Sunday, December 21, 2014

hubba hubba

OK, I have been a mess the past few days with work being done for me around the house.
That makes me a bit itchy to help which I am not able to.
So I am forgetting to cook, or do anything else, just watch ......
So I know I have a list for the grocery store, do not remember where I put it.
Walk into the store and everything around me looks like something I do not need.
I leave with grapes. I figure that is really what I need

Come home and THEN it hits me, I am out of dog food and toilet paper......
How can you forget that?
Don't answer me.

I just do not like for people (read "kids") to do work for me which I could do
without as much as breaking a sweat.

The golden age is sometimes not 18 K but a "gold wash".
If you like jewelry you know how long a wash lasts!
Good night!


It is a wonder that I had been so upset about the artist cave upstairs and could do little about it myself, a broken back does not allow you many fantasies or realities.
For instance I will never be able to do pole dancing, nor skateboard, I have problems just putting my feet high enough on the sidewalk or I fall and have a shiner for weeks.
The last fall was day before Halloween and I am still nursing a wound on the head.
The dumpster is full and goes out ASAP.
I am not known for pouting or being in a bad mood for long but this cleanup just got me in tears
for every note, every photo and the floods never stopped for long.
My Mom said if I cried a lot I would pee less.
That is not my object of this crying jag, after all I need to keep my solo kidney working all the time.

I used to worry that dozens upon dozens of magazines would just crush the ceiling and end up on top
of my head but this house is so solid, nothing happened to the boxes, not even moths in one of my wool rugs.
The only critters we ever had inside the house was a baby owl who fell in the chimney.
An angry looking possum in the washroom , did not know who was more scared but he/she scampered
quickly out the cat door which we do not use anymore.

The work upstairs was so quiet I did not even hear them move about.
Many moons ago we had an Australian friend living up there for a month or so, when she did tours she did one around the world. She had friends all over the world. I often forgot she was up there.
She told me that her dead husband was visiting every night. I just did not want to stop that romance.
She loved my cooking, I think she said that every where she went. We met her in Spain when she came
there for a month. On old TV personality she was a hoot until she had shingles and the only Spanish Doctor in the village kept giving her pain pills. We often wondered when she was going to overdose.
She said those pills were the best in the world.

So now that I don't worry about weight upstairs what new worry can I make up?
I was born with an extra worry gene.
It's a bitch.

Thursday, December 18, 2014

Artist cave

The sign on the door tells us what time slot we is a sign for the election "Clinton-Gore"96!"
He does not know it yet but this is the year the decline started.
He is an artist.
He knows nothing else but to translate his time here in this Universe  by putting  images he admires on plain papers, canvas, masonite, a wall, a piece of fabric.

He was one of four brothers, the young one. In his early childhood he would pick wild flowers and bring them home to mother. He would draw them after she had put them in a jar.
As he grew older this habit never left him and he continued to search and listen to teacher who could explain the fine lines and tricks of drawing. He was a sponge and took it all in.

When Disney came out with Snow white he ventured alone to the big city of San Francisco on the Greyhound bus. He only wanted to see the film as often as possible. He took note of every artist involved in
the film's making. He filled his very soul with the animation of that film.

The war picked him up right out his last days in high school. The young man left right after his June 8th birthday and
was quickly going on board to a land called Phillipines. He became a man with a uniform, a gun and all the trimmings for war.
They put him in the drafting dept. , he said he heard the shooting but he continued to do his work, he was under Mc Arthur, the General with the Pipe and a temper.

Returning from war he felt very fortunate as there was a GI Bill. This Bill gave him the possibility to go on with his studies and have some funds to work with. He studied under Amyx in Hartnell College and became a watercolorist. After 2 years he continued at Chouinard Institute which was then the very best art school on the West Coast. Edith Head and many of Disney people were teachers there. He had the best of the best. Later Chouinard was purchased by Disney.

He discovered in LA that Disney did not pay much to do the animation so he ventured on to San Francisco near his home town Santa Cruz. He took odd jobs, shipping in Macy's, made mattresses, then airplane tires, enough to keep him in Ice cream, brushes, paint and a small place to live.

Soon he had one man shows and started to make a name for himself. By 1968 the hippies took over the City by the Bay and he just could not handle all the changes. Returned home to mother and sister in Santa Cruz
he started all over again. In 1969 enters a new way of life, a wife and 2 children.
By 1970 he and the gang moved to Nerja, Spain. for almost 5 years. He was in heaven to be able to paint
around the small villages and continue his work on trompe l'oeil. By 1973 he won prestigious medals in Brussels together with medals from the City and a title :"Commandeur".
A new addition came into the family another Kensinger, a boy!

