Best Cappucino

I will be the first to admit that I don't "get out"
much but I am telling you that this is a picture of
the best cappucino I ever saw and tasted. It is at
Le Grande Cafe, Quebec City and it's waiting for
you.

Green Means GO

I hit the "crosswalk" knob on the metal pole and now it is MY Turn. I'm walking across the freakin street IN THE CROSSWALK when I hear a honk honk and a screeching voice that yells,"It's a GREEN LIGHT...GREEN LIGHT." This commotion was coming from the car behind the Driver's Training Vehicle that wanted to turn right! Can you believe it? First of all; Who honks and yells at the Driver's Ed car??? They have 2 large signs declaring for all to read that they can't fuckin drive yet. Plus there was a pedestrian in the crosswalk and I am HARD to miss folks (that's right I'm plus size at best.) Don't you just wish you could pull a" Samantha" on these road freaks? Like one little twitch of my nose and this screamer behind the Driver's Ed car would find her car with four flat tires. hmmmmmm

Walking in the Rain

This morning I went for a walk in the rain sans brolly (that is what they call an umbrella in the UK). It was warm enough to not be chilly and the rain drops felt so refreshing. I almost jumped into a puddle from sheer joy but I didn't want to ruin my new shoes.

The Faux Beautiful People

We are assaulted by images of what we are told are "The Beautiful People". I am surrounded by beautiful people and they have no similarity to what I am being told is "beautiful". There's my friends who are bald and radiant while undergoing chemo, lopsided from mastectomy but perfectly balanced, scarred but not diminished by brain surgery, trapped inside a body with Lou Gehrig's disease and remains brilliant. Every line and wrinkle on gorgeous faces are a tatoo of remembrance; a dead child, failed marriage, beginnings and endings. Where are you "pretenders to the throne; you fake beautiful people?" I fail to recognize you as I am blinded by the rainbow of beauty that I call friends and family.

Goin on a Roadtrip

One of my daughters has invited me to a show called Celtic Woman this evening. Sounds interesting and fun. It's about 2 hours away and it appears to be a lovely day for a drive. Yeah. Also good news; my brother and his girlfriend are arriving home from the Mayo Clinic Hospital where she had undergone brain surgery last week. Fascinating procedure!! I got to view a video clip! All in all it's a good day.

Sadness Whisper Your Name

Greetings this sunny afternoon (at least where I reside). I was feeling a little blue the last couple of days because my cousin Terri died after a courageous fight with stage 4 ovarian cancer. I popped in an old cd that I hadn't listened to for several years and was groovin to Kirsty MacColl. I decided I liked Kirsty so very much and she was cheerin me up somethin great until I did an internet search to find more albums by her and found out she's dead too!!! I realize the rest of the world knew she was dead 6 years ago and I am the slow poke here BUT none the less it's bummin me out.

Dianthus in the doorway

This morning I planted a Dianthus (also known as carnation or sweet william or pinks) in a decorative pot on the front porch. Spring is here. The dianthus replaced a primrose that was starting to fade because the weather is warming. Where we live the primrose is usually the first flowering outdoor plant and it is so great to see their bright colors in February when the skies are still grey. The pot that has held both plants came all the way from England and was my Christmas gift from my daughter's mother-in-law brought over in my daughter's suitcase when she and her husband were here for the holidays. When I look at the beautiful fuschia (sp?) dianthus I see my daughter and her mother-in-law (a lovely English lady) and hear a faint sound of fairy giggles.

Pecker Trauma

My dad comes out of his doctor visit today with a prescription for Viagra. If you have read my previous blogs you know that I get to drive Mr. Daisy because he's blind and I'm the sibling that "doesn't have a real job". Having to hear about bowel movements, enlarged prostate, etc. wasn't exciting enough for me and now I get to know that he's doing the horizontal mambo. I realize I should be happy for him that "floppy" gets to hop again but SERIOUSLY I do NOT want to know this shit. Plus there's a monetary equation here in that the pharmacy was running an hour and a half behind so he left the rx and I get to drive over and pick him up and take him there again tomorrow to pick up the goods. So the whole drive there and back using my gas and time will be for the sole reason that my dad can get laid. Cripes.

To Joe and Barb

Congratulations on the engagement. I wish you both a lovely wedding, many groovy shower/wedding gifts, a nasty honeymoon, and a long life together.

Happy Boobies

Unless you have had a mastectomy, worn a prothesis, had breast reconstruction, and a breast reduction on the "other one" you probably cannot understand my giddiness at wearing a bra. A REAL GIRLY bra with polka dots and a bow bra. I have been terrified of bra shopping not knowing my new size plus the humiliation of having to look in those HUGE surround mirrors at all my scars. So I have spent the last year and a half letting "the girls" flop around unrestrained. Which feels really comfortable by the way. One of my daughters sent me a bra (a FOREIGN bra from England) and low and behold it fit like a glove. So, hence the giddiness and contented ta-tas.

