tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-40441424913334447352024-02-19T11:57:56.061-05:00 ̶H̶o̶m̶e̶l̶e̶s̶s̶ ̶C̶h̶r̶o̶n̶i̶c̶l̶e̶s̶ ̶i̶n̶ ̶T̶a̶m̶p̶a̶ Lost in the CarolinasBlogger, realist, clarifier, if there is such a term. Truth teller, who's not afraid to admit I'm wrong. Hellacious, renegade violist and "computer whisperer"; was once accused of practicing the Dark Arts with systems.
I'm tougher than most and survived things that would have killed most women. I still love life. I was homeless, now I'm not. No longer in the 'hood. Now, somewhere in the Carolinas. The stories are priceless and endless.ViolaFuryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05796592763194795436noreply@blogger.comBlogger450125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4044142491333444735.post-81865618998555732822021-01-06T22:18:00.003-05:002021-01-10T13:25:11.449-05:00#AMWRITING #BLOGGING – ARE WE PROUD NOW, AMERICA?<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHS3MLJq3TFaG69KYd9QWbU8hBXDDsTzGZ6zla8_yXGR5eURnCfonKsa2-aqTM0M0bM-4Xv0VhJkf8i46ztdvpIQp_YzWY5VjSMXvnJWScOsniF0tDCRrT__nIXTBhwFM2HOnFUSJwsulx/s300/swastika-flag-300x1871.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="187" data-original-width="300" height="356" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHS3MLJq3TFaG69KYd9QWbU8hBXDDsTzGZ6zla8_yXGR5eURnCfonKsa2-aqTM0M0bM-4Xv0VhJkf8i46ztdvpIQp_YzWY5VjSMXvnJWScOsniF0tDCRrT__nIXTBhwFM2HOnFUSJwsulx/w571-h356/swastika-flag-300x1871.jpg" width="571" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b>AMERICAN NAZI</b></span></div><p align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>A</b>fter
all of the denial. After all of the normalization. After all of the
rationalization and nay-saying and trying to work around the person
at the center of the discussion, much like trying to avoid the
elephant in the room, our country has finally had to come to the grim
realization that Donald J. Trump is merely a thug, and like any thug,
he tried to apply muscle to both Houses today to force, stall, or
subvert the inevitable.</span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I
have to admit that I've kept him on the outside of my bubble for a
long period of time. My bubble is this: my Asperger condition. I'm
highly functioning, but like any Aspy, too much stimulation or stress
gets all of my other “inconveniences”, like essential tremor
going and so, I retreat to non-knowing bliss. Pretty much the last
time I dealt with anything Trumpian was the day I returned from Japan
and he was doing some of his immigration shit and wouldn't you know
it, but, I had to fly into Dulles Airport and... it sucked. It took
forever to get through Customs, even being legally blind. Whatamess.
I decided that I would check out for a few years and that would be
okay.</span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCaNF1NCrtGkZGOTJC0NVZWPKDD1p_b9RaVv0jKaTZPWneeH1RjogkAyiGu82IpycV5euJfX9QcbVSE5t5BPn1Q25g55Qa0n771BQWIUMvXBsDDB3c1iotXAhWb2l8TuCDnOtSXCxMjHCh/s730/TrumpandDogs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="478" data-original-width="730" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCaNF1NCrtGkZGOTJC0NVZWPKDD1p_b9RaVv0jKaTZPWneeH1RjogkAyiGu82IpycV5euJfX9QcbVSE5t5BPn1Q25g55Qa0n771BQWIUMvXBsDDB3c1iotXAhWb2l8TuCDnOtSXCxMjHCh/w399-h262/TrumpandDogs.jpg" width="399" /></a></div>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Trump. And dogs playing poker. I think the dogs won.</span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So,
I went off to play viola, rescue some cats, move to South Carolina
and get engaged, rescue some more cats, play some more viola, and
then along came 2020. Holy Mackerel.</span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">To
say that this year was bad is like saying that Florida has
hurricanes, or California experiences wildfires. I cannot believe in
the sheer magnitude of the loss of life and the sickness and the blow
to the economy that would NEVER have happened had we not stayed
locked down for an initial six to eight weeks and flat-lined, instead
of a three week lock down and open back up, when diseases don't work
like that, especially a NOVEL virus that has never been seen before
and is zoonotic (translation: jumps from species to species; a
special kind of hell) to boot! I still haven't left the house since
last February.</span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Also,
a little reality check here. Does anyone remember in about the 3<sup>rd</sup>
week of the announcement of having COVID-19 on U.S. soil, that the
U.S. Navy said on Twitter one bright March day, “Oh btw, Aliens are
a thing!” Well, they did and I totally haven't forgotten, but I
digress.</span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Anyway,
as we went through this worst of all years, and experienced George
Floyd's murder over and over via video in late May (which was in
itself 8 years long) and finally saw people get well and truly fed-up
with all of the rampant killing being done by police and #BLM led the
charge to protest and make whites 'fess up to the fact that we've
never, EVER truly addressed racism, nor made everyone free, safe and
equal, we got to take that time to look at ourselves and address our
own shortcomings and say “Yeah, it DOES suck to be a black person
in this here United States. Now, what are we going to do to fix
this?” These kinds of moments are our opportunities to leap forward
and to make reparations and acknowledge that we can do better.</span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">History
gives us this ability to seize that moment and it came again today,
January 6, 2021, when Donald Trump's thugs stormed the Capitol and
took over the House and Senate. It was astonishing. It was
frightening. It was sad and horrific. This is the United States at
its worst, because unlike the War of 1812, we did it to ourselves.</span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">When
we voted in November, 2020, we voted in Joe Biden for our 46<sup>th</sup>
President of the United States. Since that was made official, Donald
Trump has sent Rudy Giuliani, his attorney to several Supreme Courts,
who turned down his petitions in every case, but one. Donald Trump
has tried to get the Electoral College of each state thrown out so
that he can substitute his own delegates; that too has been denied.
He did manage to get some GOP Senators and Congressmen to question
the validity of what was to have been today's final validation by the
sitting Vice President, Mike Pence, but just in case that wasn't
going to work, he called on his Proud Boys and other white
Nationalists and Trumpists to intervene. They did so by storming the
Capitol building and smashing things.</span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn7MVSSmuDbDZq3Z8mAJn4bG4AwXDMj1EtcctMBs48_iVmISjvmAMlkjNTEAI_mpwxYgQmaGBjdPimArSvAgbHhsS2EHHCnvcrC_dyWkoakIuBCDtM3gh8qbAdblmPlYQj6w0fLzEX1tCU/s970/TrumpInsurrection.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="647" data-original-width="970" height="370" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn7MVSSmuDbDZq3Z8mAJn4bG4AwXDMj1EtcctMBs48_iVmISjvmAMlkjNTEAI_mpwxYgQmaGBjdPimArSvAgbHhsS2EHHCnvcrC_dyWkoakIuBCDtM3gh8qbAdblmPlYQj6w0fLzEX1tCU/w556-h370/TrumpInsurrection.jpg" width="556" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><p style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">This is called "fomenting rebellion". Trump should be impeached immediately under Amendment 25 and arrested for that and his followers should be arrested for committing "insurrection". This is still a country of laws and truth. What he doesn't understand is that if a Revolution DOES come, it may not have the desired outcome and there is always, ALWAYS a Trotsky waiting in the wings.</span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This
is thuggery at its finest and you don't get any more brutish than
this. This is shit that was done in the 1<sup>st</sup> Republic of
Rome and that was a long time ago. When the men and women of the
Senate and House were finally allowed to re-convene this evening,
Mitch McConnell (THAT fucking weasel) looked shaken, and spoke of the
need to have a country that was “Ruled by Law” or some nonsense.