Upon returning to the USA we had the help of a special friend in WNC.Starting all over again, shows indoors and outdoors from Virginia to Florida, cut into his painting time so he hired an agent who did the
shows for him.

By the late 1990's he was diagnosed with Alzheimer. He never accepted that fact and as he grew older and sicker he did not understand it either. He still painted but it became quite hard, soon he would ask his wife how he should mix the background. His last painting about a gorgeous lily from the yard he made almost stick like figures for stems. Then he stopped.

He had made the upstairs of the house, a mansarde type of under the roof a set of rooms, his own, he had been shipping there when we did eBay with the stock from the antique shop we owned.
Now all he did was get boxes, behind stores he would look in dumpsters he would find treasured boxes.
The upstairs became :MINE! Do not enter! He became very suspicious of anybody coming into the house. Even to the point when he did not want his own son around. Followed by the wife who was kicked out of the bed.

Boxes upstairs collected treasures such as empty coke cans, pebbles from the driveway, bibelots objects from a shelf here and there. Things just left an empty mark on the shelf and life became hard for
every one. One can't imagine this very gentle soul , this old fashion gentleman, becoming this
type of grouchy, hurtful, violent person.

He passed on in 2010,
Enter the wife, the widow!
I went upstairs and had a hard time breathing. Boxes everywhere piled and piled into miniature towers.
No room to walk even, I could see the end of the rooms and they all seemed full.
I sat on the steps and cried my eyes out.
How could I, how could I ever see the rooms again.
I started slowly to pack the magazines in view, dozens of magazines from the Christian Science reading room which they put outside for FREE and he managed to always bring some home, under his arm and
go upstairs. I must have thrown out dozens and dozens. The job went slowly and the pain was harder and harder.
An abrupt stop came when I had a kidney removed followed by breaking my back just a week later.
Not recuperating very well from the fall I no longer went upstairs and tried to forget it.
Every spring my kids would say they would go and empty the second floor.
Kids have their own life and I was not demanding anything that I could not do.

So quite suddenly son and daughter jumped in "before winter" and started to empty the boxes and put them out to be cut and folded, grandson filled his truck, on his first ride to the dump he had 420 lbs on
cardboard all folded neatly in packages!!!!!Pebbles returned in the drive way. Photos being kept for later perusal, paintings discovered, treasures found again, notes on everything . He would write MINE on everything he could, that must have been years before his passing as he no longer could read not write on the last years. He must have felt his persona leaving him so he wanted to stake a claim on whatever:MINE was his new mantra.

Now and then the kids let me come upstairs during the clean up , it hurts, it hurts so much.
2 rooms done and one last one to be finished this week end.
Daughter hired a dumpster.
Real Estate people are becoming noisy! Many people want this house it is historic and in all original shape. I hope I can leave it feet first. I love this place been here since 1978or was it 77?

Thursday, November 27, 2014

Thanksgiving day 2014

I am wondering today if the Indians on the reservations today are celebrating.
Did the pilgrims truly get along with the people who's land they came to inhabit?
It is a day to say "thanks for..."
Should we not do that every day? You need a card for that? A reminder?
I lived 20 years in a country who does not know about Thanksgiving day.
I survived that very well because I had a very polite mother and she taught me
that I should be thankful for everything I had and not look over my shoulder
to what others had.
Even when we were left with turn ups from our garden that hard winter
during the war, she reminded me that we were lucky to have a garden.
My mother was not particularly very religious but she knew how to thank people
not to be just polite but because she truly believed that it was what you
needed to do in life.

Do we need a Mother's day and a Father's day, today even grandparents day?
Do we need the card companies to remind us how to behave that one day?
I get grumpy when I think what  we do out of habit in a very commercial world.
So never mind me today. 

Tuesday, November 11, 2014

It's a joke..or is it?

I could not help myself but had to post this which was send tome by my friend in the UK

In light of the latest problems facing the European currency, e.g. Ireland and Portugal having had a bailout; Greece facing collapse and needing another bailout, a Belgian bank collapsing and now Italy
teetering on the brink, possibly tipping Austria over the edge, should the UK adopt the Euro?

