Life With A Lion

While it doesn't happen very often, for which I am grateful, there are times when My Lion and I can get heated with each other.  We have our disagreements that escalate into snarls, but generally we see eye to eye and live very companionably.

Not that on occasion, when he might be having a relatively frustrating day, I haven't had to ask a passer-by if they aren't willing to roll his lips back so I can pull my head out of his mouth.

But mostly, with a bit of returning to our corners, allowing both of us to cool our jets, we get to a place where the roaring becomes a discussion and we have the chance to hear each other out.

And peace returns to The Kingdom once again. Why?  Because he is my mate, my beloved, My Lion. A man of conviction and quality.  A man I can look up to and place my trust safely.

But mostly peace returns because I am a smart woman who understands that a lion has to be the King of his jungle. He has to prowl. Must snarl on occasion. And, I know just the right places to scratch and love. He is My Lion. And, I am blessed, even on those occasions when my head is all wet from lion spit.

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka A Lion Tamer

Use A Whip And A Chair

My day started out just fine. On Sunday, we all seem to do as we like at the pace we want to move. No real demands, no phones to answer.  And in my world, I thought I'd take the quiet time to do some laundry. It was all going pretty well.

Until the fitted sheet was ready to join the party. And my Sunday became a fight for my life.

I am a pretty awesome house keeper.  I've been taught how to do most everything that's part of living in a structure.  My Family calls me The Laundry Fairy. Hell, I even know how to can and knit.

But handling a fitted sheet?  I need a whip and a chair.  You cannot back down from the fitted when it comes out of the drier.  You must immediately command control.  If you even blink, the fitted sheet will be on you like white on rice and you will be totally consumed by it; especially if it is the most deadly of all the Fitteds...

THE FITTED KING SHEET!!!!

In my mind, In HollyLand, where I live and it is orderly and sunny all the time, this what I thought I'd end with; look at that!  Isn't it gorgeous?  Can't you just imagine opening your linen closet to see all of the sheets in their contained habitat?  You know you want these little packets of bed linen!  Admit it! Go ahead, I'll wait...

Not one to be outwitted by domestic wild life, I went on-line and studied countless hours of videos and articles.  Here's one that I came across.  First let me say that anything that takes 18 steps no longer falls within the classification of EASY....

...next, and perhaps more importantly, take a look at that woman's vacant, even a tinge fearful, expression.  She knows the fight she's in for and well, she doesn't have much hope of surviving.

So after hours of research and even more time in attempting to replicate the process, this is what I ended with and it is SUNDAY and I don't have to do everything the way it's supposed to be done because it is SUNDAY, (did I mention that?) and it's supposed to be an easy day when I do what I want at the speed at which I want to do it!  So, I am satisfied with what I did. Yes, that mushroom at the very bottom is the dreaded THE FITTED KING SHEET! Don't you dare judge me!! It was Sunday!

But, for those of you who are more evolved than I, and you want to know how to do this correctly so that your closet looks like Martha Stewart sprinkled Magic Martha Dust well, just follow this video. I've watched this so many times, I'm sure this woman has had two more birthdays by now.



You're welcome!

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka Her Own Domestic Goddess 

Change In Title, Still Best In Show

This little darling is friend DJ's dog, Tess.  She came in from the garage with that tool- proudly announcing that, in honor of Rumor Has It winning this year's Westminster Kennel Club's Best In Show...



... she now wishes to be categorized as a Working Dog just like Rumor.

No more cushy life as a beloved lap-dog for this little Cockapoo!  No Sir! At least until DJ comes along and removes that whatchamacallit from her mouth.

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly

It's Not Working

Trying, Trying, Trying really hard....

...but it's not working.  I'll try again tomorrow.

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka She Who Actually Likes Winter But Loves The Beach More

And They Ask Me Why I Drink!

Ring.....Ring....Ring.... "Good morning, Lakeview Animal Hospital. How can I help you?"
"Do you know Who this is?"
"Ohhh...why certainly, Princess Fiona, how may I serve you?"
"Please ask him to come to the phone."
"Your Highness, I'm sorry he's with a client at the moment."
DEEP ROYAL SILENCE and then, "HUMPH!"
"Of course Princess, forgive me, I don't know what I was thinking, I'll get him right now!"
Scant seconds later...
"Princess Fiona, I am here, how can I serve?"
"Good Day Doctor Ro, We wish to let you know that We have, once again, done our part.  We believe you have a child who is in need of a college fund, is this correct?"
"It is indeed, Highness!"
"Well, we have taken care of that.  Be ready when we come in to see you yet again."
"Princess Fiona, how would my family or I ever live without your grand patronage.  We are so very grateful!"
"Of course you are.  That will be all."

That toy?  The one at the top?  It languished in the toy box for months.  No one bothered with it.  Last night, we watched as Fiona ferreted it out and began softly gnawing on it.