Other senators spoke and were impassioned that the American people
had spoken; that a clear majority had voted for Joe Biden and that by
putting aside their wishes, we would no longer stand as a republic,
or a Leader among countries. As it stands, we've already blackened
our own eye, and we have a long way to go to repair our image. Let's
not go down the road of the “banana republic”. </span>
</p><br /><p></p>ViolaFuryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05796592763194795436noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4044142491333444735.post-47399020745421404102020-09-02T14:47:00.002-04:002020-09-04T12:21:58.904-04:00#AMWRITING #BLOGGING - AMERICAN NAZI (REPOST)<p>NOTE: I started this on August 13, 2012 and for some reason never finished it; it needs to be told now, as all we seem to be lacking are the snappy jackboots, parades, and apparently, we don't even need someone who can hold an audience in his thrall for seven hours or chew rugs. . . yet.</p><div align="JUSTIFY"><span face=""><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "arial";"><br /></span></span></span></div><div align="JUSTIFY"><span face=""><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQomn7SpZQpM8LMeVLJhmudWrEPKbw8s1FNUuQAaEDAIH1TSBbLzaTW1qBRYdI3vlQE4bTTYTL0sn4-gs8esu8cfRSgAGtXvM8ManBnEqBn8f5_1HmiTI8ZEzA7F8MsOfqMPPvjRNBX1qv/s300/swastika-flag-300x1871.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="187" data-original-width="300" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQomn7SpZQpM8LMeVLJhmudWrEPKbw8s1FNUuQAaEDAIH1TSBbLzaTW1qBRYdI3vlQE4bTTYTL0sn4-gs8esu8cfRSgAGtXvM8ManBnEqBn8f5_1HmiTI8ZEzA7F8MsOfqMPPvjRNBX1qv/w640-h398/swastika-flag-300x1871.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /></span></div><div align="JUSTIFY"><span face=""><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "arial";">One of my fascinations has always been history and current events; I've been wanting to blog about it. Just about any history will do. The unfortunate fact that I am starting with White Supremacy, American Style has a LOT to do with Charlottesville three years ago and my own uncomfortable experience several years ago, when Hartline #2 and #18 took me to the Doctor, while I still lived in Tampa. I was one of the few white people around, and I found myself looking at the day’s <a href="http://tbteedition.tampabay.com/ee/tampabaytimes/index.php">TBT, Tampa Bay Times</a>**, a rather fine, free bird-cage liner, with that Wade Page shooter and a Swastika emblazoned on the article itself. Since I couldn’t very well stuff it in my mouth and didn’t have my backpack and a only a very small purse, I had to proudly carry it. I hate that kind of shit. As if, possession of a newspaper with a swastika implies that I, a fair-haired, blue-eyed person somehow approves of such goings on. Racial guilt.</span></span></span></div><div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span face="">** I recommend reading </span></span><span style="color: black;"><span face=""><u><a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2012/08/08/us/hatecore-music-is-called-white-supremacist-recruiting-tool.html">this</a></u></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span face=""> article for a quick who's who, and what's what.</span></span></span></div><div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpYDYyL8nIsHWq0INgHHw5M2SKiggL4XhuJZESK6v5syObjcRhmK5Q1TlBsgxyC5Rq_QQmj3VOJu2eKZp22oIMypx3gdkv9SaVwiEacgSlbsfOVcvLea9OJ9kwDh4zVsEvLBW1mpuKpwoA/s1600/SUPREMACY-2-jumbo.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpYDYyL8nIsHWq0INgHHw5M2SKiggL4XhuJZESK6v5syObjcRhmK5Q1TlBsgxyC5Rq_QQmj3VOJu2eKZp22oIMypx3gdkv9SaVwiEacgSlbsfOVcvLea9OJ9kwDh4zVsEvLBW1mpuKpwoA/s640/SUPREMACY-2-jumbo.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: right;"><span style="color: black;"><span face="" style="font-size: xx-small;">courtesy:<a href="http://nytimes.com/">nytimes.com</a> </span></span></div><div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Shooting outside Sikh mosque on August 7, 2012. </span></div><div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span face="">A</span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "arial";">nyway, my headlong immersion into history began with a bath in the events leading up to WWII, via my own father, who lived some of them; but he himself was quite the armchair historian and we didn't make shit up; we verified. All events, starting with the end of WWI, right on through Viet Nam (“Robert McNamara, </span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "arial";"><u>that</u></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "arial";"> son-of-a-bitch!”, I heard my father growl every morning, as he shaved. I can also attest to the fact that directly after Charlottesville, I climbed up out of a sick bed, after having been in the hospital for a week with bradycardia and a low bp (I was probably dying, but was too stupid and stubborn to realize that), I got up and went on a protest march, were we listened to some very inspired rhetoric given by members of the Islamic-American community, The Tampa Communist Maoist Collective and #BLM, along with the Tampa Police Department. We were all one and we all marched and sat in several downtown intersections, snarling up traffic, while people honked in, what I hope, was solidarity. </span></span></span></div><div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "arial";">I've had quite an eduma-ca-tion. I would be intellectually deceitful if I said there wasn’t a powerful fascination in trying to understand why one group, race, nationality could so coldly, precisely and methodically shovel another group, race, nationality into ovens like so much coal, based on a RELIGION(?). I am sad to say, that after 30 years of trying to figure out from so many different angles, artistically, culturally, economically and historically I still don’t. But ahh… there’s that nasty bete noire, religion. God, what nightmares. If some superior being were ever to show itself, we would be cinders. Seriously. We would be deemed unfit to continue our existence. But I went back to study and learn, because the roots of such deviant behavior don’t just spring up; there is a reason. Turns out I had to go all the way back to the Diaspora.</span></span></span></div><div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "arial";">This is not getting to the bus and my embarrassment. I talk to everyone; and had a good time with the usual folks. I am a rarity here; a white person. I am very comfortable with this. My parents, being from Scotland, were completely color-blind. My Grandfather Wallace, with his kids in the old flivver, saved a man from a lynching during the Depression. His kids had no idea what was up. The man was on the back roads of Michigan looking for a job. Grandpa Wallace took him back for a meal and a helper for a few weeks. My folks never understood that fuss.</span></span></div><div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "arial";">I worked, went to school and lived in the equivalent of the UN. I had an Egyptian neighbor. He would be taking his daughter for a walk. I’d say, “hi, how are you?” He’d say, “We are just only sleep-walking.” One night, there’s pounding on my door. It’s the Iranians from across the hall. “Can you come look at this, please?” they ask. I look. “Is this supposed to be funny?” It’s the 3 Stooges. “Trust me, it’s hilarious.” I say. The next morning, I am called to prayers. Well, actually the muezzin blows his tinny little horn on his portable tape deck. I watch as the men bow and pray, bow and pray.</span></span></div><div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "arial";">At the teaching hospital, where I pretended to work, but just asked a lot of questions, because the docs there love to teach, Indian Dr. Das, the Head of Cardiology stopped me. “”You are good with sounds, you play viola.” Since when, but okay. He’s babbling at Dr. Stepniewski, who’s Polish; another Cardiologist. I’m like, “you guys need a translator, you're going to kill a patient”. I ended up translating their conversation; the patient survived; I just hope she didn't end up with two left arms, or something.</span></span></div><div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "arial";">This is all leading up to this: the "otherness" and how white supremacists play to that. There are approximately 100 to 150 active to semi-active bands, such as <a href="http://tightrope.cc/catalog/">Panzerfaust Records</a>(now defunct, but follow the link; those assholes need to be put out of business too) that promote hate music. They will actively try to recruit junior and senior high kids as they are the easiest of targets. The thing I found interesting is that they are using music to inculcate these hate values into people, particularly the young. Death metal particularly. I love music, the harder, the more metal the better. Despite the fact I am a classically trained violist means nothing. Beethoven is my god. Were he alive today, he’d be writing and playing metal. Beethoven also believed in the brotherhood of man. Think very carefully about that.