Gold Crown Down..................by Diane Ogden

Today was a normal day.  Well most of it anyway.  I usually fix myself a home-made hamburger on a toasted wheat bun with catsup, mustard, mayo, and one slice of Wisconsin cheese every morning.  I cool it off and place it in a non glass (plastic) container what is probably full of BPA and put it in my lunch bag.  I cut 1/4 of its end off and eat that for breakfast if anyone cares. TMI.  Well it came time to have my lunch today so I placed it in my clients microwave for 23 seconds.  Perfecto.   I took one delicious bit and then another.  That is when I felt something unfamiliar in my mouth other than my daily homemade burger.

And then an almost crunch down.  I think when we humans get a bit on the older side we tend to stop the crunch down before it happens.  Maybe its the mind thinking slower, but I caught a visualization of one of my teeth "a lose" in the midst of a mouthful of chewed burger, mayo, cheese, catsup, and mustard on a toasted wheat bun.  Not a pretty mental sight. More like a bad dream. That means I halted the crunch before it could kill any of my other pearlies.  I expelled the contents of my mouth into my hand.  OMG eewww, worse than the mental image I imagined.  Picked out the shiny large gold crown and expelled a bad word from that same mouth.
Because the next mental picture was me pushing a grocery cart under a bridge wearing rags after handing my dentist a stack of $100-$1,000 dollar bills all tied neatly with a gold bow.  Now picture that 8x10 glossy.
When I regained my senses I put the crown in a baggie and then placed the baggie in my money bag.  An appropriate placement I would say.
I was feeling sorry for myself so I emailed a friend and told her what happened.  She instantly replied that I should super glue it back to the remaining tooth it fell off of.  Seriously?  Seriously?  Now I know she is a redneck.  My GAD (generalized anxiety disorder) was screaming inside my head.  It was screaming, "Sure, super glue it you idiot.  Go ahead so it can fall off in the middle of the night and you will choke to death on it with no one around to give you the Heimlich!!"  That did it.  There will be no super gluing going on.  Maybe if I turn in all the gold teeth I have saved  (in my jewelry box) and my set of good silver ware I would have enough to fix the dang tooth.  Its only been five hours and it is cutting the underside of my sweet tougue.  The one I use a lot everyday. No sense to being angry.  It's life is all.  I started out in life getting teeth and now I am ending up loosing them.  Now if you work for a fancy corporation, who are in cahoots with the medical profession via insurance corps and you would have no problem at all.  Maybe I will super glue it after all.  Maybe I am a redneck.  Nawh. I really don't own anything that is duct taped.

Craigs List Killer.............by Diane Ogden

I have about fifty old VHC movie camera tapes with no home.  No VCR to view them on. No battery life in the old camera's to view them on.  And companies charging $35.00 a tape to copy them to DVD.  I figured by the time I got that accomplished, DVD's would be dead and gone too.  So, I checked around and discovered my x-sister-in-law had one which she dug off her basement storage shelf and sent it hoem with me. It didn't work with the new gadget I purchased as the "go-between" of my camera / computer / DVD burner.
Next I ventured into killer land (Craig's List) and found one about a forty five minutes away.  We played computer email tag for over a week or so.  Made and appointment and I drove, with my lil' dog in tow, to said city.  I entered the address in my GPS and Dotti directed us all the way.  Got to thinking no one knew where I was or was going so I phoned up my x-sister-in-law who I knew was having a family bash all day but I called anyway.  She obligingly took down the address my GPS was taking me to and we said our goodbyes.  You know, in case he, who turned out to be a Mike, turned out to be an ax murderer and chopped me into little pieces and left my dog in the street alone.  You know, that sort of thing.

I got to the address and sure enough it was run down with an old, I mean old rusty camper truck parked aside the driveway half on the grass.  Classless, get it?  I made up my mind not to go in.  So I called Mike, told him I was out front and would he bring her out.  "Her," ha.   He did.  And he was odd to say the least.  He just didn't look like a normal human being is all.  Strange.  Not just to me, he would have looked strange to anyone he met.   I rolled down my window a tad and handed strange man $10 for the best VCR I have ever seen.  I may have to buy some old movies at garage sales just to use it more.  A fancy Sony.  Mike put it in the backseat and Gracie Allen dog and I split city...  ALIVE!  Phweew.  When I got "her" home she worked out perfectly to scan my movies into DVD's.
So that was Saturday noon.  Today is Monday afternoon and I call my x-sister-in-law who was supposed to send the Police if she didn't hear from me.  She FORGOT!  She said she was too embarrassed to call me this morning to tell me she forgot about me.  Then she was afraid I had been chopped into little pieces by the Craig's List killer.  She was so afraid she didn't want to call to find out!  Her words were, 'I am the worst assie friend ever."  I laughed at first and then realized how serious this could have been.  She is right, she is the worst assie friend ever.  That is if you need someone to have your back. Was she waiting to hear about it on the news?
Well I didn't die.  I got an excellent VCR for $10 and I am making Christmas gifts with it.  Let's see, $35 x 50 videos = $1,750.00 for $10 VCR, $60 for transfer unit, $50 for DVD's = I saved a zillion.  Well at least......$1,630.00.  That was worth the possibility of getting chopped up by a Craig's List killer, right?
Hey, I thought someone had my back.  But then so did Sandra Bullock and she is still hummin' along quite well, as I am.