This morning, Michael says, "You know that ring Fi got out of the box last night?  Take a look at it now."
"Holy crow!  Where are the pieces," I ask.
He just looks at me, "What pieces?"
And, if anyone asks me why I drink?  This would be a good example...very good example.

Thanks a heap Fiona.  I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm hoping that poop patrol this week will be a very pink and colorful event.  Because I sure don't need another vet bill.  You and Doctor Ro are spending way too much time together of late.

Namaste' TIll Next Time,
Holly aka Fiona's Handmaiden

It's A Door, Not Effin' Rocket Science!

 My Lion, the other night, declares, "That's IT!  I am going to Lowe's tomorrow and buying a pet door and we're going to pay to have it installed.  I'm heating the entire outside leaving that door ajar so we don't have to act like the doorman at the Ritz so Argyle can go in and out and in and out!" 

"Fine by me," I think.  I get weary trying to keep up with Argyle.  He's one of those dogs who doesn't really wish to be out or in.  What he likes is the process of going out to in and in to out.  Over.  And over.  And over again.  What he really needs is a revolving door but we opted to the pet door instead, which was successfully added to the back door a few days ago.  It's not the most comely thing I've added to my decor, but if it keeps me from opening the door a million time a day, hey, I'll get over it.

Fiona and Rory watch me closely while I explain that this new door is the bomb and will make their life so much better.  "You can go out anytime you want to now and you can jet in when you'd like!  This is going to be great!"  As you can see by their faces, they're not really buying in to my enthusiasm.

 Even Argyle, who was the instigator of this purchase looks a little excuse the expression, hang dogged, when I take him to show him his new escape hatch.  WTF, what do you mean you're not sure about it?!

The directions that came with said wonderful invention explain that you need to use treats to lure your dog through it the first few times so it can catch on to how it operates.  Okay, I figure I'll use the one thing I know that will entice....liver treats!!  Rory, who is the most finicky eater ever, will never turn down a liver treat.  Hell, he'd stab Fiona to get to one of these things.

I don't wish to tell you how many of these things were ingested those first hours of training.  Let's just say that I'm afraid my fingers may well smell like this forever....eww....

 And, still, this is how the door looks most of the time.  Not because the dogs don't want to go out, oh no, they'll sit there and whine for me to come and do my Humanly duties.  I was saying on FB, "Come on, Rory, just use the effin' door!!!"  To which a friend of mine retorted, "Rory is most likely saying the same to you!"  Thanks a heap.  Okay, I admit that was funny.  Rory, it's a door...just go through it; it's not rocket science, there's no secret code, just push it with your nose and go!

At any rate, as the time ticked on, Argyle the youngest and most energetic, figures out that he can go outside and bark his butt off anytime he feels like it.  So he's taking to it; every morning, though, he sits at the door and looks at me waiting for it to be opened.  I go over and push the flap and it's like he recalls "Oh yeah, that's right, I can do it this way now," as he pushes it and jets out.  He's learned the secret-  NO HESITATION!  Don't stop half-way, just go;  done that way, and the flap doesn't press down on your head.

Fiona, the Princess, is not as amused by it all.  However, if Argyle is out barking, Bossy Bess simply must go to supervise so she'll push and not very gracefully stumble out barking the entire time.

Rory? You have got to be kidding.  No way he wants anything to do with it.  Rory is 'head-shy' and he ducks if you put your hand over his head.  He's been this way since he was a pup; he hates anything to press down on his head.  The flap made of heavy, flexible plastic, is meant to bend easily as the dog pushes on it.  That means it will touch his head!!!  He looks at me as if to say, "Tis a bleedin' death trrrrap!  If tis all the same tu ye, ah wheel juz let me kidneys burrrst.  Ah wheelna use the fashing thing!" 

If you look up the word, 'stubborn', there's most likely a picture of a Scottish Terrier next to it to illustrate the definition.

Rory, you're going to become the poster child for the axiom, "You can't teach an old dog new tricks,"!!!  This leads me to consider, "Am I like that?"  When something new comes along, a way that could make my life easier and more in my control, do I dismiss it out of hand because it's not the way I've always done things?

I hope not, but I'd have to be honest and say that I know I do it more than is good for me.  Just because it's the way I've always done it, doesn't mean it's the way I should do it going forward.  I think that is true for anything, including relationships.  When new and credible information comes to you, allowing you to reconsider your circumstances, at the very least, give it a good consideration.  Maybe you'll decide that you're too old a dog to change, but at least you'll make a conscious decision. 

Do not say a word.  Not one single word!!  Sometimes a parent or owner or senior Human Being has to do what it takes to help another move past their trepidation.  I'm not a saint.  I simply am not going to waste the money invested and I'm giving up my doorman's great coat.  That dog is going to learn to use this door or this old dog, (by that I mean me,) is going to die trying.  Lead by example, I say!

