If the Dress Fits Wear It

Warning..if you are a male chances are that this blog entry will be of no interest to you. Carry on with your scheduled, whatever it is guys do. Thank you.

I am not a shopper of clothes. I only enjoy shopping if it is for someone else, not for a gift mind you I hate that too, but if one of my female friends can't find anyone else to hang around with and I am on the short list because they need someone to chat with while they suffer the stores, then I'm there, in fact I do find it highly amusing. Yes, in this case I enjoy watching the suffering of others. I have always avoided the malls and shops (with exception of bookstores or record shops when I was younger) like they are vast, contaminated wastelands which as when I enter I could be struck down with a life ending disease . Growing up if there wasn't a special occasion, we only went shopping twice a year, once prior to the beginning of school and once in the spring. When I was a teenager I spent a lot of time hanging in the malls and to be honest I wasn't looking for clothes as much as I was looking for a potential boyfriend. I dislike trying on clothes and miss the days when my body never changed and I could walk in a store, grab my size of whatever I was shopping for off of the racks and check out. There was no standing around waiting for a fitting room, or wondering if anyone was video taping me as I clambered out of the apparel of the day and into my selection from the store.  There was customer service, the folks working in the stores where glad to have their jobs in retail and didn't act as though they where doing you the worlds biggest favor by finding a size that actually would fit in if indeed you where forced to try on something and they would ring you up with a smile and a have a nice day. All this said, this past weekend I begrudgingly took part in a 2 day shopping extravaganza trying to find a dress to wear to my niece's wedding.

It is not easy being the Aunt of the bride, add on the fact that I am very close to her, having taken care of her  when she was a baby, bringing her on dates with me, etc. We spent a lot of time together when she was growing up. She has also given me the responsibility and honor of having a role in the wedding, I am the helper. I have a list of things to oversee for the wedding including directing the ushers and groomsmen. The girl knows who to come to when something needs directing, we are kindred OCD spirits. So you see I needed a very special dress. My sister's dress (the mom of the bride) is a lilac color, so I wanted silver (out of style this year, sorry), grey, or lavender. We are wearing matching jewelry, so I thought those colors would go well with hers. I wanted a dress that had a little sparkle but not too much,  as it is a 7pm wedding, but fancier than just leaving the office (if I had a job). So with a theme and color scheme in mind it was time to plan the shopping trip.

If I was going to suffer, I wasn't doing it alone. My teenager who actually has a good style sense, ever since she stopped wearing all black and using enough black eyeliner to paint a Ford a couple of years ago was my first involuntary volunteer, it doesn't hurt that she LOVES to shop, and uses phrases like, "that looks slimming on you" and doesn't actually tell me I look fat in something, she just sort of does an "Elvis-lip" thing with her mouth and suggests a different selection or store. My kid, ever the diplomat. My second draftee was my hubby, who let's face it, as the only one bringing in a paycheck has the last word on the price we are willing to spend for anything. The problem with drafting him for this endeavor is the fact that he still remembers the good old days when you could buy a pair of slacks for $15.00 (and that was alot), so of course EVERYTHING is expensive now-a-days. Into the truck we piled on Friday evening and we headed across town to my favorite shop. I needed a dress for the wedding rehearsal dinner which I found quite easily there. But alas, there was no finding the dress of my desires there. So off we went, a couple of blocks away to the..the..gulp..mall. There are only 3 stores there that sell what I have in mind, and unfortunately, what I had in mind was not there, not even anything that I wanted to try on and so we returned home on Friday night, without the epic dress.

Saturday morning, a new day of dress possibilities arrived. I wrestled the teenager out of bed and pointed her in the direction of the shower and after several trips to her room with motivated pleading for her to hurry up, we where all out of the door again. My hubby, who is usually chipper with kidding banter when we set out on an adventure was strangely subdued. I got the feeling that he wasn't as hopeful as I was, and after visiting 3 stores on the same side of town that we had visited the night before, even my spirit was faltering. I then suggested the only alternatives we have in our town, the consignment shops, of which there are 3, or where. One is closed, as in gone away forever, the other sells primarily active wear, and the last one, well..I tried on no less than 15 dresses. We where there nearly 3 hours. My poor hubby, ever the trooper had to stand, holding my purse, because the store is so stuffed with ladies formal wear there is no room for a chair. I was then forced to a realization that I have been avoiding for a while now. I cannot just wear anything. I have reached an age where certain things make me look like an old lady trying to look young (you've seen them in Wal-Mart. wrinkled, over made up 75 year old red heads, wearing a halter top, leopard print stretch pants and orthopaedic combat boots), or a middle aged woman stuffed into her grandma's hand-me-downs. I wanted cry when we where done in there. I was tired, my feet hurt, and I had reached the point where this shopping excursion had sucked the care of what I wear right out of me. 

