feeling kind of like a little snack, could do some cherry pie but not sure about that as well..nothing in the freezer to thaw, decisions decisions, wonderful few days with the actor group substituting for real family and car troubles going and coming though woke up this am 4 15 and just had a make up nap for that it's all good, driving to the hinderlands i wonder will I ever get it right I suppose I will, things dusty and unattended ecause I've been elsewhere and the marketing for tortilla man is as good or better than I would expect, so I gues it's back to the drawing board to see what's what and as far as introversion well, that's the name of the computer age, we're all on our own pc/cell phone tower, whatever..aren't wee??
Thursday, July 28, 2016
Thursday, May 26, 2016
goin' fishin...
we used to tell a dumb joke about two deaf fishermen walking up opposing sides of the street...both the men carried fishing poles slung over their shoulder, caps with fishing hooks, a lunch, etc. as they slogged along they called out to one another: "Hey, you goin' fishin???"
we'd always say 'get it?' and of course we did because being that both men were deaf, they'd be saying that all the way to the fishing hole 'hey, you goin' fishin?'...well..I didn't ever see the pointlessness of this joke until my freshman year of college. We studied Camus...who wrote about the optimization of lassitude, something I wasn't up on as an eighteen-year old college student. There didn't seem to be enough hours in the day. There still doesn't. While Camus reflected on the beinglessness of being, I was thinking about how to make it through the first semester of college. I had a work-study position with the head of the civil engineering department. The money went directly into my tuition account, meaning that the college had let me into their school and they were going to expect me to work to pay for my studies there.
After being with the civil engineering department for a while, I figured I should have gotten a job in the cafeteria, where I could eat to my heart's content and be full for a change. I never did that.
One day around Christmas Break, when we were full of the notion that we were going to go home for the holidays and receive major presents, it began to snow. It snowed for a night and t hen it snowed the next day. It snowed and it snowed. It began to look as though we might not be going home for the holidays after all. During this time, my comrad Hummel left me his car key and flew off to the East Coast to spend the holidays with his father, Col Hummel. He entr usted me with the safety of his 1962 Impala, a white beast of dubious tires and starter, conditioned for the road with over three hundred thousand milles on 'er, purchased in installements for three hundred dollars American, only missing the chenielle bobbles that then went with every decent Hispanic mobile that could crank itself up and down (yes, they were doing that back then too)...The Impala's keys were lost on a Sega tray at suppertime the day before we were due to pull out of t he campus and head home. There were four of us going. Two were being dropped in Aberdeen, one in Forks and one a little closer to Clallam Bay. My father was picking us up in Forks and driving us to our house as I did not yet get my drivers' l icense and did not get it until I was nine months pregnant with my first child, Hummel Jr. (the third...) That was a little later one. On this adventure the tire on the Impala went flat upon arrival at my parents' home and stayed that way until Hummel Jr came to collect me just after the new year1969. The snow had somewhat abated by then, I'd had my tonsils out over the holiday and so was unable to join my four brothers sliding down the hill by the house, succeeding in getting popcorn kernels stuck in the stitches in my throat, I gloomily watched the boys flying down the hillside. In hospital overnight for t he procedure, I'd woken up with a frantic four-year old boy who was my roommate for the night, finding myself unable to locate the bedside response button I walked the little boy into the darkenend hallway in the hospital ward, croaking for a nurse.
Hummel came to collect me, we got the Impala running again, complete with better tire and off to school we went. Th at summer I visited him in the balmy weather of the East Coast stepping off the plane in wool knee socks and quilted jumper, I soon learned what halters and cutoffs were for and stuck with them for the rest of the summer. Once off the plane, Hummel took me too his old neighborhood where all the kids were wearing ties and getting into their parents liquor supply. "You only have to be 18, we're all seniors, we're just about there, it's ok," was their litany. I was 18 so I had a beer. It wasn't that great, kind of bubbly and sour, I wasn't impressed. Boone's farms was better I thought, more like Koolaid than that other stuff. The kids were all wearing ties, playing poker and all of them had parents working for the CIA. At the time, I didn't think much of that information, my dad was still working on his civil engineering license, I worked with a guy he absolutely loathed. I found out later the man had been a prisoner of war during WWII with the Japanese at Bataan. So much for pleasant personalities.