Grandiose..... by Diane Ogden

gran·di·ose

adjective \ˈgran-dē-ˌōs, ˌgran-dē-ˈ\

: seeming to be impressive or intended to be impressive but not really possible or practical.

 

As I sit here eating popcorn by the handful, watching a Hugh Jackman movie on my tablet,  and over thinking the fact I might need a root canal and crown on a totally exposable front tooth. My dog is lying in her bed below my work area while in "heat," and my cat is laying next to my keyboard

spread eagle meaning there is hair all over my Autumn gold tablecloth, along with my shirt full of dog hair from the earlier holding session. The other cat walking around making noise as she feels left out.  Of course she is, she has OCD and anxiety issues. That was one heck of a run on sentence until I fixed it.  But it matches My life at least today.  (who am I kidding?)  Not to mention I have eaten most everything in site today due to the stress level of a mouse with a cat standing overhead with no escape.  Yes that much.

So where does grandiose come in?  I was invited to become a paid computer geek for a non functioning (well almost) website.  A nice website by the way. By someone that has written three books and uses words I still need to find and learn.  He needs a blogger, a promoter, and a social networker.  Heck I cant even get my own or  my friends blog "out there" like I want.  I have tried.  As for blogging, I prefer lightweight humor. Not life from five billion days ago to five minutes ago.   My lifelong humor has left the building for a time, but I have full faith it will return when a couple of heavyweight issues are solved or I learn how to kick "them" to the curb.  Working hard on that one.

Okay back to grandiose.  We all have or should have some grandiose ideas.  Having them gets us to the place of reality we truly should be in the first place.

Me, I dream of having a best seller book.  I even have an outfit or two picked out for the book signing deals.  When in fact I have learned I need some classes in sentence structure.  Doesn't mean I cant have my dreams and my outfit.  That is what keeps us going.  I do have limitations.  I realize I will never be on OPRAH but I might just publish a book that will stand tall on a rack at Barnes and Noble.  Damn right.  And maybe my special cookies will be spotted and mass produced for the world, well maybe a store or two.  Then there are my inventions...  They seem to stay in my head and then three years later I see them on a counter in some store or magazine. 

Some days I want to lock the door, put the cat litter and car dog bed in the truckie, drain the savings account and GPS my way to somewhere unknown. Or just drive for days.  P.S.  Leaving no forwarding address.  Is that GRANDIOSE?  Maybe.  So what.  That is my true definition of grandiose.

 

 

Rawhide, "Head 'em Up and Move 'em Out!..........by Diane Ogden

First of all I will tell you I am not

prej·u·dice

noun

noun: prejudice; plural noun: prejudice:  preconceived opinion that is not based on reason or actual experience.!!!!!!!!!!

That being said....It was the day to shop for food.  I drove to my regular Grocery Store, pulled in and the same dang thing happened that has many times before, but worse.  I wondered if there was a full moon, or if I was really tired and accidentally drove to Hells Gate (Wal Mart).  Nope I wasn't.  Then the noise hit my brain....  A radio on full blast from an old van parked in the front of the entrance and in every one's way.  Yes totally in the way as usual.  I couldn't move, others were at a similar standstill and we were not in L.A. traffic.  We were at Woodman's West small town Madison Wisco  listening to RAP and watching a family of a different ethnicity beating (okay so not beating but giving the impression it was about to happen) their kids.  Watching one of them walking away from said van with "pants down." 

