Holy hell, am I grumpy today

After two days, or is that two nights, of minimal sleep, I got in a solid 9 hours last night with just one leg cramp meander around the apartment and one bathroom break.  Consequently I am well rested and annoyed with everything.

After going through email and getting pissed at the fakakta tracking information on something I ordered, oh yes I can download an app that will track my package in real time – screw that I’m not downloading any more apps, just give me the correct tracking number, I began reading blogs.

Usually these blogs that I read first thing (or actually second thing, after email) are interesting or at least amusing and all made me grumpy as hell. I had a negative reaction to everything that was said (written?).

Did I comment? No, of course not. One does not disagree with anything one reads in a personal blog. Even if invited to comment with one’s own experience or thoughts. Those experiences and thoughts must align with those of the blogger. I don’t get the point to that but I guess all anyone is seeking is validation of themselves.

And speaking of self-validation, if anyone knows any blogger is who similar to me in age, attitude or general outlook, could you please direct me to their site?

The only blog where I feel free to be me and comment as such is Rory’s. Bless his heart. I trust I am not disagreeable while disagreeing.

Currently it’s 10am and chilly. Yesterday was just an awful day and I was out in it – chilly and damp and me waiting for busses that took their own sweet time in showing up. The damp chill seeped up from the sidewalk through my shoes, up my legs and settled in my knees and back, I think it may turn out to be an ugly Winter.

I just got lost there for a bit going through my Vimeo account watching Frankie videos – damn I miss her and also living with cats in general.

Got lost again looking for a photo of my first cat, Max, but that was 50 years ago and I don’t have many of him plus the ones I do have all have the ‘red-eye’ that comes with film and flash. Then I was just flipping through a photo album and hot damn but I was really pretty, or perhaps good looking would be a better description, when I was young!


Friday, November 4th, 8am

A foggy day…and that phrase reminds me of a song – as does most everything – and while this is Virginia not London…

“A foggy day in London town Had me low and had me down I viewed the morning with alarm The British museum had lost its charm How long, I wondered, could this thing last?But the age of miracles hadn’t passed For, suddenly, I saw you there And through foggy London town The sun was shining everywhere…”

It’s a sunny 72…

The weather has been really beautiful so I’ve been trying to go outside for a walk – so boring. So very, very boring.

I tried listening to music but that only distracted me and I almost did a couple of whoopsies.  The sidewalks, where there are sidewalks, are not in the best of conditions. And neither am I.  Bad back, back knees, bad heart – just sucks whatever pleasure one might get out of a stroll.

I was going to go off in another direction today because I know there are some houses that go bonkers with the Halloween decorations but those blocks have no place to rest so I did the same circuit as usual and this was the best I could find – I’m thinking these people, both on the same block, got a volume discount –


December in October

We’re in our 5th day of rain and December temperatures. At 3pm it’s 54º – that’s the average temperature here in December.  October temperatures are supposed to average around 70º – so brrr!

Staring out the window I thought – Christmas. But the light is wrong. It’s not December light.  I’m very aware of how the light changes from month to month, season to season – how about you?

I actually wrote a poem about the changing of the light –

Nov 26, 2013


I sit at the dining room table with the lights off.
Staring out the window, the November light is Decemberish.
And then I remember that December is only 4 days away.

It is a sort of rainy, sort of cold day.
It is sort of an uneasy day.

It is 2 o’clock in the afternoon as
I sit at the dining room table
with the lights off – it feels so much later.

But even tho the November light seems
like December, the day does not.
I think December does not feel so unsettled.
But I don’t remember.

I can feel light, I experience light, its weight and substance.
I can smell light and sometimes I think I can hold light.
Light talks to me and tells me stories.

Today the light tells me a story of December
Of darker days and longer nights
Until the subtle shift. December light whispers

Why can’t I remember how December light feels?

We’ve been living here 10 years now and I am so over this place but not the view from my windows…

Pinball Brain

First – the weather report. At 11am it is bright and sunshiny, blue cloudless sky and 63º. I have a window open in every room and my husband and I are wearing hoodies.

I compose these posts mentally and then basically “transcribe” them and then edit, add to, research etc. I write everything mentally first then put pen to paper or fingers to keyboard. I assume everyone does the same.

Transcription follows.

I get annoyed when people say that they lose socks in the laundry. No you don’t. You’re just careless.

This morning was a laundry day and I was folding the laundry (which I do in the laundry room because there is a big table there). I have a particular way of taking clothes out of the dryer and folding them. This morning the last thing I fetched out of the dryer was a sock but the other sock was nowhere to be seen. I figured it was just stuck in something else and I would go through everything when I got back in the apartment. (And indeed I found it.)

Losing something is usually just carelessness. Whenever I hear a person say that they lost someone, meaning the person died, I think “Careless of you”. In a book I read recently one of the characters mused about that usage. Why are we so precious about saying that someone died? Then again when you say “I lost someone” meaning they died you are talking about yourself not the dead person. Your status, not theirs.

We also say passed on, passed away, even crossed over– and I suppose if you believe that a soul continues after a body dies, that could make some sense, have some validity.

But what about ‘evicted from life’? Some people are, aren’t they? Some people die quietly at peace, and some die kicking and screaming. How did someone die? They were evicted from life. Evicted from life – I like that.

Then I was back to thinking about laundry again and expanding on how you could possibly lose something in the washer. And that had me wondering…

We say a pair of underwear, or panties or pants when we are referring to just one item. Why? Because there are 2 leg holes? Is that the criteria for calling something a pair?  If there are 2 matching items used together, like shoes, then pair works.

An item of clothing that we put our arms into isn’t called a pair but it has two openings/holes for limbs (legs and arms are limbs) but we don’t say a pair of shirts.

(Stopping typing here to do the research. The answer is HERE.)

And that’s it for today.

It’s a stunningly beautiful day

and I shan’t whine about not being able to be out and about.  It’s 85º with 46% humidity, not a cloud in blue skies. Yet my feet are like ice cubes. I actually put socks on when I got dressed this morning and y’all know how much I hate socks!

I have an interesting dilemma. There is an artist I follow on social media. She describes herself as an illustrator; I describe her as a fabulous artist. She happens to be Norwegian and she has just recently had two of her books translated into English and published in the United States. One of the books is a children’s book which I have sent to my granddaughters and one is a picture book for adults which I bought for myself.

I can’t afford her original artwork but I can afford her books.

It’s sitting next to me and that wonderful new book smell is wafting my way. I don’t know what I expected but the book is large (think coffee table book large) and weighs 3.5 pounds! But to appreciate her art indeed it must be this big. There is text – one sentence for each picture – telling the story of life. The art, the story – just overwhelms me. (Ok, maybe I’m easily overwhelmed by beauty.)

I love this book – it is so beautiful. I immediately wanted to send copies to several of my dearest friends. Then I thought “What if they don’t like her art? What if this book is just a another ‘thing’ to clutter up their homes? What if they don’t love this book with it’s simple story as much as I do?”

So that’s my dilemma – send the book because I love it, not taking into consideration what their taste might be, or throw caution to the wind, send the book and they can either curse me or thank me.

I’m pretty sure y’all know what I’m going to do, don’tcha?