A cross-section survey of 10,000 people in a typical British City, made up of a representative sample of local citizens consisting of Afghans, Albanians, Pakistanis, Indians, Poles, Iraqis, Somalis, Bosnians, Turks, Moldovans, Latvians, Lithuanians, Bangladeshis, Ethiopians, Russians, Congolese and  Zimbabweans (phew!) were asked if they thought Britain should change its currency and adopt the Euro

99.9% said no, they were happy with the Giro.

Monday, November 3, 2014

Well October did not end well at all on the 30th I took Bijou out for his last outing. I was very tired and just wanted it over with. Still gloomy mood.I did not measure the step up to the side walk very well, kicked it instead and fell flat face first on the concrete.

Immediately blood was flooding from somewhere on my head and in no time it ran down my cheek into my neck. I first checked me legs, hell was going to be paid if I hurt my legs again but I noticed just scraped my knee , I rang my little emergency button. I thought Bob would hear the alarm inside. It does take them a few minutes to respond. I turned around and sa on the sidewalk legs stretched out hoping someone would come by. Street deserted. The long and the short of it Bob got a hold of me and called an ambulance. 

I had 3 kids I know about head wounds, they bleed forever. My mother used to call that a spring cleaning of the blood, wondered if it helped in fall.
Bob started to clean my face and 4 EMS walked in, 3 like football players, giants, one tiny gentle female nurse named Renee like in french.
I started to laugh and told the guys to get out of here, I just had a cut.
I did not look bad when I checked later , I should not have checked the next day, Halloween
day I had the best mask on. The eye looked like a big white egg and closed and everything
around it was purple and swollen.
Bob gave out the candy that night BUT no one came.....side street always gets fergotten.

More or less in some sort of daze I sat the next 3 days in my recliner and was being served by my handsome son. Bored the first hour and wanting to clean he put me back in the chair.
Then I remembered my Kindle.
I was reading a series by Vernon Coleman , about a young doctor in Bilbury , a small country village.
There are 7 books. 
Vernon has a knack of telling people and animal stories.
It is light reading and amusing. Just what I needed.
I wondered how he ever managed to keep all the people apart in his many chapters.
He would tell you that Mrs. Darbinshire had a knitted jacket with holes on the elbow and faded green and under that a nylon blouse.....(nylon? I wondered how Vernon knew nylon).
Her knitted socks were no longer holding up and curled around her legs.....
That sort of thing he wrote for every person.
I Imagined that he had a large board in his studio and had cut out dolls or ads with all sorts of people in full clothing and he had given them a name. Or a filing cabinet with cards:"E for Edith she is the one with......" 
Otherwise I can't see how he could remember his whole cast of characters in 7 books.
They were all characters in different mind sets.
Much was going on in the pub and I wondered how they could all drink that much.
Who carved W S into tables? Yes, that William Shakespeare! Do the cows really like Elvis?
What do you see when you look at an oak tree? It has a whole story of its own.
I was delighted when I read that sheep will know their offspring when they meet again in a herd of cute is that?

I am on book 6 and I shall miss it when I am done with 7. But I read that Vernon has written a lot of books so perhaps I will get something else that will calm me.

This was better than Valium, only trouble was that the dr.'s wife kept baking, every other chapter she was making vegetable soup or sconces and rock biscuits (Rock?) so I often sat here salivating.

By the e4nd of book 3  I was asking Bob for a torch and wondered if he had enough petrol in his car. I was getting too British for my own good. Not enough that I translate Flemish jokes in American and they do not get it (my kids) now I will throw in a new wrench.

Today I feel a wee bit better but my face is ugly , the scraped side is still scraped.
Eye still swollen. I am beginning to drink tea. Nothing fancy but with honey! I snarled at the box with Spekulaas from Belgium. Must get to the British stuff. 

