Weblog 44
December 10, 2006~ 2:15pm
It was another whole week of sickness for my honey...a whole week!- and nothing to be taken for it. He saw the doctor-- called there 3 times and heard the same thing: "no antibiotic's gonna touch that. Yes, we're seeing it. In some, it lasts as long as 2 weeks."
So I had a quiet weekend. I did finally watch the movie I'd had sent along from Blockbuster- watched it last night, a 1983 film called "Man of Flowers"- and was utterly enchanted by it. The main character is a fellow named Charles, played by a superlative actor I've never seen before, who plays a man in later middle age walking about in a bowler hat that makes him look just like the character in the Magritte painting- who has an erotic relationship to beauty, mostly flowers. He spends his time writing letters to his dead mother, seeing a psychiatrist who's sicker and funnier than he is, and pursuing what he loves: arranging flowers, collecting art, playing the church organ across the street and paying a young woman to undress for him while he sits stoically in a dark suit, then rushes across the street to pound on the church organ. His uncompromising idea of beauty and his strange, aloof behavior set him apart from the rest of the world, yet he's helpless to do anything but give in to what his heart desires. It's a strange film with many memorable scenes and wonderful dreamlike flashbacks to his boyhood which gives glimpses of an austere, disapproving father (played by a very young Werner Herzog) and a beautiful mother, who alternately lavishes affection on the boy and just as quickly, turns coldly away from him. It's a real-life, close-up study of what beauty actually is, the early relationship of beauty to sexuality, and in this film, how that contrasts with the shabbiness of the world around us. Not for everyone-- filled with quirky humor and sublime operatic background music, but this film suited me to a tee.
I babysat my two grandchildren for six hours on Friday night, and the TV did not get turned on once until they were in bed. Bill wanted to 'act out' stories, and his imagination just staggers me. I told him that my kitchen sink was clogged and how I had to snake it out from the basement every couple of years, and as he listened, I suddenly saw that light of inspiration and URGENCY light up in his eyes and it was, "GRAM! MY....MY SINK IS STUFFED UP! COME, COME INTO MY BEDROOM AND WE'LL WORK ON IT!!!" lol!! It seems everything in life is fodder for his avid imagination. I sat on his race car bed, little Kay grinning and toddling behind him aping everything he does (she worships him) as Bill held up this toy and that and asked, "What TOOL is this?," and I'd say pipe wrench or ratchet or level, and he'd say, "What does it DO?"- and I'd describe the use and purpose of each and he'd listen and then pretend to do it. He never forgot that the John Deer tractor was the electric snake or the quad car the drill. lol....that boy can create WORLDS, let me tell you....
All in all, despite my fella's second weekend of sickness- he's on the mend- and I have some memories despite my quieter time. Here's a wonderful little anecdote someone sent me via email that shows how kids do their disarming best to sprinkle a little joy in this world:
"Dear Lord," the preacher began with arms extended and a rapturous look on his upturned face, "without you we are but dust..."
He would have continued, but at that moment one very obedient little girl (who was listening carefully) leaned over to her mother and asked quite audibly in her shrill little girl voice,
"Mommy, WHAT is butt dust?"
Church was pretty much over at that point."
December 13, 2006~ 12:15am
I am O-fficially OFF work now for the next 5 days....and I just finished my Christmas shopping online-- all to be gift wrapped and shipped (no shipping charges!) once again, completed in toto at the online Discovery Store. I LOVE that place! It's taken the "cripes!" out of Christmas. lol. I Hate, hate, HATE to shop in stores. I despise malls with their over-heated, humming stress, I loathe crowds, and for me, this is the perfect solution and the second year I've done it-- in fact, it was recorded right here in Shortal, when I first found this bliss if you look back almost to the day in last year's entries.
