Hanging On

So, I've still got my blog on life support. Since I haven't written creatively - or even regularly - for quite a while now, and the poor thing really doesn't get many visitors anymore, I've been wondering if the humane thing to do is just pull the plug and let it pass peacefully. But I just don't have the heart. The truth of the matter is, I love writing and I love blogging. Regardless of the fact that my mojo has been on the back of a milk carton for a couple years now, I'm just not ready to let it go. I keep hoping that someday I'll be inspired to really get this blog to breathe, walk and speak once more. So I continue to stop by ... hold its hand ... talk aimlessly a little bit ... change the flowers ... that sort of thing ...

My dear friend Cassie invited me to join a network of writers. Writers of all types, walks, styles and professions. I joined with enthusiasm. While I haven't made had time to peruse some of the other members' blogs yet, I'm hoping the company of other writers will help. If you are here from the group, visiting mine ... Just please go back in the archives a few years. It's much better back then. ;) And leave a short-and-sweet comment so I may return the favor.

It's my birthday, dammit!

And I'm really enjoying myself thanks to my new take-no-crap attitude in life. I think ** (actual age omitted to protect the innocent) will be my best year yet.

I'm thinking about commemorating the new birth year by ripping a few people's a$$es who are either on my nerves or have hurt me and I've just been letting it go for a while. But why should I do that? Nobody does me any favors in this area. Besides, now that I'm old, it's not healthy for me to keep that kind of stuff all bottled up inside.

Still planning to get back to some creative writing. One of these days I'll really do it.

Be back soon.

Busy Bee

Time is speeding by. Have y'all been as busy as I have? Just wanted to pop in and chatter aimlessly for a while. ... While I've been busy, not much to speak of is all that interesting, save a few tidbits.

I kicked my fitness plan into fulltime gear a few weeks ago and am happy to share that I've trimmed off 5 pounds already. Yay, me! This is an astonishing feat, being that it comes off with great difficulty since I hit my late 30's. Unfortunately, not eating isn't the same as quitting smoking. Ya gotta eat. And it's hard not to eat when you're feeling hungry. So I've been relearning what foods to eat for the twofold sum of maximum satisfaction and maximum physical benefit. It's taken diligence but it's paying off.

I'm also excited to share that I've found a new dance class! If you've been around a while, you may remember that I've wanted to learn how to belly dance since I was 15 years old. A boyfriend I had in high school, his mom practiced belly dance. She would sometimes rehearse routines for us as practice for her classes. I was entranced at how this mild, quiet, average mom would turn into a confident, sensual goddess when she'd dance - and in her mid-to-late 40's, her body was killer. I always wanted to learn what she knew.

A few years ago I decided to finally pursue this interest. I bought some instructional tapes, which were okay - but then found a semi-local class that was affordable and very exciting. A friend of mine has enjoyed much good-natured teasing at my expense - but I tell you, belly dancing is deceptively challenging. It takes incredible muscle control and isolation skills, and when done properly, you really feel it - both during and the next day. I was loving it, I was getting muscle definition, and I was getting pretty good at it if I say so myself. My instructor was even talking about me being almost ready to switch to the intermediate class.

Then gas prices went up. Dramatically. And my 60 mile round trip commute to the class suddenly tripled in bottom line cost. I discontinued my training.

I've missed it ever since.

This weekend I was thinking about it all again and decided to check out local listings on line to see if anything new had shown up. To my delight, I found a class at a relatively nearby community center that is affordable and agrees with my schedule. I contacted the instructor and we had a great exchange. Her classes run in 6-week stretches, the current one having started last week. However, she was willing to have me join a week late and double up on a class to get my tuition's worth. She currently teaches an egyptian cabaret class and a tribal fusion class back to back on Mondays.

I've become fascinated with the style and seduction of tribal fusion dance over the last few years, so I was really jazzed at the prospect of taking a class focusing on tribal fusion techniques. The Hub, awesome man that he is, was cool with me making last second plans for the next who knows how many Monday nights, and so I am heading to the rec center tonight to get my shimmy on again.

Can't wait.

In other news, my brother is coming for a visit in a few weeks. YAY! I haven't seen him in a good 4 years, so I'm really excited. He's bringing my neice and nephew along as well, both of whom I haven't seen in even longer. They'll only be here for four days, but I'll take it. :) We are hoping to steal away to a portrait studio at some point, for a belated sibling photo for my parents' 50th wedding anniversary. We haven't had a formal photo taken together since I was 4 and he was 10. So it should be pretty neat.

It's fun to have things to look forward to. Life's good right now.

I'm so Pi$$ed Off Right Now.

I so enjoy having an aneyurism first thing in the morning.

I'm listening to the news on the way in today. Mistake number one. And our local news guy is talking with some reporter from the BBC. The BBC cat is chattering on and on about how many of the Gitmo detainees that have been freed have already rejoined Al Quaida.

Well there's a shock, huh?

