The Last Bundle by Diane Ogden

The last bundle will be delivered this weekend and I don't mean the last bundle of joy!  I am referring to the last heavy banded wad of recycled and recyclable newspapers.  The ones that carry news to the multitudes via my vehicle and skeletal bone and muscle mass to the masses...  How do you spell relief?  This is part of it!! Never having to park my car with two wheels on the curb so the city buses can get past me within inches of my rear view mirror! Never having to worry about packing too much weight into my one and only vehicle. Or fighting the crowds around the capital area when there's a marathon race or merely the Farmer's Market which draws in thousands of people who become obstacles like big orange barrels in your quest to the daily finish line.  Never having to go to a dark warehouse in the middle of downtown ALONE, without mace or pepper spray at 5 a.m.  And so on. Don't even ask me to sub, ever ever again.

I started delivering papers in 2004. Sometimes we don't get the relief we wish for as fast as we would prefer.  It has been similar to be married to newspapers.  They are messy and inky and heavy but there is a pay off.  I would say this is my seven year newspaper itch.  I wish to now have an affair with an otherwise way for a payoff.  I am divorcing the newspaper delivery life.  Thank God or not.  Simply meaning I am not so sure God had much to do with it in any way except delivering me from delivering any longer. 

I started this blog in 2007 at which time I was delivering newspapers, The Onion being one of them, out of an old warehouse in downtown Madison.  Before that I had a respected licensed day care in another city which I attempted to move to Madison.  But then similar to Jr. High bullies, some State Workers, of course women, decided to halt all necessary paperwork for my re-licensing.  Me, not being a fighting individual, moved on past it all.  The old "cant fight city hall" cliche ran through my head day and night and was right.  To make a sad story short, I lost everything.  One day someone offered me a paper route.  That meant I could eat again, so I took it.  I drove bundles through blizzards, rain storms, torrid heat, backaches, broken air conditioners, broken car heaters, and on and on.  The papers got me back on my feet, oddly after seven years I am hoping they don't take me off my feet. 

I am grateful to the bundles for the time they served.  That's all!  And I gladly pass them on to some other needy human with a sturdy axle.  No pun intended, of course it is......

I will be missed I am sure of this fact.  Because I told people they looked like a certain movie "star" at least once a day for seven years. There isn't any compliment higher,  given to a passerby unless they are homeless and you hand them a $20 dollar bill.  I was a mere newspaper "star" but the masses wont ever forget me.  My Grand daddy taught me how to make people remember me! Make THEM shine like a star.  Try it and I guarantee success and happiness all the way around.  That would be  my Happy News for the day.

The Old Outhouse by Diane Ogden

OK so this little outhouse has been there for fifty years plus...  I used it!!  In fact when I was in high school this is all we had besides a five gallon bucket for mid night emergencies.  It was truly awful.  We had no running water for baths either.
Over the years, that is after we got normal bathrooms with bathtubs and flushing toilets! Can you imagine ??  Me either anymore, yet the memories remember!
Everyone who ever used the outdoor privy signed in by writing on the inner walls of that outhouse of which I was afraid to open the door to take a pic of in case.......  the darn thing might have taken a dive on  me literally. 
I don't like shit pits as you all know from previous blogs.  And holding any of them up with poles is funny to me.  But what would I do if I really needed to use that privy outhouse?  Would I chance the poles giving way? What if no one was home? Oh shit!
I love puns or whatever you call that one. 

Santa "Pause"

Christmas in May 2011 by Diane Ogden

That would be a resting Clause pausing in my back seat!  I found him today while searching garage sales for a baby swing.  I took one look at that old fellow and said, "He's MINE!"  As I cheerfully gleeed, sounds from a garage sale crowd within the garage walls and driveway all shouted with hurrahs!  They were just waiting for that one Santa "sucker" to arrive.  Whalla, that would be me.  Like I have any place to store a life size Santa.  Maybe in the spare bathroom, or under my bed, or  maybe in my bed.  I haven't had a jolly nice fellow there.....let me think.....EVER! (Well maybe that's stretching it for effect) This here fellow thinks I am wonderful no matter what because he smiles 24/7. I love the way he dresses all fancy.  He never leaves the lid up nor makes a mess he doesn't take care of be that physically or mentally.  And he rides in the back seat.  Would be fun to put him in the front seat and take him everywhere I go.  I am into that sort of non humorous activity rather known as Humorous Shock therapy 101.  I wanted my kids to put a huge ceramic dog on top of their car when they moved across country.  I don't know why I am the only one that thought that would be hilarious!  Sort of like the movie "VACATION" when they put dead auntie up top the car.  I wouldn't put Santa on top of the car, that would be going to far.  I do have my limits even though the above photo does not prove so.
I will find an appropriate spot for Mr. Santa Pause until the season offers him proper timing.  Where he will fit in with the rest of the world making all who view him happy.  That is the Happy News for today.  Out of the dingy basement, onto cheering up the world. Santa Baby, come on down my chimney tonight! Bring checks with the duplex please!