These CIA kids were something else. Not only were they anticipating being 18, they had a brother who was 19 and he provided the wheels, the beer and the drives into the big city for pub crawling. It was a fun summer of late night adventures in the steamy jungles of the metropolitan area, coupled by day with door to door encyclopedia sales and dry goods vending where I found out how AfroAmerican people lived in houses that were one room with outdoor toilet and electricity but no fans. There were lots of flies in those places. The encyclopedia people looked like a lot of Arabs, as we called them, carpet sellers my mother said, civil engineering students my university enrolled (those there were) and I didn't no beans about the mideast so I was unaware of what ramifications the door to door sales of some kind of encyclopedia termed 'reference programming' was going to make impact wise and how I could earn a living doing so (I didn't, I quit when I was told by one customer that I was doing the 'work of the devil'). I came home quite penniless from my summer in the East, it's kind of been a theme of mine ever since. I went back to college that fall with fifty cents and then about twenty five years later there was a band by that name...
My mother didn't want to let go of any of the family funds for my college expenses like deodorant, shampoo, socks, underwear, what have you. Instead, she said I'd just have to get a job. "I have a job," I said. I work for the head of the Civil Engineering Department. "All my money goes to my tuitiion!" They didn't give me any of it for things like Tampax. I couldn't get a job off campus because I didn't have a bike or a car and the nearest places to find work were just that far away. It caused me the sort of stress that I still feel today...where to scrape up the next dime to have enough to get a donut...
we'd always say 'get it?' and of course we did because being that both men were deaf, they'd be saying that all the way to the fishing hole 'hey, you goin' fishin?'...well..I didn't ever see the pointlessness of this joke until my freshman year of college. We studied Camus...who wrote about the optimization of lassitude, something I wasn't up on as an eighteen-year old college student. There didn't seem to be enough hours in the day. There still doesn't. While Camus reflected on the beinglessness of being, I was thinking about how to make it through the first semester of college. I had a work-study position with the head of the civil engineering department. The money went directly into my tuition account, meaning that the college had let me into their school and they were going to expect me to work to pay for my studies there.
After being with the civil engineering department for a while, I figured I should have gotten a job in the cafeteria, where I could eat to my heart's content and be full for a change. I never did that.
One day around Christmas Break, when we were full of the notion that we were going to go home for the holidays and receive major presents, it began to snow. It snowed for a night and t hen it snowed the next day. It snowed and it snowed. It began to look as though we might not be going home for the holidays after all. During this time, my comrad Hummel left me his car key and flew off to the East Coast to spend the holidays with his father, Col Hummel. He entr usted me with the safety of his 1962 Impala, a white beast of dubious tires and starter, conditioned for the road with over three hundred thousand milles on 'er, purchased in installements for three hundred dollars American, only missing the chenielle bobbles that then went with every decent Hispanic mobile that could crank itself up and down (yes, they were doing that back then too)...The Impala's keys were lost on a Sega tray at suppertime the day before we were due to pull out of t he campus and head home. There were four of us going. Two were being dropped in Aberdeen, one in Forks and one a little closer to Clallam Bay. My father was picking us up in Forks and driving us to our house as I did not yet get my drivers' l icense and did not get it until I was nine months pregnant with my first child, Hummel Jr. (the third...) That was a little later one. On this adventure the tire on the Impala went flat upon arrival at my parents' home and stayed that way until Hummel Jr came to collect me just after the new year1969. The snow had somewhat abated by then, I'd had my tonsils out over the holiday and so was unable to join my four brothers sliding down the hill by the house, succeeding in getting popcorn kernels stuck in the stitches in my throat, I gloomily watched the boys flying down the hillside. In hospital overnight for t he procedure, I'd woken up with a frantic four-year old boy who was my roommate for the night, finding myself unable to locate the bedside response button I walked the little boy into the darkenend hallway in the hospital ward, croaking for a nurse.