</span></span></div><div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "arial";">There are other groups of skinheads who are diametrically opposed to these ideals and should be promoted. They refer to themselves as <a href="http://cu-sharp.net/">SHARP</a>s, or <a href="http://cu-sharp.net/">Skinheads Against Racial Prejudice</a>. I love music. The fact that it is being used by people like Wayne Page, now deceased and his ilk is anathema to me. <a href="http://www.unomaha.edu/criminaljustice/faculty.php#simi">Peter Simi</a>, who is associate professor of criminology at the University of Nebraska met Page in 2001 in California. Professor Simi’s specialty is hate crime and hate groups and I’m paraphrasing.</span></span></div><div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div align="JUSTIFY" style="border-bottom: 1.1pt double rgb(0, 0, 0); border-left: none; border-right: none; border-top: none; margin-bottom: 0in; padding: 0in 0in 0.03in;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "arial";">What is most alarming is the rising rate of proponents of white supremacy in the military. Because of lower recruitment rates, standards were lowered and white supremacists were allowed to join. Evil begets evil. I know from several people who have been in prison, done hard time that white supremacy abounds there. It should also be stated in the interest if fairness that an equal number of Latino and Gang Bangers reside there as well.</span></span></div><div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "arial";">Here the original post ends, but I think that the gangs in prisons, by and large, exist as protection (see the wonderful “OZ” if you have not done so. It fully explores this subject.) and once out, most people who are NOT career criminals – and I can speak with authority -- having been housed with felons, leave that life behind. They return to normalcy.</span></span></div><div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><br /><div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "arial";">Yet, today, we have one of the most anti-semitic, and if not yet, we will see, jew-baiting, hating Presidents as a Leader of the Free World. We might expect something like this from someone like Vladimir Putin, but guess what? Putin is above all, a statesman and he will not stoop to this sort of rhetoric. I am NOT a Putin apologist, by any means, but, BUT, when you have a Holocaust Memorial Day and do NOT mention the Jews, you are not far from calling out the the SS, the SA, and getting the ovens ready. I am inflammatory and I mean to be. Bring your shit on, Trump. 306 electoral votes my ass! YOU are our American Nazi!</span></span></div><div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "arial";"><br /></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="color: black;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIgS1i9VjObJAOSv95sXAZlfw78NReU8gQqVummQjkZOl60X18z89InLh1GtMThyGlvLlps8h7rVO4XQL0tqHCRgxtYkwXiJzuDqTlZEjcKFlIOW0ptcaIiqQ4XeQQZNrYJI-8echLC752/s1046/Alien6.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="93" data-original-width="1046" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIgS1i9VjObJAOSv95sXAZlfw78NReU8gQqVummQjkZOl60X18z89InLh1GtMThyGlvLlps8h7rVO4XQL0tqHCRgxtYkwXiJzuDqTlZEjcKFlIOW0ptcaIiqQ4XeQQZNrYJI-8echLC752/s640/Alien6.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">God Bless anyone who has read this far, and I truly hope you have, because what I have to say next is said out of fear and hope. I'm going to provide two links that talk about the recent RNC and the events in Kenosha, WI. I see a country running dangerously close to the tipping point of madness. If, IF we wish to have an election come November 3rd, and a fair one, which seems to be less and less likely for a myriad of reasons -- USPS being sabotaged; Trump deciding he will not accept the terms; Law Enforcement, not including Military, stupidly getting involved; Barr's gang of ne'er-do-wells showing up uninvited and shooting random people; any number of any other things, not to mention Dems deciding "we've got this; may as well stay home!", we ALL really need to collect ourselves, be calm and do ... NOTHING! Stay home! Don't protest. Don't go out and do something that will provoke the authorities. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I admit, there's much to be changed, up and down the line, but RIGHT NOW, sixty-four days prior to the election, we need to NOT give Trump an excuse to declare some bloviation of an excuse to declare Martial Law and keep his fat ass in the White House. We need for an orderly (as much as possible) election, and as fair as one as possible to occur, so we can get him OUT. The damage he's already caused is immense, and we need no more! I'm going to stop talking now; I think you're all smart enough to understand the danger our Republic is in and that we ALL need to unite and take a deep breath. Let's worry about fixing messes and addressing wrongs, after this election. If we don't settle down, 2016, may have been our last Presidential election. Have a great September! Here come the links! </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><a href="https://slate.com/news-and-politics/2020/08/rnc-white-house-trump-gop-fascism-kenosha-murder.html" target="_blank">This Was the Week American Fascism Reached a Tipping Point</a><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://slate.com/news-and-politics/2020/09/trump-support-kyle-rittenhouse-election-violence.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The Horror of Trump's Support For Kyle Rittenhouse</span></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div></span></div>ViolaFuryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05796592763194795436noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4044142491333444735.post-82668031971054858402020-07-01T15:54:00.000-04:002020-07-01T15:54:25.695-04:00#IWSG – JULY 2020 CHECK IN – THE LIFE AND DEATH OF ELIJAH McCLAIN<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy0K4kxv_AcaoFckrjPhHl-sR-r_DSso5v4AeI1w5ppFxRzruykE2FRkJZmGVXBzfNVkIO1acnv2JsEHEBgv_BjbQn6BSzlDAI5U6JwiFrCH-viTlPmCzKSqRVwdppM3xsxmWo4rMq-W_X/s1600/Insecure+Writers+Support+Group+Badge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="315" data-original-width="320" height="393" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy0K4kxv_AcaoFckrjPhHl-sR-r_DSso5v4AeI1w5ppFxRzruykE2FRkJZmGVXBzfNVkIO1acnv2JsEHEBgv_BjbQn6BSzlDAI5U6JwiFrCH-viTlPmCzKSqRVwdppM3xsxmWo4rMq-W_X/s400/Insecure+Writers+Support+Group+Badge.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;">I
haven't checked in, or written a great deal, lately. Time and events
have been rather overwhelming and when I do write, I find I write out
of a sense of urgency, or because I'm so enraged by what I've
witnessed, I cannot hold it in. My orchestra is on hiatus, for how
long? Who knows? I live in a Red State, which has completely and very
ham-fistedly bungled any head start the Medical Community possibly
had on containing the Coronavirus and they re-opened much, much, too
soon, as we are now seeing. The global window is rapidly closing, and
there is a new swine flu virus in Asia, that is, supposedly, not
transmissible to humans, although people who do work with swine
there, have tested positive for it, but are asymptomatic, and there
are no signs that the virus is transmissible from person to person<span style="font-size: x-small;">*</span>.</span></div>
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</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Shortly
after I wrote my previous post regarding the evictions en masse in
the lower-income housing not very far from my house, and the
heart-breaking image of the children's toys came the death of George
Floyd and the Revolution took to the streets. I really had nothing to
say on that, other than, “about time” and “I can be your
Trotsky, should you need one”, but felt the people were eloquent
enough in their righteous anger and fury over the dis-enfranchisement
and the breaking of the contract that America should have kept with
Black Americans and POC. Besides, I mentioned “fault lines” in my
last post prior to all of the civil disobedience and Here. We. Are.