So.......
five consecutive days off --with the company Christmas party tomorrow night (same, lovely, lovely place, terrific food...also a part of last year's entries, with pictures) and all I have to do is sleep-in tomorrow, wake up in "late morning/early afternoon", drop in online for a while, bath and dress, and wrap the one gift I DID buy in a store today for the gift exchange tomorrow- then vegetate the whole rest of the time if I choose to. And Happily. This picture says it: LOOSE AS A GOOSE...HUNG OVER WITH HAPPINESS...DRAPED DROOPILY ACROSS THE GREAT BAR OF LIFE......giving a big old sigh
Ah........every now and again........things work out, and I'm as surprised as Moses, when that bush started talking to him- somebody up there likes me- because I'm as contented as possible right now.
December 14, 2006~ 3:30pm
Update on the company party: wonderful- and that's the truth. I was jolly-- I was droll-- I was having a high time of it, and not turtle-shelling at all and of course, as the moving finger writes and usually sticks itself in my eye- I bit into the tenderest bread stick and broke off my tooth! My F**KING FRONT TOOTH!! At the gumline. LOL!!!!
After the shock had dissipated, while I was sitting there looking at the gray, corpsey thing in my palm- I realized there was no pain. It was a tooth that had a root-canal done when I was sixteen and was therefore, 'dead'. I do remember hearing the pronouncement: "This thing will be brittle the rest of your life, and you'll probably have to replace it with a crown at some point...."
Well, it lasted 39 hard-chomping years of popcorn and peanuts and jaw-breakers, then chose last night at a posh country club to show me who was boss. I don't intend to make a trip to the dentist and start that whole process two weeks before Christmas- (yes, I look like the map of West Virginia-- sorry, West Virginians, but I LOVE those jokes-- or Alfred E. Newman's older sister for that matter)- but I'm gonna try to epoxy the damn thing myself. There's a nub there...the thing is DEAD, afterall....and there is no pain.
What can it hurt?- to try, that is. Epoxy held a side mirror on my car for a year-- why not a little old damn tooth? Otherwise I'm really just going to have to ask folks to try and see me as an adorable six year old, who, let's face it, really suck up the affectionate warmth for looking like this. (Oh.......I also won a 20 dollar gift certificate for Subways at the party. Must steer clear of the hard rolls.)
December 16, 2006~ 6:45am
So I glued the stupid tooth back in. Looked fine. Lasted
half-
way
through dinner. LOL! SuperGlue is great, but really- can't take much in terms of pounds per square inch. (Already in my head, I want to leap forward 6 months from now and be reading this as one of those, "Oh, yah....I remember that. Wow," kind of things, but unfortunately here I sit in the midst of what to do. Yes, knowing me, I glued it again- and it seems to be fine....
....as long as I don't eat. This may be the greatest diet-aid of all time! Liquids only. Nothing harder than yogurt. Lose 5 pounds per week. Line up at the door and I'll knock a front tooth out with a hammer and glue it back in for ya....
On a happier note, yesterday was my daughter's 33rd birthday, and although I didn't see her, we're getting together tonight for dinner at her house and a small celebration. I hope the tooth stays in. I'm afraid little Bill and Kay will become frightened, fretting as children do about body parts coming off. (Hence, the whole Freudian thing of little boys thinking little girls lost theirs as some sort of punishment- or because of something they did- thus giving rise to castration fears and such.) They'll probably be waiting anxiously for a finger or my nose to fall into the mashed potatoes next- and I will look at them sympathetically, and silently acknowledge, "Yes. Grandma is just like Jeff Goldblum in "The Fly"....
Seems nearly my whole time off- other than the near euphoria when I finished my online shopping- has been scheming, experimenting and worrying about this damn West Virginia smile of mine and I have to tell you, I'm pretty darn sick of it. lol......(oh, well. I could be in pain- and ladies and gents, if that were the case, I wouldn't be typing here. I'd be looking to buy a .38 - and that's the truth. Been there, done that.)
***
(Return To Weekly Archives)
It was another whole week of sickness for my honey...a whole week!- and nothing to be taken for it. He saw the doctor-- called there 3 times and heard the same thing: "no antibiotic's gonna touch that. Yes, we're seeing it. In some, it lasts as long as 2 weeks."