Hummel came to collect me, we got the Impala running again, complete with better tire and off to school we went. Th at summer I visited him in the balmy weather of the East Coast stepping off the plane in wool knee socks and quilted jumper, I soon learned what halters and cutoffs were for and stuck with them for the rest of the summer. Once off the plane, Hummel took me too his old neighborhood where all the kids were wearing ties and getting into their parents liquor supply. "You only have to be 18, we're all seniors, we're just about there, it's ok," was their litany. I was 18 so I had a beer. It wasn't that great, kind of bubbly and sour, I wasn't impressed. Boone's farms was better I thought, more like Koolaid than that other stuff. The kids were all wearing ties, playing poker and all of them had parents working for the CIA. At the time, I didn't think much of that information, my dad was still working on his civil engineering license, I worked with a guy he absolutely loathed. I found out later the man had been a prisoner of war during WWII with the Japanese at Bataan. So much for pleasant personalities.
These CIA kids were something else. Not only were they anticipating being 18, they had a brother who was 19 and he provided the wheels, the beer and the drives into the big city for pub crawling. It was a fun summer of late night adventures in the steamy jungles of the metropolitan area, coupled by day with door to door encyclopedia sales and dry goods vending where I found out how AfroAmerican people lived in houses that were one room with outdoor toilet and electricity but no fans. There were lots of flies in those places. The encyclopedia people looked like a lot of Arabs, as we called them, carpet sellers my mother said, civil engineering students my university enrolled (those there were) and I didn't no beans about the mideast so I was unaware of what ramifications the door to door sales of some kind of encyclopedia termed 'reference programming' was going to make impact wise and how I could earn a living doing so (I didn't, I quit when I was told by one customer that I was doing the 'work of the devil'). I came home quite penniless from my summer in the East, it's kind of been a theme of mine ever since. I went back to college that fall with fifty cents and then about twenty five years later there was a band by that name...
My mother didn't want to let go of any of the family funds for my college expenses like deodorant, shampoo, socks, underwear, what have you. Instead, she said I'd just have to get a job. "I have a job," I said. I work for the head of the Civil Engineering Department. "All my money goes to my tuitiion!" They didn't give me any of it for things like Tampax. I couldn't get a job off campus because I didn't have a bike or a car and the nearest places to find work were just that far away. It caused me the sort of stress that I still feel today...where to scrape up the next dime to have enough to get a donut...
Thursday, May 19, 2016
Sunday, April 24, 2016
woody allen interview book
this is the most godawful keyboard ever half way through the essay the whole thing disappears...duh
and me an expert in data entry, hehe
was just talking about allen's films as portrayals of everyman speaking his truth..blamo it's gone
so now the crystalization of the thoughts I was having, hehe...if that can be
every allen movie I've seen latest being 'everyone says I love you' which is a great title in and of itself..oh boy do we need that kind of enthusiasm these days...news so full of corpses and crud...it's a reality check, an allen movie, we're still here, yes we know about Auschweitz, and Bosnia, and Rowanda, ok? got it..but that gets us stifled, that global news..we should be part of it, can't for whatever reason...and so we're in our own lives being exposed to culture whatever our means and education, and here comes allen with a cute little flick that has its own music and dancing and so forth and it's cute for an adult like a toy is cute for a kid..not a distraction so much as an affirmation of what it is to be a human being in this century. it's our daily life on a platter, with jokes.
allen says he writes the dialogue as he goes along filming the piece..the words come out like so many pennies in a pile, ready to go to the boxoffice and produce tickets to see it...it seems to flow out of him based on what he knows about life..dialogue being the words that are prompted to be spoken by his characters, he says he knows what he wants, that he has a part of each story and that he incorporates himself into the script as one of the characters in addition to being its creator.