We all do want the same thing and deserve it: equal treatment under
the Law, Safety, and Fairness. What could be easier?</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnwe5NCbZ8Z_WudyHXFksZr0yQG3z6izFNm_BaSoldWQI9UiIRCJvav_dwUtM8Yg8N3Ck9Jdciq0rYx9LlCi_1XLLsjwltbruJIW9M_hpTBIM1mrLFkVkfTOZzZy5hfnfMsR4YI-O7E1cY/s1600/elijahmcclain1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="424" data-original-width="324" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnwe5NCbZ8Z_WudyHXFksZr0yQG3z6izFNm_BaSoldWQI9UiIRCJvav_dwUtM8Yg8N3Ck9Jdciq0rYx9LlCi_1XLLsjwltbruJIW9M_hpTBIM1mrLFkVkfTOZzZy5hfnfMsR4YI-O7E1cY/s640/elijahmcclain1.JPG" width="488" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"> courtesy of:<a href="http://junkee.com/">junkee.com</a> </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Elijah McClain</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But, apparently,
we still have nameless gorms who prefer living in the bad old days of
Jim Crow and “Whites Only”, or more recently "White Power". Again, I'm really glad my folks
aren't here to see this travesty of a country we've become. I
remember my father and his sister telling me of the time they were driving in the old flivver, with their father, Grandpa Wallace, in like 1937, in the back woods
of Michigan, and they happened upon three white men, trying to string
up a black man, who was on a lonely road, in the wrong place, at the
wrong time. My grandfather, being a Wallace, stopped the car and like
something out of “To Kill A Mockingbird”, confronted the men. He stood them down. Being the cowards that they were, they left the scene, leaving the black man alone.</span></div>
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</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My
father was pretty young at the time and I got most of the story from
his older sister, Mary, my namesake. It seems the black man was
walking the back roads of the lower peninsula of Michigan, looking
for work. His people were in Illinois. My Grandfather came from a
long line of crofters in Scotland. Sir William was originally a farmer before he led armies. He was also literate, having been schooled by his uncle, the local Priest. Anyway, his great-great-great-great, many times over grandson took the man home and fed him,
and gave him a place to sleep for a few weeks, while he helped my
Grandmother with chores and my Grandfather in the fields. Winter was
coming, so when the hard frost hit, my folks paid the man, and sent
him home. My folks being of Scots blood didn't hold with all of this
“colored this” and “colored that”; they had also known
oppression in their day. , However, I really, really digress.</span></div>
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<br />
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This
is about the life and death of Elijah McClain; a young man I barely
heard of until this week. There were a few things in the news about him. But,
there's been so much lately. We started the year with an Impeachment
Trial, Kobe Bryant died, which was huge and then, went right into
Covid-19, with a side-helping of Aliens, courtesy of the U. S. Navy,
in the early days of the Pandemic; I guess on the off-chance we'd all
have whip-lash and have forgotten how to read. We closed the Economy,
and then, when cases slowed, we opened the Economy, and... OOOPS! Too
soon! Now, we're dealing with exponential increases in cases of
Covid-19 and our global window is closing. We may as well just throw
in the towel. Period.</span></div>
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<br />
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But,
back to Elijah McClain. A gentle-souled, sweet young man who lived in
Aurora, Colorado. By all accounts, he was a wonderful person. He
worked as a massage therapist and his clients loved him for his
sweetness, warmth and the way he lit up a room. He played the violin
and on his breaks, he would go to the local animal shelter and play
for the homeless cats and dogs there. “It soothed them,” one
young lady said. I wish I knew more about Elijah. I wish I knew him
when he was alive. </span>
</div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">One
night last year, on August 24, 2019, Elijah went to get his brother
an iced tea. He wore an open ski mask because he suffered from anemia
and he would get cold. I know what that's like. Someone called the
police and reported a “suspicious person, wearing a mask and waving
his hands”. Although unarmed and just listening to music, police
say a “struggle ensued”. A carotid hold was placed on Elijah and
when he didn't calm down, he was injected with Ketamine<span style="font-size: x-small;">**</span>, a supposed
“therapeutic dose” to calm him down. It put him into cardiac
arrest. He was transported to the hospital and put on life support.
His family finally had him taken off life support on August 30,
brain-dead and covered in bruises.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuuycA1FhMf1VIkNUkeLlQpGnhT31mA8a70W3t_ecvlZ1UWjCxFoPjPGaEBdpHWd-sm0ONu99taLEJz0kFgm_5eC-d1umvSU0u8jYCw5pXZZdxtm8qC7E52KSKv_Gr2iXKbIrJPVODAPKE/s1600/elijamcclain2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="421" data-original-width="302" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuuycA1FhMf1VIkNUkeLlQpGnhT31mA8a70W3t_ecvlZ1UWjCxFoPjPGaEBdpHWd-sm0ONu99taLEJz0kFgm_5eC-d1umvSU0u8jYCw5pXZZdxtm8qC7E52KSKv_Gr2iXKbIrJPVODAPKE/s640/elijamcclain2.JPG" width="458" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"> courtesy of:<a href="http://junkee.com/">Junkee.com</a> </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Elijah, playing his violin to the stray cats in the shelter. It soothed them the shelter workers said. My cats love it when I play.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This
is the bare-bones, brief story. For months, the body-cam footage was
not released by the APD. When released, an officer can be heard
admitting that Elijah had done nothing illegal prior to his arrest.