And, sometimes, being brave enough to set an example of the willingness to try new things is all that is needed.  Good boy, Rory, I KNEW you could do it!


Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly  aka Mum

I Can Do This

I am sitting here in front of this screen and key board.  Sitting.  Looking out the window at a day that refuses to come about...so gray that lights should really be on in the room so I can see.  I won't put the lights on.  It's day for heaven's sake.  Or should be.

I look at the screen which presents me a blank page waiting.  Full of possibility.  Waiting.  Waiting.  Waiting.

Instead of fingers drumming on the computer keys, typing out big ideas, my fingers sit and drum the desk...while the paper screen simply waits.

I can do this.  I said I was going to do this.  I always do what I say...or attempt it at a bare minimum.  I.  Can.  Do.  This.

I take a drink from my bright red mug now half full of rich brown coffee.  It's getting cold.  I don't mind.  If I'll drink iced coffee, what diff does it make if it's no longer piping hot?  Waste not, want not.

I rub my hands together, like a piano player warming up for the playing of the first few notes.  I sigh.   I stop.  Okay, progress...now I'm letting my fingers drum rapidly on the keys just to hear the plastic sound they make as if it might kick start my typing actual thoughts worth reading.

I look over at Fiona laying sprawled out on the floor and am struck once again that dogs do not allow angst into their lives.  Well, maybe if a chipmunk is outside the door taunting them and they can't get out fast enough to attempt its death.  Otherwise, no angst.

And I think that's how I'm feeling while I'm staring at this blank page, like it's a post chipmunk just taunting me.  Because I. Got. Nothing.

The grandfather clock ticks...when it's the sound I can hear the loudest, it's truly empty in my head.  More rapid drumming on the keys...  now Rory is here stretched out quietly.  Argyle goes sprinting by at a sound somewhere else in the house.  In constant motion and exploration, this dog not yet a year old, finds every thing to do with nothing. 

But I can't find one good thing to do with a blank piece of  paper today.  The phone rings; a momentary reprieve!!!

Damn, short conversation means I'm back at it again.  More drumming on the keys.  I spell-check a word, it comes up nothing....what?  Sigh...get out the Webster's.  I'm struck yet again at how many words are not in spell check and so don't get exercised.  I worry we'll lose our rich and deep language as we go.  Okay, now you're just chasing your tail; get back on point.

Laundry waits; the bed needs to be made; powder room needs a wipe-down.  Dinner needs to be decided.  Meatloaf or chicken?  What are you going to post today?!

Come on, is it going to rain or not?!  Do I have everything I need to make meatloaf?  Meatloaf it is, then.

Obviously, I can do this...maybe tomorrow.

Namaste' Till Next,
Holly aka The Non-Blogger

Now I'm Not Sure...

I've always been considered funny. Some think I'm hysterical. Occasionally I'm described as droll. I can go on rants...you've read them here if you follow the blog and find them amusing. I used to be the Queen of Sarcasm. Not so much any more. Every once in awhile, I'll get that blinding flash of the absolute ridiculousness of a moment and have to share it, but for the most part, my sarcasm stays closed up in the odd box which is my mind.

This guy is one of my all time favorite comedians. This is Lewis Black.

I once had some students ask me if I was his sister; a high compliment, indeed. This guy makes me laugh so hard sometimes that I can't breath. Really. I thought I would pass out one night when something he said sent me into convulsions.

He's made a good living pointing out the never ending stupidity of the world around us. And, he plays the part of a man on the edge of committing an angry killing very, very well. But, I'm pretty sure it's a highly crafted personae played for his audience's mirth. I don't think any person who is as intelligent and spends so much time studying the Human condition can be an angry, mean person. Not that they're mutually exclusive states of being...I just don't 'feel' that about Mr. Black.

Sarcastic? Oh hell yeah...he's sarcastic. A great, great master of sarcasm. Perhaps that's why I find him so funny...you have to be a really intelligent person to be good at sarcasm. Why? Because you have to be able to see things as they should be at the same time you are shaking your head at the stupidity of how it is in the current moment. You have to be smart enough to see the irony in the disconnect.

But, as I've gotten older, I've noticed that my particular brand of humor and sarcasm has really been dialed back. Well, not the humor because I can generally find something funny in any given day, but the sarcasm? That one I'm not such a practitioner of any longer. Now I'm not so sure that sarcasm is all it's cracked up to be.

I have started to view sarcasm as a passive aggressive mechanism used by most people. And, we all know how much I detest that sort of behavior. For gawd's sake, be brave, stand up and say what you think and feel and own it!

For the average person, being sarcastic is simply being mean and using humor' as a deflection tool. "Oh, he/she's not really mean, just sarcastic." Uh.....I'm not sure about that anymore.