The Happy News for Today....by Diane Ogden

The world did not end
The cat that ate my roses today did not die
or......throw up
My car is running like a good time piece
I am upright and speaking clearly
I did not get to watch a shooting from road rage today out on Hiway M, just almost
I have food
I do not live in Joplin, Missouri where the horrible tornado killed many
I am not related to Bin Ladin
My Father is alive at 85
I am on no medications at my glorious age
I am not fat (well, a little)
I have a bed to sleep in tonight
I just filled my tank with gas and had some cash left for a coffee
My novel is being edited (next published!)
Oprah would be proud of my little gratitude list....  screw O...., no I mean phooeey Oprah....(she could kill the deficit so of course she is grateful. )I didn't mean it when I said the screw thingy!  That is 60's talk still in my head from the 60's of course.  I bet Oprah says screw her cook every day!  I heard a comedian say Oprah has enough $ to have someone standing there slapping food out of her hand daily. True.  I don't have enough money to have bad fattening sick food slapped outta my hand daily so that be the reason for the 7 lb gain blogpost a few days  back. Where or where can I find a slapper?? duh.  I rather ride my exercise bike thank you...been there done that slapped thing. No thank you......and thank GOD I learned that one early in the scheme of life.  See, that is good news.  Bye Oprah.

I have lived through Johnny Carson, Oprah and God all in one lifetime. Oh shitski I forgot Elvis. What more could I ask for?  Nothing because there "ain't" time for no more unless I live to be 100 (0) and can still understand TV or whatever they will call it next. Not so sure I wanna live that long just to have the above little list.  But then when my novel sells I will lengthen my list and desire to live longer.  Now that is good news Charlie.  Who's Charlie?  Could be Charlie Brown, could be my first X Charlie the slapper...we call him Chuck the F__!  The good news is he's dead so it's OK.
More good news.....this blog is over.

Babies First Printed Material! by Diane Ogden

Today was my second babysitting lovey session with the newest Grand.  What a great time we had except for a few little fussy times mostly because Nana didn't know all the baby signal signs.  At one point we were trying to get her to sleep when in reality all her signals meant, "I am hungry!"  I am patting and rubbing and holding the pacifier in and then I asked if anyone had any flash cards.  No one in the room had any.  So I grabbed the paper jacket of my latest book purchase and held it up for her to view.  I thought the pretty colors would distract her from fussing. It did. Then I realized the first piece of printed material my sweet little Grand baby saw in life was "Does the Noise in My Head Bother You? by Steven Tyler (My twin from a previous life as if I haven't said that before!)  It was then I broke out laughing as did the other two people in the room.  OMG.....one said, "She may have nightmares, or maybe she will be rock star!"  Oh dear, what have I done? I have introduced her to Steven Tyler right out of the shoot almost!  On the positive side she will be her true self and never hide from life and I will pray the negatives away. I did get her classical music, does that make a difference?

Is That a Burka in Your Pocket? by Diane Ogden

"Is that a Burka in your pocket or are you just trying to control me?"
I am a woman who "used" to be more respectful of men then I am today.  But then the world is supposed to end today so I do not have to work on this later in life cynical brain thought I have gotten from "God" knows where. (really, ya think from God NOT!)  Probably from the culprits themselves. Men that is. Just like anything, some good, some bad, some just there.

There would be one in particular I am discussing and not from any cynical part of my beautiful brain.  This  would be, George. We will call him to protect the innocent, that being the wife relaying what I am using in this little bitty not so newsworthy blog post information site.

George!  George! George!  Who taught you?  Where are you from?  And its not even close to Mars.... You George are a grump.  You George are a passive aggressive hunka hunka burning un-love.  You George drive a brand new SUV and your wife drives a 13 year old Buick and you bitch if she wants new carpet in it.  George!  And George, you never say nice things to her, in fact you say ugly things to your wife George.  You yell at her George if she withdraws $50 from the bank once a month.  You hide whiskey under your under ware in your closet in your den George!  I saw it George!  Then you fall down and break your crown George!  You don't like the birds because the bird food costs money.  I'm surprised you purchase food for your wife George.  No wonder she loves the dog more!  There are two of you and she picked the best one. Dog that is. You tell her every day how the money is going to run out.  Really George, really, come on...the money is not going to run out unless the world ends today or next week.  You have money George...you are merely a miser, a grump, and could stand to go to Miss Manners school for crotch-ity old men! You almost died a couple times George, obviously you didn't get to see the big white light that held instructions for some.  Nope. Cause there's still a Burka next to the bottle in your bedroom buddy!

What can I say good about you George?  You walk the dog.  You do give wife a credit card. And you do help the offspring. That's not bad if you could just keep that nasty tongue under control. Guess that could go for everyone who uses the tongue incorrectly huh? (Not me of course)  Well maybe your not so bad after all George.  You worked hard all your life, you have retired with much cash flow, you have health insurance, you are alive, at least for six more hours, and you do walk the dog and maybe even take out the garbage. But just in case you are mean to your wife again I have advised your wife to inform you this:

 IF I cared, I'd draw you a map of your a** with an X marking the spot where your head is buried...I never underestimate the predictability of your stupidity & immaturity at best...I'm starting to think it can't be the Head-Up-A** Syndrome, because there's got to be more oxygen & more light up even the oldest fattest a** than could account for such rampant & long-lasting abnegation of me!  So honey, stop it! Love Esther