There was only one place left for us, twenty six miles away, in the big city, the mall that has everything, and that was where we had to go, and we did. I did find a dress here, after making 2 trips across the mall, fighting our way through the crowds of multi-color haired, pierced teenagers and foreign language speaking, stroller pushing women traveling in groups of 20 or more, that seem to descend upon on the place on a Saturday afternoon. The dress isn't sparkly, it isn't the color I wanted, but the price was reasonable, and finding it ended my suffering. I will look nice, like the Aunt of the Bride, a bit fancier than if I had just left my non-existent office, but in the back of my mind I will know that it wasn't my dream dress. 

And crap...now I have to go out and find shoes to match.

ME

A Letter From a Disgruntled Employee

This morning I had another first in my life, I sent out a letter to my employer, lamenting my dissatisfaction with the general operations of their company, and treatment of their employees. Not bad for working for them for only 2.5 hours since my hire date of February 1.

Back in October of last year, I began looking for a job, not because we where on the verge of downsizing from ground beef to dollar store cat food (no, we don't have a cat) but because I had 2 very good reasons to go back to work after 11 years of working for free. First of all, my husband went on salary, which translates into, if the phone rings in the middle of the night and he has to go into work, he's doing it for free. I simply wanted to try and take some of the stress off of him. The second reason is my teenager. Next year she will be a Senior in high school and it's time for her to get some wheels under her, and let mom's taxi retire.I would also like to spoil her a little bit too, perhaps get a prom dress that isn't on the sale rack. And Senior year isn't cheap, the price of her graduation photos is going to make my hubby's eye twitch, and let's not even get into college money. So I wrote and re-wrote my resume several times, actually we are up to the sixth edition, and started looking for work.

I live in a small town, which has it's perks, but there is a down side as well,  unless you want to work at a big box retail store or in the food service industry you have to commute to the big city to work, which means putting your paycheck into your car, by way of gasoline or upkeep. So, when I heard that a craft store chain was coming to our town I was excited, then when I heard that they where having a job fair I was thrilled. Because a) I needed a job and b) if there is anything I know about, it is crafting. I can sew, knit, crochet, cross stitch, make soy candles, scrapbook and a few other things. You would think that would make me an ideal candidate for a job in a craft store right? Yeah, well they did too. I walked into the job fair, handed the manager my application and resume (which I had customized for this type of job) and was hired on the spot, to be an Educational Coordinator. Personally, I would have been happy to be customer service, cashier, stock crew or anything else but to be able to teach was like icing on the cake to me. I was over the moon, and couldn't wait until Orientation, which would be a couple weeks from that day. And on February first I went to learn what they planned to teach me and was told that that was my start date and the store would officially open on March 7th, we will call you with your schedule next week. I was gainfully employed! Yeah..well..

The phone didn't ring. I didn't miss their call, I even took the phone with me into the bathroom when I went in to shower (bet that is real good for your smart phone huh?) I checked my messages several times a day, still none. I cried, I yelled, and I'm sure my hubby thought I was going over the edge, the entire month of February. I was heartbroken. So on the official opening day of the store I hopped into my mom mobile and drove across town to the store. I would not be put off. I walked up to the first available cashier and asked to talk to the manager, the lead cashier was a couple of registers down, and after I told the girl what my problem was she went and whispered in her ear, returning to tell me that she would be with me momentarily. In the mean time, a woman bearing pizza's, announcing herself as a neighbor in the strip mall bringing the welcome wagon in the form of cheesy goodness, came up to the register banks. Don't you know that the lead cashier, scooted around the counter, passing me and looking right into my eyes, and took Ms. Pizza 2013 by the elbow leading her towards the back of the store. My cashier yelled her name twice, and even left her register to run after her to remind her that I was standing right there, just in case she had failing eyesight or I had become suddenly the invisible woman, only to return and ask for my name and phone number, promising that someone would call me that day. Yeah..well.. it's been over a month and the phone hasn't rung. But, my paycheck for Orientation, a whopping $16 materialized 3 weeks later and guess what, there was nothing telling me to get lost with it. Therefore, I am assuming I am still employed by this company.