he throws in good laughs and we are comforted that there is humor to be had, that we can alleviate our own little stressors, cupboard doors hanging open waiting to be banged shut with a laugh. Our nervousness, discomfort, indecision, are decided by the way the story turns out, you come away with a bit of comfort in the knowledge that here's a guy who sees it like it is with a spoonful of sugar to make it go down better. his movies are like everyman mantras for the times we live in. they're comfortable to watch, a bit schmaltzy in that they're full of a lot of references to his own ethnic origins and yet they're about everybody's stuff, they cross all the lines of human interaction and they take the modern, today exposures we all have and they tie them up in a neat package of immediate origin. They could be relevant in Afghanistan or Iowa because they're about how people treat one another, their motivations and the outcomes of decisions made. allen throws in the necessary humor to treat us to a breakfast of champions, a salad of our unknown desires and hopes. His stories bring about a thought process in the viewer that helps him cope with his own bowl of Cheerios. The viewer might not have thought that everybody else knows how he feels about the lady in the house across the street but now he knows how he behaves tells his story without him even having to say so. He also feels comfortable in that knowledge because Allen helps him to see that he is a human being, his feelings matter, he can only be ok wearing his own pair of shoes, nobody's going to wear them for him and he's going to maybe get a blister but it's alright, he has to break them in...use them to get around..
Allen says little about ethic and a lot about what works in film, lighting, camera and crew, actors, scripts, he has his own technique, method, largely coupled with his purpose as a comedian which I'd say is his forte, selfdeprecating humor being his stock in trade. Even in the interviews he calls himself lazy, he doesn't take the shot that will make the scene absolutely perfect but goes for the overall package that will produce the film and get it marketed He talks about never enough budget for what he wants to do and then says he builds scenes with elaborate costuming and then doesn't use it because it doesn't flow into the story like the creek after a rain, it's sometimes too much, but hilarious in it's own right as though he were building a comedy series of short skits and then tossing them into the bin with all the other rejects from other stories he produced. I think those could maybe be a big loss for us, like one clip from an early movie with Louise Lasser where he and Lasser were costumed in spider outfits on a big cable web talking about her having him for dinner... could be that little skit might have gone into Allen's version of a laugh-in sort of comedy series...but it becomes like many of his rejected scenes 'one for the bin'.too bad, it looked pretty funny
I had some other thoughts on why allen's work is so good for us audience people...it takes skill and that's good to know how he does his work but I think it's more important that he's out there making films for us because personally I come away happy and fortified by seeing his movies, they're all pretty cutesy in a good way, wholesome, aesthetic in that they reaffirm what it means to love someone and finally, funny.
of course, allen is self-indulgent in that he's most often in the picture, has a part, controls dialogue and filming but that's him, that's how he does it. He's tireless getting it the way he wants it, comes up with the story based on an agenda he's conceived along the way. He pulls it off in a series of scenes that lead up to the closing chapters and like a book of fairytales, there to be reread and relearned by the viewer so that they too are steeped in the brew of Allen's concepts. His work is neatly packaged, forthright and human in a way that portrays us as a people, New York being his favorite place. There's all kinds of people in New York. There's good food and literalness on the sidewalks and streets, the city, the buildings, rivers, ocean shores. People I know who live there wouldn't live anywhere else because as a big human antpile of humanity, everybody kinda gets along, slogs through the traffic, queques up for a hotdog, watches the latest 'look at me guy' parade down the street looking very odd, and has an opinion on the subway when there's a new mayor about to be had. That's just how it is. It's great.
Talk about capturing the flavor..As allen passes into his dotage, I think we can reflect a bit on what he's given us in his films. He's a wonderful, human sort of director, actor, writer, comedian. I talked to someone about reading this interview book and they said 'oh, that pervert' referencing his relationship with his adopted daughter/wife from his marriage to Mia Farrow. Well, that's how it is in these times, we don't make any bones about how we get to where we are, we just do it and if it feels right to us, we keep it. His movies are like that, his characters search for what feels right and most times they try to hold onto it, or not, but the passage there is what makes the story. I for one really enjoy the journey. Not really interested in the man's personal life. Who cares. His stories are about everyman and he's one a those...