Another officer accuses Elijah of trying to grab one of their guns.
In the meantime, Elijah can be heard trying to say he's turning off
his music; he vomits, and says his house is “right there”, then
apologizes. “I wasn't trying to do that. I just can't breathe
correctly.” One of the officers can be heard threatening to sic his
dog on Elijah and also that he showed an “extreme show of strength
when officers tried to pin back his arms”.</span></div>
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</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Very
little of the officers' protocol can be observed however, due to
their contention that their body cams all fell off during the arrest.
The autopsy was inconclusive, and subsequent news reports seemed to
point to McClaine himself as the unwitting cause of his own demise,
because he struggled so, but, as Mari Newman, an attorney for the
McClain family stated at the time, “Whatever the report says, it's
clear if the police had not attacked Elijah McClain, he would be
alive today.”</span></div>
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</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The
officers, as officers in just about every one of these cases, with
the notable exceptions of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, and most
recently Rayshard Brooks, got off, initially, but a ground-swell of
outrage and a plea from the Aurora, CO community and then, the
nation, led the Attorney General of CO to re-open the Elijah McClain
case and take a good, hard look at the injustice that was done to
this fine, young man.</span></div>
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<br />
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As
a musician, I feel this. As a human being, this is just beyond the
pale. Last Thursday evening, there was a violin vigil held for Elijah
McClain in Aurora, in a park. Many string players showed up to play
and practicing social distancing, they were playing Pachelbel's
“Canon in D”. I know this piece by heart. I can riff on it, play
it blues-y, play it jazz-y, play it in my sleep, play it upside down.
But, I didn't get to hear much of what these talented, young
musicians were doing, because the cops showed up. They showed up and
they did what they do best. They threw a bunch of pepper spray or
tear gas and they were in full riot gear. I could not hear any music
over the screaming of “NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!” My poor kitty Allie
could hear this and she got distressed. What is so wrong with us as a
country that we can no longer assemble as is OUR RIGHT UNDER THE LAW!
Not just any right, but our 1<sup>st</sup> AMENDMENT RIGHT! </span>
</div>
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<br />
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">These
people weren't preaching sedition, or treason (why bother, we have a
treasonous bastard for a President?), nor were they plotting the
overthrow of the government, although it may be time to start
thinking about a major change, because this shit ain't working!</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX5Ne6lsbG30BKn0Nc18p7TFygJtxMYxfPfSQCPSwREzwOMcHT7D9NXgA-vZjSNudhMn9JGuNSOLx3Cu7yXLghXtwBJAJUtBdak9m3gqixHO41X5wl5Qd3WWea5r8YhQZrmzUutLOFGtLN/s1600/elijahmcclain3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="368" data-original-width="340" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX5Ne6lsbG30BKn0Nc18p7TFygJtxMYxfPfSQCPSwREzwOMcHT7D9NXgA-vZjSNudhMn9JGuNSOLx3Cu7yXLghXtwBJAJUtBdak9m3gqixHO41X5wl5Qd3WWea5r8YhQZrmzUutLOFGtLN/s640/elijahmcclain3.JPG" width="590" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"> courtesy of:@ohsnapitztab via the CUT </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">MUSIC
transcends color, sex, orientation, religion, culture, time and
belongs to everyone. I will NEVER get to hear Elijah McClain play,
but boy, do I wish I did. I think I really missed out on something
lovely. The more we take the beauty and grace out of our society the
uglier we become. I, for one, don't want to see this happen. Say his
name. Elijah McClain. Remember him. Say his name. Someone must; I know he's
indelibly etched upon my heart. </span>
</div>
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====================================================================</div>
<br /><br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">*CNN Report, June 29, 2020</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">**Ketamine was approved for use on humans in 1962. Prior to that it was used primarily as a horse tranquilizer. It is known as Vitamin K, Special K on the street and is known to cause seizures, dementia and can cause arrhythmia when used in people with heart conditions.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">For more information, please see this site: </span><a href="https://www.thecut.com/2020/06/the-killing-of-elijah-mcclain-everything-we-know.html"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">https://www.thecut.com/2020/06/the-killing-of-elijah-mcclain-everything-we-know.html</span></a></div>
</div>
ViolaFuryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05796592763194795436noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4044142491333444735.post-41922202311757232432020-05-25T14:01:00.001-04:002020-05-25T15:05:14.986-04:00#AMWRITING #BLOGGING - WE ARE A NATION OF HOLLOW DREAMS<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">For
the last three months I have been in a voluntary quarantine. As soon
as I heard about the Coronavirus and the first cases were announced
in Seattle, I went straight to my PCP and in our short-hand lingo,
discussed triage, supplies and what it all would mean for me, as I'm high-risk. Having
worked in a tertiary care facility for four years, I knew that I was
way down on the list for any kind of care, other than palliative, and
in five minutes, I knew that I would be staying indoors for the
duration of whatever this was, until a suitable vaccine was cobbled
up, by our health industry. </span>
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I
just had no idea that beneath the layers of what seemed to be a
functioning (albeit, a dysfunctional one) nation, lay fault lines
that were well-nigh insurmountable and that, moreover, the
Powers-That-Be would not be swayed by a mere Pandemic to let their
Better Angels out to save the day. No, all this lay ahead, to be
peeled back in an ugly and rapacious manner that becomes uglier and
meaner each day. </span>
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">In
early March*, when it seemed that we would have most of our work
force staying “at home”, with the exception of the essential
workers, and it was being bandied about in the House and Senate
regarding Incentive checks and PPP for small businesses, there was
also discussion about rent and mortgage “forgiveness” that would
allow people to stay in their homes or apartments if they were
furloughed. It was called <u><a href="https://www.congress.gov/bill/116th-congress/house-bill/6515" target="_blank">H.R. 6515</a></u><span style="text-decoration: none;">
and introduced 4/17/2020. This was to take care of folks to make sure
that the homeless population didn't worsen, and to keep PEOPLE IN
PLACE, during the Pandemic. </span></span>
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">*Not precisely sure of the time lines, or when this was first talked about. </span></span></div>
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<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">I
hate changing tracks like this, but I must at this juncture; one of
the reasons I haven't blogged as much as I used to, as everything has
overwhelming, but this, this is too much. My fianc</span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">é
came home the other day from work (he works for the DOD and IS
essential) and had a small children's bicycle, and a kids' hot-wheels
toy in the trunk. I asked him where they had come from. </span></span></span></span></span></span>
</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">We, of course, have no children. We're going to fix them up and give them away; it just breaks my heart to see them.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">It
turns out that there is an apartment complex about ½ mile from our
house, and it is for lower-income people. Our dog, Ripley, always
runs over there and plays with all the other dogs when he gets off of
his chain, or out of the house; we're familiar with the people there.
So, James told me that people are being evicted right and left there.
