Scotland Forever!!! Okay.....so.....my Mom, and my daughter, Erin, and I went to Scotland from April 1 to April 10. Good grief! What do I say about that? First it was an incredible occasion for getting to know each other better.

Erin got to find out that her Grandma was a real person, not just a Grandma, that she had foibles and quirks and was vain and a little clingy and game and funny and picky about food and that her memory ain't what it used to be. Grandma got to find out that Erin was not the little girl she used to know but a grown up who loved to photograph, was competent, could read a Scottish bus schedule, leapt around a graveyard or a castle to get the shot she was looking for, who wore a stylish hat. And I got to watch the two of them discover each other. I heard my daughter defending my honor when necessary, I saw my Mother pushing herself to walk even when her ankle was paining her and I heard her notice intelligently the differences and similarities between Scots and Americans. "Scottish women don't wear much makeup, do they?" she said at one point. "Maybe it's because the weather is so brisk and windy it makes their cheeks and lips rosy!" Erin replied, "maybe they just don't care.....". We may never know who is correct, maybe both, but there were many, many interesting exchanges like that.

I have no time to say a blessed wee thing about Scotland itself right now. I am supposedly working at my desk and trying not to let anybody see me posting, but that can't last for long, so I shall say over and out for now and much more later! By the way, the picture above is of Loch Long--my daughter took it. Beautiful isn't it? (We learned from our lovely host/guide George Wallace, how to say "loch" proberly with a very soft "k" sound.) If you want to see some of my pictures I have started to post them to www.cjd.yafro.com .

Tony and Slobby

So Slobidau (how the hell do you spell his name--let's just call him Slobby) is dead. Possibly poisoned. There has hardly ever been a time that I was so pleased by someone's death. Oh, too bad says I! Died in jail, heart attack, attack of a hardened heart, small heart, dead heart, black heart. Oh, too bad, Slobby. Yes, I would have preferred that he was drawn and quartered, or hung, or shot by firing squad made up of the people he squashed, but his being dead is a good thing. Now if we could only get rid of Saddam and his courtroom antics. I don't think we should be in Iraq, but I DO think Saddam is bad, bad, bad and should be gone, gone, gone. Maybe someone will poison him, too!

Tony! On the other hand, here is a good fella who is whacking people right and left and we love him. Bookworm could figure out the paralells and the differences, but it seems definitely odd that we hate Saddam and Slobby but love the Tone-man. Judging from my first paragraph above, I guess maybe I'd like to have the power to whack where I think whacking needs to be done. Is that it? Tell me, bloggers. Some of those who were whacked I really liked. I liked Adriana and I liked Tony B. and I liked Pussy. It's the loyalty issue isn't it....the family loyalty. Turn on me, I turn on you. Sometimes I wish I could whack my brother.....

Oscar, Oscar, Oscar!

Okay…..so…All of my bloggy friends have been writing about the Oscar Awards last Sunday and not a one has mentioned the best part of the whole SHOW! Did you like Jon Stewart? As far as I’m concerned he was The Star of The Night. I love Jon. His cute little smirk thrills me. His deader than deadpan delights me. He’s My Guy! He went out there and he did his make fun of anybody on the planet shtick and I don’t care if the first 5 rows of “stars” only politely clapped and smiled only enough not to crack their makeup (or facelifts), because he did what had to be done. He poked holes in their huge balloon-like egos! Okay, there were a couple who laughed hardily, Jamie Foxx for one. I think Gorgeous George Clooney was laughing but it was kind of hard to tell. He rolled his eyes lots, but I think he and Jon were making eye contact.

Bookworn and Brownshoes mentioned CLASS. Jon has Class with a Capital C!! I agree that Clooney has Class, too.