I do believe a lot of people who use sarcasm are hurt, wounded people who hope to be liked because they're funny or amusing. That's not a new concept. Many would tell you the same. But as it relates to the people around me, I've been considering how we use our particular styles of humor in order to make the world around us better because we've shared a belly laugh, or use it as a weapon.

Michael's dad tells the best stories. Often they're about him and the craziness of raising eight children or something he experienced during his long career at Hanover Shoe or as a traveling sales man. Absolutely hilarious! My dad was the same way; he was a superb story teller and he would bring the entire room to hysterics over the Dietor Kids' antics.

My Lion can make me laugh so hard, I snort. I love that about him! He often catches me off-guard with a sarcastic comment that makes my sides hurt! The things he says are so incredibly spot-on and such a fantastic observation, that I have to admire that mind of his. Because I know him to be a kind man, I very rarely ever have that split second of thinking, "That was funny but mean!" It's just not in him to be mean.

However, I have a young friend who is very, very sarcastic. And, her sarcasm makes me cringe more than it makes me giggle. I don't have the courage to say, "You know, you might think you're being funny, but actually that's pretty snide what you just said." So I just remain silent. I l like this person very much and know she's having a hard time in life, and I suppose I just don't want to be one more ripple in her pond of crap. And yet...

I wish this person could begin to understand that just because you are smart doesn't mean you have to be a smart mouth. Just because you're very intelligent doesn't give you the right to point out all of those around you who are not as bright. Being smart doesn't give you the right to to categorize and advertise that someone is stupid. Being quick witted doesn't give you a free pass at being snarky. Being smart gives you the opportunity to be grateful for your gifts and abilities, not a verbal bully!

Being gifted doesn't mean you have the right to point out the foilbles of those less gifted. It doesn't give you free reign to tattle the short-comings and failings of those you must deal with and live with each day.

It's a huge mistake to think those individuals you think of as 'stupid' don't know they're not very bright. Many times they do. And, just because they're not very bright, cultured, worldly, erudite, doesn't give you permission to make them feel 'less-than' by how you react to them or respond to them or treat them. You do not have that right to use public forms of communication to post their latest example of dumb.

And, you do not have the right to use those individuals and your experiences with them as fodder for your sarcasm and your 'humor'! That's not funny....that's just mean. And, while you might think your friends find you funny when you do this- trust me, while they might laugh, they simultaneously experience a slight pull-back. At least, if they're nice people they will; nice people don't appreciate 'humor' at another's expense.

I wonder, if every time we thought we were being funny when we were actually being hurtful, if we had a slight heart attack, how often do you think we'd be so free with our 'jokes'? You know, nothing serious, just one of those quick squeezing pains in the chest...just enough to let us know we're not playing fair.

Well, I'm starting to think we do have the heart attacks. But, they're emotional and spiritual and take a bit longer to feel and recognize them. When you're going for the punch line and you feel a little uncomfortable because you did it...most likely that's your moral compass giving you the sign that it's not funny. You just have to start listening instead of shooting off at the mouth.

Why do we have those signs? Because we've all lived through being the butt of someone's 'joke' or sarcasm. We've been wounded by the flip back-hand of someone using our life as the stuff of their stand-up routine. And, knowing what it feels like to be the ass-end of an off-hand comment feels really, truly crappy.

You know what it feels like and you hate it! So why would you ever do it to another Human Being?! Do you do it to feel powerful and vindicated? Do you do it to get back some of your own? If so, I promise you that it doesn't last. And those around you who've listened to you cry because you've been hurt begin to wonder about you when they hear you being so snide and sarcastic. They begin to think, "Wow, if they'll do that to someone else, sure as hell, they'll do it to me, too!" You find out you're the King or Queen of Sarcasm without an audience as more and more people begin to steer clear.

If it truly was a perfect world...the world that I, The Queen of The Universe ran, I'd make sarcastic people wear anti-bark dog training collars. Yeah. That's what I'd do. And, every time they shot off their mouths at some one's expense... JOLLLLLTTTTT!

Now, THAT would be hilarious!

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka She Who Still Has A Funny In Her

Wiener Wars

I swore I wasn't going to do this, give that ass of a congressman any attention here at Your Mother Knows. Let's just say, I hope he eventually does the right thing and resigns his office on the grounds of not only being a skank, but for consistently and blatantly lying after the jig was up.

Really, Weiner, did you have to call all those major newscasters to your office, make them sit down with you individually, waste their time and lie, lie, lie? NO! You should have kept your pie hole closed. But NOOOOOOO, just like the vast majority of politicians that reside in Washington, you believe you can bend the facts to fit your agenda.

It makes you wonder what the hell is in the Washington, D.C.water!!!!

But, since it's all about Weiners this week, I do want to talk about something that I find incredibly ironic and moronic. It's a 2fer if you will...

