MY FIRST CHRISMAS TREE

      

           I was 23 years old when I finally moved out of my mom's apartment. If I ever tell you my life story you'll know that this was hard to do, leaving my mom alone, but it was time to leave the nest so I flew.
       My friend Iris and I had rented a downstairs apartment, in a Brownstone in Park Slope,  Brooklyn.  This was before everyone renovated to make condos out of these wonderful one family buildings. 
      What our family had done was block off the staircase that led to the upstairs and made a closet to separate the house from the tenants.  (I just noticed how possessive I am. Our family, not the family who owned the Brownstone).
      
          We moved in during the summer and it was our first Christmas. I love Christmas. I still do.  Ever since I was a little girl I used to love going around to stores to ogle  all the beautiful decorations. Our dysfunctional nuclear family would take a night to drive all around Brooklyn to go  what we called "Christmas tree spotting". We didn't have a tree of our own. First, I suppose it was partly because we never celebrated anything except for Thanksgiving, and secondly we were Jewish.
     
      My Dad did once bring home a little round tree from work. Now that I think about it, it was probably a gift from one of his girlfriends, but that too is another story.
      I was maybe 10 or 11 thought it was so pretty that I put it in our front window when I came home from school. It was lit up with it's blinking colored lights and felt wonderful. The tree may have only been a foot tall,  but it was there, shining for all the world to see.  That, as it turned out, was a problem.

  My mother came home from work couldn't have missed it. She marched into the house and  proceeded to have a conniption fit.  "What is wrong with you"?  "What will the neighbors think?" "Take that thing out of the window NOW!!!"  That was mom. If it was behind closed doors, who cared, but if the outside world knew, OMG. 

    So I was forced to remove it and we never had a tree in the house again. As an aside, we never had a menorah. As far as I could tell, it was Christmas 1, Chanukah 0.

  Now, I was on my own and damned if I weren't going to celebrate my favorite holiday. Iris was also Jewish, but she liked the idea as well. We trudged out in the cold to some usually empty lot in the neighborhood where they were now occupied to sell live trees.  And live it was we wanted  We wanted a full, tall, live tree.  And that's what we got. 

  You can see from the photo that we found one. It just about hit the ceiling.  Imagine the two of us lugging this tree through the streets. I suppose describing "us" would help.  I was a little heavier then than I am now, but I was still thin and 5'3".  Iris was taller, maybe 5'5", but she weighed over 300 pounds. A bit like a female Laurel and Hardy.  Picture these two young women in their early twenties, bundled up with hats and scarves and boots, wending out way through the lightly snow covered streets.  Carrying a tied up, heavy tree. These days, we could have used a phone to take a picture. Those days, we were lucky to have a phone in the apartment, although I must have had a camera since I have a picture of the tree.

   Such anticipation. Setting up our tree and presenting it for the world to see. Well, okay not maybe the world, but anyone who walked or drove down third street. Our apartment had an unusual set up for a brownstone. Most have the entrances that you go down some steps, and the door is under the staircase leading to the house. Out of sight.  Our door was next to the staircase and in full view of the street.  There was even  a window panel or either side of the glass door. Perfect. For people looking in. That too is another story.  As you see, I have lots and lots of them.

    We brought the tree in and untied her ropes and let her fir fly.  We put her in her stand and something wasn't right. No matter what we did, she wouldn't' stand up. Upon further review of the matter we discovered what was wrong. Our tree had a severe case of scoliosis. Her trunk was skewed so she couldn't balance herself.

    We did the only thing we could do. And trust me, we tried anything we could think of.  In the end our only option was to set her in the corner and lean her against the wall where it would hold her up. We were sorely disappointed that she wouldn't be a sight for the neighbors, but lying on the floor wasn't the type of sight we had in mind.

     We had to be very careful when we decorated her or went near her, as she had a tendency to list with the lightest touch. Still we loved our tree. I believe she was a Douglas Fir. Thick and with that beautiful scent that filled the air. Ah Tannenbaum.

