These are from The Idealist page on Facebook. There’s a lot of seriously inspirational stuff there. There’s also this.
These are from The Idealist page on Facebook. There’s a lot of seriously inspirational stuff there. There’s also this.
If this is a trick question, my answer is that I would be exactly the age I actually am whether I know what it is or not. But if I had to take a good look at myself and figure it out with a wild guess, I’d say fifty. (I’m a bit pathetic at guessing anyone’s age). Then I would look at my adult children and wonder why I gave birth to the first one when I was ten. This is assuming I recognize them of course. Who knows what else I may have forgotten.
If this question is asking how old I would LIKE to be, there’s no magical time in my life to which I wish to return. Life goes on with ever new challenges and adventures. If I could make time stand still or slow down I might opt for that. The older I get, the faster it flies.
I am right-handed, but do a lot of things with my left hand, and so I used to tell people I was ambidextrous because ambidexterity sounded like a very impressive thing to have. I have a son who is left-handed, so I will pretend he got that from me. If it’s genetic, I will then be forced to admit he got it from his “actually ambidextrous” paternal grandfather.
One of my more interesting useless skills is the ability to write backwards, so that you have to hold whatever I wrote up to a mirror to read it. Or perhaps you have the interesting useless ability to READ backwards, in which case, here’s something useless for you to read.
This has less to do with being left-handed or ambidextrous than it has to do with childhood boredom and writing secret messages in code when you’re too lazy to think up a real code. I am an expert when it comes to finding the easiest way to do something.
My mother loved my name, as mothers do, but I always found it lacked sophistication. So I would change it to Lindsey Maive MacKayla. And although you may think that must be some random pronouncement right off the top of my head, I actually used a name generator to come up with it. The suggestion for a pen name if I were a romance novelist is Libby Anne Funnyflower. Seriously. Does it get any better than that? Well, yes it does. I have been advised to write science fiction as Lilliana Mars Spencebot.
Hey! How did you find that out about me? Okay, if you must know, I use the dishwasher, drawers, closets, cupboards, rooms with closed doors, and throwing things down the stairs into the basement.
I am grateful that W got well enough from “the worst cold he has ever had in his entire life” (this is how he describes every cold he has ever had in his entire life) to travel by plane to Ontario to visit his parents and celebrate his dads 93rd birthday. I am looking forward to a nice quiet relaxing week on my own, doing nothing, with no interruptions of my chosen nothingness activities. It takes concentration to do nothing right. And I am an expert at that too.
Yeah, not really. Sorry to get you all excited for no reason. It’s just that I’ve been watching many episodes of the tv show Suits on Netflix and the theme song is now solidly embedded in my brain. The lyrics are great. I think it’s all about working all your life for money, and more money, and never enough money. And while you’re making all that money you never have time to enjoy all the things you’re making the money to enjoy. This could be all wrong, but it’s a show about lawyers who deal with millions of dollars in suits while wearing suits, and I must think it’s good because I’m halfway through season three.
Anyway, good song for a Monday morning for all you people out there doing the greenback boogie.
Greenback Boogie by Ima Robot
See the money wanna stay, for your meal
Get another piece of pie, for your wife
Everybody wanna know, how it feel
Everybody wanna see, what it’s like
Baby wanna be a queen, well alright
We all deserve the finer things, in this life … …
So working on a little job, in the night
It’s forty dollars an hour when I, see the light
The boss say you got a little time, and oh my
He’ll be working in a small box, till he die
Me, I gotta be free, all my life
I want a little cream cheese, in my pie
Yeah! I’ll step back, while you go dance
The greenback boogie Mother f*ing boogie
Now I’m putting on a big wig, walking hard
Hanging with them big pigs, all them dogs
Got me a couple ideas, straight from God
I want a bean pie Order me a bean pie
I’ll even eat a bean pie, I don’t mind
Me and Missy is so very busy busy making money
All step back, I’m ’bout to dance The greenback boogie
The greenback boogie Boogie now for me … … …
Say, it’s far better, when you give it away
It’s called the greenback boogie What people don’t say,
I say It’s better, when you give it away It’s called the greenback boogie
Don’t give it away now, I say It’s better, when you give it away
It’s called the greenback boogie Don’t give it away now, I say
See the money wanna stay, for your meal
I’ll say it’s gonna put some love, in your life
Don’t you really wanna know, how it feel?