There are toys, clothing; kids' clothing, furniture, all piled up out
there. I'm just enraged. What happened to all this “forgiveness”
of rent? Is it because we're living in a Red State, but this doesn't
translate to a Black or Brown State? Did the money just disappear
into some fat cat's pocket up there in Columbia, or Raleigh, or
wherever?</span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYtzcUYUPZAzCWhpHKLs6dJdYtNbUpaE6d2ByZDsuf9vBBAnRGqSbJGAfXXTs4WvpIf71Q-26LwkiEC_O9r34z9EEn_Osocaht7Zr4YMImb1qXLmhCkY1QH2Ru0zD0B0y8SG_IgB8md1gG/s1600/hotwheel1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYtzcUYUPZAzCWhpHKLs6dJdYtNbUpaE6d2ByZDsuf9vBBAnRGqSbJGAfXXTs4WvpIf71Q-26LwkiEC_O9r34z9EEn_Osocaht7Zr4YMImb1qXLmhCkY1QH2Ru0zD0B0y8SG_IgB8md1gG/s640/hotwheel1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The toys are well-used and also well-kept. The children obviously were proud of them.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Every
one of those toys is some kids' ruined dream; a failure on the part
of this country. We can't teach them, we can't house, feed, or clothe
them. What is wrong with this society, and what do we have to fear by
teaching everyone, and I mean EVERYONE, to the best of our ability,
to be the best that they can be. NO child should have his or her
dream, or ideal kicked to the curb by some money-grubbing fat bastard
who doesn't need another goddamned dime from the American Public, or
from anyone, period!</span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGWipmFN57zeCBYwEOSmH2TLW0bgCFfQ73JyT5IDjEvy9IsWbF3be890k02nzMnchD1MEy2zpiMra2-6JKElWf7yLRdE89dD3jO23WCKeYa0QkyZq3wk5JPIYr10AhO5qt7UQgiTDv80K0/s1600/hotwheel2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGWipmFN57zeCBYwEOSmH2TLW0bgCFfQ73JyT5IDjEvy9IsWbF3be890k02nzMnchD1MEy2zpiMra2-6JKElWf7yLRdE89dD3jO23WCKeYa0QkyZq3wk5JPIYr10AhO5qt7UQgiTDv80K0/s640/hotwheel2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">We have no way of knowing where the families may have gone, or if they're homeless. We're in a small town. So, they're probably in Greenville, or Spartanburg.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">The Pandemic laid bare the fault lines that may have remained hidden for five years, or a decade. This
country has become a weakened shell; a former chimera of itself. Our
infrastructure has rotted to nothing. Bridges collapse daily, killing
people in cars trying to cross them. Dams burst, flooding towns; two
in Michigan burst last week. We have a golden opportunity to put
together another CCC (Civilian Conservation Corps) to re-build our
infrastructure, yet, our government is so corrupt with nepotism and
incompetence and revolving door-ism, if Trump doesn't like the cut of
someone's jib that nothing gets done, except some more GOP judges,
who are unfit to judge dog shows are packed onto benches, because
right-wing matters. If Trump doesn't like the news, he either lies about it, or he lies about what he just said, claiming it was "sarcasm". Who does that?</span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih23-I9_S_EYNReo0ji4F95h2FwZJqxsdozDRCsA1NTO3lrWzgJCa_8-73wyaJ22OoTQFhHmAQCF9nfLrqTZa1z2KLuOAMkE3JYa-BzWNQ0fyyXs3gtsmpY9XO8Uhk7NzWCAv_-hmxgarp/s1600/Glenn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih23-I9_S_EYNReo0ji4F95h2FwZJqxsdozDRCsA1NTO3lrWzgJCa_8-73wyaJ22OoTQFhHmAQCF9nfLrqTZa1z2KLuOAMkE3JYa-BzWNQ0fyyXs3gtsmpY9XO8Uhk7NzWCAv_-hmxgarp/s640/Glenn.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">My baby Glenn, wondering why Mama's crying.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">I've
said this before and I'll say it again; two of the finest Americans
who were at total opposites of the spectrum as regards politics are
no longer with us and I'm talking about my parents. My father used to
joke about how he was to the right of the John Birch Society and my
mother used to say she was a bomb-thrower (Anarchist, for those not
in the know), yet, we had some of the best political discourse around
our dinner table that I'll never forget, and I'm so goddamned glad
they're not here to see this mess of a country. I have a passport and
don't think that I'm not thinking about maybe packing it in and
making it back to the Auld Sod, as an Ex-Pat, when all of this shit
is over. I'm so done with whatever is going on here and I'm not even
sure if the U. S. is able to see its way out of the mess that is
COVID-19.</span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">As
long as people keep lying to themselves and going outside and doing
all of the things that are counter-intuitive and playing politics,
there is going to be THIS Pandemic. Coronavirus don't care if you're
GOP, DEM or INDEPENDENT. It's not about politics. It's not about your
stupid freedoms. You're not having a “Rosa Parks” moment, by
defying any government's (Federal or State's) orders and herding up
together with your friends. Your Civil Rights are not being trampled.
Imagine this were WW II. Would you go outside in London during the
Blitz, because the German bombs were taking away your rights to stand
in the streets and get blown to bits? I thought not. Think on that,
this Memorial Day, and remember those who died for us, so we could
live.</span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
</div>
ViolaFuryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05796592763194795436noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4044142491333444735.post-41602490438914167102020-04-09T13:59:00.000-04:002020-04-09T21:24:34.088-04:00#A-TO-Z-CHALLENGE – LETTER “G” - GLENN WALLACE, THE CAT<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8xWZVOKQBqWIeDIP_mBZDKOd2Ptb8z0RjNXweopAdGKrNm1byoz-NLG8hVUh9jHmgqeu4_xeWbMtJgxpLhN33PsF4gOIpRZTMbhb_ZYJpuDgEAZWOpAX4bm-zZ8vhyUDp3z_5SP0BoSe9/s1600/G2020.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="450" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8xWZVOKQBqWIeDIP_mBZDKOd2Ptb8z0RjNXweopAdGKrNm1byoz-NLG8hVUh9jHmgqeu4_xeWbMtJgxpLhN33PsF4gOIpRZTMbhb_ZYJpuDgEAZWOpAX4bm-zZ8vhyUDp3z_5SP0BoSe9/s400/G2020.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b>G</b><span style="font-weight: normal;">lenn
Wallace, the cat is a pretty amazing cat, although it must be said,
he's actually pretty ridiculous most of the time. He's scary-smart.
