Tracking and counters - UPS and Ebay are great. USPS and this site. Not so much

      I am so happy when I know when my package that I ordered is going to arrive. I am happy, or used to be, when I would sell something on Ebay and was able to see how many people had looked at my auction. This is tracking in action.

       Our post office is trying. They give you a number and when you check on it, well, you get no information. In transit is not my idea of a useful fact.

       When I write this blog, there is a dashboard, although the things I'm looking at are on the right-hand side of the page, so maybe it has another term. Arm rest comes to mind.
       It tells you statistics. I can see a line graph (see, you do have to use math. I wanted to say geometry but I think that's the wrong branch) of how what pages were read, how many people read them and maybe some other statistical stuff I am not recalling. Remember, my short term memory is shot.
      It also supposedly tells you how many people are subscribed to this blog. So far, I have a goose egg.  A zero. No one. Nada. Effice. Zip. They have to be wrong.
      I subscribed to myself. I know, it's like voting for yourself in an election, but I wanted to see if it worked. Also, my husband subscribed. He even told me when he got the confirmation email so I would know. 

     The question is:    Why can't I see how many subscribers I have?  Are they trying to make me work harder before giving me a number?  Do they want me to get discouraged and give up?

     Actually, it reminds me of my Pinterest account. They have me following some number and have me with 38 followers.  Like since forever. However, they keep emailing me that so and so ,and so and so have started following me.  It started to add up. Although I never counted the number of newbies, I wanted to see how much it added up to. And guess what. The number of followers that Pinterest has listed hasn't ever changed. What gives Pinterest? 

   Several theories pop into my mind. I know. You have no idea. It's like living with a bowl of Rice Crispies inside my head.  Snap    Crackle and      Pop.

       I am going to attempt to use the bullet points.  Not that I wanted to use bullet points last night, but since I couldn't figure out how to publish the last post without the most peculiar breaks in it, I'm trying this.

• The government doesn't want me to know because they are following me.  That was written by the schizoid from yesterday's post.
•  Some sites have better programs and programmer's than others.  
• The better sites have Native American programmers doing their tracking.
• I am technologically challenged.

 
       I am not quite sure which it is. I know I have challenges, but why only on certain sites?
 
         What you can do to help

1. Subscribe and let me know
2. Tell me if you've unsubscribed. Obviously they won't. PS I won't hold a grudge..... for long.
3. Write comments. Lots and lots of comments. That's the only way I'll know you're really reading them.  I don't even care if they make sense. Half the time I don't so why would you care?
4. There is a comment space at the end of each post. Even  I have figured out how to do this. I hope you can too. I think there is even a cute little pencil somewhere near the comment section. Usually you hit enter after you write something. At least that's how it is on Face Book. 
5. Please. Pretty please with sugar on top. If you're diabetic or watching your weight I'll sprinkle Truvia, the good stuff.

        I know that I have said that I'm sorry's are not worth much.  I still believe that. So this is not an apology. My ego has taken over. I need approval and can see that I've become shameless in asking for it.  Even though I keep reading that one needs to ask for help, I still don't like doing it. So why do I continue?
      Theory. oh no. Even I didn't see that one coming.

     Except for my husband and a few friends, this is kind of anonymous.  I don't know who you are, and you probably don't know the actual me.  Therefore, I should not worry about being judged. Unless it's by a jury of my peers and since I live in Florida, that should worry me.   See y'all later.








     

Some Dating Profiles for Special People. No offense intended. I'm special too.

      Please pardon the crazy way the ads are posted. Obviously, I couldn't figure out how to make an indented paragraph that actually was an indented paragraph. I have been working on this post most of this morning and this evening and night. So I shall, God help me, give up and hope you can read the correct order of the words without it messing up their hilarity. yeah.  I think I found it.

      Admission. I  joined a single's site one or two years after they first appeared on-line,  when the world wide web was but a baby. Actually I hadn't really been aware of it but heard about it, from my cousin.  At his suggestion I bought a computer that could connect onto the internet. Whatever the hell that was.

        As for dates,  I had several, hmm ,interesting ones, (I shall write about those later) and thankfully, one good date. Yes, I met my husband on- line.  The site we met on, no longer exists.  They were probably successful and ran out of clientele.

    This prologue  is for me to  write pretend ads.

    I haven't had much time to think this through so the first ones that came to me last night were filtered through my professional mind, and I certainly mean no disrespect to the men or women who are emotionally challenged.  I not only worked with them, I have been one as well.

      Pardon my bias.  In my fiction, women  seem to be more honest, but nuts. Men, are well, men. And I honestly have trouble thinking like a man.

    I have been told by some men that the trouble with women, ( well one of the troubles)  is that females  believe men are complex. The alleged reality is, that men are simple and don't think about things the way women do. Therefore, we females are confusing ourselves by cogitating that males are more complicated than they are. If you understood that, you probably have estrogen running through your veins. Or used to.

   Female Ads:

        S*WF:  (S* stands for schizophrenic), looking for two Single males.  He/they must like

                    having several  conversations at once and not being able to follow any of

                    them.  

                   Example:  "Do you want spinach in your salad or nuts on the bar-b-q lid or

                    maybe  the rotting senator with the bald head or the baby should sit with us &

                    the TV is listening in so we should put on our cones of silence or they will

                    sell our meal plans to the Martians."  "Yes Dear."  This is always a good

                    response depending on your tone of voice.

                    You should not mind slightly overdone makeup and  unusual hair and should

                    know the dance called " the shuffle" for  when I'm on my meds. 

                    When NOT on my meds our dance will be either boogie wildly or

                    hold  one pose for six hours.  When I know you are who you say you are I

                    will find you.