Everybody wanna see, what it’s like
Babe you wanna be inside, it ain’t lies
We all know there’s better things in this life
Yes I’ll step out, on your expense
Doin’ the greenback boogie Mother f*ing boogie
Boogie oogie oogie Greenback Boogie
Come on back to paradise Come on back to paradise Come on back to paradise Come on back to… Come on back to… Come on back to paradise Come on back to paradise Come on back to paradise Come on back to… Come on back to…
It’s the greenback boogie It’s the greenback boogie Don’t give it away now Don’t give it away now, I say
It’s better, when you greenback boogie Well don’t give it away Well don’t give it away, I say
It’s better… It’s the greenback boogie Don’t give it away…
It’s been a long morning for me, thanks to Lacie, the amazing alarm clock dog. The neighbours next door let her out in the early morning to do her business and she barks her fool little head off at….I don’t know….snowflakes, fence posts, air. I wonder why she can’t just go for a quiet pee like a normal dog and let me sleep. But this morning was better than yesterday morning, so I have forgiven her.
Today is a good day because it’s Friday, it’s snowing, and I have nowhere to go! And no gigantic four litre jug of vile laxative to consume! I’m going to tell you my colonoscopy story, so if you’d like to skip on to whatever you were going to do next, now’s your chance.
For the three of you who have decided to stick around because you love old people medical stories, here we go. I have a family history of bowel cancer, and a colonoscopy is something doctors have strongly advised me to have done to detect any potential problems. The day before the procedure is spent cleaning out the colon, eating nothing, drinking clear fluids, feeling sorry for yourself and staying close to the bathroom. Black coffee is allowed. Thank God for small mercies. For the last eight hours you can have nothing by mouth, not even water.
The first colonoscopy I had was done in 2003 and I was instructed to come back for another one in ten years. But because of my superior procrastination skills, I was able to stretch that to twelve. If the results are fine for this one, I may set a fifteen year goal for the next one.
The procedure was scheduled for 11:45 a.m. yesterday. I like to be insanely early for things and W likes to be a minimum of five minutes late. The morning started off with a dead battery in my car. This was all my fault for not driving it enough. And we could not take the truck because W was having way too much fun making a big production of recharging the battery and slicing a finger open in the process. This required much swearing and a bandaid. Then we took a long convoluted route to our destination, slowing down for green lights in the hope that they would turn red before we got to them. There is no parking at the hospital. Well, there is, but every parking lot is always full and we know this, but drive around through all of them just to make sure. There’s lots of parking spaces at the mall nearby, because it’s better to inconvenience sick people than to piss off shoppers.
W dropped me off at admitting 80 minutes instead of the required 90 minutes ahead of time so that I could check in and fill out a form and sit on my ass for a bit thinking about all the things that could possibly go wrong and wondering if he would make it back from wherever he finally managed to park. I also thought a lot about food and being incredibly thirsty and how much my head was aching. Eventually I was taken to a prep room where I signed a consent form and donned one of those beautiful back-open hospital gowns I’m so fond of. The nurse told me to leave my socks on, because just the gown by itself isn’t funny enough. Then they inserted the IV paraphernalia and told me to lie down and wait. W had shown up and taken off and come back again while I studied the ceiling tiles. He told me he went to the hospital cafeteria for soup and a sandwich. I was going to say “I hate you” but I didn’t because, although that is a perfectly acceptable thing to say when you’re in labour, in this case I was faint from hunger and simply didn’t have the energy.