and me an expert in data entry, hehe
was just talking about allen's films as portrayals of everyman speaking his truth..blamo it's gone
so now the crystalization of the thoughts I was having, hehe...if that can be
every allen movie I've seen latest being 'everyone says I love you' which is a great title in and of itself..oh boy do we need that kind of enthusiasm these days...news so full of corpses and crud...it's a reality check, an allen movie, we're still here, yes we know about Auschweitz, and Bosnia, and Rowanda, ok? got it..but that gets us stifled, that global news..we should be part of it, can't for whatever reason...and so we're in our own lives being exposed to culture whatever our means and education, and here comes allen with a cute little flick that has its own music and dancing and so forth and it's cute for an adult like a toy is cute for a kid..not a distraction so much as an affirmation of what it is to be a human being in this century. it's our daily life on a platter, with jokes.
allen says he writes the dialogue as he goes along filming the piece..the words come out like so many pennies in a pile, ready to go to the boxoffice and produce tickets to see it...it seems to flow out of him based on what he knows about life..dialogue being the words that are prompted to be spoken by his characters, he says he knows what he wants, that he has a part of each story and that he incorporates himself into the script as one of the characters in addition to being its creator.
he throws in good laughs and we are comforted that there is humor to be had, that we can alleviate our own little stressors, cupboard doors hanging open waiting to be banged shut with a laugh. Our nervousness, discomfort, indecision, are decided by the way the story turns out, you come away with a bit of comfort in the knowledge that here's a guy who sees it like it is with a spoonful of sugar to make it go down better. his movies are like everyman mantras for the times we live in. they're comfortable to watch, a bit schmaltzy in that they're full of a lot of references to his own ethnic origins and yet they're about everybody's stuff, they cross all the lines of human interaction and they take the modern, today exposures we all have and they tie them up in a neat package of immediate origin. They could be relevant in Afghanistan or Iowa because they're about how people treat one another, their motivations and the outcomes of decisions made. allen throws in the necessary humor to treat us to a breakfast of champions, a salad of our unknown desires and hopes. His stories bring about a thought process in the viewer that helps him cope with his own bowl of Cheerios. The viewer might not have thought that everybody else knows how he feels about the lady in the house across the street but now he knows how he behaves tells his story without him even having to say so. He also feels comfortable in that knowledge because Allen helps him to see that he is a human being, his feelings matter, he can only be ok wearing his own pair of shoes, nobody's going to wear them for him and he's going to maybe get a blister but it's alright, he has to break them in...use them to get around..
Allen says little about ethic and a lot about what works in film, lighting, camera and crew, actors, scripts, he has his own technique, method, largely coupled with his purpose as a comedian which I'd say is his forte, selfdeprecating humor being his stock in trade. Even in the interviews he calls himself lazy, he doesn't take the shot that will make the scene absolutely perfect but goes for the overall package that will produce the film and get it marketed He talks about never enough budget for what he wants to do and then says he builds scenes with elaborate costuming and then doesn't use it because it doesn't flow into the story like the creek after a rain, it's sometimes too much, but hilarious in it's own right as though he were building a comedy series of short skits and then tossing them into the bin with all the other rejects from other stories he produced. I think those could maybe be a big loss for us, like one clip from an early movie with Louise Lasser where he and Lasser were costumed in spider outfits on a big cable web talking about her having him for dinner... could be that little skit might have gone into Allen's version of a laugh-in sort of comedy series...but it becomes like many of his rejected scenes 'one for the bin'.too bad, it looked pretty funny
I had some other thoughts on why allen's work is so good for us audience people...it takes skill and that's good to know how he does his work but I think it's more important that he's out there making films for us because personally I come away happy and fortified by seeing his movies, they're all pretty cutesy in a good way, wholesome, aesthetic in that they reaffirm what it means to love someone and finally, funny.
of course, allen is self-indulgent in that he's most often in the picture, has a part, controls dialogue and filming but that's him, that's how he does it. He's tireless getting it the way he wants it, comes up with the story based on an agenda he's conceived along the way. He pulls it off in a series of scenes that lead up to the closing chapters and like a book of fairytales, there to be reread and relearned by the viewer so that they too are steeped in the brew of Allen's concepts. His work is neatly packaged, forthright and human in a way that portrays us as a people, New York being his favorite place. There's all kinds of people in New York. There's good food and literalness on the sidewalks and streets, the city, the buildings, rivers, ocean shores. People I know who live there wouldn't live anywhere else because as a big human antpile of humanity, everybody kinda gets along, slogs through the traffic, queques up for a hotdog, watches the latest 'look at me guy' parade down the street looking very odd, and has an opinion on the subway when there's a new mayor about to be had. That's just how it is. It's great.