Last week or so, the news was reporting how there is a progressive movement afoot in San Francisco, of all places, to have circumcision banned and made a criminal act. Are you kidding me?!

Not only is this fascinating, to me, that this is happening in San Francisco one of the strong bastions of gay life in America, but that the progressives think that this is a good idea. Talk about allowing government to get way too far into your personal life! (Please note, that I've made it clear that this is the progressives who are pushing this point and not the liberals.) Although there may be many liberals who share this negative view of circumcision, it's once again, The-so-far-leaning-to-the-left-that-they-could-create-their-own-universe-as-they-hang-out-there-in-the-thin-air-of-bizarre-progressives, who want this. Yes, that is a long name, I agree, but if the shoe fits...

Okay, so now I'm asking what might be in the water in San Fran, too...

Because I remember when the AIDS epidemic ignited and caused absolute panic in the 80's. I remember reading, And The Band Played On, by Randy Shilts who stepped us through the horror of how it all likely started and how absolutely unable we were to combat a virus that constantly mutates. He brought to the center the shame of how slow we may have been to reacting because it was thought, by many, as a disease that was only contracted by gay people who didn't have enough sense to keep their wieners out of bung holes, or who participated in lewd and free-sex life styles. And, we all know where that ended up.

I have stood at the funerals of a few dear friends who were taken by that epidemic. I still miss them.

Now, thanks to science and medicine, things are vastly different, even though there is still no cure for AIDS/HIV. I was just reading an article in the July/August AARP magazine entitled,
"AIDS At 30- Three decades after its emergence, AIDS has a new face: people over 50." It was a good read; it points out that many who contracted the disease are living into their older years and what that means. It made me hopeful.

At the same time it pointed out that the AIDS crisis in Africa is far from under control and that it will continue to be a world health issue. And in this liberal magazine, (Yes, I told you I read just about anything,) is where I found the irony of the progressive movement in San Fran...

It's so ironic after hearing about what San Francisco wants to do, that I'm going to quote it exactly from the AARP magazine. In the side-bar entitled, "The Latest AIDS Treatments" : "#4 Encouraging Male Circumcision- Studies have shown that men in Africa who have had their foreskin removed are 60 percent less likely to get HIV, perhaps due to the thinness of the foreskin's protective keratin layer and the presence of vulnerable immune cells there. Public health scientists are trying to find ways to reach more men and encourage them to undergo the procedure." When discussing this with Michael he said, "That makes sense. It might also be because it's easier to keep your parts cleaner easier!"

Hello? Are there no AARP readers in the Bay Area??? Come on!

I just sit here and shake my head. I truly do think the world has gone crazy. When I see what some are doing and hear how they are conducting themselves. When I read about people trying to outlaw what, for many, is a religious symbol and right of belonging. Outlaw what seems to be one of the few things that can keep AIDS from destroying the world. Really?!

Besides, and this is the last thing I'm going to say about wieners or Weiner....I've seen them both ways and as far as I'm concerned, the ones that aren't circumcised sure do look gnarly. And as to the congressman? He's just a plain ugly liar. Just saying.

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka She Who Shakes Her Head

Forever Bond

See that picture? No, that's not my attempt at being pictorially creative. If you want to see good photography, go visit my friend Sarah at Cottage Garden, or Beth at Be Yourself... Now those gals got the eye!

No, that photo is a shot viewed through my front window and that haze is not a ghost. That, for lack of a socially acceptable description, is dog snot. Yep. My windows run almost to the floor; the Scotties think they are the best ever. They can patrol the community from the comfort of home.

I used to clean the windows regularly. After all I don't want people to think I'm a lousy housekeeper. What would the neighbors say?! But, you know what?

UNCLE! I give up! You win, I loose, I'm not doing this anymore! I'm yelling, "Leave IT!" But, not at the dogs, nope...at me. Put down the glass cleaner and step away!!!!! Unless I'm going to hobble the dogs and stake them down in the center of the room, what's the use?!

Did you ever use that product called Gorilla Glue? It's amazingly strong glue, isn't it? Well, just so you know, I'm shortly going to be a mazillionaire when I trademark, the incredible, bonds like nothing you've ever seen, sticks to anything, won't rub off, lasts for a life time, Scottie Snot Glue!


You heard it here first! Oh, before you go, say hello to the Chief of Quality Control. Sheeze...

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka Rory & Fiona's Mom

Bird Brain

So, just a day or so ago, I was going on about seeing a robin for the first time this year, and hoping it would be a sign of things to come.

This is what my world looks like this morning.

Moral of the story? They don't say, "Bird brain," without good cause. Then again, a bird is about as correct about predicting the weather as a weather person on the evening news. Except the bird is cheaper. Which, if I am going to get wrong information, I'd prefer to pay as little as possible...

I think I'm going to follow this lion's example, and just go back to sleep. Wake me when spring is here.

