Weblog 65
May 6, 2007~ 12:45am
Some things are pure gifts. Wildflowers are like that, aren't they? Right now, under my front picture window, is a stunning, mounded carpet of bluish-purple flowers. I have no idea what they are, have no idea how they got there...but there they be: a dark green, leafy sea for my one little garden gnome to lord over. (I've never seen him look happier....lol)
This may sound crazy, but I've been wondering if the wood chips I had a fella' dump there two summers ago, could've had wildflower seeds mixed in with the bark chips? It's my only explanation of why they'd be so perfectly carpeted right to the edge of the grass. With the chips beneath them (and probably well-rotted now) maybe it became ripe for the germination of these lovely 6" plants.
Whatever they are, however they got there-- they make me happy whenever I go outside to get the mail. It's the small surprises in life that buoy the spirits. Just like it's the small disappointments that finally sink us. I was tested on that one tonight....
All week, I'd looked forward to watching the two 'Soprano' episodes my sister had taped for us, and from the first flickering, spitting image of New Jersey seen through Tony's car window, and hearing the catching of hiccuped sound--- I knew the tape wasn't going to play well in my VCR. Some of them just do that for whatever reason, and some play well, but BOTH of these were a torture of hitched stopped/starts and snow creeping up at the bottom and down from the top of the screen. The dialogue was clipped off so often, it was damn near impossible to understand. After a while, Wayne remarked that it was beginning to sound like Shakespeare to him....LOL!!....and he swore he heard Tony say to Dr. Malfi, his psychiatrist, that it was "the winter of his discontent"... We were able 'in general' to keep up with the plot, but oh Christ, so haltingly- so I'm sitting here trying to balance the gift of the wood violets, with Tony as a stuttering Shakespearian actor.
The scales are tipping, and it ain't good news, but oh hell........the flowers are something anyway, aren't they? I figure a person is only as happy and sane as the 'somethings' they can find in the midst of manure, so that's my one thought for today, and the toe-hold by which we cling to the rock face. Success in living is in finding one of these after another- still doggedly climbing, and laughing. Laughing a lot.
May 7, 2007~ 11:20am
I am a person never remembers her dreams-- or very infrequently-- but on Friday morning just before I woke, I had a doosey- and remembered it; even wrote a poem about it. About one of the things I fear most in life-- the image of a HUGE tornado off in the distance doing its slow, inexorable bumping toward me across miles of destruction.
As you probably know, an F-5 tornado struck Greensburg Kansas on Friday night, and it chills me-- and I just can't help wondering if this wasn't a precognitive dream of some kind.
As a child, I'd always been terrified of the 'Wizard of Oz' opening sequence because of the tornado: nothing in life is as grandstanding, god awful ANGRY as the look of one of those things- that do, yes they do make a sound like a giant freight train. My mother told me so-- alone in the house when it hit.
Tidal waves and tornados, those are my biggest, nightmarish fears. I think I may have grabbed one by the tail in the early morning hours on Friday. Just enough to feel it's wicked twitch. Scary....scary stuff.
May 7, 2007~ 6:45pm
I'm home from an absolutely (half) aggravating day at work. The morning was fine, the afternoon got confusing and it sucked, but I'm OFF tomorrow. Took the day off- to sleep in- then go to Kenny Ross Ford and buy a new car. (I usually take a day in May to have the 2000 Chrysler Neon inspected, but after seven years, I have a down-in-the-gut feeling it's gonna need a lot of maintenance stuff)- and I learned the hard way not to sink a lot of money into an older model: it simply isn't the 'money-saver' - i.e. "no car payments"- that it's cracked up to be.
Whenever I've done that, I've socked a TON of money into some worthless piece of trash, and I'd rather have air-conditioning (mine went on me last summer)-- and peace of mind. I hate my commute- and at least a comfortable, reliable car helps makes it bearable.
I hate cars. I know it's un-American, but I don't see my car, as an extension of myself, or a statement about me in any way at all: it's transportation- a necessary evil- (emphasis on 'evil')- I can't get by without it, or I would.