       SWF:   Looking for one depressed man and one manic one. I am a woman who has her

                  ups and downs and since they can be severe at times, you might want to be able

                  to tag team when the emotional roller coaster hits.  When depressed, you

                  should enjoy laying in bed for a few weeks, without sex.  The tissues are for

                  crying and wiping up tears. When  I'm flying high you should love adventure,

                  maxing out your credit card, doing it everywhere in front of and with everyone.

                  Clarification, not using the credit card, having  S-E-X .

                  You'd best contact me now ,as I'm in my happy phase and if you wait,  I  could

                  go into a funk,  and I won't answer your email. Think of all you'll miss.

        SWF:   I am agoraphobic. I haven't left my house in four years but I have a 60"

                    high def   television  and  all of the latest technology.

                    I am looking for an  M who delivers.

        Male Ads:

        WM:    I am currently separated from my wife and don't want to lie and use the word

                   single, which I will be soon.  I am looking for a woman who understands me 

                   unlike the beyatch I'm divorcing  and would love to help me raise my four boys

                   should I get partial custody. You should be between the ages of 19 and 40 and

                   attractive. 

                   Please, no children of your own. That would be complicated.

         SWM:   I am looking for SWF, under the age of 29, but legal.  You should be very

                      beautiful, preferably blonde, a size four, 5'5 to 5'8'  tall.  You are interested 

                      in me, sports, traveling and keeping your man satisfied. No children and no

                      former marriages.   No fatties or ugs please.  If you want to know more about

                      me respond to this ad.  I'll tell you everything when we meet. Photo a must.

         SWM:    I am a regular kind of guy. Nice looking and working at the same job for 8

                       Years. I'm in my 30's, and am looking for an attractive woman in her late 20's.

                       You should be employed. I do not know if I am looking for a serious

                       relationship, since I have never had one,  but you could be the one.

                       Not liking to talk about emotions a must.  Oh, I still live with my mother but

                        it's just until I can find someone who can cook.

           I really do feel sad for single people. Not that I don't feel sad for married people too. It's just that when you're single and wanting to be with someone you can forget that there are worse things than being alone.  And if you're married, to the wrong person, you too can forget that there are worse things than being alone. (that was the theory part. Did  I forget to mention that)?

                                 

 

 

 

 

 

        I believe in equal derision. Mostly.

 

 

      

CONFESSION: I am Calendar Challenged aka CCCD

   I suppose you are wondering what I am writing about.  I don't think it is that rare, but most definitely underdiagnosed.
   I did not become truly aware of my condition until I retired and moved to Florida. Until then, I generally had a good handle of where to be and what time and what date. This was camouflaged by having a work schedule. I had to know if it was the work week or the weekend. Still, I had several calendars around to write down appointments and dates and anything that was not in my highly organized routine.
    Being in the north was also a mask.  The four seasons helped clue me in to what month it might be. I couldn't confused August for January. The weather at least told me if the month was cold, I was likely to be in Winter.
    Winter is coming. How nice of them to remind me.

   In any event, CCCD stands for Chronically Calendar Challenged Disorder. I have it in what would be diagnosed as the severe range.
  
   I am never sure what month it is. Even though I look at my calendar frequently, I can't remember. It doesn't help that in Florida our seasons are different.  We have, very hot, moderately hot, hot, not so hot, cool, cooler and warm. Sometimes there is no pattern to these seasons so you must check the calendar or be confused. I, am usually confused. Because I have CCCD, the calendar no longer registers in my brain. It's like that disorder where people can look at you but not recognize your face. Everyone looks a like. Yup, it's very much like that.

   I have been frequently embarrassed by appearing at a doctors appointment either on the wrong day at the right time, or the right day at the wrong time, or when I don't have an appointment.

   How do I know the day of the week? Normally, I don't. I try to figure out what I did the day before to possibly get a clue.

   Again, in the older times, when I watched live TV and didn't have everything on DVR, I had to know what night it was or I would miss my TV shows. Sadly, I can and do watch whatever I want whenever I can. Another clue has gone missing.

    You would think I could look at my phone or computer to get the information. I forget to. That's kind of on me, but it's like looking at my watch. I still wear at least one. You know how that is. You look at it, nod your head, and proceed to forget what you saw.

    I will even admit to going for professional help. That's one of the places I go to on the wrong day or time.  It doesn't seem to be working or I'm not doing the work.

    Even though my husband tells me I have a much better memory than he, and about other things, he is right, in this, he is like my seeing eye guide. (I think if I said dog he might feel hurt. sorry honey.)  I don't know how I would know anything without him.

   I have tried having multiple calendars and clocks all around the house. When I am home, I know what time it is. Of course that's not usually when I need to know, but it's progress. If I have an appointment, I write down the time I have to leave the house, not what time the apt. is for. Otherwise, I leave when I should be there.

  I try to cross off the days so I know which days are gone. Did I mention that even if I remember what month it is, I don't know if it's the beginning, the middle or the end? 

   I love Christmas season because when people put up their lights I know it's December. The stores have me all off because they start too early. It's still been 90 degrees and I'm looking at Santa wearing fur. It's a good thing I don't have any winter clothes or I'd probably put them on.

   My theory. This disorder is disguised by working and only having two days to be confused about. I believe that also, in changing ones geographic location you are messing with your inner time tables and clocks.  If you move from the land of the midnight sun, you will be just as confused. People should NOT leave their time zones. Do not mess with your circadian rhythms. It will give you CCCD.
   And, whatever day and time this is. Oh. It's Friday the 13th. And my last piece of furniture arrived an hour ago. Guess what. It was fucking damaged. Different shippers, different retailer. Way to go Universe.