My better half named him after my late father, who was himself a
pretty amazing, and scary-smart man, and also had his ridiculous
moments. Glenn came to us in a rather startling way; we live out in
the country on a corner parcel. There's just a lonely water tower and
not much else around. Part of the land is abutted by forest and
that's where Ripley the yodeling dog's imaginary pals live.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">I
spend most of the day ensconced in a house that is very secure and
because of the day and the age, I am very aware of what's going on
around me. It's quiet and Ripley will bark if people show up, so
we're pretty safe. However, someone managed to sneak a
black-and-white tuxedo kitten into our front door, between the screen
door and the front door and there he stayed for a full ten hours,
while James was at work. Now, the kitten may have wandered in there
and gotten caught, I don't know. All that I do know, is when James
came home, he said “Mary, how did the cat get out?”, when he
opened the door. He was holding a black-and-white tuxedo kitten. I
had not been out all day; hadn't opened the door. Our two
chuckleheads were inside, busily dismantling the bedroom.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUBRuCzy3HJEcumDGn18WUpUsRL01smkbWvZfnZ3NDHIjWPM4ZiCTM7WY4t6AgQ4e_tCH9Z1YlsjlYfnnDPEHGgPHXZA6Ltf-jNw8kxUhlTgrkvdbZrXT6LvgLmXFadnuXtXfPVP5wC0bw/s1600/Glenn1stnight.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="358" data-original-width="259" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUBRuCzy3HJEcumDGn18WUpUsRL01smkbWvZfnZ3NDHIjWPM4ZiCTM7WY4t6AgQ4e_tCH9Z1YlsjlYfnnDPEHGgPHXZA6Ltf-jNw8kxUhlTgrkvdbZrXT6LvgLmXFadnuXtXfPVP5wC0bw/s640/Glenn1stnight.jpg" width="460" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">This is what Glenn looked like his first night with us. James was calling him "Kitler" from an old website from the 00s, that featured kittens with Hitler mustaches, that I had remembered. I was like, "Erm, no."</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">I
pointed behind me to the two hoodlums and said, “I haven't opened
the door all day; haven't been out! Look, here are our two goons!”
I thought to myself “That trickster. James; he's just looking for a
way to sneak </span><u><span style="font-weight: normal;">another</span></u><span style="font-weight: normal;">
kitten into this household. Ha ha!” And he was looking at me like,
“Mary, she's such a card! Looking for a way to get <u>another</u> new
kitten in this house!”</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDtWJ51Lo1UjxcMe_5d0AiEcD3UqlP-Kvzrbao7j9frm09njq_VMFCsLLapqbytZG9iwku25t_Md7baaRu1pKQRYS3X1gbWx9AISmN71eZAvO9b4-WJLWuWbqSuHOL91Xh9y6MkfR9QdDM/s1600/CharmingGlenn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDtWJ51Lo1UjxcMe_5d0AiEcD3UqlP-Kvzrbao7j9frm09njq_VMFCsLLapqbytZG9iwku25t_Md7baaRu1pKQRYS3X1gbWx9AISmN71eZAvO9b4-WJLWuWbqSuHOL91Xh9y6MkfR9QdDM/s640/CharmingGlenn.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Glenn, as he looks now. Don't let the beauty fool you; he's thinking of either his next meal, or what kinda shenanigans he can get into next. His favorite thing is to run rampant under my kitchen cabinets. I've told him that's Chthulu's timeshare, but Glenn doesn't care, much as my father wouldn't have cared.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">James
came all the way into the house with the new kitten. We could see that he (we
checked that out right away, and he was an un-neutered male) was distressed; hot, dehydrated, hungry and rather skinny. He was about the same size as our
two kittens. This was in October, so he was about six months old. Our
kittens were both inoculated and up-to-date on their vaccinations, so he couldn't make them sick.
The first thing we did was call the shelter for the county we now
live in. They had no room for a kitten and the earliest they could
neuter the kitten was in December. I didn't like that they had no
room, and this wasn't a “no kill” shelter, so we decided to keep
him. </span>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">James
bathed him. This wasn't like the epic baths that my father used to
give our cat, Oliver, when Oliver rolled in motor oil. My dad would
lock them both in the bathroom and the yowling, screeching, and
tearing of shower curtains and crashing around would commence. They'd
both exit the bathroom, licking their wounds and treated bath time as
some type of blood sport. The pair had an on-going feud? game? for
ages, which my mom and I both enjoyed. </span></span>
</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKSa6L5OZeAqQz3klgPqjhwN0-sX4anZd5WqMcO7eLWsiezEUvYsErzcCuF_y6mQoF96MbLDWbkf5SASVDUvbyMosjQkV8PwsuGC1vBklKyK_9KLSs3YtBZ2vurTbBFMyTbWRtduC24Ju2/s1600/5milesofglenn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKSa6L5OZeAqQz3klgPqjhwN0-sX4anZd5WqMcO7eLWsiezEUvYsErzcCuF_y6mQoF96MbLDWbkf5SASVDUvbyMosjQkV8PwsuGC1vBklKyK_9KLSs3YtBZ2vurTbBFMyTbWRtduC24Ju2/s640/5milesofglenn.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Eddifer and Glenn draped over, sleeping on the corner of my bed. Glenn looks like Superman or something here. I gave up trying to make the bed, because they all run around under the sheets, like a bunch of worms. Honestly.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Anyway,
after Glenn's bath, we introduced Allie and Eddie to Glenn. We still
hadn't picked out a name for him. We didn't have a feel for his
personality. He was fine with the other cats, but was really, really
hungry, so we fed him. </span></span>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">And,
continued to feed him. About this time, I noticed that my hamburger
buns on top of the microwave had a gnawed corner, in the bag and one
of the buns had had some tiny bites taken out of it. I thought we had
mice and since none of the kittens had really had mothers to teach
them to hunt, I assumed that a tiny intruder was in my kitchen.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">That
week, when we went to the grocery store and I brought home a fresh
loaf of bread, Glenn – who'd earned his name by doing something
asinine that amused James, who while laughing, said “I'm gonna name
this kitten after your Dad!”, and I, of course, being in on the
entire ridiculousness of the situation, said, “Please do!” –
saw this fresh loaf of bread and took a tiny, kitten-sized chomp
squarely out of the middle of it as I watched, and I realized who
the “mouse” in the house really was. I took the old loaf's sleeve
and the piece Glenn had tried to eat, gave Glenn the chomped piece of bread, put the old sleeve on the new bread, took the new sleeve with the chomp in it, tossed it in the garbage and put all of
the bread either in the microwave or the fridge, for
safe-keeping. I give him the heels and now, Eddifer's in on this
game of playing with/eating pieces of stale bread, when I make
sandwiches. I don't give them much; just a bit to play with, and then
eat. They're supposed to be carnivores, after all.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi75vVXKi78dg9soO1ARnqU6Ytk-6tWSzKzax9Jk_F5JV2G7Hv0HWuSvQGaOvERyux2pfLGhtIYhtesD7-pH8PmE0m_Y9MYzANnRkTYARYZfr0BYTCQ64U5s4ExTjmDwZeDKR_VvMmH3E3G/s1600/Glenncone1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="305" data-original-width="227" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi75vVXKi78dg9soO1ARnqU6Ytk-6tWSzKzax9Jk_F5JV2G7Hv0HWuSvQGaOvERyux2pfLGhtIYhtesD7-pH8PmE0m_Y9MYzANnRkTYARYZfr0BYTCQ64U5s4ExTjmDwZeDKR_VvMmH3E3G/s640/Glenncone1.jpg" width="476" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I know this is blurry; a testament to my fine picture-taking and my essential tremor, but this is the saddest pair of eyes I've ever seen. Poor Glenn! He only had to wear the cone for about 48 hours, but it was an eternity in terms of the Drama that unfolded in his mind, I'm sure!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Glenn
is also the longest cat I've ever seen; long legs, tail and whiskers.