Aside from Jon, here is what I remember fondly:
Uma Thurman looking thinly, blondly, tall-ly fabulous.
Salma Hyak So Sexy She Sizzled.
A woman with flapping arms just like me, and everyone I know, accepting an award and looking just like me and everyone I know would look if we had to get up on that stage and accept an award. A normal person dressed up, who didn’t go to the gym for 6 hours everyday and didn’t have a makeup man and a hairdo man and a pedicure man and a manicure man and a man to give us the toilet paper and a man to open the door and a man to give us thousands, even millions of dollars worth of jewelry to wear. And THAT woman probably would have really appreciated one of those opulent gift bags!!! I hope she got one!
Jack Nicholson slyly grinning from the front row as always. I’m gonna really miss Jack when he’s not there anymore.
The woman who nearly fell out of her strapless orangey-rust colored dress when she leaped up because her group had won an award—maybe it was Best Picture for Crash. She was so exuberant and happy and pretty, that she made me happy. She wasn’t a “star”.
Poor, vain Lauren Bacall, who eschewed her glasses and made a damned fool of herself.
Lovely Jennifer Something, who is in Alien on TV and married Ben Affleck, nearly taking a nose dive and recovering sweetly. I love her dimples.
Dolly Parton, with the 10 inch waist and the knockers that could conquer the world, not being able to get the crowd going until she took control and started strutting the stage.
Joaquin Phoenix, who made a believer out of me (in his talent) by BEING Johnny Cash, beaming when Reese Witherspoon received her award.
Reese’s speech which, incredibly, made sense. I thought, “she must be pretty smart to actually be able to give a good acceptance speech”.
Lily and Meryl being Altmanish.
Altman being a dignified older man who deserved an Oscar.
The incredible surge of electricity and excitement that went through the crowd when Crash won best picture.
Phillip Seymour Hoffman, who I have loved for a long, long time, getting best actor. How sweet it is!
And I loved the hilarious stuff that Jon and his crew did with the “ads” for best actress.
That’s enough I guess. I have watched the Academy Awards since I was a wee little kid because my Mom loves movies and “the stars” and I inherited that. I won’t ever apologize for watching, I won’t ever feel guilty. I love it and that’s that! It’s always a pleasure but never a guilty one!

Mother Pain

It starts with twisting, grinding waves of pain that we are happy to endure because there is going to be a wonderful gift at the end. We give birth to a brand new being. We are privileged to watch this new little person grow and develop. The first years are especially fascinating as they learn to sit up, crawl, walk, talk. These children become more complicated as they grow older. We feel joy as we see our little ones developing distinct personalities, making friends, going to school. We often experience pain for our children if they have failures, but mostly things are still positive. They are young yet. I’d say the true mother joy gets harder to feel when they reach the age that they are really working at breaking the bonds with us, somewhere in the 13 to 16 range. Joy turns to bewilderment as our little people become big, confused, angry teenagers. There is the pain of their disdain of us, but we know it will go away one day, because we felt it ourselves about our own parents, and we know we now love them. Eventually our kids move out of our houses and we cry to see them go, the Empty Nest pain, but we also feel relief that they are going out on their own and we get to be just ourselves again, without appendages who want something from us all the time.

But sometimes our fledglings fly out of our cozy, safe nests and they crash and burn and then a different kind of pain enters our lives. This pain is as grinding and twisting as the pain of their birth, but there is no promise attached to it. Right now, my oldest daughter is experiencing that pain. She has recently learned that her 19 year old son, who had joined the Army and gone through basic training with no difficulties and seemed to be a happy member of the military, has gone AWOL. He did not return to his unit after Christmas. I’d bet she is blaming herself somehow and hoping to fix things, all the while knowing that his decision will have a dramatic affect on his life in the future--knowing that he doesn’t realize this yet and is just riding the moment. Her pain is deep, and my pain is deep, too. I feel spasms in my gut for both of them. I had a hard time getting to sleep last night.

I know that my Blogster friends have felt all these kinds of pain and they might have encouraging, hopeful or soothing things to say to my daughter. I invite you to visit her blog, which is where she had the courage to write it all down, and leave her a comment. Her blog is: http://postcardsfromnorfolk.blogspot.com/. The post about my Grandson is “The News From Norfolk”. I’d appreciate it if you could support her in some way. I am still trying to help my kids lead happy lives. We mothers need all the help we can get, no matter how old our kids are.

