, because I couldn't believe what I was reading.

 

 

 

 

Not my usual catalog

Sometimes I buy men's jeans, because  you don't have to hem them. The pants they make for women are for giants or dwarves, so it can be really hard to find the right length. Don't get me started on how they fit.  However,  the best thing I found  out about men's, pants is that they actually make pockets with  room in them.
 

Ladies, have you noticed how over the years,  our pockets shrank or downright disappeared?  Now you are lucky if you can find any pockets  in  jeans or pants. That is, with the exception of ugly old lady sweat pants. I think that was a run-on.  Anyway, women's pockets don't even have room for three or four fingers. They are not meant to put anything in larger than a tissue or a coin, Or, if designed by a man, maybe a condom.
 

Men's pockets, on the other hand, go deep. Really deep. For all that stuff they can't put in their purse. Wallets, change, keys, handkerchiefs, switchblades,  napkins with phone number oh wait. We have cell phones now. Scratch that one.   Or, so they can hide it when they slip a hand in to make sure their penis is still there. I'm not really sure.  (About what they put in their pockets, not about their penises.)

 



              There were five photos but I only chose this one because it was at the top of the list.






        I'm not sure what they mean about flying the coop. Maybe it's code for not falling out.

            I think Buck Naked is the name of a brand. None of these pictures showed anyone naked. Not even close. Except maybe a dog.



  Although as I'm writing, and staring at the    screen, I'm finding there isn't much left for my imagination except maybe if he were buck naked.

                            This is the PG- rated toy. I'm having trouble imagining the X-rated one.    Only because I don't know any man who would give a dog a chew toy with all his bits and bobs exposed.



I can hear the conversation between the two nice old folks sitting in their cabin. "Oh look Abe, Fido just chewed on his balls." "Martha, please be more clear" Was Fido chewing on his own balls or the chew toy balls?"  "The chew toy dear"
I see Abe jump up from his rocker and try to take the toy away from Fido. Martha asks why.  Abe says." Sorry dear, watching him lick, chew and bite those parts started to make me feel anxious.  I think I'll go inside and lie down with Fido, if he'll only let go of this damn toy".  Abe screams loudly, "Holy Hell. It broke off. Now he's running around the house with the whole package in his mouth. I can't watch this anymore. I'm going to be sick"  "Oh Abe, you never let that dog have any fun".

I used to have to pay extra for  gap insurance on my leased cars. Now they just include it in the price.


Back when leasing started, or at least when I  started leasing,  if someone stole your car, you were responsible for the whole note. Or something like that. The gap insurance  paid for the difference so you didn't get screwed (as much) by the insurance company. This is not the same gap they are talking about.

However, they are still calling it insurance. I wonder if you pay extra.





Let it be noted, all around the world, that when the plumber comes to call, you do not have to see his crack. Someone, somewhere was listening to all of us housewives and ladies complaining about the view we got when something needed to be repaired. This company makes shirts that are extra long in the back, so when you bend over, you don't have to expose yourself.  It is obvious that not all men are aware of this company. Hint. You do not need to be a worker to buy these shirts.  They fit everyone.  Sometimes I have seen men who are just walking and don't have enough coverage. You know who. You're the ones who can't get their pants up above their bellies. It would be politically correct for me to say something soothing here to the people that this applies to. I'm not going to. I'm not complaining about your weight. That's your business. I'm complaining that you don't care enough about other people to make sure they don't have to see what they were not intended to see. And trust me, we do not want to see this. Nor did God intend us to.

Explain that ticket to the wife.

 

Ah, that' good to know. It's fairly obvious that on most other pants there is no room for a diaper.

How many flasks can daddy fit into this vest?


Another favorite. This time they weren't listening. At least not to someone like me.  I think drinking and hunting is a dangerous sport and it ought to be outlawed. It probably would be, except that so many judges, lawyers and governors and former governors like that Sarah lady are out there right now playing at this game, that they aren't around to pass laws against it. Not that they would because they think it's fun.
Personally, if I'm going to get loaded, I'd rather do it at home. Even if I put a target on my back in the house, no one is going to shoot me or mistake me for a deer. Or a fish. Or a raccoon or beaver.