Maybe I'm simply becoming 'crotchety'- but I've also begun to really resent the 'mandatory Spanish' on every phone help line from the credit card companies, to my Comcast unlink-up last week. I do very much mind my time being taken up for one singled-out ethnic group. Are we not a 'melting pot' whose native language happens to be English? The way I figure it, you always- always in this country- "follow the money", so somewhere, somehow, some fat cat has determined this is a necessity to keep his shekels coming in- (hidden of course, behind 'broadness of cultural sensitivity'.) Bullshit! I have nothing against Spanish-speaking Americans- legal or not- any more than any ethnic group, I just don't liked being forced into accepting Spanish as a second language because it isn't-- no more than German was after the influx of Germans, or Swedish, because of the Swedes in the midwest...(hell, Ebonics would make more sense if we're talking about sheer numbers)---but am I forced to listen to some rapper greet me with a homey-sounding- "Yo! S'up dog??" No. You bet not...
Mark my words: this government has some very far-reaching plans when it comes to Mexico... What is it? Annexation? Is there OIL there???? Forget about fair trade agreements. Hell, lets just grab 'em.
Here's what I think about enforced cultural acceptance-- I wrote this just this evening. (Look: my name is Karen CORCORAN DABKOWSKI...do I insist the phone company speak to me in Polish or Gaelic so I'm not offended?--craziest wrinkle we've ever come up with, (other than putting ramped sidewalks EVERYWHERE that able-bodied people TRIP OVER.) (Rant is now done.)
'Common sense' is what it's about, not REVERSE discrimination (or what I've heard recently referred to as 'soft prejudice'-- the sneaky kind-- the kind that gets a person off the hook, but oh goodness, does it EVER MAKE THE OTHER GUY STAND OUT!--it's like a big red, flashing sign..."Over HERE! This one is different- so be nice."
It seems to me there is such a thing a 'too much notice'. It's nearly as bad- and it angers the majority. It's also what I've always hated about the 'women's movement'-- but that's another story...ok. Here's the poem.
Cinco, What?
Anything's
an excuse
to break out
the booze. Whose independence
was it?
Went out for dinner
on Saturday evening. Had Maryland
crab cakes
but everywhere
I looked
it was
tortilla this, enchilada that, ques
ques
quedillas
and a tent
set up for dancing
mariachi
players
ready to stroll around
and grin and fiddle while glassy-eyed
patronas
clapped
and probably cried
into their Mexican
beer, so great was their thirst
after all the spices
surely, by
nightfall. Como
se llama?
(Kiss my
llama?) Not
on your
life. You kiss my
ass first.
Yah, that's me. About 10 years ago, outside of Gettysburg at the 'Land of Little Horses'-and llamas. Amorous llamas. (And racing pot-bellied pigs. LOL!)
May 8, 2007~ 9:30pm
Ready to turn in here, but I was off today, and yes, I did get the new car. First one I looked at. The only electric blue baby on the lot- (or actually, in the middle of the showroom)- brought in from another dealership just yesterday to give the place some 'needed color' amidst the sea of tans and grays and whites and blacks. I got me a 2007 Ford Focus. The color is officially- 'aqua blue pearl metallic'- and it glows like one of those gorgeous blue butterflies in the sun.
Shes's a little beauty, that's for sure. And OH GOD......AIR-CONDITIONING AGAIN! My seven year old Neon ran fine, but I was beginning to detect some loss of performance, a bit of slippage in the transmission- no air- no headlights other than the high beams (I broke off the damn 8" metric hex head bolts that hold the housing trying to change the danged things) and Pennsylvania has a yearly mandatory inspection. I could read the writing on the wall....
Off to bed now. Nervous about driving that thing, but it's like stage fright. It'll disappear once I'm out there "amongst 'em" again. Ah........but I'll be sittin pretty...I surely will.....(BIG OLD GRIN HERE!)
May 9, 2007~ 9:45am
Took my first drive into work. A bit nervous at first, but the ride is smooooooth and it handles so easily. I also found a better picture of my ACTUAL car. Mine
looks exactly like this one....
....the color more of a deep robin egg blue. (I know the Ford name for the paint is 'aqua' but it's deeper, richer than aqua which always seems to me to have a hint of green-- this is true, true blue.) Ah....I love her.....
May 10, 2007~ 9:30pm
I went to see the grandchildren this evening, and learned a few things....
As we sat on the porch at the picnic table eating our pizza- and Holly was planning on calling the after-hours pharmacist for Kay, who was coughing to beat the band as she sat in her booster seat and repeated over and over in between hacks, "Pizza, poop!"- which made her brother laugh uncontrollably (Bill has called a moratorium on all pizza, and week after week will eat a breakfast cereal in its stead due to his distaste for the look of gooey, stringy melted cheese) Bill turned to me and said, "Gram, do you know what boogers are for?"