Muslim Humor

So.....Albert Brooks recently came out with a movie called something like Finding Humor in the Muslim World. That sounded pretty good to me. I love anything Albert Brooks does and I figured if anyone could find humor "over there" it would be Albert. But now comes the BIG CONTROVERSY over the CARTOONS! Good grief. I think maybe Albert has failed to find the funny bone after all because "they" sure act as if there isn't one. Come on! We get to make fun of our Presidents, Jesus (most of the time unless you're a British Rock Star), our Churches, our Teachers, our Politicians, our Rabbis, our Priests, why are they having so much trouble because a turbin looks like a bomb for crying out loud?!!! Has political correctness spread like a disease to the Middle East? I guess so. I say stomp out PC right now before we have a war over it.

By the way, did anybody see Grey's Anatomy this week, speaking of bombs? Wow! And where has West Wing gone? Are they hiding it again?

Sad Day

It's a sad day in BlogLand. Brown Shoes has lost her Jack. Take a moment of silence and think about all the dogs we've loved and lost. And send good vibrations over Brown Shoe's way.

Death By Chocolate

Okay...So...I think by now we've all heard Ray "New Orleans" Nagin giving his speech about his city and how it has to be "A Chocolate New Orleans". Poor old Ray. He just can't get it right, can he? I kind of feel sorry for the guy because obviously he is woefully unaware of what happens when you speak in front of microphones. Lo and behold, everyone hears you. You're on CNN, MSNBC, FOX, local channels, foreign channels, radio, newspapers, comedy shows and best of all, The Daily Show. Poor old Ray better stop talking.

He'll have Jessie Jackson down on him soon, because Jessie has The Rainbow Coalition and Rainbows got nothin' to do with Chocolate as Brown Shoes will tell you. Or Ray could just call on Weird Johnnie D., who has spent some time with chocolate lately, to help him with his quest. Really, this could be a new direction for New Orleans. Instead of the cry from the street to "Show us your tits" it could be "Show us your Chocolate" and instead of those silly beads you could get something useful and tasty. The French have pretty good chocolate which they could sell in the French Quarter. They got great chefs down there who could whip up Cajun Gourmet Chocolate Treats. I think I would be more apt to visit New O if they were known for Chocolate rather than for hookers on the street 24/7 and the worst police force in the country. Maybe Ray is onto something...and even George Bush cares about Chocolate.

Somewhere over the.....

There's one good thing about all this rain. Today there is also sunshine, and somewhere out there you know there's some pretty splendid rainbows!!! So, today, instead of singing "Singing in the Rain", we can add Somewhere Over the Rainbow, Here Comes the Sun, Let the Sun Shine In, and other cheerier fare. There is a rule about rainbows, as to where to look for them, that is. It's like if the sun is in the South, look for the rainbow in the ______. Fill in the blank 'cause I don't know the direction. I heard this only once and it didn't stick. So I'll just look up! Here's to looking up!

A Better Post?

Some people are so demanding! Didn't like my last post. Guess Fossil Guy thought I proselitizing or something. Hey, it ain't a religion, it just works for me and I wanted to "share"! Well, maybe this is a better topic: my 83 year old Mother broke her ankle on Saturday and now all hell is breaking loose. I'd much rather irrigate my sinuses than have to deal with this kind of real life!!!!!

Nasal Irrigation

Okay.....so....it's a weird subject I know, but I'm like a reformed smoker or a successful dieter or a reborn Christian and so I have to tell you about it!

I have been seeing lots of sick people lately, at work, via email, in the Malls, all coughing, blowing their noses, clearing their throats and I just want to stop them and tell them what I have discovered. But I can't really do that--I'd get arrested--so I'm going to use this blog to spread the Good Word. NASAL IRRIGATION!!!!

If just anyone had told me to do this, I would have probably laughed and forgotten about it. Oh yeah, squirt a bunch of water up your nose--sounds like fun--he-he. However, since a bonified Ear, Nose and Throat Doctor told me to do this, I gave it a try. I had bad sinus problems, headaches, throat clearing, snoring, blowing my nose all the time, sneezing many times in a row. So I went to the ENT doc and said HELP ME!!! He gave me this sheet of paper with very simple instructions on it and the prescription to do it EVERY day. Here is the recipe:

one baby-sized plastic syringe (you know, the one with the squeezy bulb)
1 cup of warm, not hot, tap water
1/4 teaspoon of table salt
1 pinch of baking soda

Sounds a little kinky when you see the recipe, but folks get your minds out of the gutter--this is for your NOSE.