      All was well until Iris got a phone call from her parents saying they wanted to visit her.  This was a very, very, big deal. She had lived on her own for over three years  and her folks had never been to visit her in any of her apartments. I take it they disapproved of her moving out. But, why now?  They were Orthodox Jews and were not going to be pleased that her daughter and room mate had a huge, flipping Christmas tree. No menorah in sight yet again. (Christmas 2, Chanukah 0). We couldn't hide the tree and taking her down and attempting to put her back up wasn't an option. So,we did what all children do at some point in their lives. We lied to her parents. (I am going to lie now too about my last name and use a fictitious one. I always hated my maiden name and still do).  So let's pretend is was Levy. Her parents thought that I was also Jewish so she would be busted big time.

    We thought about telling them that my name was O'levy and that I was  half Irish.  Somehow even our addled brains realized that would seem ridiculous. . My last name was on the door anyway, so we couldn't do that.  We finally opted for the easiest lie.  My dad was Jewish and my mom was Catholic. I was brought up with Catholic traditions so I had to have my tree.

    I was not around when her folks visited. I never met them.  It went well. Or that's what I seem to recall.  That part was her drama and not mine.  There are only so many tales one can keep track of.

     I do remember that those were some heady times. First apartment, first real jobs, new friends, living on our own. Figuring out who we were and who we might become.
     And I loved Iris. She was funny, compassionate and smart. We spent many nights just talking. And I remember, even back then that she was unusual. She also listened. So good night Iris. And thanks for the memories.

ps.  Our tree from three years ago. Artificial and not listing. And a few more decorations as well.

"land of the Brave and the Free" The only thing that is currently "free" is the opportunity to make an ass of yourself.

               

 

This morning I was paying the bills for December. I get checks at the end of the month. They get posted as "pending". That means if I were to transfer or "use" the money now, I'd be in trouble because they haven't given it to me yet.
So, I have to make sure that I put in the next date when I know the money will be mine.
        Why does this bother me?

1. They are government checks. Shouldn't they clear automatically?
2. They gave it to me, why won't you?
3. When I charge something on my credit card, which is also the same bank, the charges appear instantly. How come you don't have to wait?
4. If I see a 2 cent interest in the account I am delirious with joy.
5. How much interest do you make holding back everyone's money while it pends?
6. My "free" banking is limited to certain accounts. If I make more than 6 transfers online or on my cell, I get charged. If I don't want the charges I have to actually show up at the bank and do the transfers on their computer. Why????

      Another case of our upside down America. Did I get a say in who made these banking regulations?  I think not. I think we should all have a say in it since it's our fucking money.


remember. scroll down for comments etc.

'CUSE ME MAM, DO YOU HAVE A FREUDIAN SLIP IN A SIZE SMALL?

          Good Morning. I'm welcoming myself back from vacation which is why I have been silent for a week. We paid for the package for unlimited Wi-Fi, but the ship had internet problems the first day, and then we couldn't get our phones online etc. Bummer.
 I wanted to blog from the Caribbean, but the Universe shut me down.  * AD (digression)

  For those of you who have been reading these, you will have noticed that all sorts of things can come out of my mouth. Actually, it's from my brain channeled to my fingers onto the blog, but since I think of it as a conversation, to me, it's coming out of my mouth.

  For those of you who do actually know me, you, are already very aware of the things that I utter. ADHD can be cruel, as my censors, unlike those on radio or TV do not have a time delay. I therefore blurt out some things that I find myself having to explain (mostly to my husband, which now that I think about it ,is curious because most of the time he isn't listening, so why does he hear the things that I have to end up defending myself for?)

   Dr. Sigmund Freud, who I believe was a genius has been debunked, defrocked and derided over the past century. Both during, and  after his life time.

    No one gets it correct all the time, but to throw out an entire life's work over some probably erroneous theories, well that's just dumb.
 
     I will stick (or make a brave attempt) to the theory on Freudian slips. Everyone uses the term and hopefully knows what it means.

      Freud believed that an unconscious thought or feeling could pop into ones conscious mind and slip through the filters  of our thoughts, therefore giving voice to an innermost feeling.
 
        I don't know how many of you can relate.  Saying something you didn't mean to say and then not being able to take it back. I'm not talking about saying things you know you want to say and letting them slip, but things you didn't know you were feeling that came out in what you said.     


       Scientists who are now able to map the brain and understand cognition in ways Freud couldn't, have pretty much said that slips are not what Freud thought. Instead, neural connections fail, cross one another or possibly just errors that occur that are of no significance. I'm sure that they are mostly correct and even Freud said, "sometimes a cigar is just a cigar". Although I believe that he may have written that because he was in denial about how much phallic symbols were on his brain, and in his mouth.