Talk about capturing the flavor..As allen passes into his dotage, I think we can reflect a bit on what he's given us in his films. He's a wonderful, human sort of director, actor, writer, comedian. I talked to someone about reading this interview book and they said 'oh, that pervert' referencing his relationship with his adopted daughter/wife from his marriage to Mia Farrow. Well, that's how it is in these times, we don't make any bones about how we get to where we are, we just do it and if it feels right to us, we keep it. His movies are like that, his characters search for what feels right and most times they try to hold onto it, or not, but the passage there is what makes the story. I for one really enjoy the journey. Not really interested in the man's personal life. Who cares. His stories are about everyman and he's one a those...
Saturday, April 2, 2016
the green strand in the coagulant algae..surmised
it's been a cool morning, started out in the tattersall cotton bathrobe, purple fleece jambottoms (disney/goofy print as I recall), treesistersyella shirt then jeans over with ribbed brown turtleneck and the lynx vest I wore to hawaii and left on the plane...ok so that's the gear with the haltunen blackandwhite print boots...have been working in the back yard, sc uffing up the timbers under the backdeck (my sorry construction)...how to make that absolutely be worthy of treading upon...gear up the sabot age..sabots are the french wooden shoes not the dutch...meanwhile katie going kerakkkkkkzzzzzzyyy at the CoOp there's no pardon there for sure I think a kwakking bird perhaps...let the flow of the writing take over and not to mend t he broken bridges wher e my son said he couldn't come out...I should think by now I wouldn't be upset about these things but sometimes I am and this is one of them...he shouts for crazy and thinks that's cool while I sit here under the bridge crochetting the last bits of lace for my frilly bits...haven't worn them in ages of course so nose to the grindy stone sneezing it off often...should like another hour here about and then off to the races and so on...there's no gridding if the justified character isn't really polish and isn't really taking everything for itself in the amicus curae relevancy of Brotterson and so forth...he such an obliging twit isn't he??drove the lougie to the duck and he gibbed me a tenner fer gass and then a tenner again for where he was with the doubting t homas...I shouldn't have t hought he'd have bread anything but t here he was holding forth in the kraut's mouth I must look after that cabbage...if you can figure t his out get yourself a rabbit burrow (she's been through two of 'em)
meanwhile, you know t hat sweet punch of bittersweet desire where he'll ramble and let you know in no uncertain terms what he's actually about? that sort of thing where for the moment you're working and you don't get 'it' but then you do immediately, he tries to squeeze under that as if it's nothing but it's everything and well it should be because we know that is what it is...and if you shold just walk in someday and say eh...how about getting some green eggs and ham?? I would, you would, we all would...but I think a trendy beer and a little of the social milieu will do me better ...I think
such as it is...my german nuclear scientist I write for you because I think that was thedictionary...there I recorded it all while married to another...quite a 'fet a complish'./
something...
we're looking for murphy's under the bed, we are
meanwhile, you know t hat sweet punch of bittersweet desire where he'll ramble and let you know in no uncertain terms what he's actually about? that sort of thing where for the moment you're working and you don't get 'it' but then you do immediately, he tries to squeeze under that as if it's nothing but it's everything and well it should be because we know that is what it is...and if you shold just walk in someday and say eh...how about getting some green eggs and ham?? I would, you would, we all would...but I think a trendy beer and a little of the social milieu will do me better ...I think
such as it is...my german nuclear scientist I write for you because I think that was thedictionary...there I recorded it all while married to another...quite a 'fet a complish'./
something...
we're looking for murphy's under the bed, we are
Monday, February 8, 2016
Saturday, February 6, 2016
super blow
just watched a jk rowling miniseries from Britain about the lower classes and their drug issues...it was an interesting piece, all going back to the Profumo affair (again) as far as who gets born and when and to whom...man that guy screwed things up selling secrets to the soviets, who of course had to play the wrong card so daddie could diddle his daughter...damn it all...thanks to good old extra terrestrial abductor G)P..who is to blame for putting the disks in the wrong places once good ol profumo had sold them off...well anyway, I think we've about gotten it straight and there it goes down the poop shoot into blogger and we'll all rest better tonight if the drug trade in our little community has anything to say about it...