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka Ever Hopeful

Stop Touching Yourself and Just Sing!

Nothing like starting the new year off with a good rant.

So, the other night we're standing around waiting for the ball to drop and wondering who all of these performers are 'singing' and dancing on the stage. One person commented, "I am so getting old...I have no idea who these people are. More so, I don't really care who these people are."

I'm fairly certain I heard some poor misguided, socially stunted adult say something similar when I was young and thought, "You poor bastard..."

Well, count me a poor bastard in 2011 then. I'm perfectly all right with it if you do. I've earned the right to be one!

As I watched, I wasn't so concerned that I was out of touch musically, as much as I was becoming offended by all the touching that is de rigueur when one is supposed to be singing!

For goodness sake! Is this a porno we're watching, or is it supposed to be a performance of a hit single that we're watching?! For so many of singers these days, they're one in the same! News Flash! Handling your girl parts does not sell the song any better! Oh wait...maybe it does. Grrrrrrrr.....

I am so far from being a prude that it's not even funny. I'm all for sexual expression, etc...but if I wanted to see this much body stimulation, I'd go to a strip club and watch people grinding or swinging on a pole!! I don't want to watch it on New Year's Rockin' Eve, or any time I'm supposed to be watching someone sing. Yuk!

I wonder, does Andrea Bocelli get the itch to grab himself when he's singing?! How about Chris Botte....maybe not a good example as I don't think he can play a trumpet and rub himself at the same time. Michael Buble' grinding his mic stand? NO! You don't see that and still their music is worth my time as a listener!

How about an image of Povaratti touching his nipples? Could you ever get that out of your brain once it was seared in by witnessing it! NO! Your head would explode! And, watching these performers today is no less a bio-hazard!!!

Maybe it's ghetto and gangsta' rap that started this trend....but now all seem to think it's the only way to perform. The Queen of Burlesque, Blaze Starr didn't ever touch herself as much! And a crotch shot like the one Beyonce is providing here, makes Sharon Stone seem like a piker!

We wonder why young people are so inappropriate at times in public, or at home for that matter, without the sense of decorum that make them fit to live in civil society. But, all one needs to do is watch how we've confused the performing arts with a strip tease, and you've got your answer.

Young girls now think the only way to look on-trend is to look slutty. That's not news, we've been fighting that one for decades. What is news is how young the itch to slut starts...now around ten or so! Why can't we allow our children to know the glories of being one of God's/Goddess creations without looking like the lead act of a strip show?!

The male singers are no better....I'm surprised they don't need a cream to sooth their mangled private parts from all that grabbing and thrusting. PLEASE! Your junk is not that enticing to females. Trust me when I tell you that we don't think they're all that marvelous looking. Really? Do you have to do that?! There are children in the room. Their are seasoned adults, aka poor bastards, in the room who just don't care to witness how enamored you are of your package.

I think all of these younger performers must have a chiropractor on staff to put their spines and hips back into correct positioning after they've done a show. It's enough to cause whip-lash. Not in them, in me as I quickly and continually turn my head to avoid the image onslaught.

We can thank this guy for the trend toward self expression a la strip club style. Two decades ago when he first thought to scratch his itch on stage, it was a bit scandalous. That one move made Elvis Presley's gyrations in the 50's pale in comparison. Iconic sensual images such as Marilyn Monroe, standing over the street grate to get her skirt swooshed up seem sophomorically quaint....no longer titillating. Oh, Michael Jackson, of all the things you could have left behind as part of your legacy?

Yeah, thanks a lot, Mike. Would you all please stop touching yourselves and just sing?!!

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka Poor Bastard!

Ain't That The Truth!!

Here was my reading for the day:

"When the issues of someone else's life has you tied in knots, it usually means it's time to start focusing on your own life."

Man, those continual lessons about how it's always about me and never about them...
They never get old do they?! And, certainly no less startling when you're reminded!

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka She Who Is Knot

I May Have To Rethink That...

As I was dashing around like a mad woman this morning, I decided to 'straighten' up the bathroom before jetting out the door.

I grabbed the box of Breathe Right strips that had been loitering for days on the counter and flipped them onto a shelf just next to the toilet.

I think I may want to rethink that decision.

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka Martha Stewartnot

Let's Try This...

I do have my very own attitude. That's not necessarily a bad thing. You just can't let it run willy nilly with scissors. It needs close supervision. Or, maybe better said, Super Vision.

In fact, I am told repeatedly that effort AND attitude is the entire trick to winning the game. So, even though I'd like stay and chat longer, I can't. I'm off to work on adjusting mine.

As it relates to yesterday's blog, forgive me for letting my attitude show. I'm working on making today a better day. Yep...it's looking brighter already.

Still achy and creaky, but brighter.

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly

Feeling My Age

This is not a good day for me. Everything aches. Even my hair. So not a good day.