So I had a quiet weekend. I did finally watch the movie I'd had sent along from Blockbuster- watched it last night, a 1983 film called "Man of Flowers"- and was utterly enchanted by it. The main character is a fellow named Charles, played by a superlative actor I've never seen before, who plays a man in later middle age walking about in a bowler hat that makes him look just like the character in the Magritte painting- who has an erotic relationship to beauty, mostly flowers. He spends his time writing letters to his dead mother, seeing a psychiatrist who's sicker and funnier than he is, and pursuing what he loves: arranging flowers, collecting art, playing the church organ across the street and paying a young woman to undress for him while he sits stoically in a dark suit, then rushes across the street to pound on the church organ. His uncompromising idea of beauty and his strange, aloof behavior set him apart from the rest of the world, yet he's helpless to do anything but give in to what his heart desires. It's a strange film with many memorable scenes and wonderful dreamlike flashbacks to his boyhood which gives glimpses of an austere, disapproving father (played by a very young Werner Herzog) and a beautiful mother, who alternately lavishes affection on the boy and just as quickly, turns coldly away from him. It's a real-life, close-up study of what beauty actually is, the early relationship of beauty to sexuality, and in this film, how that contrasts with the shabbiness of the world around us. Not for everyone-- filled with quirky humor and sublime operatic background music, but this film suited me to a tee.
I babysat my two grandchildren for six hours on Friday night, and the TV did not get turned on once until they were in bed. Bill wanted to 'act out' stories, and his imagination just staggers me. I told him that my kitchen sink was clogged and how I had to snake it out from the basement every couple of years, and as he listened, I suddenly saw that light of inspiration and URGENCY light up in his eyes and it was, "GRAM! MY....MY SINK IS STUFFED UP! COME, COME INTO MY BEDROOM AND WE'LL WORK ON IT!!!" lol!! It seems everything in life is fodder for his avid imagination. I sat on his race car bed, little Kay grinning and toddling behind him aping everything he does (she worships him) as Bill held up this toy and that and asked, "What TOOL is this?," and I'd say pipe wrench or ratchet or level, and he'd say, "What does it DO?"- and I'd describe the use and purpose of each and he'd listen and then pretend to do it. He never forgot that the John Deer tractor was the electric snake or the quad car the drill. lol....that boy can create WORLDS, let me tell you....
All in all, despite my fella's second weekend of sickness- he's on the mend- and I have some memories despite my quieter time. Here's a wonderful little anecdote someone sent me via email that shows how kids do their disarming best to sprinkle a little joy in this world:
"Dear Lord," the preacher began with arms extended and a rapturous look on his upturned face, "without you we are but dust..."
He would have continued, but at that moment one very obedient little girl (who was listening carefully) leaned over to her mother and asked quite audibly in her shrill little girl voice,
"Mommy, WHAT is butt dust?"
Church was pretty much over at that point."
December 13, 2006~ 12:15am
I am O-fficially OFF work now for the next 5 days....and I just finished my Christmas shopping online-- all to be gift wrapped and shipped (no shipping charges!) once again, completed in toto at the online Discovery Store. I LOVE that place! It's taken the "cripes!" out of Christmas. lol. I Hate, hate, HATE to shop in stores. I despise malls with their over-heated, humming stress, I loathe crowds, and for me, this is the perfect solution and the second year I've done it-- in fact, it was recorded right here in Shortal, when I first found this bliss if you look back almost to the day in last year's entries.