Put the salt and soda in the cup of warm water and mix it up.
Fill the bulb with the water and squirt the liquid up one of your nostrils. Keep bent over a bit while doing this, otherwise the water will go down your throat--not a bad thing but it could make you gag.

Continue to fill and squirt in one nostril and then the other until the water is gone.

What have you done? You have affectively cleared your nasal passages of germs and foreign objects (like lint and dust) and you have also moistened them. Do this in the shower or bathtub or over the sink every day. I am telling you, people, this will keep you healthy, or get you healthy if you aren't. I have been doing it now for many months and I hardly ever sneeze anymore or have to (sorry) pick things out of my dry nose and I haven't gotten that evil cold yet. Knock on wood.

Give it a try and see if it doesn't help you feel better!

December 25, 2005 11:45 a.m.

I knew this was going to be a strange Christmas but it has turned out to be stranger than strange!

It was "scheduled" to be strange because my Mate wasn't going to be here, being the Good Son and going to be with his Mother on her first Christmas as a widow. But to make it even stranger the weather has been wicked windy. The lights went out at 10:15 a.m. on Christmas Eve. All day long I revisesd assessments on how I would get dinner cooked. The plan had been to put the fully cooked ham in the crock pot and cook it on slow for 6 hours, resulting in lots of gravy fixings and a nice hot ham. The other elements of dinner, mashed potatoes, peas, cranberry sauce and Chocolate Satin Pie (from Safeway) didn't require electricity or at most, a small amount.

As the day wore on and time to put the ham in the crock pot passed I began to make contigency plans. Okay--so... if the power comes on by 1:00 I'll still have 4 hours to cook the ham. Then, if the power comes on by 2:00 I'll turn it on high and still have time. At 12:30 I got tired of trying to make deals with the Power Gods and made one last deal: I'll go for a LONG walk--all the way to the mini-mart and back. I'll be a really good citizen, take shopping bags with me and pick up trash on the way. I'll take my Netflix and put it in the blue mailbox at the mini-mart. It'll take me a good hour and a half, but by the time I get back around 2:00 surely the power will be on and I can proceed with my Christmas Eve dinner plans. Looking back on this it makes no sense at all but I had to do SOMETHING!!! I did this. I walked all the way up there--I loaded one whole grocery sack with trash from the right side of the road--I dropped the Flix in the box. I peered down the hiway to see if electricity workmen were fixing the offending line and saw nothing. I trudged back, my feet hurting by this time, picking up trash on the other side of the road and humming "Deck the halls with bags of garbage, fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la". A woman stopped her car to say, "God bless you for picking up the trash!" I wondered if I looked pathetic in my leather man's hat and no makeup. She must have wondered why this woman had nothing better to do than pick up trash on Christmas Eve.

I got home with my two very full bags of aluminum cans, Taco Bell cups, straws, those awful yellow plastic straps that are around bundles of magazines (who throws so many of these on the side of the road?), beer bottles, cigarette packages, kleenex and GUESS WHAT? The lights were not on. The bargain didn't work. The Power Gods weren't paying attention. So I took the next logical step. I took a nap. Or tried to. All that walking had me too pepped up to really sleep. I laid there formulating the last ditch plan. If the lights aren't on by 4:00 I pack up the whole thing, potatoes, ham, rolls, pie and take it to my Mom's house to cook.

The happy ending to this dark tale is that the lights finally came back on at 3:30. I slammed the ham into the crock pot, turned it on high, ran to shower my stinky-trash-picking body, peeled the potatoes, vacuumed the worst spots, turned on the Christmas Tree lights and hopped in the car to go pick up my Mom and my Brother. Christmas Eve was saved!

Did I fail to mention that when our lights are out we can't run water or flush the toilet? And it also happens that our wood stove is in pieces and the oven on my gas range is on the fritz? The lights being out was just the coup de gras!

And now it is Christmas Day, after what turned out to be a lovely Christmas Eve, and the lights are out again. I woke up at 5:30 to howling winds and at 6:30, boink, they were out again. It's mid-day now and the PSE has no ETA on when they will come back on. SHIT. And, oh yeah, Merry Christmas.