I have truly flip-flopped on what to do. I would give them mental deadlines to call me, and they would pass. I wanted the job, I was actually thrilled to be hired but you have to take into consideration the following facts. What company hires you and then can't get a cashier that is on break to at least call and tell you, "hey we haven't forgotten about you, but we don't need you yet", or send out a one line email saying the same. Then there is the matter that it took a over a month to send out my paltry little paycheck, that in all honesty wouldn't cover the cost of the yarn I would use for one project even with my employee discount. Hence, my irate letter to the company. This job came along, I still hit the seven different search engines every day to look for employment another job will come along. I'm just glad I wasn't counting on this one to feed my family, and I hope no one else was. Oh and by the way, my oldest daughter sucked it up and went into the store to shop, she said they where rude beyond belief, she got poor service, and she won't shop there again. Now if I had been on the register things would have been different.

ME

No Soliciting

Hi friend, yes it's been nearly a year since my last blog post, I almost forgot that this little zone of sanity existed, because I have been so busy, and then came the sometimes stressful task of thinking of something witty to write about. But I am back and I shall try to post here more often, but I'm not making any promises.

 Let me tell you a little about my little slice of earth and stick here on our planet called my neighborhood. I live on the first street of a subdivision in the center of my neighborhood. Unlike most of my employed neighbors I am home mostly all day unless there is some sort of errand or a medical emergency that I must deal with, but as my daughters or grandsons haven't severed any body parts due to traumatic paper cuts lately, I am usually here. Because of my location, the moment that weather becomes nice, my front door bell begins ringing or the knocking on the door with the exuberance of an A.T.F raid begins. I do not mind, on principal, being the Girl Scout leader from hell for nearly 10 years, the little scouts selling cookies or popcorn, but I have had people selling books, magazines, cleaning supplies that would remove tar from the front of my car and double as a carpet cleaner and more on my threshold. The parade of people trying to convert me, trying to get me to elect or reelect them, or switch my cable, trash, or car/life insurance was getting a bit ridiculous. Usually I could just ignore them and they would go away, but it was getting a little crazy, as in the sales people who wanted me to buy 42 magazines so that they could continue their education with a side excursion to Zimbabwe was getting a little out of hand, and the salesmen more pushy. So I bought myself a sign, and my hubby installed it right above the door bell, it simply states "No Soliciting". White letters on a black plastic background. For the reading challenged there is even a drawing of a man, holding a briefcase, standing in a little drawn doorway with a perfect circle drawn around it with an ominous line drawn through it. For a long time it worked like a magical wall of electricity that would keep the unwanted tradespeople away, sort of like a reverse shock collar like one you would buy to keep your dog from roaming aimlessly down the road and becoming roadkill. But alas, apparently we didn't pay the magical electricity bill or something because for the last 2 weeks, nearly every day, someone has made it through the force field and to my front door.

Yesterday was the last straw. I had finally made the time to watch the Season 3 finale of "Downton Abbey". If you haven't seen this stellar import from England showing on your local PBS station, you need to! It puts the Masterpiece in Masterpiece Theater and is better than crack for the soap opera addict.  Anyway, I'm am thoroughly embedded in the blossoming romance of the house cook and the player of a shop keeper when the doorbell disturbs the peace. Am supposed to stop and find the remote control to hit pause, when Mr. player shop keep is running all around town pinching bottoms and stealing kisses? I don't think so! I stand up, look out the front window, that gives me a spectacular view of the driveway. Seeing no police cars or fire trucks I plop back down on the sofa and turn up the volume, promising myself that the next person who rings my door bell and beats on the door better have a warrant.

This morning, once again, the doorbell rang, and I did my best to ignore this, but then the banging on the door started. Ignoring the visitor was out of the question, so after taking several deep breaths, checking the window to make sure that it wasn't the prize patrol with my huge check, balloons, and champagne, I opened the door. It was two middle aged ladies who apparently felt that it was their main mission in life to convert me to their religion today or I would be burning in eternal hell tomorrow. Anyone knowing me personally will attest that I, am the queen of polite diplomacy..this morning, not so much. The conversation went like this:

         Me: Good morning, ladies. Can I help you?