      I have, however, over the course of my lifetime experienced those slips of the tongue that were definitely not crossed wires and, if I were someone who blushed, would have been bright red. Instead, I wanted to crawl into a hole or ended up defending what was said.
     Fortunately my errors often came out when speaking to a male, so he wasn't listening and didn't pick up on it.
  
     I suppose I remember this one because it was super embarrassing. I was in my twenties and had recently lost my job. A friend took me out and I met a guy at a bar on Hudson Street. We danced, and he took my number and actually called.

      We were on our first date and were asking the usual questions about what do you do, where did you go to school and other background information topics.

       He asked about my job, which as I mentioned, I had just lost. What came out of my mouth was a part of what I thought I was going to say.  "Oh, I just got laid".  Somehow the word "off" never made it out.

        So, were my neural connections crossed or was I thinking about sex?  I can't remember the rest of the conversation other than my  finishing the phrase and feeling like an overexposed photograph.  And yes, of course I was thinking about sex. It was a date. Duh???

        It's a wonderful human trait to be able to choose what you hear or see based on your believe system and change it depending upon situation and your feelings about it.

        People in the public eye have had to deal with this issue for ages.  Saying things taken out of context, photos when caught off guard.  All because of freedom of the press.  Which is essential to democracy.  It got worse once live broadcasts became possible, and there wasn't time to call the reporter and beg to  him or her to leave out a particular quote or photo.

        George W. said many things that I'm sure he wished he could take back. Were they Freudian slips?  Stupid remarks? Or failure of neural connections? This is America and you can decide for yourself depending upon how you feel about the man. I will say that he ones I can recall were probably not slips. 

         And what came into my mind when I wrote that?  You probably have to have a conscience to have an unconscious.  That was a nasty thought which is possibly why I didn't think they were slips. It wasn't what I was thinking when I wrote it, but it just popped up. That's the way my mind works.   ( I was leaning towards stupid, but also believe the possibility that he damaged his brain during his drinking years). No offense to people who like/love him. Just my opinion.

       Then, is it a Freudian slip if it makes no sense. Or at least not in a usual way?  Recently I was talking to someone about my overworked sense of responsibility and said " I feel obligated to start what I finished."  Something felt wrong.  I had reversed the usual statement of finishing what I start.

        On the bright side, I really liked this statement, so I wrote it down or I would forget it. You do recall that I have short term memory problems, right?  Just refer back to older blogs if you have memory problems too.

       The beauty of this "slip" is that you had to have started it because it's finished.  How ridiculous is that?
     Right now some of you are thinking at this moment. When is this going to be finished?
soon.

       The most recent occurrence which brought this ridiculous idea to mind was while on the cruise I said something that my husband got upset about. I wish I could say it was because I was drunk, which is a distinct possibility since it was a cruise, but it wasn't. Well, at least not drunk enough.  It also wasn't from my unconscious.

       It was more along the lines of daydreams and fantasy and imagination. I consider those areas to be private like the unconscious, but you are aware of them and in control of them.  Except when they accidentally spill out of your mouth in a conversation where your partner is actually listening.

      The content isn't important. It's the concept. Walking down the never ending hall to our room, I found myself defending my imagination.  I'm not Catholic. I don't expect to go to pre-purgatory for sins I think about, and have no intention of committing.
      Yet there I was, pleading my case so my husband would understand and not worry about my acting on a word. 

     True, if they are private or unconscious thoughts, we are supposed to keep them to ourselves. I get the principle.  My run away mouth does not. I can be at a get together with a group of friends and find myself calling out something I think is funny at an inappropriate moment. I don't apologize anymore because if you read my blog on apologies you'll understand.

     So, my theory is.............. Slips of the tongue happen. We often say things we don't want to say, but they slip out. Conscious or not, it doesn't matter. How it affects the someone who hears, it does. And us of course. My request in the title holds.  If I have to make a slip, please, let it be a little one.

keep scrolling to get to the comment section. pretty please with sugar on top.
Or I'll beat the crap out of you.   oops that was just a slip of the tongue. I meant to say tar. LOL











      

         

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!