This was a conversation-stopper, and I looked at him with wicked delight. "No, Bill, what are they for?" "Well, they have a job. You see, they line the nose and they catch dirt for us." (I love when he picks these things up in his pre-school and passes valuable insights along)- "Yes!", I said, "the mucous stuff lines the nose-tunnels up there, and they're on the LOOK OUT, Bill, for dirt and dust and pollen, just like policemen. And when they see some, they say- "OK, buddy! IN HERE!"- gesturing with my thumb. This delighted him, so naturally, I had to tell him 3 more times.
Bill is the 'think guy'.......he puzzles over everything.
"Why do my rice krispies make noise, Gram?"
"They're talking, Bill. When you pour milk on them, that's when they're LOUDEST because you startled them and they say, 'Hey! What's this??'- and one little krispie turns to the other one, who turns to the other one- and they flop around and shiver and talk about being doused with cold milk! You would too...."
"Why are they quiet now?"
"Because they're floating happily. Like people in a swimming pool, floating on their backs relaxed and happy- the milk is not so cold anymore and they're comfortable- just floating in your bowl, looking up at your face."
This pleased him. After 'dinner'- we used a rake and panned for gold in the backyard- (the gold nuggets were chunks of chalk they'd left scattered around.) Kay was still coughing, but happier with some Robitussion Pediatric syrup in her, and climbed her Little Tykes slide and zipped down, ending up on her butt, and danced on the top platform for me. (At two, I don't even think I moved much. LOL!!!) but I think this wee lady is some kind of performer!-- brave and bold as brass.
Those two, they do round out the week very nicely, and now I know what boogers are for: not for decorating pant legs or rolling like cookie dough, oh no-- those babies have a purpose.
And when I'm around those two on a mild May evening and we're walking in their rolling yard and picking dandelions gone to seed and making wishes, and Kay offers me her hand housed in one pink 'gardening glove, like a baby Michael Jackson, and I laugh (always, just one glove- she donned and doffed it twice)--- I think I may have one too. And it's a comfort, I can tell you.
***
(Return To Weekly Archives)
Some things are pure gifts. Wildflowers are like that, aren't they? Right now, under my front picture window, is a stunning, mounded carpet of bluish-purple flowers. I have no idea what they are, have no idea how they got there...but there they be: a dark green, leafy sea for my one little garden gnome to lord over. (I've never seen him look happier....lol)
This may sound crazy, but I've been wondering if the wood chips I had a fella' dump there two summers ago, could've had wildflower seeds mixed in with the bark chips? It's my only explanation of why they'd be so perfectly carpeted right to the edge of the grass. With the chips beneath them (and probably well-rotted now) maybe it became ripe for the germination of these lovely 6" plants.
Whatever they are, however they got there-- they make me happy whenever I go outside to get the mail. It's the small surprises in life that buoy the spirits. Just like it's the small disappointments that finally sink us. I was tested on that one tonight....
All week, I'd looked forward to watching the two 'Soprano' episodes my sister had taped for us, and from the first flickering, spitting image of New Jersey seen through Tony's car window, and hearing the catching of hiccuped sound--- I knew the tape wasn't going to play well in my VCR. Some of them just do that for whatever reason, and some play well, but BOTH of these were a torture of hitched stopped/starts and snow creeping up at the bottom and down from the top of the screen. The dialogue was clipped off so often, it was damn near impossible to understand. After a while, Wayne remarked that it was beginning to sound like Shakespeare to him....LOL!!....and he swore he heard Tony say to Dr. Malfi, his psychiatrist, that it was "the winter of his discontent"... We were able 'in general' to keep up with the plot, but oh Christ, so haltingly- so I'm sitting here trying to balance the gift of the wood violets, with Tony as a stuttering Shakespearian actor.
The scales are tipping, and it ain't good news, but oh hell........the flowers are something anyway, aren't they? I figure a person is only as happy and sane as the 'somethings' they can find in the midst of manure, so that's my one thought for today, and the toe-hold by which we cling to the rock face. Success in living is in finding one of these after another- still doggedly climbing, and laughing. Laughing a lot.