      Lady 1: I'm sorry did we wake you? 

        Me: No, I was meditating on ways to solve the gun control problem in this fine country of ours. Is there an emergency?

      Lady 2: Oh no. We wanted to drop off this little booklet of good news. You know when you open the newspaper it is full of bad news. But God has a plan to end our suffering and so his good news is in this booklet.

       Me: Well, we could all use some good news. Obviously you ladies love to read. Did you read the sign by my doorbell? 

     Lady 1: Umm....

       Me: It says "no soliciting" (at this point I was showing the sign like one of those uber-skinny game show models), that means essentially go away. 

With that I closed the door in their surprised face, wishing I had had a snappier little comeback. Let me state, for the record, that I totally understand the whole concept of spreading the "word" and ideology of one's religion, but stand on a street corner and shout it to the heavens and passers-by, don't do door-to-door commando theater, at least not in my neighborhood, especially when I am in a foul mood.

This weekend I'm going to get a bigger sign, maybe one that covers the door bell.

ME

   

Odds and Ends...

Hello friends it's been a while, but life sometimes interrupts art or in this case blogging. Things have been busy here at Rancho de Cuckoo thanks to kids, Mardi Gras and never ending laundry. There have been a lot of thoughts I have wanted to share with you, but I haven't had a chance. And so today I'm going to touch on just a couple of topics, talking points if you will. 

Last week I was keenly affected by the loss of my first teen idol, Davy Jones of The Monkees. One of my first tv/music memories is standing in my playpen (yes I still remember flashes from that early age, my mind works like that) and watching The Monkees. My late mom said I sang around the same time I started talking, and sang along with the show's opening. Growing up my younger sister and I would play their albums until they where worn out and of course we would sing along, hair brushes in hand (you have to be a girl to get this one I think). I'm still feeling the sadness of his loss. We never expect our teen idols to die, and considering the 3 touring Monkees members would turn up every few years you somehow felt as though they might just be here as long as you would be. I was lucky enough to see them in concert 3 times during the 80s, and even met them and got hugs on one occasion. It will always be a highlight of my life, and a fondly cherished memory. Adieu my beautiful Daydream Believer.

My daughter is in a play at her high school. They are performing "Hairspray" later this month. The reason I mention this is because Momma is feeling a little like she is a cast member as well. Why? Because I am having to keep track of my daughter's practice schedule, shuttle her to and from school at odd hours of the day and night.  I must keep track of how much she owes in fees. They ordered wigs for goodness sake, costumes, and I had to purchase special $35.00 shoes and on and on. Whoever said that education at a public school was free, was a liar. Now I was in the school chorus from kindergarten thru twelfth grade. Whenever there was a musical play I was in it, but I do not remember EVER practicing as much as these kids are. It's kind of crazy, I think the teacher in charge thinks this is an off Broadway production, but the kids are having a ball, so break a leg kiddo.

The New Orleans Saints are embroiled in a scandal. It's being reported the the guys on the defense had a kitty going, which was payable when you lay a hit on the other team, effectively taking one of their "stars" out of the game. As far as I can tell, football (American or otherwise) is like a big fraternity, complete with partying, scratching, and burping, that said, I highly doubt that other teams didn't know this was happening and doing it themselves. The problem is that last week a class action suit was filed by ex-footballers regarding old concussions, so now the NFL has to make examples out of my boys. As I am a firm believer in taking the rest of the rats down with a sinking ship, I hope that Saints players, if and when they are slapped with fines and sanctions, sing like birds and prove that this happens every place in the league. 

It's like crazy spring here at my house, the daffodils that I swore where sprouting way too early are blooming, leaves are popping out on the trees and this morning before dawn those way too cheerful for 430am birds where singing. The time changes to daylight's savings time this weekend so I'm going to loose an hour of sleep, dammit, but I will gain an extra hour of outside time so eventually when I get over the sleep deprivation (I do not do time change well) I will be glad. I think it's time to hit the garden store and plant some veggies in the sad and empty pots on my patio. Last year my tomatoes did well, but I didn't get a single eggplant.

If you are or have ever been a fan of ABC's daytime drama General Hospital you really need to be watching it right now. If you can't watch live DVR it or watch on line. New writers have taken over, familiar faces from the late One Life to Live have crossed over and it is sooooooo good. Yes, the downside is Sonny the mob boss with the heart of gold is still there along with Jason, but they are not the main story right now, so get on it!   