Please read. For those of us who do not want to look at your big toe anymore.



Men do
need to be educated on socks. Not just about their lives, but something even more important. Where socks live.
Socks live in the drawer in the dresser. When they've been good you take them out and take them for a spin around town. When you get home, you have forgotten everything you were ever taught. Dirty sox do not live with clean sox.  It is unnatural and unhealthy. Dirty sox live in a hamper.  That's right. It's called a hamper. For some reason, men think that sox like the great outdoors, just like they do. So where do sox live according to men?  Right next to the hamper. It's like they want them to camp out on the lawn.  WRONG    !!!!!!

Dirty socks live in the hamper. End of story. And if you want clean sox, the hamper is where the washer women will take them from. The ones on the floor will stay there and you'll have to go barefoot or buy more socks. 
I can see that this will not end well. I'd best move on to the last, and perhaps favorite piece of all.





LA PIECE DE RESISTANCE

 nothing is worse than tight jeans period. On anyone.

I can't help it. I love puns and double entandres, even if I can't spell them.

I love to dance. One of my most favorite things.  Now, if someone where to ask me a couple of questions regarding my favorite thing,  they would have a new meaning.

Examples:

"Would you like to go dancing in the ballroom?" Now, I'm thinking about the rides at places like Disney where if you're too short, you can't go on. This would be the opposite. If you're too tall, you can't fit in. I think my brain just hit warp speed.

A couple is getting married and are looking for a catering hall. The gentleman is showing them the facilities.  He asks politely, "Would you like to see my ballroom"?  Hopefully, none of them has read this.

"I'm leaving you because I need my space".  "Mark baby, is that all you need?  Let me sew a gusset into your pants and we can save our relationship."  "Um, Maggie, what the hell are you talking about"?




 One last tale from my real life

My husband and I were on a cruise in November. It was great. So was the entertainment.
The second or third night we decided to sit front row and center for the musical.

It turned out to be a little to close for comfort. I don't think I mentioned this to him at the time because, well, I didn't want to talk during the show, and afterwards,  I was probably drunk and on my way to dancing, not in a ballroom.

Anyway, one of the lead male singer, dancers was wearing a suit that was obviously a little too tight. I don't know if they changed actors or he gained weight or what. The first thing I saw was the gusset. I can't be sure, but in my head, the suit was light blue, the gusset was black. There I was, staring up at the stage, wondering if he felt uncomfortable about this. His pants were so tight that the waist button wasn't closed, which you could see when his vest rode up.  I noticed he did try to pull the vest down, so he had to be aware. At least of that. As we know, the show must go on.

That sight will stay with me for a long time. Obviously the seamstress knew about gussets, but couldn't she have found a piece of fabric that was blue? Oh well.

All's well that ends well.
the end.

Theoriously now folks, wasn't that a fun trip?

MISTAKES. I DON'T MAKE NO STINKIN MISTAKES. HERE ARE THE REASONS FOR MISTAKES..........

 

I have been accused of messing up on some things and I am trying to understand what on earth or in the universe is going on.

 

  There's always got to be a reason. Right?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So. my mistakes are due to:

• misreading
• misunderstanding
• misguidance
• misquotes
• mispronunciation 
• misrepresentation
• misinterpretation
• missteps
• mistrust
• misuses
• miswriting
• mistreatment
• misspeaking
• mistiming
• misadventure
• misapplication
• misdirection
• misfeasance
• misruling
• misprints
• miscalculation
• misbelief
• misconstruction
• mischief
• misconceptions
• misinformation
• misplacement
• misspelling
• miswording
• misogamy
• misogyny
• misanthropy
• misapprehension
• mischance
• mischief
• misdating
• misfiling
• misgovernance
• misjudgment
• misadvise
• miscellaneous
•  

          As you can see by my meticulous research, the errors were all due to someone else's malfunctions.