I doubt there is such a gorgeous untouched village like Bilbury. A lot have tatched roofs and still outdoor toilets....well I grew up in something like that but it was the 30's and 40's. We had an outdoor house and I hated to go in town and having to use the loo in a store, I was afraid of all that water when I pulled the chain. If I could I would hold it all in till I was home and the familiar outhouse.
We did not have a phone, only had a radio when my father was fixing one for someone else.
Our village had probably tops 200 people in it but was also part of the city of Ghent,
We knew every one, my mother hated gossip but she did not mind listening now and then to know who had blue powder at their door this morning.
Blue powder would show up in the dark of the night, it was someone telling the inhabitants that someone was cheating in that house hold. When one tried to wash it from the cobblestone sidewalk it would turn into a blue like paint, it would not go away that quickly and would run down to the next and the next door till you wondered where it had started .....
Lucky they did not do it to our door , they could have, my father was busy, but he was also a police man so maybe they did not want to do that to him.
We had one "bar" known as a "pub" over the pond. She did not serve food to my recollection.
Every bar to my mother was a house of prostitution. Even if it would have been a bar for kids only. She rarely would walk into one. My grandfather loved the bars and always found a collectio of people listening to his stories. He was a raconteur!(read story teller).
A rag man would come with his pushcart hoping someone had rags for him to buy by the kilo. We wore everything till they became rags. Gypsies came with entourages we feared but they could mend aluminum pots like no other and also sharpen our knives and scissors. Mothers came out for them and hid the kids inside. One would always tell your fortune for money but my mother was afraid to know her future and we did not have money for that.

Drifters would mark something on a tree or the hedge or your house. It was a "sign" language that would tell the next one that this house was friendly and you would get a meal.
My mother did not like them, she was afraid of them, if she had bread she would always share with them and then tell them who her husband was and please run now. They did.
Which just reminds me that we had an ex-cop living across the street for a few years(now jumping to 2014)  and one day
someone had painted a penis on the road, it did not wash away with the rain either. We had no idea what it was till some gossiper told us that this was a sign that a policeman lived there. 

My mother took on one job seriously in the village and that was as a nurse. Her sister was the RN but my mother had the heart of one. She just cleaned people up when sick and often was asked to sit by the dying. She may not have known much about them but they knew where to find Madame D. 

No one even at her work in the office for decades, no one ever called my mother by the first name. Only her intimate friends. She was always Madame. I doubt there was another Madame in the small village except for one who owned several houses. She was also a blue blood which means you have a small V on the "van" or a small "de" before the rest of your name that one richlady was Madame de La....

Stephanie down on the island had her beauty parlor in her kitchen.
Next door was the butcher, he would tell all his clients that his wife could not work with him when she had her period. I bet she was one female you was glad to get cramps.

The butcher had a habit of throwing your meat on the scale with the same gusto as a pizza maker, he had a reason, as he threw it up there it would show 500 grams and he quickly like a Houdini grabbed it before it went down to 300. Mother would have none of it, she'd say leave it on the scale Jean, I do not want to pay for more then what I owe. The answer would be :"Ja, Madame D."

My mother had to have her bra's and corsets made to order, she had a woman who made wonders to harness all this flesh, to top it off my mother lived decades with a hernia on both sides and refused surgery. Her corsets had suede covered circles to push in the hernia and make her more comfortable. I do not think that my mother ever went into a store for these items.

I knew a small village but ours had large flaws it was in the middle of a canal  and nothing but industry beyond my house. You could hang out the wash which was an enormous labor for my mother over a boiled kettle on the coal stove and then the electric factory would open up the garbage and the white sheets had black specks all over them , a Dalmatian would not have been able to compete. So she would start all over again. 
I hated the industry, hated the smoke, I had bad lungs already as I had pleurisy which almost killed me. I could not wait to get out of there.

So most of my life, well the last 40 years have been in North Carolina and guess what is but about 12 miles from here....a large electric factory with 2 large chimneys very busy throwing out something. I have problems looking at them.

I live in a small town, do not know the names of most people around me. We wave as we pass each other and I walk the dogs or just say "Hi"!
I could not care at all if they had blue paint at their door or the IRS man. Everyone lives their own life. Most of the time when I meet someone they are holding a cel phone anyway.



Tuesday, October 28, 2014

October 28th

58 years ago today I gave birth to two boys weighing 6 lbs plus ,they were full term twins but stil born.
I never forget that day , over all these years I suddenly notice we are the 28th and the memories come floating by.

Wednesday, October 22, 2014

just anothr day ...........

October was not my best month but I think the worst is over, small little stuff which will not kill me but make me a bitch to be around.
Yesterday I did not even want to see Brie but my fridge was empty. Then I see her and she lights me up and wears me out. We walked all of Main street and saw many new shops all with nice new style clothing.
I like the mixes they do again with different fabrics and colors, Bohemian like. My style.
Brie looked great has lost a lot of weight but it was her skin which made me wonder what cream she was on this time, she told me cream had not touched her face in ages.
She stopped the sugar and milk and the gluten thing en vogue now in America.
If that is what did it, I do not know but she looked younger and smooth skin.