Though my Mom taught me at an early age to never underestimate the stupidity of the common man, I continue to be shocked and amazed at humankind's blindness. These turds are not like us. They will never be like us. They have been programmed from birth to hate us, and that they will be rewarded for anything they can do to decay our way of life. And that's not prejudice. That's FACT. Do people honestly think that a stint in an American run prison, which is probably like a stay at the Four Seasons for these jackasses thanks to liberal crybabies, is really going to make them rethink their ways and carry a daisy in their hand from now on? Are you SERIOUS?

The reporter goes on to rhetorically ponder the problem of what to do with the remaining detainees - where to place them after Gitmo is closed.

Here's an idea. How 'bout HELL? Straight to Hell. Problem solved.

Why is this so difficult to understand?

Rest in Peace

* * * *

Luckily, I never really saw much combat. I was in it a few times - I don't know if I ever killed anyone and frankly I don't want to know. ... I worked in an orphanage for a while, and that I really liked. I really enjoyed the kids. But mostly I was in medical. One of the first days I was there, a chopper came and brought some wounded in. And I got this guy who was hurt really bad. ... Basically, is entire lower jaw was gone. Just, gone. He kept trying to tell me something, over and over. Obviously I couldn't understand him ... so I just sat there with him. I sat there with him until he died.

* * * *

A dear friend of mine served in Viet Nam. In the 15 years I've known him, he's rarely talked about anything he saw or did there other than getting wasted - an activity that is more than understandable in those circumstances if you ask me.

The other night we were talking about it for some reason, and he shared this story with me. It's haunted me ever since. My heart has ached for this young man who could not express his final concerns, and died in agony - alone and on the other side of the world. Alone except for my friend.

Forty years isn't too long ago to mourn a fallen fighter. God rest your soul, soldier.

A Pox on Zhu Zhus!

Unless you've been living under a rock for the past 6 months, you know that this endearing little critter is a Zhu Zhu Pet. Unarguably the hottest toy of the 2009 Christmas season. They come in several colors (so you can collect them all). They chirp, squeak, purr, and run around little mazes (sold separately) or just on the floor. They are hamsters without the mess. People were losing their minds trying to score one of these things, and opportunists were hawking them online for $80, $90 or more.

Incrediboy had seen the commercials and knew what they were, but had not especially asked for one. I considered myself fortunate.

I had to work a few hours on Christmas Eve, and while I was in the office my boss called me, telling me the store in which she was had announced they had a limited supply of Zhu Zhus available in the automotive department (of all places) and did I want her to pick one up for Incrediboy. I told her "Sure" - I mean, after all - if you CAN get one, why NOT get one? She brought back the little darling for me, and at the actual suggested retail price, God love her.

Pipsqueak (this particular Zhu Zhu) was waiting for Incrediboy with his stocking on Christmas morning. He was indeed happy to get one, despite his not requesting one. We took it out of the box for our first round of Zhu Zhu fun.

The damn thing doesn't work.

It chortles and coos and makes all the cute noises. But it doesn't move. It doesn't even make an attempt to move.

The piece of crap.

Now Incrediboy is sad and perplexed that Santa would give him a broken toy. When had I not fallen for the hype he would have been perfectly happy without a Zhu Zhu at all.

I'll never fall for marketing pressure again.

Buckeye Mishap

Sometimes, it seems like the eating gods are against you. Other times, things just work out.

My friend and coworker gave me a nice batch of buckeyes that his wife made for Christmas. For those who are unfamiliar, buckeyes are a somewhat regional treat, made of a peanut butter and confectioner's sugar mixture rolled into balls and about 3/4 submerged in chocolate coating. They are FABULOUS. Easily my favorite treat ever. I could eat about a thousand of them, which is the problem.

I took them home and placed the bag on the kitchen counter. Later on I got that certain sense possessed by mothers that something mischievous was going on.

To my chagrin, Most Beautiful Dog had snagged the bag of treats from the counter, had torn it open and helped himself. He only actually ate a few before I busted him, but left a toothmark or two in each remaining one. This may not bother some dog moms - and believe me, I love buckeyes so much I almost considered looking over them. But knowing his penchant for butt-licking I decided otherwise.

That's a damn shame, having to throw those luscious jewels away. But I'm sure MBDog had my best interests in mind and was merely trying to help me stick to my healthy eating plan.

*frown*

Merry Christmas, my friends!

Resolution Making, a little early

My husband's uncle passed away last week. He was a Viet Nam Vet, lived life a little dangerously, smoked like a forest fire and wore out young. He was handsome and funny. Family loved him, women loved him, people in general loved him.

We went to his memorial service on Saturday. He was cremated per his wishes, so everyone brought pictures to share and laid them out on large tables. My husband's family is large and full of characters ... the mood was somber, but there were a lot of stories shared and laughter enjoyed with the memories of this ornery youngest uncle. In my opinion, this is a much more beneficial way to remember someone's life than to hover around a box containing the dead body of someone you loved.

The whole experience got me thinking about how short our time here is. It's a cliche, but already I'm a year into my 5th decade of life and much of it passed in the snap of a finger.