May 7, 2007~ 11:20am
I am a person never remembers her dreams-- or very infrequently-- but on Friday morning just before I woke, I had a doosey- and remembered it; even wrote a poem about it. About one of the things I fear most in life-- the image of a HUGE tornado off in the distance doing its slow, inexorable bumping toward me across miles of destruction.
As you probably know, an F-5 tornado struck Greensburg Kansas on Friday night, and it chills me-- and I just can't help wondering if this wasn't a precognitive dream of some kind.
As a child, I'd always been terrified of the 'Wizard of Oz' opening sequence because of the tornado: nothing in life is as grandstanding, god awful ANGRY as the look of one of those things- that do, yes they do make a sound like a giant freight train. My mother told me so-- alone in the house when it hit.
Tidal waves and tornados, those are my biggest, nightmarish fears. I think I may have grabbed one by the tail in the early morning hours on Friday. Just enough to feel it's wicked twitch. Scary....scary stuff.
May 7, 2007~ 6:45pm
I'm home from an absolutely (half) aggravating day at work. The morning was fine, the afternoon got confusing and it sucked, but I'm OFF tomorrow. Took the day off- to sleep in- then go to Kenny Ross Ford and buy a new car. (I usually take a day in May to have the 2000 Chrysler Neon inspected, but after seven years, I have a down-in-the-gut feeling it's gonna need a lot of maintenance stuff)- and I learned the hard way not to sink a lot of money into an older model: it simply isn't the 'money-saver' - i.e. "no car payments"- that it's cracked up to be.
Whenever I've done that, I've socked a TON of money into some worthless piece of trash, and I'd rather have air-conditioning (mine went on me last summer)-- and peace of mind. I hate my commute- and at least a comfortable, reliable car helps makes it bearable.
I hate cars. I know it's un-American, but I don't see my car, as an extension of myself, or a statement about me in any way at all: it's transportation- a necessary evil- (emphasis on 'evil')- I can't get by without it, or I would.
Maybe I'm simply becoming 'crotchety'- but I've also begun to really resent the 'mandatory Spanish' on every phone help line from the credit card companies, to my Comcast unlink-up last week. I do very much mind my time being taken up for one singled-out ethnic group. Are we not a 'melting pot' whose native language happens to be English? The way I figure it, you always- always in this country- "follow the money", so somewhere, somehow, some fat cat has determined this is a necessity to keep his shekels coming in- (hidden of course, behind 'broadness of cultural sensitivity'.) Bullshit! I have nothing against Spanish-speaking Americans- legal or not- any more than any ethnic group, I just don't liked being forced into accepting Spanish as a second language because it isn't-- no more than German was after the influx of Germans, or Swedish, because of the Swedes in the midwest...(hell, Ebonics would make more sense if we're talking about sheer numbers)---but am I forced to listen to some rapper greet me with a homey-sounding- "Yo! S'up dog??" No. You bet not...
Mark my words: this government has some very far-reaching plans when it comes to Mexico... What is it? Annexation? Is there OIL there???? Forget about fair trade agreements. Hell, lets just grab 'em.
Here's what I think about enforced cultural acceptance-- I wrote this just this evening. (Look: my name is Karen CORCORAN DABKOWSKI...do I insist the phone company speak to me in Polish or Gaelic so I'm not offended?--craziest wrinkle we've ever come up with, (other than putting ramped sidewalks EVERYWHERE that able-bodied people TRIP OVER.) (Rant is now done.)
'Common sense' is what it's about, not REVERSE discrimination (or what I've heard recently referred to as 'soft prejudice'-- the sneaky kind-- the kind that gets a person off the hook, but oh goodness, does it EVER MAKE THE OTHER GUY STAND OUT!--it's like a big red, flashing sign..."Over HERE! This one is different- so be nice."
It seems to me there is such a thing a 'too much notice'. It's nearly as bad- and it angers the majority. It's also what I've always hated about the 'women's movement'-- but that's another story...ok. Here's the poem.
Cinco, What?
Anything's
an excuse
to break out
the booze. Whose independence
was it?
Went out for dinner
on Saturday evening. Had Maryland
crab cakes
but everywhere
I looked
it was
tortilla this, enchilada that, ques
ques
quedillas
and a tent
set up for dancing
mariachi
players
ready to stroll around
and grin and fiddle while glassy-eyed
patronas
clapped
and probably cried
into their Mexican
beer, so great was their thirst
after all the spices
surely, by
nightfall. Como
se llama?