I'm sick a the rain I am I am...I miss my kids and look forward to seeing one of t hem soon, made him a great afghan for christmas and will present it to him when I'm there, along with a darling cap for his daughter and some leg warmers for her...course it's going to be her burpday soon so I've packed along a Spanish doll her grandmother gave me and I will make a habit of giving her a special doll on her burpday I believe she will be 7 now and she loves books and reading along with her sister who's a little older and t heir mother is t he typical welfare mom getting all these guys to give her child support while she gets pregnant and has another child and doesn't love t hem any more it's all in the cards as far as how that works out but as it stands we're better off living where we do since my son got into that with her a while back and he says now she wants him back in her life well he has new plans since she's been off living withsomeone else I guess I don't have a beau at the moment, not really if you can't count the man from t he other side of the universe as real square but then I've een moving furniture giving some away, dealing with rain and it's co urse t hrough my yard and not walking the beach enough and getting the office squ ared away so I can run my tackle and bait t hrough there and no sit at the back door freezing w hile the cats slide in and out..would like better wheels to get over to see my son but I guess we have to inherit those from our mothers (in law) and mine's racking up a bill in t he nursing home that all theinheritance is going to have to pay thanks to DOS and so on...it's interesting...I'm a little tired today but not really reading a wonderful book I didn't like at first because first person was talking about his amputation and maimed form due to injuryI suppose that could be my son's way of looking at life but I think we'll get all his parts back from t he gross product issues and he'll be fine..walks slightly limpy due to the read...have to embroider it all a bit thaniks to authoriship and so on...now t hat we're in the planet discovery mode (DISCOVER CARD....ahemmmm) we're good and so on...inalizing effort to rant about nothing is quotient modified t hereto at this .alt station hehe
I'm sick a the rain I am I am...I miss my kids and look forward to seeing one of t hem soon, made him a great afghan for christmas and will present it to him when I'm there, along with a darling cap for his daughter and some leg warmers for her...course it's going to be her burpday soon so I've packed along a Spanish doll her grandmother gave me and I will make a habit of giving her a special doll on her burpday I believe she will be 7 now and she loves books and reading along with her sister who's a little older and t heir mother is t he typical welfare mom getting all these guys to give her child support while she gets pregnant and has another child and doesn't love t hem any more it's all in the cards as far as how that works out but as it stands we're better off living where we do since my son got into that with her a while back and he says now she wants him back in her life well he has new plans since she's been off living withsomeone else I guess I don't have a beau at the moment, not really if you can't count the man from t he other side of the universe as real square but then I've een moving furniture giving some away, dealing with rain and it's co urse t hrough my yard and not walking the beach enough and getting the office squ ared away so I can run my tackle and bait t hrough there and no sit at the back door freezing w hile the cats slide in and out..would like better wheels to get over to see my son but I guess we have to inherit those from our mothers (in law) and mine's racking up a bill in t he nursing home that all theinheritance is going to have to pay thanks to DOS and so on...it's interesting...I'm a little tired today but not really reading a wonderful book I didn't like at first because first person was talking about his amputation and maimed form due to injuryI suppose that could be my son's way of looking at life but I think we'll get all his parts back from t he gross product issues and he'll be fine..walks slightly limpy due to the read...have to embroider it all a bit thaniks to authoriship and so on...now t hat we're in the planet discovery mode (DISCOVER CARD....ahemmmm) we're good and so on...inalizing effort to rant about nothing is quotient modified t hereto at this .alt station hehe
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