No one in Van attempting to hurry considering ten people walking with carts, driving vehicles in the surrounding area... are at a standstill.  I figure these sort of folk need attention....and I wanted so badly to give it to them full force.  But I knew better because sometimes those Grocery Parking Lot Hollywood wannabee's make all that noise so they can get more attention.  So disturbing.  I got over that incident, finished my shopping, came out and passed ladies walking a baby speaking Asian....another man carrying his child speaking Pakistani, well you know the bubble talk. Several Spanish families speaking Spanish....  I never see many Chinese people? ?  They are saving themselves for the big takeover later.  I keep telling folks to learn to speak Chinese....cause they own us.  The boats, planes, and bankers takeover could enter at any time.  Only good thing about that would be the look on Tea Party "Boner's" (Boehner) face.  And he thought he had it made. Amazing salary, amazing retirement and so on.  I call that a case of the dumb ass.  And p.s.  Obama Care would also be in the outhouse.  "The People" tried to tell them.  The people tried to tell the Rappers that radios too loud would harm their children's hearing. Very few listen.  And by the way, when did the gates open for us to be occupied?  Was it the Bush administration?  I really don't know.  I just know that suddenly I am about to be a minority.  Seriously.  I don't mind sharing, but I sense someone sold us.....out.   Sort of like outsourcing your own.  I didn't mean to get on any soapbox.  Actually I was upset about the family that believed they owned the parking lot at everyone else's expense, when I simply went to buy food.  Hell, they are no diff than our congressman!!!!  Interesting.   I know this isn't funny or good news.  Neither is the fact my cat Buddy's poop smells so horrible I have to light matches.  And I do not feed him onion or garlic.  Guess it s time for  a stool sample.   Thank God I cant catch whatever he has. Hope not. Let me as my opinion as if I haven't already.... I say Wal Mart and Woodman's Grocery need to hire Security Guards to maintain proper parking lot social acceptability. But then its not against the law to do any of what you read here, is it?  I still say, "HEAD EM UP AND MOVE EM OUT!"  

Laters..... Be safe, Be well, Be happy, and get rich so you can shop at the upper class places. They don't beat there kids there. At least until the Chinese get here....  (frustrated!)

The Boy and The Possum................by Diane Ogden

Worked a clients home today who lives on an off street in a small town near Madison.  We finished the job, I got myself situated in my new used vehicle and as I backed out I noticed a young boy a couple houses down, standing with his bike on the side of the street.  Then I noticed a small animal laying in the middle of the street. The boy seemed to be guarding the animal from a safe distance.  I recall thinking oh my God it must be his pet cat.  As I got closer I could almost feel the boys apprehension of my vehicle.  And I could also sense his mind racing as his eyes raced along with his minds thoughts.  He was trying to mentally beg me not to run over that little animal which of course I wasn't going to.  I passed him, went around the critter which appeared to be a Possum.  A possibly not dead possum.  Now my mind was racing.  I turned the new used vehicle around just as the mailman came from the direction I had been driving.  Oh my God, don't hit the critter I thought!  I then saw the young boy mentally begging the mailman not to run over the not so dead yet Possum.

I truly hate coming upon situations such as this one.  I wondered how many hours the boy was going to straddle his bike while guarding the critter from the curb and mentally begging passersby not to hit it again.
Well, I went a few blocks and stopped.  I called the number I had on my smart phone for animal control.  The number had been disconnected.  Crap!  They used to come for birds, and or any small animals in need.  Suppose their funding stopped.  Then I called another animal number I had and they said they don't do that anymore and I should call the Police.  Oh sure!  Well I did.  I am quite sure the officer thought me a bit crazy telling him about a small boy on his bike trying to protect a not yet dead possum over on Shady Lane.  So I said a little prayer for the Possum and the Boy and drove on.  Not without thinking how sweet that boy must be.  And hoping that little Possum was just stunned and will get up and mosey on down the road.  I always finish bad dreams and such with a good ending.  Gotta.  Cant carry the weights otherwise.   Laters......
Photo from: www.fiascowines.wordpress.com

One Bath a Year.........................by Diane Ogden(from facebook)

• Marlene Sylvestre's photo.

  

  
  

  Absolutely riveting!
  
  They used to use urine to tan animal skins, so families used to all pee in a pot & then once a day it was taken & sold to the tannery........if you had to do this to survive you were "Piss Poor" But worse than that were the really poor folk who couldn't even afford to buy a pot.....they "didn't have a pot to piss in" & were the lowest of the low. The next time you're washing your hands and complain because the water temperature isn't just how you like it, think about how things used to be. Here are some facts about the 1500s:-
  
  Most people got married in June because they took their yearly bath in May, and they still smelled pretty good by June. However, since they were starting to smell . ..... . brides carried a bouquet of flowers to hide the body odor. Hence the custom today of carrying a bouquet when getting Married.
  
  Baths consisted of a big tub filled with hot water. The man of the house had the privilege of the nice clean water, then all the other sons and men, then the women and finally the children. Last of all the babies. By then the water was so dirty you could actually lose someone in it.. Hence the saying, "Don't throw the baby out with the Bath water!"
  