    I wanted to post some calendars that I have but I shall do that as soon as I send photos to the shippers whose fault it is not.

Would it be totally rude?

 Good morning. It's past my bedtime so I oughtn't be held accountable for this.
 I finally found an easy way to sign up for my blog. At the very top it says "email" and you put in your email and then hit submit.
  True, it does have a verification at your email address, which may make this question moot.
   The question is, would it be ridiculously rude for me to enter my friends email addresses and sign them up? I mean, what chutzpah. What self promotion. What a cool, yet uncool idea.
   As you would have to verify your email you would still theoretically be in control of whether or not you really signed up.
   Of course, if you didn't, my feelings would be soooooooo hurt and I'm not sure I would recover.  And would you want to be responsible for my downward spiral?
   Life can be so complicated for one with a conscience.

   So, my theory is, that although it would be so easy to do, and I could probably manipulate people with guilt ( I have been culturally schooled in this matter), I conclude that it would be wrong. So I will take the moral high ground, since I was also schooled in that. No wonder I'm ridiculous. How does one reconcile all of the things I've been taught that contradict one another?
   That shall be a blog for another day. Or night. Or whatever time or day it is.
   Your friend. The befuddled Dr. G.

I'm trying to find my voice and the audience for it

      I just looked at my statistics. Sadly, only one person has subscribed. I am not disheartened. For two reasons. The first being that it is so hard to find the subscription button, they should call it the G spot. (It's almost at the bottom. hmmm. can I liken it to my analogy? I'd best not. I'm not sure I could find it either and it's not the same on everyone. This page, however, probably is). 

   Alright. If you get the blog the way I do when I pull it up, it has each one I've written. Scrolling all the way to the first one, at the end of it are the words "Home"  and "Older Posts".
Under this are the very nearly invisible words                 Subscribe to : Posts (Atom).

    The other problem is that my posts are all over the place. I looked at the stats and the ones that seemed to get the most hits were about America being upside down and Thanksgiving.

    Does that mean you want a political spin?  A country home spun view?  Beats the Hell out of me. I know, which Hell?  I still can't say.  I thought it was funny. My husband, whom I forced to read it last night in bed before we went to sleep didn't think it was funny.
    He was concerned that I thought I was going to Hell, which by the way, I don't actually believe in. And he thought the subject was morbid. I didn't agree but at least we didn't fight about it. Funnily, he told me it was a bad time to talk about such things and to let him read them when he wanted to and then told me about someone he knows who has a little child in hospice who is in a vegetative state and she feels guilty and we spoke about that a bit.
    I thought I was being very kind in not mentioning that this might not exactly be bedtime conversation either, but, I refrained. Maybe I put him in the mood.

      Wifely hint:  If you don't want your husband to get amorous at bedtime, you don't need a headache. Just start talking about death or something morbid and just kill (LOL) the mood.
     Wow. That was a really long digression from a topic I don't even have yet.

    No on seems to want to comment on my writing so I really am only getting advice from one source, and we all know that is not a large enough sample. So, again I am asking for help in giving me feedback.

   What topics would you like to read about?  I can't guarantee that my mind will agree, but at least it's a start. Over 800 people have read the posts (all totaled to the 18 of them) which actually sounds like a lot to me. So. Am I singing opera? hip hop? country and western? rock and roll? Give me hand and tell me what key to start in.

Thank you all.


                               

Good, am I?  Follow the Father's steps to the dark side? Know I not.

WHAT NEW FRESH HELL IS THIS?

    I have recently been hearing this expression, which is cute and catchy.  Unfortunately, for you, it got me thinking.
     About Hell. I did a little research and the simplest definition of Hell is a place of punishment and torment in the afterlife. When the religion is cyclical, like those with reincarnation, it can be the place in between lives.
    Shockingly, I shall not go into this more. Those of you are want to know more can look it up.  There is a wealth of material no doubt.

      For me, the question really is, if Hell exists, which one will I be sent to?  That of course pre-supposes I will have done something Hell worthy and not had a chance at redemption, but I figure it's my most likely scenario.

      According to David Barret , & the editors of the "World Christian Encyclopedia", there are estimated to be 19 major world religions, subdivided into a total of 270 large religious groups and many smaller ones.

     According to Wikipedia, there are roughly 4200 religions in the world.  I think perhaps they may have a different notion on what constitutes a religion, hence the incredibly ridiculous variance in the numbers.

    Wiki (we are on a first name basis) refers to religion as a belief or faith based system of a group, and can be different from private beliefs.  Again, if you want to define religion, feel free to take a whirl on Google or Bing or whatever your favorite search engine might be.
     I am striving to not digress (too much).

    I did look up Hell for some of the major religions, and there too, I found few simple answers.

    Hell in Islam is a place prepared by God for those who do not believe in him. (short version).  When I asked  Google if all non-Islam believers go to Hell, there were two basic kinds of responses. The first is the one we hear most often; that anyone who is not a believer goes to Hell.  The better reply, suggests that we are not judges and the only one who can answer that question is God aka Allah.

    Trying to find an answer as to who in Christianity goes to Hell, was harder than getting through the maze in The Shining.  If you want to know about that, I suggest you find a Christian rulebook. Maybe there is a Hell for Dummies somewhere out there.  Again, you're on your own.

    Early Judaism had no concept of either Heaven or Hell. Until the influence of  the Hellenistic period at which time they added the concept of Gehenna. A sort of Hell. Digressive thought: Do the words Hell and Hellenistic have a relationship? I'll have to check that later.

