Snap, Crackle, and Pollyanna

Today, as with any other day, I have a choice to make. I can sit around and think about the doom and gloom surrounding me, or I can braid my hair and become Pollyanna, sans the bad clothes.

D&G (doom and gloom) are mighty tempting. There’s so many choices. There’s the swine flu, nuclear warheads, bad hair, my super-sized tax bill, and if I think long and hard on it, many more icky things that could curl one’s toenails. How did we get so messed up?

Then again, I always loved Pollyanna. And as Francesca Reigler so eloquently put it, “Happiness is an attitude. We either make ourselves miserable, or happy and strong. The amount of work is the same.” In that case and since I have to work anyway, I choose happiness.

I can’t change what’s going on in the world, but I can change what’s going OUT of MY world. Happiness it is…

I’m starting out my day with a big bowl of Snap, Crackle, and Pop…shhhhh…hear it? Oh yeah, baby! It’s still there! It’s nice to see that some things never change. Thanks guys…now, if I can just get this hair braided.

2009 - I'll do it next year

It's officially here--2009. What exactly does that mean to YOU?

To me...it means RESOLUTIONS! Starting over! Do things differently! Out with the old--in with--Whattt? Oh sorry, I get carried away.

Give me a new year and I become this "thinking" machine. Suddenly my "self" shouts to my "self," "Hey you! Time for some changes around here, babe. Up and at um!"

This routine makeover actually starts before the New Year. It begins during the holiday season. I try to transform my SELF into Martha Stewart or Paula Deen, minus the hair dyes, money running out the ying yang, and the celebrity status. Just which part of these divas do I become, you ask? Well, I bake every new recipe they offer. Successfully? Uh...lemme get back to you, 'K?

It's gets worse. At the beginning of each new year (and completely out of no where), comes this grandiose idea of mine that I can become Jillian Michaels or--and if you tell anybody I'll pinki-swear you're a liar--I've been known to sweat to the oldies with you know who (how old is he, anyway? God luv em).

These attempts to a svelte new boomer babe usually last until I actually DO break a sweat and then, I'm saved by a thought--elastic is our friend. Hey? Hey? Am I right?

It's not just the additional seasonal pounds aplenty that I try to shed, either. I dutifully move over into the financial areas of my businesses and start hacking away at my biz plans and internal workings thinking I will suddenly bring clarity and order to five years worth of, "Ew, I don't want to plan today ... Ew a budget? Today? Oprah has a special on today. No can do. I'll do that next year."

And when next year comes, I jump into it with both feet AGAIN, and well...you know that old saying about doing the same thing, the same way, and expect different results? Guess who inspired it.

My ROI (Resolutions of an Idiot) actually last ... oh, all of an hour; maybe--on a good day. Okay fine, I'm lying but you can't prove it.

Okay, okay, my good intentions last till I need another cup of java. I go to the kitchen, see the remains of one of my Deen-o-lutions, and stop to eat.

By the time I get through with all of that, who wants to budget, file, or organize? Ew. I'll do it next year.

New Year resolutions hurt my psyche. They are an abomination to creative women everywhere, and I say they should be outlawed. Besides, if you can't do it during the year, what makes people like me think they can do it in one day/week/month?

Bwwwwwhahahah....ain't gonna happen, sistah. Besides, I can always do it next year, right? Righttttt.

All Things Big Fish in Little Pond

A big fish in a little pond. That's the term I use for people who say one thing, but their lives, or actions speak another. Yet they say it because it makes them feel important, heard, or in some cases, even loved.

Sorry, but I left my humor on the back porch today.

Time...it really can "be our friend" when you want space to clear your heart and head. These past few weeks, time has walked side by side with me and I've heard, watched, listened, and of course read how others conduct their lives, what they say to me specifically, and to the public.

I've come to the conclusion that many, many people speak with forked tongues. They offer the world one thing where in reality, their "truth" is being mask behind some fear.

They'll say something like, "give me feedback, I want it! I love it!" yet when you do, they resent it to the point they assume the fetal position and suck their thumb. How dare you send them, the owner of the words, feedback! This brings on an even bigger "rant" and then, and only then, do they feel vindicated against the injustice of the "feedback" they wanted. THEY WANTED? Uh huh. Sure babe...Yawnnnnn.

Burn me once, shame on you, burn me twice, shame on ME.

Then there are those who do good deeds, but ONLY if they are recognized over and over (ad nauseam) for those deeds. They do them, then tell the entire world what they did. Why don't they just wear a sign that says, "It REALLY IS ALL ABOUT ME."

The real heros are the ones that don't have to tell the world what good act they performed, or who they know, or how much they have OR spent on that deed. The good deed alone is their reward.

Let's don't forget the political zealots who would have their voice heard above anyone else's. They're right, you're wrong, and you don't have a brain, otherwise, you would know that they're right, you're wrong. They have ALL of the answers, your candidate is a moron, and by default, that makes YOU a moron as well.

I look at these people and their lives, and how miserable they are, and how they only come alive when it's something political, something they can shout up and down about, believing they're superior at knowing, and by God, you WILL hear them...because they need you to. Sadly, it's all they have.