And finally, donate to the American Red Cross for those folks here in the US that where effected by last weeks tornadoes, it's a reliable organization, and the money will go to the victims. Buy some Girl Scout cookies when you see those little girls at your local stores. The troops really do make money to  keep them going from the sales and it'll make your tummy happy, and this is National  Craft Month. Go out and make something or buy something from  a crafter that you know. 

That is all for now, a little light and fluffy, from a heart that's heavy. Until next time...

ME

Happy Valentine's Day!

Well, yet another Valentine's Day has arrived. The day when we show those that we love what they mean to us.Yeah, well Hallmark and Walmart I ain't buying it. I believe that we should show the people we love how we feel 365 days a year. So, I am declaring this day, "Great Excuse for Chocolate Day". I don't care what the box is shaped like, it could be aardvark shaped for all I care just gimme, gimme that chocolate.

With all this talk of  love floating in the webisphere today I thought I would talk about a few things that I love..besides chocolate that is because today it is number one on my hit parade. See if you feel the same..

Pizza..not just any pizza will do usually, but I have come to realize that pizza  can match your mood. If you are feeling like a "chunky butt" there is veggie types. For down days give me a meat lovers pizza. My absolute favorite pizza comes from a hole in the wall place, cat flinging distance from the house I grew up called "Tower of Pizza". You can watch them flip the dough through the air, it comes in 2 sizes small and large, you need longer arms to wrestle the hot cheese from the pan to your plate and for me it's  a pepperoni, mushroom and extra cheese, no extra charge for the half inch of grease on top. Not health food, but sometimes you just don't care.

Coffee.. some of the best gifts I've ever received where a bag of beans that I had to grind on my own with a bow on top. It's the stuff that keeps this old bod moving (diet pepsi too). There is just something about a quiet house and a steaming cup of coffee in the morning that says my legs could fall off right this minute, the dishwasher could explode, and the house burn down, but it's ok because I have this awesome cup of joe. 

Puppies.. there is just something about squeeking, waggly, licky balls of fuzz with Puppy Chow breath  that makes me all smiley inside. Of course puppies grow to be adult dogs, but when you are a dog person you just know that you've got the most perfect and unconditional love right there before you, and you don't really care about the proof of their affection they leave laying around for you to retrieve or the holes in your shoes. I've only been without a dog for 3 years in my forty-blah-blah years and those where some lonely damn years. When I get old I'll be the crazy dog lady, sitting on my porch, talking to my wiener dog. 

The Bay City Rollers..Donny Osmond..and Rick Springfield..If you know me personally  you know that I would walk naked, in a hurricane, across shards of flaming broken glass, up hill in the dead of winter to see any of these men in concert or having their shoes shined, it wouldn't matter. Their music colors the scrapbook  of my life, and to me is perfect. If you don't know me or  their music take thy self to youtube right now, and watch these videos, Bay City Rollers "You Made Me Believe In Magic" Donny Osmond "Soldier of Love" and Rick Springfield "Jesse's Girl". Nuf said on that, don't question me.

Traveling.. nothing beats (for me anyway) throwing some clothes in a bag, gassing up the car, and hitting the road. The freedom of the road stretching out before you,  moving from point A to point B and beyond, and it doesn't matter if I'm going across the state for a marching band competition or across the country let's just go and get  the hell outta here for a little while. And if we are staying someplace where I don't have to cook or do laundry even better. Score!

I could go on and on, the list of my loves are vast, but I will throw out one more.. Books.. the ability to read and process the multitude of words contained in a book is the greatest gift that could be granted I believe. Growing up I remember trips to the library during the summer and you threw open the door and walked into the dimly lit book lined walls. The smell was library smell, it was hushed in contrast to the traffic outside, and you stood before the rows and rows like you would stand before the alter in church. You have to touch their spines, and treat them with reverence. Within the covers of a book you can learn, dream, laugh and cry. Your imagination is used not a keyboard, controller, or other costly appliances. 

So there you go, now go out and be with the one you love, love the one you're with, or buy a book but have a fabu VDay.