 

 

          As you, and every reader knows, I am always right. You know that you are too. People get very upset with you for being a know-it-all, but that's because they too, know that they know it all, therefore they think that you must be the one who is wrong.

 

 

 

  None of us would say something we did not believe to be right. Nor defended it if we believed we were wrong. Right? Of course.

 

THEORY

 

 

Everyone believes they are right, That being the case, then how do we figure out who,  like us,  are the ones who are right? And who are the ones who are deluding themselves?

I know I am not delusional. I have a degree that allows me to say that. Even if I didn't, I'd still believe it.

 

THEREFORE

 

The best way to find out who is right, is to question others. If they disagree with you, they are the ones who are delusional. If they agree with you, they are the ones who are right.  Simple isn't it?

Of course. We're always right.

 

 

 

 

 

I love the cool fresh wind in my hair, life without care, I'm broke, it's oke.

WHY IS EVERYTHING SUCH A FUCKING PAIN IN THE ASS?????

I suppose you could say I'm having one of those days.  More like the third in a row.

I need to organize my posts so I can put them in collections, making it easier for my followers.  I printed them all out (sorry for all the typo's especially in the titles but there is NO spell check up there.)  How do I organize such disparate topics?  I will. Somehow.

I need to get my tax crap organized because I always file early. Not that I have much to organize. It comes in the mail and trust me, it's not complicated stuff. Still, I have to separate the papers.

I'm working on my ancestor search, and from my last post, you've noticed I've misplaced two of them, so to speak.
I joined the world wide ancestor "club" for more money, so I could have more data and access.  I can't actually find out if it's helpful, since I'm not sure how to use it and, when I did come across one possible crossing (on a ship), the information was in German, which I can't read.

My lovely new room, which has more desk surfaces,  is still not enough for the piles of paper I have spilling all over the room.  Looking at it makes me nuts.

Some piles had made it to the bed.

And then I had to go out this morning. On my way out, I decided to bring in the large vintage poster print that had not been hung up since we painted as we noticed a corner of the glass had broken.
I wanted to buy a new frame so I could put that up in the outer rooms (color match) and bring one into my room for the last space on the wall.
As I was taking the frame out I picked up a cardboard that read "24 x 30" glass something and it dropped and shattered on the garage floor. I left a note for my husband in case he came home before I did so he wouldn't get hurt.

He did get home and left before seeing the note. He came home just as I was finishing cleaning up the shards of glass and as my girlfriend had arrived.
I tried to explain what had happened and he said I could tell him later as it was done.  Then he told me I keep leaving the light on in the garage. Broken glass he doesn't see. A light that he usually leaves on, he does.

NEXT

Our accountant uses e-files which is lovely. I actually saved the secure site so I could get in without having to check the password and name.
He sent a new thing which required my email address. At least I can remember that. And the last four digits. A cinch. Only it didn't work.

I tried the saved sign in from last year and that didn't work either. So,,,,, I emailed him.

He sent back that it might be my husband's last four.  That got me in.  And pissed me off. My husband's name is first on the filing for no other reason than he's the man. Unless the account decided to do it alphabetically. yeah right.

Then he sends my husband some stuff today ,which he forwards to me the insides of which, also don't open.  The accountant also sent me three emails as well that eventually I was open to combine and rejoin and say abra cadabra and they opened.

Of course I got annoyed with said husband for not understanding my ravings from my den screaming so he would hear me in his den around the bend.   Then I ragged on him that I'm getting tired of taking care of all this shit. Bla Bla Bla and yada yada yada.

Being in menopause means it's always my time of the month.

I am a curious person. I like to finish something I start.  It's like a puzzle.
  Or as I once said, I feel obligated to start what I finished. Get that one?
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Therefore, I get very frustrated with each roadblock I hit.  And somehow, the computer, whilst making life easier, is also filled with the most roadblocks.

I need a fricking little address book for all the names and passwords I have for accounts. You would think that would make things go smoothly. But NOOOO.