I've struggled with varying degrees of depression for much of my life, due to many reasons. Large chunks of my life have been stolen by it. I hate that. I've also had a large portion of being hurt by people I care deeply about. This has conditioned me to be very cautious about not only exposing my inner feelings to someone but in many cases allowing a natural closeness to develop at all.

In 2010 I am resolving to take both of these issues by the horns and turn them around. Each of us is living on borrowed time, and there are no do-overs. It is time for me to step out of the darkness that always seems to bog me down, shake off the heavy burdens laid on me by the mean spirited actions of others and openly embrace the people I love.

It's up to me to make an impact.

Casualties

My brother was into building models when we were kids. He mostly built cars - very intricate, beautiful classic car replicas. To this day when I smell Testors Paint or epoxy of any kind, I am transported back to those days when I'd stand next to him and ask him insufferable questions about what he was doing while he built things.

One time he built a model ship. It was a fairly large, sailing "pirate" style ship, and the sails and lines were all done in string. It was super intricate and he worked on it forever. When he was done, my parents relocated the school photos from the top of the television so it could be displayed there in our living room.

I bet that thing wasn't even there a day when our border collie got jazzed up about something and careened into the TV stand. The ship teetered and fell to the ground, smashing into a giant, irreparable tangle.

My brother about had a grand mal seizure.

Memories are a funny thing ... I can say with surety that this happened over 30 years ago and was rarely if ever spoken of afterwards for obvious reasons. And for some reason this came to mind this afternoon.

I emailed my brother to see if he remembered this, and if he ever recovered emotionally from the trauma of it all.

He has yet to respond.

I love this letter.

I've received this by email and think it's worthy of a blog post. Thank you, Harold.


This venerable and much honored WW II vet is well known in Hawaii for his seventy-plus years of service to patriotic organizations and causes all over the country. A humble man WITHOUT a political bone in his body, he has NEVER spoken out before about a government official, until now. He dictated this letter to a friend, signed it and mailed it to the president.

Dear President Obama,

My name is Harold Estes, approaching 95 on December 13 of this year. People meeting me for the first time don't believe my age because I remain wrinkle free and pretty much mentally alert. I enlisted in the U.S. Navy in 1934 and served proudly before, during and after WW II retiring as a Master Chief Bos'n Mate. Now I live in a "rest home" located on the western end of Pearl Harbor , allowing me to keep alive the memories of 23 years of service to my country.. One of the benefits of my age, perhaps the only one, is to speak my mind, blunt and direct even to the head man.

So here goes.

I am amazed, angry and determined not to see my country die before I do, but you seem hell bent not to grant me that wish. I can't figure out what country you are the president of.

You fly around the world telling our friends and enemies despicable lies like: "We're no longer a Christian nation", " America is arrogant" - (Your wife even announced to the world, "America is mean-spirited." Please tell her to try preaching that nonsense to 23 generations of our war dead buried all over the globe who died for no other reason than to free a whole lot of strangers from tyranny and hopelessness.) I'd say shame on the both of you, but I don't think you like America, nor do I see an ounce of gratefulness in anything you do, for the obvious gifts this country has given you. To be without shame or gratefulness is a dangerous thing for a man sitting in the White House.

After 9/11 you said," America hasn't lived up to her ideals." Which ones did you mean? Was it the notion of personal liberty that 11,000 farmers and shopkeepers died for to win independence from the British? Or maybe the ideal that no man should be a slave to another man, that 500,000 men died for in the Civil War? I hope you didn't mean the ideal 470,000 fathers, brothers, husbands, and a lot of fellas I knew personally died for in WWII, because we felt real strongly about not letting any nation push us around, because we stand for freedom. I don't think you mean the ideal that says equality is better than discrimination. You know the one that a whole lot of white people understood when they helped to get you elected.

Take a little advice from a very old geezer, young man. Shape up and start acting like an American. If you don't, I'll do what I can to see you get shipped out of that fancy rental on Pennsylvania Avenue . You were elected to lead not to bow, apologize and kiss the hands of murderers and corrupt leaders who still treat their people like slaves.

And just who do you think you are telling the American people not to jump to conclusions and condemn that Muslim major who killed 13 of his fellow soldiers and wounded dozens more.

You mean you don't want us to do what you did when that white cop used force to subdue that black college professor in Massachusetts , who was putting up a fight? You don't mind offending the police calling them stupid but you don't want us to offend Muslim fanatics by calling them what they are, terrorists.

One more thing. I realize you never served in the military and never had to defend your country with your life, but you're the Commander-in-Chief now, son. Do your job. When your battle-hardened field General asks you for 40,000 more troops to complete the mission, give them to him. But if you're not in this fight to win, then get out. The life of one American soldier is not worth the best political strategy you're thinking of.

You could be our greatest president because you face the greatest challenge ever presented to any president. You're not going to restore American greatness by bringing back our bloated economy. That's not our greatest threat. Losing the heart and soul of who we are as Americans is our big fight now. And I sure as hell don't want to think my president is the enemy in this final battle.

Sincerely,
Harold B. Estes