Until next time...ME

  

Branded For Life..and death

Nearly every morning after I get everyone off to work and school I take my morning coffee into my little office/work room, sit at my computer, and turn on my local talk radio channel. It is a great way to start the brain turning in an effort to tackle the day, or in some cases get the blood flowing to the point that you want to grab someone by the shoulders and shake them really hard. That was the way I started my day today...

I should qualify my following comments by stating that I don't not label myself a conservative person or a liberal either. I believe what I believe and hold on to the values that I have and rarely do I ever try and force them onto anyone else. In other words, I make a concerted effort not to judge others least I be judged, but there are some things that I hear or read that enrage me to no end, especially stories about ill done to children and the stupidity of some people who become "parents".  There are times when I hear about things that go on in this country when I begin to think that perhaps before you can conceive a child you should be able to pass a common sense test, if the test results states "it's a wonder you have lived this long", then perhaps you should rethink this whole procreating thing. The reason for my tirade is simple. On the radio this morning there was a story about a woman from the Atlanta area of Georgia who was arrested because she took her 10 year old son to get a tattoo to memorialize her 12 year old son, his brother who was murdered. The mother was upset about being arrested because she said her son wanted the tattoo and after all its her kid so she should be able to do what she wanted to with him (I am quoting what she said in an interview, I swear). When he was asked why he wanted it he said so he could remember his brother.  

I am not against tattoo's. Before it was cool, in, the quasi-norm that it is today my mother had a small tattoo of her initials above one of her knees. When I asked her about it she told me that, like many things she did before she married my father, she was "young and stupid" when she had it done. I thought it was cool, but she would go through great pains to hide it, placing a small band-aid over it even when she wore hose, so that people would think she had had a leg shaving accident. Many members of my family have tattoos, but I have never gotten one, even though there have been several times in my life that I have wanted to get one. It's not that I am afraid of getting one, it's just that I probably have just enough medical knowledge to remind me of the dangers and a general mistrust of mankind to allow anyone to permanently draw something on my body even in a discrete location in case of spelling errors or lack of artistic skill. I know that there are the majority of people that don't think the way that I do, however there are laws in place for a reason here in the good old USA.  In the state of Georgia, you can not get a tattoo until the age of 18. Simple, and I will say that the radio host playing devils advocate asked his listeners if this was a case of too much government in people's  business, and many on the station's Facebook page said yes. But there are occasions such as this, where the laws are in place to prevent illness or even death. Every year 10,000 people in America die from a disease called Hepatitis C. This is a blood born disease, the Center for Disease Control is tracking the fact that the leading cause of this epidemic in this country right now is from people getting tattoos at shops that do  not take proper precautions to prevent it. You are twice as likely to get Hep C or it's relative Hep B from getting inked than a IV injecting drug user says the CDC's report. Other not so fun diseases they are tracking from the ink shops are AIDS, Tetanus, Tuberculosis, and MRSA also know as the flesh eating bacterial disease to name a few. MY question is what kind of parent would willing take the chance that his/her child could contract one of these life threatening illnesses in the first place?  Is it not the job of a parent to at least attempt to prevent harm coming to their offspring? To me this is like handing them a gun allowing them to play Russian Roulette.

My child has come to me with some wacky requests in her nearly 16 years of life. When she was 10, the same age as the boy who got this tattoo, she wanted a pet tiger cub (don't laugh, in my family it is actually possible) and when asked where we would keep it because we had at that time 4 dogs and 2 cats she said it would live in her room. Besides the fact that like the dogs, cats, subsequent fish and gerbils I would be the one that would end up taking care of the tiger cub, but tigers are a dangerous thing. I would never put her life and limb in such danger even if she cried herself to sleep nightly for wanting one, it wasn't happening. She has also asked as she has seen her sisters and cousins getting tattoos when she may get one as well. We've pointed out the diseases that she could get, we've explained that like all the rest of the pop culture "fads" that have come and gone (belly button piercing for one) that this too shall pass and one day in the future all these tattooed people may find it difficult to get employment, and finally we told her that when you turn 18, don't live in our house and can pay for it your self, if you still want a tattoo, go for it, in hopes that the knowledge we have shared will probably take that long to reach her brain because there is a back up of hormones right now slowing the knowledge flow. By the way, she now understands that tiger cubs belong on game preserves and not bedrooms. But that just goes to show that what we want at 10 changes at 16, 18, and 48. 