So.......
five consecutive days off --with the company Christmas party tomorrow night (same, lovely, lovely place, terrific food...also a part of last year's entries, with pictures) and all I have to do is sleep-in tomorrow, wake up in "late morning/early afternoon", drop in online for a while, bath and dress, and wrap the one gift I DID buy in a store today for the gift exchange tomorrow- then vegetate the whole rest of the time if I choose to. And Happily. This picture says it: LOOSE AS A GOOSE...HUNG OVER WITH HAPPINESS...DRAPED DROOPILY ACROSS THE GREAT BAR OF LIFE......giving a big old sigh
Ah........every now and again........things work out, and I'm as surprised as Moses, when that bush started talking to him- somebody up there likes me- because I'm as contented as possible right now.
December 14, 2006~ 3:30pm
Update on the company party: wonderful- and that's the truth. I was jolly-- I was droll-- I was having a high time of it, and not turtle-shelling at all and of course, as the moving finger writes and usually sticks itself in my eye- I bit into the tenderest bread stick and broke off my tooth! My F**KING FRONT TOOTH!! At the gumline. LOL!!!!
After the shock had dissipated, while I was sitting there looking at the gray, corpsey thing in my palm- I realized there was no pain. It was a tooth that had a root-canal done when I was sixteen and was therefore, 'dead'. I do remember hearing the pronouncement: "This thing will be brittle the rest of your life, and you'll probably have to replace it with a crown at some point...."
Well, it lasted 39 hard-chomping years of popcorn and peanuts and jaw-breakers, then chose last night at a posh country club to show me who was boss. I don't intend to make a trip to the dentist and start that whole process two weeks before Christmas- (yes, I look like the map of West Virginia-- sorry, West Virginians, but I LOVE those jokes-- or Alfred E. Newman's older sister for that matter)- but I'm gonna try to epoxy the damn thing myself. There's a nub there...the thing is DEAD, afterall....and there is no pain.
What can it hurt?- to try, that is. Epoxy held a side mirror on my car for a year-- why not a little old damn tooth? Otherwise I'm really just going to have to ask folks to try and see me as an adorable six year old, who, let's face it, really suck up the affectionate warmth for looking like this. (Oh.......I also won a 20 dollar gift certificate for Subways at the party. Must steer clear of the hard rolls.)
December 16, 2006~ 6:45am
So I glued the stupid tooth back in. Looked fine. Lasted
half-
way
through dinner. LOL! SuperGlue is great, but really- can't take much in terms of pounds per square inch. (Already in my head, I want to leap forward 6 months from now and be reading this as one of those, "Oh, yah....I remember that. Wow," kind of things, but unfortunately here I sit in the midst of what to do. Yes, knowing me, I glued it again- and it seems to be fine....
....as long as I don't eat. This may be the greatest diet-aid of all time! Liquids only. Nothing harder than yogurt. Lose 5 pounds per week. Line up at the door and I'll knock a front tooth out with a hammer and glue it back in for ya....
On a happier note, yesterday was my daughter's 33rd birthday, and although I didn't see her, we're getting together tonight for dinner at her house and a small celebration. I hope the tooth stays in. I'm afraid little Bill and Kay will become frightened, fretting as children do about body parts coming off. (Hence, the whole Freudian thing of little boys thinking little girls lost theirs as some sort of punishment- or because of something they did- thus giving rise to castration fears and such.) They'll probably be waiting anxiously for a finger or my nose to fall into the mashed potatoes next- and I will look at them sympathetically, and silently acknowledge, "Yes. Grandma is just like Jeff Goldblum in "The Fly"....
Seems nearly my whole time off- other than the near euphoria when I finished my online shopping- has been scheming, experimenting and worrying about this damn West Virginia smile of mine and I have to tell you, I'm pretty darn sick of it. lol......(oh, well. I could be in pain- and ladies and gents, if that were the case, I wouldn't be typing here. I'd be looking to buy a .38 - and that's the truth. Been there, done that.)
(Return To Weekly Archives)
...
. or pay a visit to my Audio site to hear things
I've written- 
Some are just 'jotters', thoughts as they fly- going
nowhere but where they are. If you stop and read a few~ or post a
few~ thanks for
the perusal. Last of all, if you've a hankering for rants and raging,
try making a stop at my other blog- 