The procedure itself took about fifteen minutes. The IV is for sedation. They don’t like to give you too much because it’s a busy place and no one wants you hanging around too long afterwards waking up. So I was sort of aware of what was going on. Trust me when I say passing out completely would have been my preferred option. I was then wheeled to a recovery area where I studied some different ceiling tiles until they removed the tubes and tape and let me get dressed. Then the doctor popped by to tell me it all went well and although there were a couple of polyps discovered, he wasn’t anticipating they were anything to worry about.
Because you are not allowed to leave on your own, the nurse pointed across the room at W and asked me if that was my ride. Normally this would not be a funny thing to say, but when you’re coming out of sedation all bets are off. I imagined introducing him to strangers as “my ride” and thinking that was the most freaking hilarious thing I’d ever heard. She quickly told me I was free to go.
On the way home “my ride” stopped at Swiss Chalet and watched me eat a huge plate of chicken and ribs and sweet potato fries, washed down with two cups of coffee and three glasses of water. Then of course I felt sick, but also happy. It’s hard to explain.
And here you thought nothing interesting or exciting ever happened in my life as a retired person who never starts her car. I am so glad that today is another day exactly like that. Even Lacie the yappy wonder dog can’t ruin it.
This is a game of Fox and Geese, played by jungle animals, on holiday somewhere in Canada. Montreal, maybe. Or Sudbury.
1. Tramp out a big wagon wheel shape in the snow. This can be done with one person holding one end of a rope at the centre of the circle, and another person at the other end of the rope plodding through the deep snow while taking shouted instructions from the rest of the group waiting to play. Or you can all just get out there and eyeball it until everyone agrees it could work.
2. Using some random criteria, like who has the meanest looking face, choose a player to be the fox. For this game, Zebra it is.
3. The ostrich, monkey, giraffe, lion, hippo and elephant are all geese to start the game.
4. The geese must run around and across the wagon wheel rim and spokes like mad things, while the fox chases them. All players must not take short cuts, but stay on the wheel at all times. No face plants or snow angel breaks allowed if they can be avoided.
5. The hub of the wheel is a safe zone where the geese may stop long enough to gasp for air, and then they have to get back to running around in a haphazard fashion. Except always on the wheel. Don’t forget that.
6. If a goose (for example, the elephant) is tagged by the fox (in this case, the zebra), the elephant then becomes the new fox and the zebra is a goose. Identity crises all around, accompanied by a lot of yelling to inform the other players, who may or may not hear you over the sound of their own laboured breathing.
7. There are no winners or losers in this game, only enthusiastic participants who don’t mind looking like a bunch of shrieking maniacs cavorting and prancing around in a snow-covered field all afternoon.
The game ends when:
– the wagon wheel is trampled into oblivion
– the fox, unable to catch anyone, becomes frustrated and starts to cry (there is no crying in snow games – tears freeze)
– at least three faces or three sets of toes have turned blue, or some related colour to be determined by the group, because of exposure or frost bite
– the bar opens at the hotel (you’re on holiday, remember?)
– the lion gets hungry. Time to go.
This bit of nonsense Is in response to
at Evil Squirrels Nest
It’s not too late to submit a game related animal post for this contest; deadline is Sunday morning. And it’s never too late to get out in the snow and play a pointless snow game with your family and friends or some jungle animals on holiday. Stupid snow should be good for something.
I wonder if I should tell you how many times this portrait came close to being crumpled up and chucked. Halfway done I began to dislike her intensely.
But today I scrubbed her eyes out and redid them not so wide set, put her in a window and declared her finished.
Or maybe it’s me that’s finished.
I suppose being critical is a good thing and will make me better.
Well, now it is. Earlier I wasn’t so sure. It’s not every day you scrub somebody’s eyes out.
Yes, I do. Ask me anything and I will undoubtedly tell you something which may or may not be helpful, or even relevant. Like posting this random picture of an odd thing I have hanging in my kitchen.
Here are 15 questions of questionable origin (to me) and I am too lazy to figure out where they came from in the first place. But they are good questions, and these three awesome blogging people answered them and now I will be a copy cat and do it too. Thank you to –
What do you think you can do but can’t?