I wish I still had some of my mentors around; maybe they'd tell me the truth. But, then again, maybe not as I need answers to a topic that no one likes to talk about. The whole aging thing is a major downer on so many levels. Here's what I think...

What I think is that there isn't anything fabulous about the 50s. In fact, I'm fairly positive that if your mind and body can survive the challenge? You should probably live then, to be 100. It's the reward for endurance.

I just need to get over this hump. Five more years till 60.

Wish me luck.

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka She Who Is Not Having A Good Day

No One EVER Told Me This!

I was told a few things about the changes my body would face as I aged. Things like less hair on my legs but more on my face. I'm Italian after all.

And, I was told about the aches and pains my joints would take on as habit...you know all the regular stuff. About how my brain might age: I no longer find searching for car keys that are 'hiding' right in front of me amusing.

But, in an effort of full disclosure, no one EVER told me this one...



...about how my eyebrows would just start growing bristles one day!

Wild hairs that are tough as boar bristles and poke out and actually stick my finger when I'm trying to tweeze my eyebrows while wearing high-powered binoculars standing at the x 17 magnifying mirror! Do not mess with me or I'll gore you with my eyebrows!

If you're wondering why I would even post such an ugly thing, go back and re-read the title of my blog...I have an obligation to report this stuff.

Or, am I the only one who is afflicted with this 'boarish' change to my eyebrows?

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka Oinkalicious

I Spoke Too Soon

Clearly, I was mistaken. It's back in the wilting 90's again. Will stay that way for the entire week. Red sky at morning? Ask a sailor what that means...

Summer roars back again. After all, it is only the end of August. So, Summer, listen because I'm only going to say this once, "You were right; I was wrong. You win." For now.

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly
view from my coffee cup

Go On, Take A Good Look!!!

I promised you when I started this blog that I would always talk about the things that need to be said, but that people shy away from! Remember that I told you that! Okay, let's get to it.

Do you own a washing machine and dryer? I'm sure you do. Most of us do, and we use the hell out of them. When was the last time you actually bothered to clean the machine that cleans your clothes? What do you mean? You don't? Really? That's just stupid! It has to be cleaned. It cleans your clothes but it doesn't clean itself. It's not an oven, for heaven's sake.

Now, let's take it further. Do you have a front loading washer? I'm lucky enough to have one. Love the damn thing. Love it for the low water it needs to be efficient, yada, yada, yah....

I wipe it down on the inside and around the gasket each time I'm finished with it. And, very regularly, I take out the drawer where you put the detergent and bleach etc, and clean that with hot water. Yeah, I'm just Martha Stewart and Betty Crocker all rolled up into one nifty package.

So smug...yep, that was me when my neighbor was in the other day and asked, "Holly are your machines new?" "Nope, five years old, why?" "Wow, they look new," laughs and kids, "Do you use them much?" I come back, "Have you met my husband, Mr. Clean? He thinks it's his job to give me laundry every week; he calls it job security! I use the heck out of them!!"

Yep, smug me...just proves how worthwhile it is to clean down the machines regularly. Especially important when you have your laundry room on the first floor of your home where they're likely to be seen by visitors.

SMUG, I tell ya!

So, last night, I'm looking at the dispenser drawer and I start to ponder that pretty regularly, even though I'm so good, I see what looks like moldy black spots...and that shouldn't be. So, out it comes for one more wipe-down, and then I decided to wipe out the big open slot where the thing lives.

OMG! EWWWW!!!!!! I'd never thought to look in there! Holy Crap! Get me a Hazmat Suite immediately!

Can I tell you? It was coated black...with mold. Yep, all that bleach, detergent, fabric softner, and still covered with mold. I so did not expect that!! But, then I started to consider, of course!!!!; it's always moist and seals tightly!

Go on, take a look at yours! You'll see it! It's there, I promise you....lurking there. Get cleaning immediately!

I battle mold so much in various spaces of the house...like the shower, and places like that. And, I know we didn't have these issues when I was growing up. I never saw my grandmother and aunt fighting against it all the time... and trust me...they were clean freaks. Never heard them even discussing mold as a battle ground.

I know I'm older and likely to sound as though the world was a harder but nicer place, (when I was a kid....fill in the blank...no, I didn't walk 10 miles up hill both ways in my bare feet to school...that was my father's generation,) and I'm not saying life was better, but mold? We never heard about it or saw it. Okay, maybe once in awhile you'd see the caulk around the tub get some funky dark spots, but I swear, that's all! Now, even toilets get mold in them if you don't clean them with religious fervor!

Oh, and speaking of the caulk around the tub? If it's in good shape and you don't want to pull it out because of mold spots, just take a paper towel, wet liberally with bleach, leave it there on top of the spot. In a few hours? Gone! What magic!!!