I don't know about you, but certain companies like ATT and Apple are the worst. I do not know how many times I have had to change my passwords for them. And, paranoid that I am, I sometimes like to write in code in case some deranged thief comes to my house to use my computer. Therefore, when I can't get into a site, I look it up and often it doesn't work, because you know, what a great memory I have so codes, are not my friends. So, I have to change it again and again.

It's kind of like every year or less your credit card is "compromised" so they send you a new number.  Then, you have to go into every account it's linked to and put in the new card.  I at least now have a list of what's on it. Maybe that will mean it won't happen so often.  You know?  Like when I take the umbrella it doesn't rain philosophy.

WHY AM I SO PISSED AND COMPLAINING HERE?

I'm married. That's why. Each of us think we do more in and for the relationship than the other and sometimes it just comes out. Human nature I suppose.

I remember reading a study about work absences.  When surveyed, each worker believed that he/she had taken fewer days off than their co-workers. Fact check did not support this at all.  It's like that.

You don't notice when the job gets done. You notice when it doesn't. Therefore it's easier to find faults because you don't see what has become invisible.

If you empty the trash cans, no one sees. If you don't, they're on your ass.

Extra 2 cents.  I want life to go smoothly. I think it is my right as an American. When I want something it should be done now. When I need to find something it shouldn't take me two days.  (or like my grandparents, possibly several years and that's only going to happen if I find money to hire a genealogist). 

Is that too much to ask? I pay my taxes damn it. My bills are paid on time. I demand that my computer treat me better. Or I will ---   I will  --- hmmm.   Does anyone know where that complaint department is?

Pardon me, but I seem tp have misplaced a grandparent or two. Have you seen them?

Well, No. They're dead and buried and I do actually know where 6 of them are. That can't be right. 4.  Yeah, that's better. My grandkids will need to keep track of, let me see, 7 and 8 if the last one remarries.


That's not why I'm writing. I'm back on researching  genealogy and I could have sworn I had found 3 out of 4 arrivals in New York. The last time I had been searching.  At the moment I can only find the documentation for 2.

My eyes are bleary after 3 hours of record reading.



NOT their wedding

That too is not the reason I'm writing. I'm looking for Grandma Mollie. I might know how old she was or not. I do have the record of her marriage where I know she lied because she was four years older than Grandpa. That's why this particular record, probably not hers, was so amusing.

I tried reading some German passenger lists and that did not go well.

The Brits kept clearer, if not more accurate records.

My favorite was a possible, although she could not probably have been 21 years old when she came here. Perhaps? Anyway, I loved it because they listed people's occupations on most of the manifests. and

Hers was listed as ,    ready.........      SPINSTER.   That's right ladies and gents. Her occupation at the age of 21 was listed as spinster.

The year was 1902?  or 07 or 03?  I looked at so many and wrote notes  all over cards that I confused myself. I must have been a clerk in England in a past life.


    IMAGINATION


I'm a little girl and growing up in the old country, is very hard.  Pogroms, prejudice, no indoor plumbing. I'm a lucky little girl though. My daddy is a Rabbi. He's well respected and we're moving to Amerika.  YAY.  I can't wait. Truly, I can't, They are burning down the town as I think.

On the trip over in steerage I wonder what will I be when I grow up in the land of opportunity. My head spins with possibility. Or maybe it spins because I'm seasick and the smell here is beyond belief. Feh!

I look around at all the people in steerage with us. Families of other hopeful immigrants and it hits me. Who wants this kind of life? Husbands who demand unspeakable things. Giving birth to something that might kill you. Breast feeding. More children. The noise. The smells. Shivers are running up and down my spine. Or it might be chilblains.

I've got it.  When I grow up I am going to be a spinster. Yes. That's what I'll do. It sounds better than being one of those Sadie, Sadie married ladies.

And that's why my grandmother lied about her age. Really. She was a little long in the tooth for the time period. I'm not sure when Grandpa found out. I'm glad I wasn't there because I hear he had a temper. A really, really bad temper.  Poor Grandma. I know, I wouldn't be here if she'd stuck to her guns, but she would have been a much happier woman. Trust me, on this I know what I'm talking about.