As to the woman's statement that it was her kid and she should be able to do whatever she wanted to with him I say, in the old days children where considered property, which led to children working and expiring in sweat shops, children are not property to do with what you want, they are people who must follow the laws as well as are protected by laws. You, madam have failed the common sense test, it is a wonder you have survived this long yourself. It is a shame that she may very well loose another child, this time not to death but her own ignorance because it is obvious to me that she either thought it would be cool if her son was walking around with a memorial to the one she lost or she lacked the parenting skills to say no come back when you are 18 and ask. May the Georgia judicial system be swift.

Until Next Time..ME

The Icon the Mouse Killed

The Icon the Mouse Killed


Sorry dear readers that I have not posted a blog in a while, but the holidays are over, thankfully, and I am ready to get back on my beloved schedule. Today I am going to talk about the death of the soap opera One Life To Live. This topic isn't important to many readers I am sure, but if you have ever stayed home from school or work sick I am willing to bet you have watched at least some or all of a daytime drama in your life time. Perhaps your mother or grandmother watched her "stories" during the day while doing her house work. The cancellation of this American institution is important to myself and millions of others, so bare with us while I mourn.

I began watching daytime dramas very young, at my mother's knee if you will. I remember her watching "The Edge of Night", "Secret Storm", "Days of Our Lives" and "Dark Shadows" before I even began school. My favorite was "Dark Shadows" it still is as I have it cued up on my Netflix, and am eagerly awaiting the upcoming movie starring Johnny Depp. When I started school, I could not wait to get home to watch it and because of my twice-a-year tonsil issues growing up there would be usually two weeks of soap watching with my mom during school and and of course all summer long. Soaps where hardly ever in reruns back in the day. Fast forward to my teenage years. In 1976 I began watching "General Hospital" It was the days before Laura met Luke and they became a super couple that was even talked about in prime time. I had found my own "story", and during the summer I would turn on the television early and watch "All My Children", "One Life to Live", as well as GH. I will admit though, as I grew up I lost interest in All My Children and could never really rekindle a love for it, and One Life to Live became something that was on before General Hospital which I still watch religiously today, until three years ago. That is when OLTL stole my heart yet again.

Starr was pregnant, Todd was being Todd though we found out he was really his twin Victor, and Dorian was just all over the place. If you have never watched the show, you have no idea what I am talking about, but millions of us worldwide know, they have become like family members to us. When we get together we talk about the characters like they are real people, and even if we are strangers, we are bonded together by our Llanview, Pennsylvania family. A year ago after months of swearing that the rumors of cancellation where untrue, ABC the American Broadcasting Company owned by Disney announced that "All My Children" and "One Life To Live" where indeed being cancelled. They stated that the viewers wanted information not entertainment, and commenced to fire thousands of people on both the east coast and west coast that where involved with these shows, replacing them with what they admitted where low budget information shows. "The Chew" starring a couple of chefs who had outlived  their usefulness to The Food Network and "The Revolution" starring Ty Pennington and more people that I personally have never heard of. Millions of viewers cried foul. Campaigns began for fans to email, call, fill out coupons to mail in, and rally at ABC affiliates all over the country, but sadly we could do nothing effective to save our soaps. Then prior to the demise of All My Children a company named Prospect Park appeared to save the day, promising to put our soaps on line. Later when they said they just couldn't make it happen just a couple of weeks ago, did many of us viewers realize it was probably just smoke and mirrors to quiet down the out cry that was causing so much discomfort for the House of Mouse.

So here we sit, 1 week left until One Life to Live ends fittingly on Friday the 13th.  This past Thursday #OLTL trended  on Twitter for the entire time it was on in all the different time zones in the US, Friday it trended world wide. Thursday the drama had me on the edge of my seat and my chest hurting, on Friday I was reduced to sobbing. I realized I felt like I was being divorced, my best friend was moving away or worse passing on to the great unknown all rolled into one. Mainstream media is even writing articles touting that this is the worst mistake ever made by ABC as far as programming goes. So what will I be doing with my time Monday through Friday from 1 to 2 pm CST after this week? Not watching ABC. I still stand with the boycott. The only show that the network airs I watch will be General Hospital. If it is cancelled, ABC and the other channels under Disney will be blocked on all 3 of my televisions. And I will continue to assist in my small way in trying to find a new home for the soaps. After all, my reality, the one life I live  is enough reality for me. I want to be entertained.