   It turns out that Gehenna was an actual garbage dump outside Jerusalem in the olden days.  At some point in time, when certain people died, I'm not sure who, they weren't specific, these people, were dumped in Gehenna and burned.  So maybe Hell is a garbage dump in the Holy Land, or just living next to one.

                                               TIME TO GET BACK TO MY QUESTION:
                                                   WHICH HELL WILL I BE SENT TO?

        The reason I ask, is that belonging to and practicing a particular religion doesn't seem to insure going to their Hell. If I were a Catholic, I would assume that I'd go to Catholic Hell.  Notwithstanding, as so many of the doctrines seem to contradict one another I am no longer sure that belonging to a specific religion ensures my place in either Heaven or Hell.  If I'm an unrepentant Christian sinner, I should go to  a Christian Hell, but Islam says that they don't care if I'm good or bad, I'm going to their Hell.  Just because. Ha Ha.  Jokes on us.       If I believe in Reincarnation, which I do, will I go to Christian Hell, Islam Hell or Jewish Hell while I'm waiting? 

   And what about the other  270 offshoots or the few thousand Wiki mentions?  What kind of Hells do they offer and what are the qualifications for admission? And is Hell always forever? I did read one funny thing where in one religion you got out and it wasn't so bad, cause it was only a few billion years. But, hey,  what's that against eternity?


    I believe that since I am the one who lived my life, I should have some say in the matter.
I'm  just having trouble deciding on how. So far I have three options.  Wait, while I was writing I thought of a fourth.

    1)  Multiple Choice.  
         There should be a list of options and you get to choose one. However the traditional four choices is too narrow, given the gravity of your answer. Maybe 20 options would do.     However, who would score it to see if you chose the "right" answer? Does that leave it up to someone else.

    2)  Essay questions.
          Choose two out of three and write your damndest on the topic. There could be choices like " why I would like to go the Gehenna" or "why there is no way in Hell I think Islam Hell is for me "could be potential selections.  Again, it gets back to who is going to read them and make the decision? Me?  I like that answer. Maybe.

    3) Trial by jury.
         This is obviously more complicated and reminds me of one of my favorite movies, "Defending Your Life". If you haven't seen it, it's hilarious. AD*
 Some questions on procedure.  Do I get to do it before I die or after?  Only isn't after too late since I've probably been slated me in already? Or, where do I get my judge and jury. At least I should be able to choose them. You know, get a little edge. Still, I have a lot more queries.

     4)  Lottery.
          That sounds good. Everyone gets a ticket at birth, and it's kept where no one can see it.  Then when your number is up, you go. And it's already pre-scribed (written) so there's no fuss, no muss, you just get whisked off into your eternity.

        I am finding that I like number 4 best. Although some people seem to have better luck with things related to gambling. Like, how can several people win big, really big jackpots twice? Also, I have friends who usually get the good scratch off. I'm not one of them. The last time I won was the first time I played with my God Daughter, Michelle and we split $36.  And that was in the 80's. Last century. It's fun to say that. Also horrific.  And yes, I have played the lottery, although not regularly.  One year while I was still in NY, I sent in money a year subscription for my numbers to be played weekly. See, I gave it a year. I won $1. Okay. I lied. The first time I played wasn't the last win. Sue me.  On rethinking this, with my luck, maybe I'd be better off with one of the other methods.

       Theory of the morning.
       Hell may or may not exist. I don't know. I do know that we can create our own Hell on earth if we choose to. And that's really dumb. I mean, if there is a possibility that there is something worse after this, why would we want to screw this up?
       At least we know life exists. Maybe  it once did, even on Mars.  But definitely here.  So what are you waiting for? Go, enjoy. It's a beautiful day.


Multiple Choice Test

1)   Gehenna

2)  Fire & Brimstone

3)  Rolling a large rock up a hill and when it gets to the top, it rolls
     over you and you end up at the bottom and start all over again.
     Eternally.

4)  Being in school naked, taking a test and having everyone  
     laugh at you.  Every day. New students and teachers.

5) Satin has you tied to a stake in keeps thrusting his pitchfork into
     you. And it hurts.

6) Watchin the worst movie ever made, over and over for eternity.

Okay. Some are worse than others. Isn't that what choice is about?

THE HOLIDAY SEASON AND HOW THANKSGIVING GETS THE BIRD!

  Thanksgiving is the one holiday my family celebrated. Way back in the ancient days, when people only put out a pumpkin for Halloween and Christmas lights and trees.

   It is a beautiful time of year. I love the fall.  Well, when I lived in New York and we had fall. It's different in Florida. A student here told me a joke. He asked if I knew when autumn came to Florida?  I said no. He said it was when the license plates changed colors.  ( For those of you who might not understand it's when the snowbirds from out of state drive down.)

   But in New York, the air would get crisp.  I can still remember the smell coming from the radiators that had been newly painted when the heat first came on.  AD*

   Halloween would come. We'd collect our candy, play some tricks  and that was that.
    I don't recall when Halloween started to emulate Christmas. They must have been sneaky, but they did it.

  
    There are now as many decorations for Halloween as there are for Christmas. You can decorate the outside  and inside of your house with all kinds of ghoulish delights.
 
   I should know because I have bins of them in the attic from when I had Halloween parties. They are the best to host because you don't have to really cook. AD*
   
      They even have black, Halloween trees. The trees started very small. I bought  one because it was so cute. And the ornaments. Adorably cute. And you know how women can't resist the "cute" factor".
     Then the trees started to grow. Unfortunately not like in the Nutcracker Suite, where you'd only need one, but they started to make different sizes.  And they keep growing.  This week I saw some on sale that  looked like  small black Douglas firs and I'm sure they have huge ones in store for us in the future.