I am selling my stock of beads on eBay, I make up a tray of about 30 + worth and sell it for 5.00
that nets me about 3.,50 after eBay and Pay Pal is paid. and so much in the red. I am doing it so I can help some others who are in the midst of making jewelry for the holidays. Somebody needs a help somewhere.
I get rave reviews....and then.......I am starting to get some people with a lot of nerve.
They email me : "Can you look for some more glass beads"- "I need some labarodorite can you put some of them up in your lots ?" The one who hardly has experience on eBay...writes me tonight that I should put her beads in a smaller box.....I had already mailed her beads this afternoon at 4 PM. If I had put them in a smaller box they no doubt would have crushed some and then I would have that complaint....
I am so fed up I am ready to pack it all and give it to charity. Bob always tells me:" No good deed goes unpunished or something like that.."

Looking forward to November? No, not that much.
We are having frost nights now. It is not going to get better,
The turtle did not come out today at all. Good thing because Bob tells me it is getting harder and harder to get worms for the little fellow. He or she, is so smart as soon as we are in the room he stretches his head way out to see if he is going to be fed.

Got to take my Bijou for his night walk and it is so windy that his little ears flop up and down in the wind, so cute then he looks at me and wonders why we cant just run back inside. I agree. Pee and we go back!


Wednesday, October 8, 2014

more of the same

horrible is that time of the year. Bob had it a couple of weeks ago, what are these yellow blooms in the fields/ I forget the name, they will do in most people but I only started to get them in the last years. My husband could not cut the lawn at any time or within hours his face turned into the guy in The beauty and the beast. Our doctor was going to give him a shot and said :Next time, Bob come in with a paper bag over your head, you are scaring people.

Tired of getting tissues all the time last night, like every 5 minutes, so I took a sheet and decided that should do me for the night.
It's all water, just plain water.
I am whining.....i do not like that but I am so uncomfortable it helps to whine.

Monday, October 6, 2014

changing of the season?

2 nights now with mils frost.
2 nights now with allergies which are a big pain in the ass.
Eyes crying, cough, cough, cough all night long , nose running
pharmacist gave me something which is not yet helping.
I am a miserable old lady/
Will sit up all night trying to sleep.

Thursday, September 25, 2014

Another judge...........

My 1.00 o'clcok Miss Judy is gone. I miss her but it was my rest time so I decided to check the new judge , I already forgot her name but the case was just baffling to me.

Two mothers, two teen age daughters.

The suit is about bullying the one girl and needing therapy for a year and still did not return to school, so they had to pay a tutor for her schooling.

Backing up a bit: the accused girl , is a cheer leader, and she found in her mind that her "friend" was too fat.So she started to call her names, then a small group started to sing about her fat hips. Then they went on facebook and made remarks about the girl. The last straw was when they pinned a sign on her jacket and
it read something like :"caution when you pass a wide load" something in that vein.
The girl in question left school and did not want to go back.
She became bulimic and is still home doing hr school work.
She is now very thin and the other girl made a point of saying that she looked very good NOW.

The mother of the bully said she did not think that warrented for her to pay any damages.
She said there was a divorce in that family and that is why she had an eating disorder.

Judge told her to pay half of the expenses incurred.

I just sat there with my mouth open thinking that this one instigating brat had started this nasty
rumour about someone who had been her friend.
As Judge said :If you have friends like that who needs enemies.

Bullies ..........

Halloween and this and that .......

Today I had to truly laugh at a question from a would be buyer (?) on eBay

I have listed a Victorian Crucifix and gave a lot of details on the piece but evidently I missed an important part.

The buyer wrote : Pray tell me what is Jesus made off? Wood ? brass? plastic?

I should have answered him that in 1850 they did not make Jesus in plastic, anyway I had to tell him it was just pot metal. But reading his question at first had me baffled.

Bob loves Halloween  most of all Holidays.
So on my free swinging window on the porch he started to decorate :

Next I posted on facebook for back when Thursday :
do not remember when the first photo was taken in Belgium.
Second one with the 2 Bob's was in 1990.
Bob was "cool" man but pouting because he had left a girl friend behind.
Yet the trip was not lost, he took lots of black and white photos and
had one of his on display at the museum.