I think I can save everybody. I think I know how every person in trouble or distress should think and act and feel and what needs to happen to have everything turn out right. Too bad nobody will listen or cooperate. I’m not even very good at listening to myself, so why am I surprised.
What’s a difficult word for you to pronounce?
There is more than one.
deterioration (because of that middle syllable),
barbiturate (because of that middle “r”)
and remuneration (because there’s no numeration involved)
I also sometimes used to stumble over initial phone greetings at work (good afternoon, blah blah blah, how may I direct your call), but usually nobody listens to those either.
What are your favorite TV shows from your childhood?
We didn’t own a television set until I was nine years old. Half my childhood was already over. I remember watching Howdy Doody, I Love Lucy, Bonanza, Ed Sullivan, Father Knows Best, Dragnet, Gunsmoke, and Red Skelton. We also got only one channel. But look at that. They broadcast some high quality TV.
What are your virtues and vices?
Most of the time I am kind and generous and patient. However, I can also be an unforgiving snob. I’m a work in progress.
What’s more important: love, fame, power, or money?
If you are famous and powerful and rich but don’t have love, too bad for you. Love isn’t something you can demand or buy. And without it, where’s the happiness? Having never been famous, rich or powerful myself I’m making assumptions, of course. But, as usual, I still think I’m right.
If you could live in any era/time period, when would it be and why?
According to my psychic, I’m a very old soul and I’ve lived in all of them. This would explain why I’m so smart and know so much. Or maybe it was all that great TV I used to watch as a kid.
If you had to redo your entire wardrobe with 2 stores, what would they be and why?
I honestly have no idea. Where do they sell yoga pants and sweat shirts?
Can you recall what you were doing a year ago on this day?
No, but I looked in my blog archives and discovered that on February 21st, 2014, I was looking through an old journal and laughing at some of the strange things I had on my ‘grateful’ list. The last half of the book is blank. I don’t believe I suddenly stopped being grateful. Probably lost my pen.
Do you have recurring dreams? If so, explain?
There’s a house I dream about a lot, in which I am being pursued by something (or someone) bad. It has many staircases and hallways and doors and rooms. I’m afraid, but I’m also very confident that I know lots of good hiding places. Wow. A psychiatrist would have a heyday with that one.
What’s your horoscope?
I am Taurus. Generous, dependable, patient, pleasant and down to earth. Also stubborn, self-indulgent, materialistic and lazy. Well, nobody’s perfect.
What does your dream bedroom look like?
I don’t care as long as it’s warm and the bed is comfortable. A large percentage of the time I will have my eyes shut in there.
What position do you sleep in?
I have a queen sized bed and I sleep on my side on the edge with my feet hanging out. Hot feet are the worst.
What are your all time favorite films?
There’s only a handful of films that I’ve watched more than once. Probably for the same reason that I don’t want to go back and relive any of my past lifetimes. Been there, done that, on to the next adventure. W, on the other hand, can watch a movie a dozen times and never get tired of it. I watched Bridesmaids three times. I don’t know what that says about me, but I’m sure it’s probably something good.
What makeup are you currently wearing?
Foundation to even my skin tones (a nice way of saying cover up the blotches and age spots), eye shadow because I feel naked without it (although it’s hard to see it under those over the eye bags) and lip gloss because chapped lips are just marginally worse than hot feet. If I’m going somewhere I will add eyeliner and mascara. But it would have to be somewhere pretty damned important these days.
Do you have neat handwriting? Show us!
This is a large sample in case you want to submit it to an expert for analysis. To see if the results are in harmony with my Taurian traits. I think it’s rather sad that cursive writing is going the way of the dinosaur and Ed Sullivan.
Well, that’s enough enlightening crap for this February Saturday. Hope you’re having a wonderful weekend. If not, you can always answer these questions yourself to liven things up. But if you’re busy watching I Love Lucy re-runs, I understand.
Or….Identifying The Harmless Unhinged Among Us.
Maintaining order rather than correcting disorder is the ultimate principle of wisdom. To cure disease after it has appeared is like digging a well when one feels thirsty or forging weapons after the war has already begun.
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