TKO at Christmas

My Mate is just now getting on an airplane to go spend Christmas with his recently widowed Mother in Ventura, CA. I am lucky not to be going. I have the perfect excuse. I have to stay here and “take care” of my Mom’s Christmas. Last year I left the State and I am still being reminded of how “sad and desolate” my Mother’s Christmas was without me. It’s nice to be needed, but I don’t like being needed that much! If I left again I would be hearing about it until Kingdom Come or The Rapture, whichever comes first.

My Mate and his Mother are equal in their stubbornness, pigheadedness and stiff-neckedness! They are at a Greek Stand-Off, both wanting to have control of what happens in the future, now that life is without husband and father. I think Christmas in Ventura will be loud on Fiesta Lane. I will perversely be looking forward to the reports of what is happening down there while I wallow in the luxury of time alone.

I will be here, in my house in the woods, enjoying a quiet Christmas with hot cocoa, maybe a cinnamon roll, watching the squirrels and the birds duke it out for the black sunflower seeds and reading my delicious book. You might hear me purring…..

More Popular Than Jesus

John Lennon got in trouble saying that but I don't think I will. For one, not enough people are listening and number two, I think most people would agree with me. I am referring to the fan base that my newest granddaughter has. All her fans are making pilgrimages to see her, to have their pictures taken with her, to bask in her blue aura, to win a smile and dare we hope? to hear a laugh.

My pilgrimage took place about 1 1/2 weeks ago, right after Thanksgiving. I had not seen Alison since she was a month old. She had a powerful aura then, too, but she wasn't doing anything much except staring at my black rimmed glasses, drinking her Mama's mile and pooping and sleeping. I knew that I would see more of her wonders on this trip. I was not disappointed!

Ali was a little over 7 months old during my trip back to Wisconsin this time. I had been prepped by many pictures of her on her Daddy's blog, so I knew her eyes were more open and big and blue and that she was smiling and laughing. But pictures and the real thing are thousands of miles apart. It's the smell and the feeling of the skin that you can't get in the pictures. Baby smell should be bottled and if there was a moisturizer that made an adult's skin feel like a babies it would be the best seller of all time. Baby Skin, $1000 a bottle, and people would buy it! Pictures couldn't prepare me for the joy she exhibits when her clothes come off for a bath or the funny, slightly surprised, but not upset, look she gets on her face when the bath water drips down her face as her hair gets washed.

I was honored to help feed her and to witness the bedtime ritual of stories, with Goodnight Moon at the end. I was present when her first picture with Santa Claus was taken at the Mall of America with the REAL Santa Claus.

I ate breakfast dinner and lunch with her and saw three baths and many sessions on the floor with Shoe Shufflin' Sam and her Grandma W's "tag tree". I watched her "run" in her "ring of fun" as my son calls one of her toys. I witnessed her with her Daddy and her Mommy.

It was one of the best pilgrimages I have ever been on and I wish I could have brought back some of her smell and the feel of her skin. She is more popular than Jesus, and for good reason, if you ask me!

What a Dream!

When I was visiting last week in Wisconsin, a whole other blog post, I had a dream. I dreamed that my brother got arrested for drug dealings and that he was headed for the Big House. I dreamed that my Mate and I were roped into trying to bring down some bigger drug dealers than my brother and had to go undercover into a serious gang of drug thugs. I dreamed that in order to show his bravery, my Mate threatened to shoot off one of his balls and then went through with it. I dreamed he was proud of himself. I dreamed I was proud of him, too. My hero!

Thanksgiving Wonder

Wonder of wonders. This 4-person Thanksgiving Day was probably the best, quietest, most serene I have spent in many a decade. This is a day that has sent me home in tears, or caused ultimatums of dire proportions, or just been too loud and too crazy, or I've felt put-upon, sweating in the kitchen alone while everyone else sits around on their fat asses.