Helen Keller Wept

Here's the dealio; my dad has been blind (as in: HAD HIS EYES TAKEN OUT OF HIS HEAD) since the age of 5. During the time I have been his driver/helper we have encountered some weird requests like the time at the social security office when he went to sign up for benefits and the guy across the desk from him wanted Proof he was blind. But today was a new LOW. Dad trys valiantly to write his signature on all kinds of documents. I would say rarely does his signature ever stay on the line but it has not been a problem before because people figure out he's blind and realize, "How the hell is this guy gonna write straight and on the line?" New girl at bank today says,"He needs to sign for a withdrawal". I say, "He did sign, right here." (thinking she was just reciting her new learned rules.) She says,"It HAS to be on the line." Then I realized she was FREAKIN (that's for you, Joe, didn't want to drop the F-bomb) Bank Teller Serious about that LINE. My brain CRAMPS and all I want to do is SHOUT OUT ,"What Homeland Security Ass Wipe Rule Lovin Monkey is going to care if my dad's sloppy childish penmanship is laying on the line?" But I didn't do that, I folded the withdrawal slip again on the signature line and guided my 75 year old dad's shaky hand where to begin again. Of course he was embarrassed and felt less than whole. But the world's a better place because he got that signature on the line.

Fuckin Amazin

I went to baby shower on Saturday and the new mom and dad were given this gift by 3 different people which is: (drum roll puleeze) a device to test the bath water temp. before plopping the baby in! Lord Help Me I almost had a hole in my tongue from biting it. I realize I am OLD SCHOOL and all but if you're so God Damn dumb you need a tool to help you NOT burn the shit outta your child then you shouldn't be having any kids. Before you send me nasty grams , STOP and think about this..... how did centuries of babies get baths before the Rubber Duckie Temp gauge came along? If we don't use that muscle in our skull it'll atrophy.

Bathroom Doors

I am pondering whether there is a public bathroom in the universe where the metal sliding pin on the door ACTUALLY fits into it's counterpart on the stall doorjam. I've never seen one so I assume they are located as artifacts in a museum.
Who gives a shit? I'm drowning in a pool of unsatisfactory verbs and nouns. Ciao

Tuesdays with Chrissy........

This is the ONE blog that you need to send to all the people you care about. Unlike 99% of those Urban Legends about God in a pancake this ACTUALLY happened and it'll help you cope with the BULLSHIT that is called "The Real World". I have a friend named Chris who was diagnosed with A.L.S. (Lou Gehrig's) 18 years ago. Statistically she should be dead (so there's the FIRST groovy thing; Fuck stats when they pertain to people telling you when you'll die) . Chris has only slight movement of head, can tap one finger, can masticate food only if someone feeds her, has to be taken to the lav. and propped on crapper while she "does her business" and then has someone wipe her own ass , etc. You're starting to form a mental image, right? So, through all this life of hard knocks she is hysterically fun to be around. (now we're shifting in to the balls of the story so DON'T FALL ASLEEP). Chris loves a great chocolate like any REAL woman so I had brought her some. I cut each "bite size" (for us NON ALS people) piece into smaller sections and I was placing the bits by hand into her mouth and it DAWNS on me how this must really suck for her on sooo many levels so I say "Chris, I can't believe that you have to deal with me touching your chocolate before it goes in your mouth." AND CHRIS REPLIES, "Ahhh, could be worse." (Now whenever I say Chris is talking you have to insert voice which comes out sounding like a stroke victim) I snap back at her, "No, Chris I don't think that you can say that in your condition." She says,"Well, there could be NO chocolate or it could be shitty chocolate." I freakin laughed so hard and cried and it was an epiphanal moment for me.
So the point my fellow humanoids is that when you're up to your neck in life's shitstorm PLEASE take a deep breath and remind yourself "There could have been no chocolate or it could have been shitty chocolate."

Freud Dude may have been right

The deal is that my dad is 75 and has a 51 year old g-friend. Too real for me. Find someone his own age to play with! Ohh, wait... they're all dead. Fuck you Freud I don't have ANY problems signing up for AARP with my new other mother. I wonder what they talk about since he tells me about his bowels. I'm a bitch. Could be worse as my friend Chrissy says "There could be NO chocolate".

Valentine's Mourning 9:21

What the frick (regarding DICK) Cheney? Let's see; here's the routine, 1. Pick up gun 2. Fire the muther at somethin movin. Hey, GOD gave him the right to choose whomever he wants to fire upon and there obviously weren't any Iraqi's at The Gun Club that morning.
Whatever, if Cupid gets to fire off volleys of arrows the Vice P oughta be able to express himself also!

I've been looking at life through Vicodin glasses (or would that be contacts?) lately. Decided I like it better this way than normal although I make a million mistakes and fall asleep in the middle of a sentence. The reason I prefer an altered state is that it gives one a glimpse at our inevitable senility and we can embrace that upcoming crazy-ass state of mind and be OK with it. Lots of needless worries, anxieties, self perfection expectations alllll glossed-over with prescribed silliness. I do recommend.

Scoring the Olympic Figure Skaters

If you can go on the ice and flip someone over your head like yesterday's garbage... YOU WIN. What the hell is all this : "the execution was not tight" business? How many overweight out of shape people shamelessly said "yeah, her knees were wobbling"as they spread more cheese on that stack of nachos and headed back out to the televised games?
Do you enjoy thrift shops like Goodwill? I've become addicted to the "possibilities" there. I'll let you know when I strike it rich.

Lost in cyberblogland

I may learn to totally embrace this blog business. Right now I'm overwelmed with spelling and sentence structure. Is there a drano for the id? Here's some thoughts for me to ponder 1. Is Valentine's Day a scam? 2. Is that stuff on a Big Mac really hamburger?

Never been good at diaries. But I'll give this a try to keep my brain from being stuck in the 50s.