I have been listing my hundreds beads left from my beading career.
At night I dream about beads.
I think maybe I am 1/4 finished. 
This is tedious, remembering what each stone is and taking photos 
then make it sounds like it is a diamond.
Just kidding.
I learned a long time ago that diamonds are NOT your best investments.


Saturday, September 20, 2014


These words written by my son who suffers from agoraphobia just make me cry.

"I have cabin fever, Mom, and I will scout out my friends tomorrow!"
 that is what he said , that is HUGE

He had worked all week on sorting his collection of mint in box toys and he needs to be out for awhile.
He knows it and he wants it.

It's a great Saturday

Wednesday, September 17, 2014

Saint Rita

In my Catholic years I think I was the only one to be a devout person in my family, of course, I went to school with nuns for teachers till the 7th grade.
However, when my mother was in a desperate state then we marched to the St.Margriet Straat in Gent
and found a very dark corner in the big church. No lights in there but always, always hundreds of candles glowing. It smelled funny in there , I thought, I did not like it, it was so dark you could not even see what the walls were made from or if they were painted.
Mother clinked her few francs in the round bin and took out a candle from the box, she would light it
and ask me where she should put it.
Then we sat in silence in the few chairs outside this tomblike candle inferno and pretended to pray to St Rita.
She was in all her glory on a small altar with a dozen or so lights around her. They would be shining bright and I imagined that she would come to life and help my mother.
In the corner of that small chapel was a door with amber stained glass windows , it was the door to the shop.
Hundreds of medals, statues, photos, roses, rosaries lined the walls. It was dead silent in there and in a very slow voice , like you were afraid to wake up the dead, you pointed and the lady would take out your favorite medal. Her little pieces of paper were on the counter, exactly cut and measured so not to over do the wrapping needed for a medal of a few cms.
Most of the time we did not buy, we had one little statue of St Rita. That was enough.

St Rita had been a married lady with 2 kids and I can't remember how she lost them all and then joined the convent. Somewhere along the line her prayers helped people and as she was dying outside her window in the snow a rose popped up and bloomed. So the little shop also sells dried roses.

I was not sure about it all when I was little ,my nun never mentioned St Rita it was all about La Vierge and l'enfant Jesus. I think soeur Denise thought that l'enfant never grew up, he just stayed with his mother
the most Sacred of all.

Came around me being a very stubborn teen ager ,I was 17 , I was in love with a 27 year old man.
He had a good career set up and wanted to marry me in the spring after Easter and I would be about 18 then.
Mother disliked him, said I was too young. (She was right). I became her prisoner I could no longer see him.
At my work as a telephone operator I could call him at his office and that went on for a little while.
Both of us deciding we would win out.
Mother dragged me to St Rita and a candle was put in flames to reduce my flame.
I walked out of the church just hating my strict mother who was ruining my life forever.
I cried and cried and she did not say a word.
A few days later I noticed that I was not in a hurry to call him and he did not call me.
Days went by, I stopped crying, I decided that maybe it was not a good idea to get married yet.
His mother was very fond of him, an only child, and did not like the blonde coming into her house to have pannekoeken. It dawned on me that St Rita had something to do with all that. Damn her why did we have to go there and light a candle and talk to her when I was so much in love and happy.

Decades later my mother saw him in the hospital as he was visiting his wife, they passed each other without saying a word. They knew each other still. Then my mother wrote that she was sorry that she broke it up,
she knew he had a very nice house and I would not have gone to America.
St Rita knew better......

So this litany was to come to the point of this evening.
Bob is cleaning his room and found more stuff from Ari. He just dumped things in a corner of his closet not wanting to deal with it just then.
5 years later he finds "stuff" from her and it is a hard time.
He comes into the room and said:"Mom you and I worked so hard to get this together, Ari, learned to love St Rita from you , would you like to keep this:

Where is my Kleenex?

15 1/2 more months

That is what President Obama must be whispering to himself in the quiet of the night.

What can he do about terrorism which is blooming in many lands.

What can he do in his own country to protect us?

What can he still do about the immigration laws?

Can he keep the economy rolling. Nay sayers say we are heading for more problems there.

Can he stop Putin from taking on new territory?

What will his legacy be for the last 15 months?

Does he care anymore is he not tired of fighting Congress?

The general say this the bureaucrats say that and Congress sits on their derrieres to see who can win the next election in their hometown.

None of them have money worries. All have a great pension coming so what is the rush?

