Life is like a box of chocolates, ya never know wut yer gonna get

Life is like a box of chocolates, ya never know wut yer gonna get

Friday, November 13, 2009

Posting stuf on the internet...(Internet)

The whole world can see my typos, my spelling errors, and my life stories. Wow! Kinda scary - and kinda cool and kinda dangerous. I love naivete. Is that how you spell it? I love simplicity and innocence. Unfortunately life keeps showing me that those two qualities are more often hazards or liabilities.

I do like keeping a record of the things I write. A diary ... sort of. But I think from now on I will go private. Totally private. Well, as "Totally" private as Big Brother will let me.

Then again - what is the point? "They" already have all my information. They know what I look like, what I am going through, what I buy, what I dream about, probably. I mean, when I write email - the Google ads next to the text are all about the text of my letters...I think they might keep that info for use somewhere in the future. (insert sarcastic wink here). Sounds like Sci-Fi Fodder...or, maybe it was in 1974. I think we've seen movies about the abuse of this techno power stuff, eh?

Why do I like to write? I'm not good at it. I am not a person who can or will craft an elegant sentence. I appreciate it when I read it, but I have a hard time communicating. I find I am usually too lazy to say complete sentences. Thoughts usually stay in my head...and not even in the conscience area - where words are almost audible...but I rely more on the inner voice - that is not quite a voice. She is smarter than I am and she takes care of me. Sometimes. Writing is a way for me to express myself I guess. Wow - that's profound ( grimace here). I find I have to force my self to come up with the words. Like I used to say to my children when they were crying - "Say the words, use your words if you want me to understand you". But I do not feel like a child. Most of the time I just feel too tired to speak. Too apathetically depressed to think you would want to hear what I say...or too lazy to even form an opinion about situations. Nothing really matters anyway. And what I think of a subject makes no difference to anyone.

Wow I'd really betternot post this. The men in the white coast will lock me away and stuff medicine down my throat.

Wednesday, November 11, 2009


i cannot help the smile on my face. you see, i have ingested almost an entire bottle of pinot grigio and i am enjoying the beautiful wonders of my mind. i have a wonderful family...husband and children who love me. regardless of the life that continues to go on about me, I WILL enjoy this time that I have on the earth.
i have been destroying the fleas that have been vampirically killing my poor old cat. I use the flea comb on her twice a day and I decided to put the flea posion on her once again. I have been afraid that the poison would hurt her because she is 16 years old. She was dying you see - and we decided that if the poison killed her - it would be better than being slowly eaten by fleas. Poor baby. AND!!! She is so much better now! She is happier - and HUNGRIER than ever! I bought her some Fancy Feast at K-Mart the other day and she is eating and drinking and happy again. No Fleas were found on her today. I am soooo happy about this. I think this makes me the happiest I've been all month! Yay.
I used the flea comb on Emma today for the second time this week. Emma is a 13 year old mixed breed. We thought she was going to be a Lap Dog when we bought her from a neighbor. "She's part Dachshund and part Corgi" they told us as we handed over the $30. They forgot to tell us that her Daddy was a Rottweiller. Emma weighs 60 pounds and has 12" long legs. Emma was not happy about being called to sit for a combing. She saw that small silver comb as an instrument of torture. Even so, she was obedient and slowly approached me on the bench and stayed still for her combing -She is a good girl, after all. The weird thing though - Abbey, my yellow dog who is sort of a golden retreiver, came when I called Emma. Both dogs had that sheepish look on their faces. They did not want to be subjected to THE COMB. But the weird thing is that Abbey waited for her turn! Yup, she laid down and waited for me to finish Emma and then she marched right up and laid down for her toture. Weird little dog! I love my dogs. I think we three share neurosis. God love us all!!