                           Another Historical Tidbit

      During the depression, people were, well really depressed. F.D.R. wanted to lift the people's spirits and the economy so he decided that decorating for Christmas would start right after Thanksgiving in order to put people in better spirits, and hopefully, money spending frames of mind.
      I don't know if it worked, but the starting early never ended. Actually, it appears to have stretched like an elastic band in a pair of pants that you might wear to your Thanksgiving dinner.


                                 Back to the present

         Slowly, the stores started to move up events. I believe they created this Halloween phenomenon  so they could make more money. Or maybe to divert us from the recession, if there is one.  I mean really, who needs to decorate this much? I don't live in a store. Not to mention the question of who has the time to do this? You get yourself exhausted from putting things up taking them down and putting them away. Summer doesn't even end and here is all this Halloween crap.
         Then, it disappears quickly and on November 1st , Santa is there with all his elves and  toys asking you to take them home.  I know this for a fact, since I have seen it with my own two eyes. That's because I was shopping yesterday, and the day before and well, okay. I like to shop. *AD

         So  if you were a little slow on the uptake and forgot to buy a Thanksgiving tablecloth, lady, you are shit out of  luck. Unless you buy and save everything you  know you will need for every Thanksgiving , you'll just have to wait until next year. Assuming they will still bother to sell Thanksgiving and autumn decorations.

         The timing for Thanksgiving really sucks. Ever since Halloween became this big deal and the follow-up for Christmas can't wait until after Thanksgiving, our poor Turkeys get the shaft. Or the spit,oven or the deep fat fryer.  You know what I mean. 

        The most American Holiday, the one that shows our appreciation for all we have as Americans has bee shunted aside by the another American trait. The celebration of greed.  Sorry. I seem to get political all the time and it isn't my intent. At least I don't want it to be. I don't even listen to or watch the news so I won't know what's happening in the world because I get SO upset.

              So why did they have to invade my one safe haven of retail? AD*

        Christmas is another beautiful time of year. I love decorating for Christmas. I have a garage full of items that can attest to that. I also have stuff at the top of my clothes closet. Taking things up and down from the attic was too much of a pain in the legs, arms and back.

        As it turns out, this is a good economical arrangement. All year long when I get dressed I eyeball an assortment of decorative things. Like three, three foot Santas. Pillows of Santa and a box of Chanukah items. And this is what I remember off the top of my head. Or from over my head.
        Last year the people who owned a really cool store retired and had a great sale that lasted for weeks.  I was good, and waited until things got really cheap. It was okay not to have first pick since I didn't need any of the things I bought. So, I also see unopened boxes of Patience Brewster ornaments and I have no idea what.
       Actually, opening the things I already own is even better than Christmas morning because I am always surprised by what I have. That should be a clue.

      This has given me the strength to walk the aisles of the stores and resist buying ( I pray) more Christmas things since I  know that I really don't know what I already have. *AD

                                        WHICH BRINGS ME BACK TO THANKSGIVING

       Even though it's been stuck in the middle of two other holidays, I will always be grateful for Thanksgiving.  I am thankful for my husband and his family, whom I dearly love. I am thankful for my friends and the light they bring into my life. I am thankful to the family that has taken me in as its own. I am thankful for the teens I have worked with who have shown me that connections made long ago can remain important and solid. I give thanks that I can afford to buy all the things I do.
    
      I am thankful for being quirky. I am thankful for living in a time where I am old enough to be able to enjoy the life I worked so hard for. I am thankful that I can bitch about our country and not be arrested and only get into fights about my beliefs with my friends, who stay my friends anyway.

     An so for my theory, I believe that although the other holidays may obscure Thanksgiving, on that day, people still give thanks and the rest of the crap doesn't matter.

      Amen


*AD   stands for:  Another Digression





I couldn't find any other decoration pix. That's what I get for thinning out the boxes.



Same here. However, you can tell I take this Holiday seriously.

"LET THEM EAT BRIOCHE" not said by Marie Antionette and translated to "cake". An importan lesson from history.

         Marie may not have said it, but I think she was on to something. Things were really, really bad in France from 1789 onward.

                 Une Petite Histoire

       The people of France were starving and obviously pissed off. They wanted emancipation for the individual, greater division of property, abolition of the privileges of noble birth (think 1 percenters)  and equality. And, they wanted it for all humanity. That's kind of funny when we think of France now.
    Currently, they seem to think they are better than everyone else and oops.  Another Digression. I shall heretofore use the initials AD* when I digress. If you've read my blogs, you know  how much I go off on tangents so when I do, from now on, you'll see them everywhere and I'll let you know with the initials AD.  oy. AD
 
     The events leading to the  French revolution included national fiscal troubles caused by inefficient tax systems and expenditure on numerous large wars.  Starting to sound familiar? no?

     The resistance was lead by the peasants, laborers, and the bourgeoisie (that's the middle class).
On July 14, 1789 the peasants as they say, stormed the Bastille where all the good weapons were kept and Viva La Revolution.

                What this has to do with cake

      The peasants were starving. They had no bread and I will assume, not much food either. However, I'm going to make a leap that since they worked the fields, built houses and ships,  that although  they were hungry, many were just physically fit enough to carry out a revolt. These revolting peasants won and at least for a time created a republic.
      I will not go AD on this and go into the details of said revolution and it's aftermath.

       The conditions that prevailed at that time sound amazingly similar to some of the conditions that we in the USA  are faced with. Unequal distribution of wealth, privileges for the un-named nobility (the aforementioned wealthy).  People who are slaves to their jobs or government checks.  And a tax system that is not collecting enough to pay the nations bills and debts.
        Personally, I find this revolting and imagine other people do as well. I try to imagine a revolution of some sort to fix the injustices. And here is where my imagination goes.