Will a judge step down so Potus can put in a liberal minded before the Republicans fill the post.
Heavens did I say Republicans?
Can Hillary win? Who will fight her?

Obama can't be a lame duck now as the world is crumbling around us and when will it hit our shores?
War in the air, not on foot? War is war.

People are dying by the hundreds from this new virus ebola. We are sending 3000 troops but they will not be taking care of the sick. What will they do? Keep order in the lines of people who want into the hospitals and are being refused? A gesture but I wait to see if it will help at all.

I  just have too many questions for my President. I like the man, I voted for him I would do it again. He wanted peace with diplomacy , it does not always work, it was and is a terrific notion but when you deal with barbaric terrorist talking will not do any good.
Good luck, Mr President for the next months.

Merry Old?

Tomorrow there is a vote to be interesting.
History being changed? Maybe?
Scotland wants to be alone.
Not involved in UK and be by themselves.

Basque people in Spain want the same.
Have done this forever.
When we lived there they blew up cars in Madrid to show
what they wanted and that was 42 years ago.

Belgium, the size of Rhode Island wants to split.
Are they kidding?

Texas wants to be a country , go for it!!!!!!
Keep your oil, guns and attitude.
Are they kidding? Probably not.

After I learned everthing about the Belgian Congo in school, the regions, the rivers,
the I look at Africa and can't remember anything anymore
no Leopoldville, Stanleyville, etc...History can make it very confusing by changing
every thing all the time.

We shall see in the tomorrow, the queen may loose some sleep tonight ...........

Monday, September 15, 2014


Potus said this is war but no boots will see the ground?
I can't keep up with all this.

The word WAR gives me anxiety attacks. Always has.
So is it not again about religions?
My God, your God, his God ,their Gods all with different names and worth fighting about?

People are being beheaded, brutes a work, justifying their brutality.
Afraid to look at the news for the next one, to me it does not matter the nationality, they are human beings
who are in a far away country, we can't reach them, we can't save them?

Can money buy their freedom and should we pay?
How much do we NOT know about this new "war".

Dick Cheney, the old VP, smiled last week and said something like "back to the Bush era"
I'd like to say F U , you started it all.

I am lost in this new battle.


I need a jacket it is cold, thanks to a Canadian cold front cooling us in a hurry.
Walking Bijou I crushed hundreds of acorns and my mind wonders, in this early morning fog I see visions of Cherokee women gatherings the acorns I just crushed and telling me to help gather for winter is coming and this is precious food. The fog lifts and I smile, now the Cherokee ladies work hard in a casino not far from where I stand. We stole their land but the Casino gives them a yearly profit share.
Money always about money.

The black walnut tree is shedding and my yard is covered in yellow leaves.
Soon the maple will turn red and Sabrina will come with power blower and gather it all on the side so
we will not stand out as sloppy neighbors. A shame I like the leaves around all over the place
even when I bring them in the kitchen and make more work for me.

We have unwritten rules in this country, you MUST cut your lawn, you must eliminate the dead leaves
you must remind yourself which is the blue bin and the green one. Don't you dare mix up the garbage, it is now filed accordingly. That is a written rule.

September mourn...Etienne had a birthday, he was not here anymore to celebrate.
Where is my red headed friend from my youth?

 My grandson's birthday is coming...we celebrate...oh! we celebrate ! We celebrate his good health and
his stamina to catch up on a bad year. I hear he went to the Country Fair not once but many times
with his buddies and his shiny green truck.......the fair has closed last's a September morn
for the crew to pack up their highflying wonders and collect the sheep and rabbits. I hear it was a great one this year!

September morn...the yellow school goes by and the kids yell at Bijou....he barks...what else is there to do? Soon the teacher will be yelling at them. Poor kids, they have over crowded class rooms, good and bad teacher, bullies, and always a concern now if some sick person will come in with a barage of guns.
School is no longer innocent.

September morn, a new day , a very lovely day ...just do not turn on the news channel.

Wednesday, September 10, 2014

Yesterday is gone, thank goodness

Got up with my throat closed , something which happens to me off and on.
I have been in ambulances with this as I turn blue and scare people.
I am a pro at it now.
If I hear the slightest sound, the smallest "peep" in my throat then I know
release is coming.
It takes time.
On my last day at work in Steinmart I had such an attack and turned blue, everyone staring at me.
I had an audience. EMT rushed in and by then I started to hear some release, I was either going to pass out any second or they could help. Usually by the time I am at the hospital I am breathing pretty well.
Drs can't make up their mind.
One says it is a spasm.
Another thinks it is stress related.
My ENT man thinks it has to do with the hernia.