Theory

Why do people get married?  Social Convention. Religious Beliefs. Family pressure.  Well, at least back then.


Now, your guess is as good as mine.  Did I say guess?  I meant to say theory.  That's right. Your theory is as good as mine. Maybe better even.

Hey Baby it's Cold outside.... Would you like a lift to the subway?

I lived in Park Slope for quite a few years and at 3 different addresses.

The posting about the First Christmas Tree shows the only picture I have of that time. The apartment  was on a beautiful street that was just a half a block to the Park.

Look at the windows and doors.

If you look to the right side, you'll see the front door and side windows.  They were all glass. The inner and outer doors as well.  We needed to cover the windows, as we were a little below sidewalk level.  However,  I had a problem with the window treatments.  This was my first attempt at decorating with no budget,  and if you notice, the blue curtains are basically rectangular holes in fabric.  Good for letting the light in.  I didn't like them and I have no idea why they were still up. Now I'd have returned and exchanged them possibly four times.

I worked in Manhattan in the Garment Center, if you remember. You've seen a picture of me at work.  Getting to the train station meant  either going to the 9th street station which was a 9 block walk to the west, or the Grand Army Plaza Station which was further. I'm not sure, but the D train may also have had a stop with a long walk to the east.

There was a city bus that rode along ninth avenue. If I were lucky enough to catch it, and had change, I'd take it to the station. More often than not, it was better to walk, especially when it was freezing cold. Standing and waiting for the bus, which was invariably filled with teens, was no picnic.

I did this for the two years I lived in that house on third street.

One morning, I'm starting out of my walkway and a car stops. The guy rolled down the window and said he'd seen me walking to the station on plenty of occasions and asked if I wanted a lift.  It was bitterly cold and we were both bundled up.

It was 7 a.m. and he looked like a nice guy. Actually, Maybe around my age, 23,  25 and nice looking.  Not relishing the freezing cold, I took a chance and said yes.  He drove me to the station and dropped me off.
His name was Andy.

A couple of days later, he stopped again. We probably chit chatted about nothing, as Seinfeld would say.  I have to admit, I liked him.

This happened a few times. Then he met me on the way home. This time when he dropped me off  we sat and talked before I got out. He said he wanted to tell me something.  He had a dog and
he would walk the dog in the evenings and he could see me sitting on the sofa reading. He liked what he saw and  was determined to meet me.

I was quite flattered and happy since he lived in the apartment building on the corner at 8th avenue.  While we were talking, the car was heating up. Not from us, The heater was on, you people. Your minds always go there. Well, so was mine, until. . . . . ....

He took off his leather gloves and on his left hand was a gold wedding band.  I glanced down and almost choked. Duh, Andy, are you married? I queried?    He said yes.  Does that matter?

Does that matter?  Does that matter?  Duh, uh yeah.....

Also, I said, don't you think that your wife living down the block might be an impediment?  Nah.  He seemed quite unconcerned.

I said thanks, but no thanks. He was disappointed, but knew enough to let it go. Or let me go or whatever it was that had almost happened. I got out of the car and said goodbye. I felt sad and stupid.

I walked to the train  from then on. I saw him sometimes, driving by or walking the dog. I don't recall seeing the wife.

Theory. 

Don't take this personally. Men are Pigs. Or Dogs. Not all, but I have encountered more than my share.
*(AD)  Women are also sluts and whores. I'm not being sexist.

Also:

1.  Some people do not care about their marriage vows no matter how long ago or short ago it was since they made them.

2. Some men people nice enough not to lie. At least I could give Andy that. ( I wonder what would have happened if he hadn't taken off his gloves )

3. Why was it, that I was always attracted to the ones who weren't available.  Even when I didn't know it?

 4. You'll need to hear more of my life story to know the answer or at least the psychobabble theory as the blog continues onward.  In no particular order.

THE END  FOR TONIGHT

Bind Date Flashbck number 2

These flashbacks will not be in any particular order. Although I suppose, the ones that were worst will come to mind first.