  Houses had thatched roofs-thick straw-piled high, with no wood underneath. It was the only place for animals to get warm, so all the cats and other small animals (mice, bugs) lived in the roof. When it rained it became slippery and sometimes the animals would slip and fall off the roof... Hence the saying "It's raining cats and dogs."
  
  There was nothing to stop things from falling into the house. This posed a real problem in the bedroom where bugs and other droppings could mess up your nice clean bed. Hence, a bed with big posts and a sheet hung over the top afforded some protection. That's how canopy beds came into existence.
  
  The floor was dirt. Only the wealthy had something other than dirt. Hence the saying, "Dirt poor."
  
  The wealthy had slate floors that would get slippery in the winter when wet, so they spread thresh (straw) on floor to help keep their footing. As the winter wore on, they added more thresh until, when you opened the door, it would all start slipping outside. A piece of wood was placed in the entrance-way. Hence: a thresh hold.
  
  In those old days, they cooked in the kitchen with a big kettle that always hung over the fire... Every day they lit the fire and added things to the pot. They ate mostly vegetables and did not get much meat. They would eat the stew for dinner, leaving leftovers in the pot to get cold overnight and then start over the next day. Sometimes stew had food in it that had been there for quite a while. Hence the rhyme: Peas porridge hot, peas porridge cold, peas porridge in the pot nine days old.
  
  Sometimes they could obtain pork, which made them feel quite special. When visitors came over, they would hang up their bacon to show off. It was a sign of wealth that a man could, "bring home the bacon." They would cut off a little to share with guests and would all sit around and "chew the fat".
  
  Those with money had plates made of pewter. Food with high acid content caused some of the lead to leach onto the food, causing lead poisoning death. This happened most often with tomatoes, so for the next 400 years or so, tomatoes were considered poisonous.
  
  Bread was divided according to status. Workers got the burnt bottom of the loaf, the family got the middle, and guests got the top, or the upper crust.
  
  Lead cups were used to drink ale or whisky. The combination would Sometimes knock the imbibers out for a couple of days. Someone walking along the road would take them for dead and prepare them for burial... They were laid out on the kitchen table for a couple of days and the family would gather around and eat and drink and wait and see if they would wake up. Hence the custom of holding a wake.
  
  England is old and small and the local folks started running out of places to bury people. So they would dig up coffins and would take the bones to a bone-house, and reuse the grave. When reopening these coffins, 1 out of 25 coffins were found to have scratch marks on the inside and they realized they had been burying people alive... So they would tie a string on the wrist of the corpse, lead it through the coffin and up through the ground and tie it to a bell. Someone would have to sit out in the graveyard all night (the graveyard shift.) to listen for the bell; thus, someone could be, "saved by the bell" or was considered a "dead ringer". And that's the truth...
  
  Now, whoever said History was boring?

1991 Baby Blanket...................... by Diane Ogden

In the year 1991, sounds like the song......"In the year 2525, If Man is still alive." And so the song goes.  Back to 1991when we were alive and younger and when I cut up about fifteen of my daughters infant and toddler outfits and created a baby quilt for her.  Not a baby quilt like the fancy quilters do in this decade.  Nope, just plain old squares of comforted memories  sewn together into a patchwork quilt that she slept with for twenty two years.

 

A couple of years ago she moved in with me during one of her transition periods in life.  That is when I noticed the "blankie quilt"  was dying a slow and ragged death.   I happened to have a neighbor who was a quilter.  (I didn't really know the depth of that word until later)  I asked my neighbor if she would MEND the blankie quilt as it was fraying.  I wanted her to top stitch it like they do finished quilts.  I believed that would preserve it and stop the disintegration process.  She took it home.  She did not stitch it.  Nope.  She tore the back off.  Took a few of the patches off (OMG), brought it back in smithereens  (and old term for a mess) and told me she didn't have time to fix it.  OMG again.  When my daughter found it she cried giant L.E. Phant tears.  That was about two years ago.  You might have guessed I haven't found time to fix it either.  Well last weekend a creative bug snuck into my apartment and hollered my name next to the word blankie quilt.  So I pulled it out of the antique wardrobe along with my shoebox of sewing supplies and pinned it back together. Next I climbed up into the spare room closet and took down the sewing machine from the top rack.  Blew the dust off her and set to stitching.  Turned out pretty good so far.  I still have to re-embroider the center square that read:  "1991,   For Lindsay,    Love Mother."   Can you believe the quilter neighbor lady threw the old one away.  It was legible, merely needed a new backing to secure it.

The clothes Lindsay wore were hand-me-downs from her cousin Erin, and from an aunts children.  There are pajama's, corduroy bibs, sweatshirt emblems, shirt pieces, and so on.

 Here are a few pictures I took of the process.  It still needs the embroidered center piece and the backing.  Maybe it will be her 25th birthday present.