I manage to frighten the people around me, not that I am feeling so good.
This time it took a good 1/2 hour before I could speak and breath a little at a time.
Bobby taken out of sleep staring at me and Bijou in Bob's lap staring too.
I get generally very agitated after it is all over with.
So that took care of my morning.
None of my plans worked out.

In the afternoon I go and give some water to the house painter ,Tony, he is a peach and it is hot.
The front of the house is full of huge trees and shade , nothing grows here but vines, ferns and lily of the valley. I walk on eggs here because I hear Brie's voice. "Mother, watch your step".
Chit chat with Tony, turn around and trip over a vine and fall flat into poison oak bed.
I thought there was humor in that : "I feel this is a soft fall" was my reaction.
Lucky I did not break anything. Hand hurts and knee but that is all.

So we go to the Red Box and get a film for me to relax in the eve.
I pick "Silver Linings", read it was good.
It is Hollywood garbage.
They just glimpse over what can be serious , mention some pills and giggle about the outcome of them.
The father has OCD, we now know that because he re-arranges the clickers a few times.
The son and main man has been in an institution for 8 months because he beat his wife's lover.
he has bipolar disorder, he wants to get better so he runs and runs and gets fit.
He runs into this gorgeous creature and she has issues and by now a very bad reputation, a widow who went wild when her husband died,
The movie 's main object is to bring these two together at the end in between there are a lot of football dialogue which has not much to do with the story.
You put 3 people in a script, all needing therapy, medicine and or more, even another inmate from the hospital and all you want in the end is some football match to be won and a love scene.
All is supposed to be peaches after that.......
They still have mental problems love does not solve them.
It is Hollywood fantasy.

On the other side of the coin.
I believe a British production filmed in Ireland.
My son has agoraphobia, had it for years and he saw the movie the other night.
He said it frightened him...a lot.
He loves horror movies...this was too real.
He told me that the script was perfect, time and time again the reaction of
the person who does have agoraphobia reminded him of how he would feel
in the same situation.
Someone who knows how one feels with this disease wrote the story, my son
felt. It was extremely accurate and made him feel the fear the actor had.
I do not watch horror movies but Bob felt this piece was very well done from beginning to end.

end of my soap box for today

Sunday, September 7, 2014

Freedom of speech

I just do not buy the garbage some celebrities will tell the press and in turn the press thinks we are interested in that garbage,.

For instance :Gene Simmons on suicide:"“My mother was in a concentration camp in Nazi Germany. I don’t want to hear f**k all about ‘the world is a harsh place.’ She gets up every day, smells the roses and loves life,” he said. “And for a putz, 20-year-old kid to say ‘I’m depressed, I live in Seattle,’ f**k you then kill yourself.”

Later he apologized..................Yes, I know he has  freedom of speech..............
I have the freedom to be disgusted with this kind of response to depression.

Joan Rivers will be missed and adored by millions.
She was very funny but the cut throat personal attacks were not what I liked about her comedy so I
stopped watching.
"She also got into her fair share of trouble. In the summer of 2012, the Anti-Defamation League rapped Rivers for comparing retailer giant Costco to Nazi Germany. What prompted her outburst? The decision by a Costco in suburban Los Angeles not to carry her book “I Hate Everything… Starting with Me.”

She and the ADL were at loggerheads again the following February, when Rivers said of Heidi Klum’s Oscars outfit: “The last time a German looked this hot was when they were pushing Jews into the ovens.”

I do not think this is funny. Not at all.
And it did not end there :

Joan Rivers: Palestinians deserve to die, they started this war

The controversial comedian gives her opinion on the conflict in Gaza, showing little sympathy for the civilian casualties.

Later she said it was taken out of context.
I know : Freedom of speech!

Then I read about a wonderful (?) Christian pastor who responded to an old couple, desperate people, they could not tithe and could not make it so they wrote to him, telling him they had asked the Lord for help and none was a sad letter.
His respond: something like "You could get a job answering phones, look around your house for junk and sell on eBay and more suggestions a couple in their 80's !!!!
How very charitable.

I am just letting go of frustrations today , this is a very mixed up world ......
Freedom of speech.

Have we become so hard?