 

See, some work out. For a while.

 

 

This one was in the era of Single 2.  After my divorce. I was living in a three story house in Queens. I lived in the middle apartment. Three bedrooms, one and one half baths. Usually the landlords floor. He lived elsewhere.  Husband 1 was gone and I had stayed on.

 

Again, I do not remember who set me up for the date.  Which I should think is lucky for whoever it was.

 

He called.  What I recall about our conversation was that he had an antique car, which I liked, a sense of humor, which I liked, and he told me he looked like Louie De Palma, which I hoped was part of his sense of funny. If I had known any better, I would have told him I had malaria.

 

 

 

We set a date for him to pick me up at my house. Since it wasn't someone I had met in a bar and there was no online back then, we didn't have to be as concerned about whacko psychopaths showing up. Well, I'm not so sure about that. We believed that our friends knew the person and that was some kind of safety net.

 

SETTING THE SCENE

 

  The time was winter and it had  already gotten dark.  I was dressed and ready to sit and wait. That's  because I was always early.  That hasn't changed.  While sitting and watching TV,  everything got dark. No lights, no sound. Nothing.    I looked out my window and the whole neighborhood was dark. Not even a street lamp.  oh crap.  I started to get cold since the heat was also out  and put on a sweater. I started to think.

No lights.  How would he find the house number?  I realized the doorbell wouldn't work either. I went downstairs to check.  Not to mention that with no electricity I had nothing to do. I needed a candle to read and when I'm nervous, I can't concentrate. And I'm afraid of fire.

 

Time passed slowly. V e r y      S l o w l y .

 

I stood vigil at the curtains that looked out on the front of the house.  At the appointed time, a car slowed down. It had a search light that was next to the mirror and was looking at the addresses. Odd. But, yes, this was his antique vehicle. It was grey and shaped kind of bomb like. You know, Long slung  in the front and rounder in the back. As I wrote that, I thought that could describe some people I know.  Okay. Back on track.

 

this is not the car, but it's the closest I could find and after 30 years who knows what the hell it really looked like.

THE MEET

 

He got out of the car and my heart dropped. Well, it would have had it not been frozen.  He may not have been a clone for the taxi character but they could have been brothers. And not like in twins where the other brother was Arnold Schwartzinager. Nope, It was like they had the same genetic code.

 

Short, balding, a little chubby and in his case, a face that could stop a clock.

 

He came in as I left the door open.  He knocked, I answered. We said our hellos and went out to a place called Naomi's that had  delicious Israeli food. Funny that I can remember where we ate, but not what we talked about. While driving there he told me how lucky it was  that this model car had headlamps on the side that could be used as search lamps so he was able to find my address.

 

I was probably thinking   "NOT!".   My bad.

I have no idea why, but every time I think of him and that date, I think of him as wearing big floppy clown shoes.  I really, really hope that this is in my imagination and that he didn't actually show up like that. Yet, why is so clear and prominent? 

As you may have guessed, it wasn't a great date. I tried to be polite and we talked throughout dinner and then I had him bring me home.  The rest, as often is of memories, is a blur. For all I know he might not have liked me either. Unfortunately, I hadn't cared.

 

I can't remember what he did for a living. I can't remember anything except the blackout, the car and the Danny DeVito guy.

Not much of a story really. Except it shows that I was, and am still shallow about certain things. I am not proud. I did get better as I aged, but the rest of the world did not.  We still make judgments about who people are with.

 

Promos and Theory

 

I am going to make sure that I do not write only about the bad dates. I had some good blind dates and first dates.  Or at least I thought so. Except there were times I thought things had gone well and the guy didn't call me. Obviously I'm not everybody's cup of tea either. Thankfully some called. As they say "What goes around comes around."

 

 

Theory.  Why do people set up their friends? They love them and want them to be happy.

 

Reality. They apparently don't know what will make their friends happy.

 

 

I know. I'm as shallow as the next guy. I might not have liked him after I got to know him, but I would have given someone like him a chance. That is of course, if he'd have  given me a chance.