My own person

So, sitting here drinking coffee in the quiet morning, thoughts flit randomly through my grey matter. Scary eh?

I will be the first one to tell you I pretty much do what I want with no regard to your feelings on my actions. Oh, I don't want to give the impression that I'm mean, rude, or obnoxious. I mean I befriend who I want, I express my opinions openly for the most part, I don't follow the crowd for the sake of following the crowd. I will tell you I don't care what people think about me.

I just now, in one brief flit of a thought through my mind, have proved myself wrong.

You see, today, I feel like wearing neon pink. I wish I had a sparkly neon pink body suit and a diaphanous pale pink (also sparkly of course) ballerina skirt. Not a tutu, I'm not a tutu kind of girl. I would complete the ensemble with pale pink tennis shoes, you got it sparkly(Yes, my bone spurs even invade my dream outfit).

I would wear my diamond tiara with pink feathers. Yes, I do have one.

I may or may not carry my wand. Yes, I do have one. It has a silver star and long, silver, sparkly streamers hanging from the star. My most excellent friend Mary K. gave me both. I think she knows the inner me better than most.

I toyed with the idea of strapping on wings, diaphanous of course, but that seemed a bit OTT.

Will I deck myself out in this fashion? No. Why not? Because people would think I was nuts. I guess I do care what people think. That really came as a shock to me.

Today at work I'll be wearing my green capris and my white linen shirt.

On the inside? I'm neon pink and sparkly though!

Maybe I'll carry my tiara in my bag.

Peace be the journey.

:-)

Baby souls

I get daily emails from TUT. I highly recommend them.

You never know what the universe will say to me. Some days it's drivel, and some days it's so deep it takes pondering.

I got this one last week and it just resonated with me.


Baby souls follow.

Young souls lead.

But old souls, Debby, are happy to dance alone.

Debby, your wisdom is showing.

Not that I'm spying on you,
The Universe

When I was young, I didn't want to rock the boat. I wanted to go with the crowd. Don't want to stick out...you know??? That was a good stage in my life.

As I got a bit older, college and when my kids were young, I was the leader. I worked on raising my kids, running my home, finding my beliefs and sticking up for them. I wanted people in my group. If I believed in something, I sought out other believers. If I had a cause, I wanted to share it. That was a good stage in my life.

Now that I'm older, and no, I'm not saying I'm older than dirt, over the hill, or any other cliche drivel, I'm merely saying I'm older. Now that I'm older, I am comfortable in my skin.

I'm content to believe strongly in something without the need to seek out other believers. I don't care if you believe what I do. I don't feel the need to stand up for my beliefs or values. I just have them. I don't care if yours don't agree with mine.

If you ask me how I feel about something, where I stand, I will tell you. Without worrying if that's what you feel or think.

I'm past the age of game playing. If that's your bag, you'll have to play without me. I'm fine with that. If I have to cut you loose, I just do. Life is too short to put up with shit.

Negativity? I used to try to cheer you up, change you. Now, it's easier to avoid you. Sorry, you just don't fit in my world and I don't feel the need to change my world to accommodate you. I like to be happy and that's what I wish to surround myself with.

Hypocrite? Puhleez. I'm so over you.

When menopause first hit, and these changes started happening, I didn't like it much. It's getting better. I'm happy with who I am. A few friends say they want the old Debby back. Well, the old Debby gave in a lot. She pushed down her feelings to give way to yours. She wasn't real. Do you really want a fake me? I know I don't.

I'm happy with who I am.

This is a good stage of my life.

Peace be the journey

:-)

I Bin thinkin....

Yes, it's really me. I intend to wax religious. If this offends. Quit reading right now.

There is an awful lot of celebrating going on. How do I feel about it?

Sad.

Oh, yes, I know Bin was a bad Laden. A very bad Bin indeed.

Am I sorry he's dead? No.

Am I glad it was 'us' who got him? Yes.

Here's where it all starts to go south for me. I'm sickened at the joyful attitudes and out and out glee I see on display. By all means go in there, get the bad guy, but do we really need to dance on his grave?

I didn't see an option other than killing him. I really didn't. I just think the joyful celebration is out of place. He was still a man. A human. Albeit a bad one.

Am I proud to be an American? You bet your ass I am. I always have been. I watched the American flag gently sway in the breeze at the space center the other day and it brought a tear to my eye. I am fiercely proud of my country. I have a problem with all the people waving a flag today. Saying they're proud to be an American today. Screw that. They should be proud every day. Not just today. Not just today because the bad guy is dead. Will they be waving that flag next week? Probably not. Will their FaceBook picture be a flag next week? Nope. It irks me to no end to see people do things for show.

My daughter in law & a good friend shared scripture that sums up my feelings exactly.

"I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked, but that the wicked turn from his way and live." Ezekiel 33:11

We could see 'the wicked' wasn't going to turn from his evil...so death it must be. I need not take pleasure in it though. I need not celebrate it.

Proverbs 24:17 ~ "Do not gloat when your enemy falls; when he stumbles, do not let your heart rejoice."