                                      PICTURE THIS IF YOU WILL

        Picture our "peasants" i.e.. unemployed, underemployed and underpaid and the disappearing middle class.  Then  picture what they look like. I don't mean to be offensive, but we do know that there is a lot of obesity in our nation.  Now,  try and imagine them getting up off their couches and taking up arms. Marching. Demonstrating. Fighting.
         Now see them running down the block, charging ahead with their guns. Unfortunately, most of them probably do have them.  Okay. How far did they get? I see  a wheezing, out of breath, dropping to the ground and groaning mass. For me, it was not a pretty picture.

        If our nation were  attacked by actual soldiers and not crazy terrorists, it won't matter how many guns we they have. Most of them couldn't outrun a stalled car. In previous wars, the men were ready to fight or at least close enough that we really needed time to manufacture the weapons.  Now we'd need a nine month boot camp to get our fighters into shape. And that may be optimistic.

                       BACK TO THE ORIGINAL STATEMENT ( I always get there)

      If the peasants had eaten brioche, that rich, luscious bread that is cake like, they too would have been obese and out of shape and unable to overthrow a table laden with goodies.
      
       My conspiracy theory.  Our government is behind this. Promoting obesity. Why is the cheapest food the most fattening?  They are also interfering with the education system so no one actually learns anything. Heaven forbid that they learn to think or reason.  The war on drugs is being fed with overproduction of narcotics approved by the FDA. Let's assume there's more.
        Most of the 1%ers don't know what's going on. They could care less because none of it effects them. The ones running the show are having a good laugh.
        When you have a nation of people who are addicted to food, drugs, sex, computers, phones, and video games, you don't have to worry about an uprising.
      
       After the French Revolution, Napoleon took over the country. That may not have worked out so well, at least not for him. We have a constitution, a vote and a government full of politicians.  I, frankly am sick of all this bullshit.

       Just in case the addiction epidemics and over all stupidity  aren't sufficient, they have now  polarized
us against one another. So, instead of fighting them, we are fighting each other. Joe Blow in one corner, Joe Shmo in the other. This is not an AD. This is where I was headed only I didn't know until I started writing.

         REMEMBER THE ALAMO!   REMEMBER THE MAINE!  DON'T GAIN THOSE 7 POUNDS OVER THE HOLIDAYS!

Why isn't there a corollary for man cave, for a woman? i.e. Equivalent. ( Corollary sounds more .... I need to have a real thesaurus at times like these.)

   If you read my previous posts, you saw that I was redoing a room in our house. I have never quite known what to call this room. We have a master bedroom,  a "great room", kitchen, 2 baths, a second bedroom and a "den".  The den is my do over room.

                         SOME HISTORY

   We used the second bedroom as a guest room. We had my mother-in-law and her husband stay twice, and my friend once in three years. My husband never wanted a guest room to begin with so he pointed out the waste of space. Also, his computer, TV  and recliner were already in there, se we got rid of the sofa bed and he declared the area his man cave. He also, declared we would have  no more pull outs or sleep overs.
   I could certainly see his point.

                           FLORIDA TERMINOLOGY 

     In Florida, many bedrooms are called suites, since they attract guests like honey. So, they are made with a second bathroom attached for privacy.  This is also the guest bath unless you have a really big house, which we don't. In any event, he took that over too.  Now, our guest bathroom is the master bath. It's a little out of the way and people are not usually happy about it, but that's life here, in this house.
          
                                ALMOST READY TO MAKE MY POINT

   Okay. A person should have their  own space if there is space to spare. Until recently we used the den as a den  (TV watching) and also my office.
    We never used the "great room" which really isn't so great as it is a living room and dining area without walls. It does give a very open effect but confuses those of us with boundary issues.
    I finally got tired of sharing space, so I decided to move the TV into the living room and actually use this living space that looked great and hardly ever saw any action.  At the same time I  moved my art and crafts table into the den. Crafty of me, no? Then I bought an actual crafts table instead of using the fold out table people usually use for Thanksgiving.

     Suffice is to say, this was now, mostly, my room. An idea floating in my brain. Solidified in
     July. I decided that rather than the left over things in the den, (my room?) I would redo it and really make it mine. And that's what I've been doing for the past two and a half months. ( I'm still waiting on the last piece of furniture, ) but after a long, long time  of having the house in disarray, It's almost there.

                                                   THE QUESTION I STARTED OUT WITH


    The problem has been, what to call this room that I now claim as mine. Hence the title of the blog. I'd apologize for the long introduction, but what good would it do? I'll just do it again because this is me.
     CHOICES

    My woman cave. That sounds ridiculous and really, I don't want a cave. A cave is an underground hollow or dwellings prehistoric men lived in. We certainly know why men like that term for their misanthropic holes, I mean spaces.

    My lady cave. Well, that's just obscene.

     This morning I asked my husband why there isn't a corollary for man cave and he said it's because the whole rest of the house belongs to the woman! I added the exclamation. He was thinking it.
     But is he is right? Although we may decorate, clean, and use the other rooms, it doesn't mean they are ours. I mean other people use them too. Like the kitchen. Try to say this is my room, go get your food somewhere else. Don't walk on that rug, I just vacuumed it. Well, we try, but they don't usually listen.
   I  do go into his cave when he's there so I can talk to him. It's okay. But just know that
   if I ever moved his recliner he would know, because it wouldn't line up exactly with the TV. Enough said.