As usual this year, the meal took all day to cook and we ate it in 15 minutes. This always seems absurd, but it is the way it is. Only this year, my brother, who is on many meds and can be horribly over the top and incredibly "inappropriate" for a 50 year old, actually acted like a pretty normal human being, during and after dinner. My Mate and I decided that we should segue immediately into a game of dominoes to head off any collapsing on the couch by guests while we played an old holiday movie. This turned out to be a grand idea. Instead of a movie we played "Light Classical" music from the Dish Network music thing and at points we were all singing opera. We taught Mom and Brother how to play Mexican Train and we played for several hours, only stopping to have pumpkin pie with huge blobs of whipped cream that Mate almost turned into butter with his gung-ho whipping. Mom sort of got the hang of the game and Brother finally started to win some torward the end. All were satisfied. Next year we'll have prizes for the winner and the Big Loser.

By the time the dominoes tournament was over it was 9 pm and time for guests to head on home. I didn't have a tension headache, the kitchen was mostly cleaned by Mate (he won many husband points) and nobody got mad. A great and wonderful success in my book!

Okay...So...It's the Holiday Season

Let's do it one more time. Or...let's forget about it one more time. Or...let's hide from it again this year like we did two years ago. Shall we trim the tree or get a dead branch and decorate it like I did the year my last child left home. Shall I send Christmas cards? Shall I make one of those letters? And what about Christmas Eve? Why do I feel differently about Christmas every single year? What's up with that!!! Why is Christmas such a hard-ass question mark? How come it's so full of STUFF?!&*(^^%%&%$r*&^(*)_(!!!@@@

On My Way to Work

On my way to work, nearly every day, I pass a tiny house with a flagpole in its front yard. The tiny house is lived in by a small, elderly man. Every morning he comes out to put his flag up. The unusual and moving part of this scene is that several school children line up for the school bus on the road next to his home. And every day he asks one of the school children to help him put up his flag. I have seen him, with a child, helping the child hold the flag off the ground, helping that child attach the flag to the line that hoists it up the pole. I don't know what he tells the children about the flag. I can only imagine. He might be a veteran, he might just be a patriot. I am moved by the fact he is out there every day with the kids, even in the rain, teaching them something about their country's flag.

I'm not in any way a "patriot". In the 60's I could have burned a flag if given half the chance. I'm not impressed with patriotism at all. But I am impressed with this elderly man and his committment, to his flag raising and to the kids. The connection between him and the kids is obvious, even if I've never heard a word exchanged between them. What a wonderful thing for all of them, what a memorable part of the kids' childhood, what a great way for the old guy to keep in touch with youth.

I know one day he will be gone but I hope it's not until after I retire, because if I have to see this ritual end it will make me cry.

Last Night

Last night I cried. I haven't cried for a pretty long time. I cried because my grandchildren live too far away and the littlest one, in particular, has so much competition for her time that others are getting to her before I can and maybe she won't even know me. My dear man, who knows when to hug and sooth, reminded me that soon I will be retired and then I will be able to go as often as I want to watch her grow and that she will know me very well. I hope he is right. It pains my gut so much to know she is growing fast, she is cutting teeth, learning to roll over, sitting up, eating real food, drooling, crying, laughing, and I am not there to see.

I am trying hard today to get some links on my page, so that others can go to the pages that I like to visit, but I am having a devil of a time. If anyone knows how to do this properly I would sure like your advice!

The day is dark and rainy, but it's a good, hard rain, not that misty crapola that I hate. At least you can get your windshield wipers going at a decent speed and not have to turn them off every couple of minutes. I don't use umbrellas anymore, just a good, big waterproof man's hat. Makes me feel macho in the face of the damp! Good day for coffee. Wish I was home.

This Might Be Steven Wright

I might be stealing from the comic I most love, Steven Wright, with the deadest pan there is, but here is a thought for the day:

Protons have mass? I didn't know they were Catholics!

Yeah, I'm sorta blotto today. The Good Coffee Man didn't come today so I'm drinking company coffee. Company coffee is what we are provided (company Perk--pun intended) and it goes through a machine that cannot be cleaned. I am not sure I want to contemplate what might be in the coffee maker after years of uncleanness. The coffee is dreadful but it has caffiene in it and just enough coffee flavor to make me feel okay about
not stopping to buy something waaaaaay better. I would have been late to work and I would have had to get into my change to buy an Americano, one of the cheapest drinks available. That would have made me feel like a junky, which I'm not really.....really, I'm not. Really.