There ya go. My feelings in a nutshell. Someone always says it better than me.

May God have mercy on his soul.

It's going to need it.

:-)

Above it all

We went to Myakka State park today with friends.

It was a lovely, sunny day. We began on a large air boat and saw some big gators. I wanted to feed the screaming kid on board to said gators, but I was good and only thought about it.

We left the boat and headed over to the canopy walkway. This was really lovely. The sun was out and even though we walked beneath the trees, there was dappled sunshine here and there. Quiet and lush...just lovely. We got to the rope bridge and Den decided to stay on the ground. The bridge swings as you walk and you're not very far up, but it was still fun. At the end of the bridge is where the steps begin to take you up to the lookout at the top. The rest of the gang had done it before and headed down as I headed up.





I really thought I was higher up than this. 75 feet doesn't seem high, but it sure looked and felt high. It was just awesome up there.




I had the whole top to myself for quite a while. I was able to just look around and enjoy the silence and the sun. I love the feeling of sun on my face. It warms me from the outside in. It's a serene, almost religious thing for me. Kind of like feeling God's warmth in a physical sense. I do love it.

I was looking around and thinking. Looking down at the wild, really untamed land, I began to think of the early inhabitants of this area. I thought to myself that I was seeing things they couldn't see during their time on this earth. I could see over the tops of the trees. I could see there was a lake a way further. They couldn't. It was theirs to still discover. You'll probably even have to enlarge this picture to discover it for yourself! It's there though.




I turned around and could see really a long way as Florida is very flat. I was higher than they ever could have been. I'm pretty sure they didn't build a 75 foot tower to see what was down the road.

So, taking that thinking further, I could, and can, see things they couldn't, but is that really a good thing? They didn't know if there was water through the next stand of trees, but is knowing that really a benefit? They didn't know anything about aids, or cancer, obesity, or many other things we know about now. Does that really benefit us?

I suppose it does. We know that yes, we became obese, but we also know how to fix it. We know that aids exists, and we know how to prevent it. We can't cure it, but we can prevent it. Cancer is a bit trickier. We know about it, there are certain preventative measures sure, but we can't totally prevent it and we can't cure it.

Sometimes I just wonder if all the modern conveniences are a help or a hindrance.

In the end, I don't want to give any of them up. I'm glad I know that alligators will eat you and not have me be the one that found that out first hand. That was thiers to discover.

I wonder what we'll discover next? What is ours to discover?

It's just so easy to let your mind wander way up above the trees. No sounds except the sound of the wind and the gentle call of the birds.

It's easy to let your mind wander when the sun is warming you.

I think I need to do it more often.

I have peace within me.

:-)

Pixie ponders cookies

A good thing to ponder in my book.

Newtons to be exact. I despise figs. All those gritty little seeds. Nabisco finally got a clue and invented raspberry Newtons. Yum.

Problem. Oh hell yes, there's always a problem. They've made this awesome opening in their cookie package. The top peels back to expose the lovely little cakey goodness beneath. It reseals too. Brill.

So? What's wrong with it? Well, look here.


The only way to get the first few cookies out is to reach into the tightly packed row and scrunch one out. It gets mangled. Design flaw? Oh yes I do believe! Same thing with the Oreo's.

This package has pissed me off since it's invention. Someone needs to go back to the drawing board. They've spent the time, the effort, the money to invent this and I still need to use scissors and Tupperware!

:-)

Do you know where your Teflon tape is?

This is only for the women. You men, go find something else to do. Yes, even you! I'll wait while you leave the room.

OK girls, NOW, do you know where your Teflon tape is? Do you know WHAT Teflon tape is?

You should.

You should know the difference between a Phillips and a flat head screw and driver.

You should know what a grip wrench is.

You should have your own little stash of washers, screws, nails, and dare I say it? A tool box.

Yes, I know, you have a man. What happens if he's gone and you need something done? OK, so you'll wait until he gets home. What happens if he's off hunting for a week with the guys and your shower head springs a leak? What if the toilet handle breaks? What if the toilet flapper thing quits flapping? What if the doorknob falls off (and if a certain man is still in the room and reading this...shut it. Anyone could have a brain fart about putting a knob on the opposite way!)?

There are a lot of 'what ifs' in life, and with a little bit of knowledge, a bit of preparation, and some practice, you could be prepared.

I've got a man that just happens to not be handy. Oh, he can make a quiche that melts in your mouth, but give him a tool, and he's dangerous. My father was the same way. I learned from necessity and I've always been glad. It's come in handy so many times.

We're trying to fix this house up to move. Sold the washer and dryer and brought the old piece of shit set in from the garage. The plug was wrong for the dryer. Did we have to call a dryer guy? No, I wired in the correct plug. One of the screw holes seemed stripped. Did we call the dryer guy now? No, we (OK I) turned the air blue with curse words...put my freaking glasses on, took a closer look, found the problem and fixed it. Hubby's hands are too big to get the clampy thing on the dryer vent hose to tighten down over the little sticky outey thing at the back of the dryer it needs to clamp to. Ya, I didn't say you had to know the terminology, just know how to fix shit! So, again, air blue, right tools, no dryer guy, and presto, we have a dryer again.