    A friend suggested that I call this my serenity room. I love that idea. Except, when people ask what I'm doing, if I say I'm fixing up my serenity room they will not know what I'm talking about. And as hard as it might be to believe, I do not want to have to explain.

     The thesaurus for cave has the synonyms of: grotto, cavern,  or give, bend, collapse, (the other type of cave as in cave in) .  A room can be an apartment or chamber, billet, bunk, domicile,
hut,  or quarter.  Yes, I can see saying I'm redoing my ladies chamber. Call the White Coats, she's finally gone off the rails.

      I am left with few choices, unless some of you have some ideas. I would really appreciate any opinions.  And even thought it's where I do my painting and crafts, I do not want to call it a craft room. That is so Martha Stewart and I am so NOT. Or my studio because it's pretentious. And not quite accurate.

     The theory is that since men view the house as the woman's, she has never been able to officially claim an area as hers. It's all on the DL.  A quiet spot in a basement. Locking oneself in the bathroom for a moment of peace and quiet. Going shopping. Our place was always in the kitchen or the bedroom. We didn't require anywhere else. So, women, I am calling upon us to take what is rightfully ours. A room in the house that has nothing to do with needlepoint, sewing, or hobbies. We demand our own cave space.

       At the moment, the best name I can think of is my girl cave. Actually, as a teen that was the last time I had a room of my own.  How about you? I lived in my parent's house and had a room  with all MY things in it and a door to close. (as long as there wasn't a boy there.)
        Women it's time to take our place. I mean space.  Whatevs.

Why I Love/Hate the Antiques Road Show

    I have been watching Roadshow, probably ,as long as its been on. I have liked antiques and collectibles since I was at least 18, which is when my mom's friend used our finished basement to have a sale since she " over collected", and had no room in her house.
    She gave my mom a few items as a thank you. I still have the glass  with silver overlay  art nouveau  vase.   It's got a patent number and is signed and dated although hard to read because of cleaning. Not me. It's been valued at about a thousand dollars so if it's not going to change my lifestyle , what does it matter? I love it and would sell for only really big bucks. But here I go, off on another tangent.  I should put up a picture of that too. Damn, this is hard work.
   
    Just think of these blogs as a conversation, where I don't let you get a word in.

    I usually buy things within a budget and for taste. I don't like ornate things or things that wouldn't match my décor.  As for having family heirlooms, well, that's where I get pissy.   At least I could have accidentally purchased something valuable. But I'll never know because the Road show isn't coming to Port Saint Lucie and the one in Miami is so large that I'd have a panic attack, even if I got tickets.  And there are things I can't find on Ebay.  I don't read frickin Mandarin or Japanese so how would I know what those type things are worth? Sorry. Train keep rolling off the track.

    The only heirloom I have, is a beautiful, sandstone and alabaster peacock lamp. It was made for gas and then converted to electric. Not as it happens to have been a bright idea.  The heat from the electricity cracked the dome and it is currently held together with Elmer's glue. I resisted  gluing it  for years, but I got tired of lifting off the top and hoping I didn't drop it. Also, pole was getting wobbly. I've had it around 40 years and it has been with me in all except one place. (I didn't schlep it to Israel).  The thing weighs a ton.

               Anyway, my question is, how many years does your family have to have lived in the US for you to inherit family heirlooms? And what countries did those families most likely emigrate from?
 
               Obviously, England, and Germany seem to be the places mentioned mostly on the show. And they seem to have come over several generations ago. Now that I think about it, the majority of people running our country fit that category.

             The theory is, that when you leave your homeland, because the inhabitants there are trying to kill you, you probably won't take a lot of baggage. And if you are lucky enough to have made it to America, it will take several generations to build up enough wealth to buy things to pass down.

               I do still consider myself very fortunate. All my grandparents were able to escape with their eggs and sperm, so at least, that's how I eventually got into the country. Maybe I'm the heirloom.
              Thank you Roadshow, for clearing that up.

Mom. Why did she want to be Protestant?

   A little background:

      I was brought up in a mostly Jewish neighborhood in Brooklyn. My parents were both atheists so I didn't get much about God, other than He didn't exist. I did get a smattering of Yiddish culture from being around other people.
      We never celebrated any holidays, except for Thanksgiving.  I knew other people were going to sedars and dinners for Jewish New Year,  and fasting on Yom Kippur, but we were never invited to anyone else's' and never had our own.

          Yet, I always knew I was Jewish. I suppose it was just a fact and thought of in no other way.
           An aside. One of my cousins was Baptized although his mom was my mom's sister. I'm not
          sure what he really considered himself and no doubt was brought up in a manner which gave
           him no  schooling on either. He married a Unitarian. They have a daughter who is, as are
          they, extremely bright. When she was four, a girl in her class said, I'm Jewish, what are you? 
          Her  reply was "I'm allergic".  That's about as much culture as we all got.

           My mother had been a victim of anti-Semitism during her early work years. She was an exceptionally bright, artistic and talented woman. She took classes at Columbia and become a draftswoman and worked during WWII.
      She had several jobs during those years. I can only tell the stories as I remember them since everyone who might have known is long since gone. My memory will have to serve.
     I believe one of the places she worked for  was a company called the British Purchasing Agency. I'll look it up later. I'm sure it no longer exists.

      She lied on her application and wrote in Protestant for religion. The Brits are/were quite anti-Semitic. I don't know if they did this with everyone, but they actually sent someone to her house to check on her.  She lived with her mother at the time. Grandma was born in Russia, but when she was fairly young,  her family moved to England on their way to America. Grandma was educated at the Rothschild School for girls. I never noticed it, because she's been here so many years, but she had no accent. Possibly a little British lilt but again, it's too long ago to be sure. My other grandparents spoke like most other Eastern European accents but somehow I never seemed to notice there was a difference.
           Anyhow,
      The company interviewed my Grandmother. Then they called my mother into the personnel office.
They told her that they knew she lied. My grandmother was obviously Italian and my mother, therefore Catholic. Since she was such a valued worker, they would keep her on, but she oughtn't lie.
        I guess Granny looked Italian.