I think we have such issues with it now because our energy efficient houses are so freaking air-tight that they don't breathe anymore. The air flow is virtually non-existent. Yeah, energy efficient means it's easier on the pocketbook in terms of utility bills etc, but it creates an entirely different issue for the home owner. Now we worry about the toxic nature of all our cleaning products and chemicals...but what's the choice when you're battling mold/mildew/chaos??

So, I promised you I'd tell you this stuff, and here's the lesson for today: go look in places like your front loader and for the love of all that's holy, clean it out! You'll thank me, but not while you're doing it; then you'll be cursing me for writing this stupid blog about mold. Ewww! Gross!!!!

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly

Damn You HGTV!!!

Because I don't have the strength to do it, I've asked Michael to put a parental block on Channel 51....

I'm addicted to it and it's bringing me to ruin. Yes! Ruin. I am no longer able to control the compulsion to re-invent my home's spaces. And it's all their fault. I can't control myself!

This is our guest bathroom. That's not wall paper. I did that by hand a couple of years back. Not even a couple of years. More like months....maybe 34 months.

It was done in HGTV's hey day of glaze and artistic wall treatments...PAINT! Hours with blue painter's tape, and a ruler. Coming up with the perfect grid pattern; the right color and glaze. My inspiration piece? (You must have an inspiration piece, my dear,) The shower curtain. I decided to replicate the intricate Arabian arabesques in the shower curtain.

Hours of sitting on a ladder, silver-leaf pen in hand after the stripes had dried. Sitting and looking at what I had already conjured and then coming up with new swirls so that it didn't look repeated in any way.

My ass got numb from sitting perched on a ladder. My ass was not meant to sit perched on such a small flat surface. But would I quit? HELL NO! HGTV said I could do this!!! They never lie.

So onward over four days I soldiered on...and toward the end, some of the arabesques took on organic flavors and became, well,

...as Michael says, "Some of them look like aliens which is a little disturbing." Umm, yeah perhaps. HGTV never talks about the mind trips you take thanks to some of the supplies you must use.

When I was done, it still needed a little something...and that's when I came up with the absolutely crazy notion of gluing the small jewels to the wall. There are a couple of hundred across the room.

I'd glue them and turn around to see what progress I'd made, only to discover a blank wall where jewels should have been. "No, keep going, you can go back and touch up spots later!"

Taking a break on the ladder precariously perched IN the bath tub, I hear a noise and look down to see Fiona, who was just a wee puppy at that time, quietly walk up to the wall and nibble a jewel! I follow her out to the hall where 30 small bits of colored glass await. Thanks for helping Fiona. Really.

But, trends change don't you know? And now the phrase, "Spa-like experience," is all the rage at HGTV! Baths are to be tranquil and calming spaces and only Zen like spaces will do now!

Errr, somehow my Arabian Nights theme doesn't fit that bill. Now when I go up to clean the guest bathroom, my inner critic stands there and looks at the wall I worked so hard on and the bitch says, "Oh, isn't that INTERESTING!" The freakin' kiss of death! What was once fascinating and fun is now, "Too taste specific!" Oh, no....................

So I immediately run to Home Depot to buy Baehr Paint, which in my opinion, is the best paint for the money out there. Oh, there may be better paint; Pratt & Lambert is my all time favorite to work with but, who has that kind of money?!

I stand there in the rainbow of possibilities and think, "Spa like, spa LIKE, speak to me Spa Like, where are you?" And, my hand comes to rest on...

Eygptian Pyramid! OH there you are!

Not for the first time I wonder, "Who names these colors? And, how do you get that job?! I want THAT job! I'd be great at the job!!"

Michael says, "I'm not seeing it, but I trust you." (I adore him!) Then he asks me, "Are you sure you want to do this? You spent a lot of time doing the painting up there and I'm not sure why you want to cover it up. Just be sure."

Don't you just want to hug him?

But HGTV say I must have a spa like environment and this will do it!

So, now you see the Ommmmm of it all. Don't you? Can you feel it? Did I just hear a big exhalation from you? Are you feeling tranquil? HGTV says you will!

Is it sophisticated and calming? Please don't be concerned...it's just the light....it's not really pumpkin colored... it's more like sand and well, Pyramids in the blinding sun of the Sahara...


Colors of clay, and sand, and blue cloudless sky....


Some quiet motion in the textiles to draw visual interest....

HGTV says you'll love it....do you? Do you want to take a hot bath? I have a mint on the pillow of the guest bed. Please? Will you love me because I redid the bath for you...can you feel the SPA LIKE QUALITY yet?????

For the love of HGTV, say yes, because it's the only way I'll get this....ironic isn't it?

And, if I want real peace I'm going to learn to like the fact that HGTV is locked out of my viewing possibilities.

I'm going to go take a hot bath now. But not in that bathroom. Are you crazy? I just cleaned it!!

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka She Who Can't Leave Her House Alone