We have hose type shower heads. I don't want to leave them here. Today, I removed the one from the shower we're using in the apartment. I retrieved the regular shower head that I've kept since the shower was installed (another handy tip, save stuff!), and popped it on. Squirted water all over the F'ing place. Now, I'm wet, I'm pissed. Did I call a plumber? No. I took the shower head off, looked at it, and went 'doh, forgot the Teflon tape. Got that, taped the threads, popped the shower head back on and tightened it. Water shot all over the F'ing place. Well shit. Now what? Took the shower head off again, pondered a bit more (which is what I'm best at) and thought hmmmmmm 'You took out the water restrictor (shhhh don't tell the water police). Perhaps if you put a washer in there, it will take up the gap the water restrictor filled before and you could have a tight seal'. So I did. I put the shower head back on, used my Robo Grip to tighten it down. No F'ing water spraying anywhere it shouldn't! I went and did the other shower. Got it on the first try. Perseverance and the right tools.

These are Robo Grips. I highly recommend them.



This is Teflon tape. It costs 79 cents. Spring for a roll. It'll last a lifetime.



While you're picking up the Teflon tape, get some electrical tape, some duct tape(I have hot pink), some WD40, and a good, multi purpose screw driver. I like Stanley. The kind that stores the bits in the end. Everyone should have a bunch of washers in different sizes. Screws are a necessity. I prefer the sharp ones (self tapping) that go into stuff easier. I have all different sizes. I prefer Phillips. I'm in the minority it seems. You need a hammer of course...if you can't fix something, you can beat the shit out of it with your hammer.

Start small. Fix something. Build from there. When you're ready, ask me about my Makita!



:-)

Garage sales

Yep, that's right, I'm pondering garage sales.

I've had 2 this summer. They're a lot of hard work for not a lot of profit. You watch things you paid a lot of money for sell for pennies to the dollar. Stuff...it's just stuff you don't want anymore.

I found it's where you separate the stuff from the treasures.

We're moving as I'm sure you know. We've been in this house for 23 years. I won't miss the house.

We've been in this town for 32 years. I won't miss this town.

I sold a lot of stuff today. I won't miss any of it.

I almost did. I almost made a mistake but thanks to some rude dipshit, I didn't.

I have a porch swing. It's got a painted black, metal frame. Kind of rusty around the springs. The seat is made of 1X2's painted brick red. The paint is chipped off in places, peeling in others, and just plain gone on some spots. Those 1X2's are fastened to the painted black metal frame with 2 inch machine screws. The screws stick way below the boards...will tear your skin if it comes in contact with them.

I put $25 on this swing.

I like it, it's comfy, I swing in it often. It just won't 'go' in Florida. It won't fit in with the decor.

A man. Oh, no, I have to elaborate. A fat, greasy haired, scraggly bearded, dirty man, with a big belly stretching his dirty tee shirt, hanging over the top of his dirty jeans, man, is the one that changed my mind.

I was sitting on the swing and he came up and first pissed me off by calling me 'Little Missy'. He said, and I do quote here, "I'm going to do you a favor and give you $5 for this piece of shit. Nobody else is going to buy it."

Now, I know I'm out to make money, but my ass was instantly chapped. I couldn't help it and instead of being polite, out of my mouth popped 'Don't do me any favors pardner.' He told me I'd be sorry, he told me I'd be begging someone to buy it. He left.

I re-evaluated my $25 price tag on the swing and I changed it. To $35.

I sat there and swang, and was very happy with my decision. I realized that I didn't really want to sell my swing. I changed the price to $45. I swang some more. I was so content swinging. I thought about the beginnings of this ugly swing.

Back in the day, and we're talking early 1970's, my mom bought a swing. It was a shiny framed swing with a bright yellow, mesh type seat. It sat under the 3 trunked maple in the front yard on Houghton Lake. I loved it. I sat in it and read. I met a man and we'd sit there at night, on that swing, and talk for hours. My mom would sit on that swing with me. My dad would sit on that swing with me. Eventually my children sat on that swing with me. The old yellow mesh seat finally gave way. It just fell apart and the old swing frame went into the garage.

Several years later my Dad pulled into my driveway with that swing hanging out of the trunk of his car. My Dad was not a handy man. He stripped the paint on the frame and painted it shiny black. He sawed 1X2's and painted them carefully with brick red paint. He drilled holes and screwed those boards onto that frame. He did it all for me as he knew I always loved that swing. He was so proud of himself when he brought that over. I've sat on it at my home for years. My Dad would sit on it right here on my porch before he died.

I sit in that swing and all the good memories of my Dad just flit in and out of my mind.

I almost screwed up and sold that swing. It is going to go perfectly in my home in Florida.

If any of you know who that asshat was that told me nobody would buy my swing....

Tell him he was right. It's not for sale. You can't sell memories.

:-)