         I believe the next job was at Bell Laboratories which what  it was called back then. They were rabidly anti-Semitic.  There too, my mom was a valued worker. The nicest back handed compliment they gave her, was from the union. She was called in, yet,  again. This time she was told to slow down as she was making the other workers (men) look bad.  Hello. There was a war going on. I still can't get over that bit of insanity.

        The War was ending and the company started to alphabetically fire all the Jews. My mom was certain they wouldn't fire her because of her outstanding work. When they got to the H's, the hatchet fell and she was let go.
       So much for being valued vs. being hated.  Nothing personal of course.

          I don't have a ridiculous theory this time. I believe she didn't like herself and part of that may have stemmed from being Jewish in a country that was predominantly  Christian.  Certainly her work experiences must have tainted her feelings about herself. She considered herself American.  So what made her Jewish? Her surname?  The culture she grew up in?  The society she lived in? 

 
          I think I understand. It's hard to embrace who you are when so many around you hate "you" on principle and don't even know why. Although the United States was referred to as a melting pot, it was still far better to be a WASP, than a immigrant. This is beginning to sound vaguely like some current political issues I've tried to tune out.
        WASPs, the non stinging kind, are very attractive. They have a heritage, pedigrees, privilege and at that time, certainly more money. They were portrayed as very cultured, intellectual, educated and elite. That too is starting to sound familiar.
        In any event. I too, like my mom would like to be seen as intelligent, cultured and pedigreed. She was really. Me, not so much. Yes, I do care what others think of me. I'd like not to, but that takes more courage than I currently have.
     
         However, I've learned not to hide who I am. Quirky, different and Jewish. I am also allergic to many things but I'll save that for another time.

Obessive Complusive Disorder. A brief primer.

       I have symptoms of OCD. This primer will be really short, because it's very late and I have to get up early tomorrow.
       As you may already know, you cannot stop an obsession or a compulsion. That is why I am not going to write this now, because I would be compelled to finish, not get enough sleep and feel like crap tomorrow. I can also see the future.
       Good night. This will be continued as soon as I find a few hours to write it.  See, I'm having trouble stopping. I need help. I'm going to ask my husband to pull me away and turn off the computer. Then, maybe tie me to the bed so I won't be able to come back.  "Hey Honey. HELP"

What is an "I'm sorry" worth?

        I was going to say, I'm sorry, I'm using the dictionary again, but I won't. I'm not sorry because I really don't have every definition of all English words memorized. And I shouldn't be sorry for wanting to be accurate.
     Wow. Webster's defines sorry as:
             1.  Full of sorrow, pity and sympathy.
             2.  Also used in apologizing or in showing mild regret.
      Could they be any further apart? Now I have to look up apology.

               Apology:
                  1. A formal spoken or written defense of some idea, doctrine etc.
                  2. An acknowledgement of some fault, wrong, etc. with and expression of
                      regret.

    I am one of those people who was raised to be polite. That meant saying, please and thank you. Holding doors for people behind you, and of course, saying "I'm sorry" if I had made an error of some sort.

    Also, being raised to believe that everything was my fault, and that I was responsible for it all, I became a chronic apologizer. Until , well, recently.

    It came to my attention that I said "I'm sorry", frequently, but then continued to do the things I was sorry for, repeatedly. Or I would say I was sorry for something over which I had no control.
        
            "I'm sorry you didn't get your package in the mail today"
            "I'm sorry the restaurant is so crowded, noisy, lousy, closed etc."  (only if I chose it)
             To customer service. "I'm sorry I'm yelling at you because I'm angry that I didn't get my
             delivery and I'm not angry at you, so please don't take it personally."

    I'm sure you get the picture. I had a friend, years ago who told me that he was so used to apologizing, that he could walk into a dark room, walk into a chair and apologize to the chair for bumping it.
    
        So. What is it worth when we say we're sorry?  According to me, not much. I've learned that if I did actually have control over what I did, and there are times I do, that saying I'm sorry doesn't cut it.
       What I need to do is change the behavior. Then, I won't need to say I'm sorry and the other person/persons won't feel I'm lying. Which I'm not, at least, not when I say it.
      
        Why do people apologize? Theory. We've been taught to be polite. We don't want to hurt someone's feelings. (read that as we don't want someone not to like us).  We don't want to get hit, yelled at, blamed etc.
     I suppose in some way it's a self-defense move that will hopefully keep the "other" from either thinking, or doing bad, back to us. So, it is really a very selfish thing to do. 

        A couple of days ago my husband quoted Egret, a character from the Game of Thrones series. The girl who loved John Snow. She said and this isn't exact, "Words. All words are is air".

        So an apology without change, is just air. We do it so often that it has lost any meaning.
I know a few people who never say they are sorry. If an "I'm sorry" came from one of them, It would be an  honor to hear it. 
         But I won't hold my breath because they don't say it for a reason.

        As for the rest of us, myself included,  we say it way too often. Really, it's become an excuse for behaving badly; expressing feeling bad for someone else, even if you had nothing to do with it, even it you mean it, is just air.  Expressing that you're sorry for doing something to someone else, even if you mean it, is also just air. Try behaving better. That's the real apology.

        And so, I have decided that I will no longer apologize to anyone for anything. I'm sorry.