(Kiss my
llama?) Not
on your
life. You kiss my
ass first.
Yah, that's me. About 10 years ago, outside of Gettysburg at the 'Land of Little Horses'-and llamas. Amorous llamas. (And racing pot-bellied pigs. LOL!)
May 8, 2007~ 9:30pm
Ready to turn in here, but I was off today, and yes, I did get the new car. First one I looked at. The only electric blue baby on the lot- (or actually, in the middle of the showroom)- brought in from another dealership just yesterday to give the place some 'needed color' amidst the sea of tans and grays and whites and blacks. I got me a 2007 Ford Focus. The color is officially- 'aqua blue pearl metallic'- and it glows like one of those gorgeous blue butterflies in the sun.
Shes's a little beauty, that's for sure. And OH GOD......AIR-CONDITIONING AGAIN! My seven year old Neon ran fine, but I was beginning to detect some loss of performance, a bit of slippage in the transmission- no air- no headlights other than the high beams (I broke off the damn 8" metric hex head bolts that hold the housing trying to change the danged things) and Pennsylvania has a yearly mandatory inspection. I could read the writing on the wall....
Off to bed now. Nervous about driving that thing, but it's like stage fright. It'll disappear once I'm out there "amongst 'em" again. Ah........but I'll be sittin pretty...I surely will.....(BIG OLD GRIN HERE!)
May 9, 2007~ 9:45am
Took my first drive into work. A bit nervous at first, but the ride is smooooooth and it handles so easily. I also found a better picture of my ACTUAL car. Mine
looks exactly like this one....
....the color more of a deep robin egg blue. (I know the Ford name for the paint is 'aqua' but it's deeper, richer than aqua which always seems to me to have a hint of green-- this is true, true blue.) Ah....I love her.....May 10, 2007~ 9:30pm
I went to see the grandchildren this evening, and learned a few things....
As we sat on the porch at the picnic table eating our pizza- and Holly was planning on calling the after-hours pharmacist for Kay, who was coughing to beat the band as she sat in her booster seat and repeated over and over in between hacks, "Pizza, poop!"- which made her brother laugh uncontrollably (Bill has called a moratorium on all pizza, and week after week will eat a breakfast cereal in its stead due to his distaste for the look of gooey, stringy melted cheese) Bill turned to me and said, "Gram, do you know what boogers are for?"
This was a conversation-stopper, and I looked at him with wicked delight. "No, Bill, what are they for?" "Well, they have a job. You see, they line the nose and they catch dirt for us." (I love when he picks these things up in his pre-school and passes valuable insights along)- "Yes!", I said, "the mucous stuff lines the nose-tunnels up there, and they're on the LOOK OUT, Bill, for dirt and dust and pollen, just like policemen. And when they see some, they say- "OK, buddy! IN HERE!"- gesturing with my thumb. This delighted him, so naturally, I had to tell him 3 more times.
Bill is the 'think guy'.......he puzzles over everything.
"Why do my rice krispies make noise, Gram?"
"They're talking, Bill. When you pour milk on them, that's when they're LOUDEST because you startled them and they say, 'Hey! What's this??'- and one little krispie turns to the other one, who turns to the other one- and they flop around and shiver and talk about being doused with cold milk! You would too...."
"Why are they quiet now?"
"Because they're floating happily. Like people in a swimming pool, floating on their backs relaxed and happy- the milk is not so cold anymore and they're comfortable- just floating in your bowl, looking up at your face."
This pleased him. After 'dinner'- we used a rake and panned for gold in the backyard- (the gold nuggets were chunks of chalk they'd left scattered around.) Kay was still coughing, but happier with some Robitussion Pediatric syrup in her, and climbed her Little Tykes slide and zipped down, ending up on her butt, and danced on the top platform for me. (At two, I don't even think I moved much. LOL!!!) but I think this wee lady is some kind of performer!-- brave and bold as brass.
Those two, they do round out the week very nicely, and now I know what boogers are for: not for decorating pant legs or rolling like cookie dough, oh no-- those babies have a purpose.
And when I'm around those two on a mild May evening and we're walking in their rolling yard and picking dandelions gone to seed and making wishes, and Kay offers me her hand housed in one pink 'gardening glove, like a baby Michael Jackson, and I laugh (always, just one glove- she donned and doffed it twice)--- I think I may have one too. And it's a comfort, I can tell you.
(Return To Weekly Archives)
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