It reminds me of the uneducated, loud redneck at a football game. Their team is #1, no matter how lousy they play...now these loudmouths have never set foot on a college campus in their lives, and barely got out of the eight grade, but they'll fight to the death for THEIR TEAM because....ah, well, hmm, because that small pond just got another fish.

All Things That Break Your Heart

I lost a dear friend yesterday. The silence in the house is deafening. I look around and see her toys, I cry. I wash out her food bowl and the tears flow. I sit down on "her" loveseat just hoping she'd come over and give me that look that says, "Ah, 'cuse me, you have a couch right over there. This is mine, now move it." We use to play that game.

To say that Trixie was a good companion would be so grossly understated. As I told some of my friends this morning, she taught me well. I'm an observer of life and Trixie, God love her, knew how to live one.

Every single day was a good day. Every trip in the car was pure delight. Every little treat was the best treat she had every had in her entire 13 years, and every hug or pat was reciprocated with sloppy tongue baths. You could almost hear her saying in her Gomer Pyle voice, thank ya, thank ya, thank ya!

Trixie would have loved all the attention she received yesterday evening. All the tears that were shed, and the phone calls, emails on her behalf.

I'll use my best Trixie impersonation and tell you all what Trixie would have said, had she been able to say it...

Life is a gift, how you choose to spend each day is up to you. How will you use your gift? I spent mine loving...

Good-bye, my dear, sweet friend---see you on the other side.

Georgia

All Things Better...Now

Karma is a big old meanie.

I've just completed a week and a half of taking care of grandchildren as my sweet, adorable, oldest son was in the hospital with a big, bad, angry gall bladder. Ouch!

He had his surgically removed and got ice cream.

I wasn't so lucky. I had the grandchildren. I'm sure that some past life transgression (there are so many) was the reason for my punishment. One can only hope my dues are paid.

Holy cow...Do you know how many times a Strawberry Shortcake DVD can be played before it is totally worn out? Totally?

I've built tents in the living room, my bedroom, and in the kitchen. I've played hide and seek a bazillion times and found out that small kids cheat.

I've colored, finger-painted, and eaten so many banana pops, I want to swing from trees.

I'm washed clothes, cleaned icky stuff off the TV remote (which will NOT flush down the toilet! Yeah!), and read The Pokey Little Puppy like a hundred times. The last time I just couldn't take it anymore and cracked. I said, "Look, he's slow, k? S-l-o-w. The puppy has issues. Here, have a banana pop."

If there is a grandmaw heaven, I'm pretty sure I have a free pass to get in.

The house is now incredibly silent. And for now...it's golden.

All Things Beyond Me

I'm Queen Jaw Jaw and I'm technically challenged. There, I said it. Again.

Well, at least I am when it comes to Blogger. Help me Rhonda! Help, help me Rhonda!

Anyway, if you are a loyal fan of da Queen here, and you want to be notified when I spout off---ah, I mean when I offer words of wisdom, then go

HERE

and sign up.

Nin-ner, nin-ner, I beat the system...I beat the system...bawhahahah..ahem...cough..spurt...cough...ahem.

I signed up to have the nice, bright and shiny orange thingy for the site here, but THEY put it on the OLD blogger account and in cement, apparently...

Join me, wanna? I promise it won't hurt...much. Once you sign up, THEY (whoever THEY are) will send you an email confirmation thingy....just click on it and you're all set.

All Things Losing It

Some days I truly believe I'm losing it. Now I'm not talking about those times when you walk into a room and think, "why did I come in here?" Everybody has a busy schedule nowadays, and it's easy to overload the old brain. So when things like that happen, I put it down to too many thoughts rolling around my brain, fighting for my attention. They're simply nothing to get excited over...

The ones that scare me are when I find the telephone in the freezer, or I get up, dress for work, and start out the door...then remember I've been retired for three years. Yelllll-ooooo. Time for a reality check, Queenie.

If any of my adoring fans read this (either one of you) and want to tell me this is normal behavior, or if would like to comment and share some of your own "misplaced behavior," please do! I would love to know that I have company.

I seemed to be advancing into the "seniorhood" role quite rapidly, and according to some friends, these things prove it.

1) I'm talking to toaster-ovens, microwaves, coffee pots, and other assorted inanimate objects. I say things like "hurry up, will ya? I'm dying here!" In retrospect, naming them was probably not the actions of a sane boomer. Tilly the toaster, Milford the micro, and Cooter the coffe---you know, this has the makings of a good Baby Boomer Hero-type show, am I right? Now where did I put that pen..oh yeah, Freddie the Freezer has it.

2) I am suspicious of any new neighbors. I hear a noise, peek out the blinds, and then begin imaging they are surely devil worshipers or worse, editors.

3) I keep a list of all of the commercials I hate. This however, prove to be too time consuming, so I made adjustments and now, I only list the top 100.

4) I blog about it.

I need to phone 1-800-get-a-life...and I would...only I can't find the phone.