He's almost four feet long when he stretches out on the floor and
he's not fully grown yet. Like he's part Cheetah, and he gallops
around the house like a little horsey. I think he revels in the sound
his feet make on the hardwood floor. All he needs are little horsey
shoesies.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">He's
also the one who goes in for all the weird, odd, and animated toys
that James brings home. Glenn will be right on those crazy things and
play with them for hours. He knows his name and will heel to hand
commands, too. I've only had to tell him once and it's embedded in
his little cat brain. Of all the cats, he's most bonded with me, with
Misty being a close second. They are the two smartest, but I worry
about Eddifer. Sometimes he gets lost in the scrum of life and will
go off by himself. I make sure Eddie gets plenty of love. Allie is
James' cat and she loves him to death. I'm an okay substitute, but
there's no doubting who she loves best. </span></span>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">See what I mean about Drama? Allie is asleep all calm and Glenn is like, "I'M READY FOR MY CLOSE-UP, MR. DEMILLE!"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Ripley
just kind of watches it all, bemused and the birds just add to the
general life and noise around here. It's a happy house, with the animals,
people and the music. We feel blessed. I hope everyone is having a
great #atozchallenge! </span></span>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">I
hope you stop by on April 19</span><sup><span style="font-weight: normal;">th</span></sup><span style="font-weight: normal;">,
2020 to meet Andy Toppin, Jr., and learn about his book “<a href="https://www.amazon.com/s?k=ANDY+TOPPIN%2C+JR.&ref=nb_sb_noss" target="_blank">Rowan's Chronicle, Volume 1</a>”. He's an awesome person, and a terrific
writer!</span></span></div>
<br /></div>
ViolaFuryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05796592763194795436noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4044142491333444735.post-64819727793572211742020-04-08T18:37:00.002-04:002020-04-08T18:37:42.859-04:00#A-TO-Z-CHALLENGE – LETTER “F” - Eddi-Fur; OUR FOSTER KITTEN<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc3YwnZ-vbnB97ebN8aFt-uvIixq-yQdKtDQ45qScTsB0hyphenhyphencSovXXgMvqb5JV66Qv5XJrerakDJdv0Dq3Ym6xQt0xu5KC0_o8Au5nGAzqfrKQJopI99SlVu_zzyQepVEZihClRvLBvIylj/s1600/F2020.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="200" data-original-width="200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc3YwnZ-vbnB97ebN8aFt-uvIixq-yQdKtDQ45qScTsB0hyphenhyphencSovXXgMvqb5JV66Qv5XJrerakDJdv0Dq3Ym6xQt0xu5KC0_o8Au5nGAzqfrKQJopI99SlVu_zzyQepVEZihClRvLBvIylj/s400/F2020.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">When
we decided to throw caution to the winds and get hitched; without
having even been in one another's presence physically, although, to
be fair, we had done plenty of talking during viola lessons for a few
years, we knew we were going to buy a house and fill it full of
critters and music. We both play instruments and my fianc</span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">é
has a fine singing voice – along with perfect pitch. I do too; I
may have mentioned that I inherited it from my father, who had me
singing harmony as a wee child, before I even knew what the word
meant. But, I digress.</span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAG51BxCCyNPWw-ASRyWq3FfJJk2_ruDA7C_0aHe3nRvXzVQ10ZACZc5s7QRVelyrGXd0hHAm18YrJwkxH1GtBRj5Iax8EkLc0iWgrEiO_9Jc9UCDNBE4MkvvET-7EnFm7qlMEXtI87HVB/s1600/CaptainGlennWallace.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="692" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAG51BxCCyNPWw-ASRyWq3FfJJk2_ruDA7C_0aHe3nRvXzVQ10ZACZc5s7QRVelyrGXd0hHAm18YrJwkxH1GtBRj5Iax8EkLc0iWgrEiO_9Jc9UCDNBE4MkvvET-7EnFm7qlMEXtI87HVB/s400/CaptainGlennWallace.jpg" width="287" /></a></div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My father; a pilot in the Air Force during Korea. He flew B-29s and commanded a wing briefly. He was hilarious.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">We
got the house, and Ripley, the yodeling dog in the same week, and as
we were moving in, we decided it was time to add in some kittens for
more chaos. We had to start out with one, since you can only
have one kitten that doesn't have siblings at a time from this
shelter (you have to wait a week to adopt from another "family", so to speak), and the one kitten they did have was so tiny and cute; I
about broke my neck running to the room to pick it up, before anyone
else could see it. I'm ruthless when it comes to kittens and I wasn't
going to let any little boys or girls deprive me. We found this tiny,
tiny kitten, who wasn't available for adoption yet, but was available
for foster. His little “biography” sheet said his name was “Tad”
and that his birth date was April 20</span></span></span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><sup><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">th</span></span></span></span></sup></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">,
2019. We were seeing him in early June, so he was less than two
months old, and no bigger than a mouse, it seemed. I didn't see the
“Tad” part, or the D.O.B. part until later. My </span></span></span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">fianc</span></span></span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">é
had already run off with the paper to start the fostering
proceedings.</span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Allie is in the background, chillin'. Eddie is photo-bombing the daylights out of this pic. He just popped up when I snapped the phone. Understand, that I take horrible pictures and that this is usually the norm for me. Confusion and body parts that all seem so random.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">I
didn't know what this kitten's name was, just that like with any
kitten, I was in love, but there was something about this little guy
– honestly, they're all like that; distinct personalities from the
start. This little black-and-white tuxedo kitten blinked at me and I blinked back. Pretty soon, James came
back with a cardboard carrier and a soft blanket and said brightly,
“Okay, Eddie Scissorshands and I are ready to go! Let's pack him
up!” I said, “Wat?” -- I say that a lot now -- “I'll tell ya in
the car,” James says. So, we bundle up the kitten and off we go. In
the car, James tells me, that he decided on the spot that this was
“Edward Scissorshands” because “Tad” was just about the
lamest thing he'd ever heard for a name for a kitten, even one as
small and practically formless, as our new “Eddie”. So, “Eddie”
it was. All of our animals got new names; the shelter is the only
place that comes up with worse names for animals than I do. “Ripples”
became “Ripley”; “Mittens” became “Misty”. Only Glenn
came to us nameless, and James has heard all of these fabulous
stories about my father, so now, we have “Glenn Wallace, Jr.”.
There are days I swear that cat channels my late father.</span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkKMzSUuveUjvuxF8vRMOPdvdwEN_gBqC84IazJc1DkdbX57gSUyZjJavFBG2DnvkoA5rpttzpZtj3gGlmMQI9LcWVlX9hLVLKP8XGbtTkhoSBUbDiYeEhZ6jf0D7x2IBaJ9w-qQPydWYe/s1600/AllieandEddie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkKMzSUuveUjvuxF8vRMOPdvdwEN_gBqC84IazJc1DkdbX57gSUyZjJavFBG2DnvkoA5rpttzpZtj3gGlmMQI9LcWVlX9hLVLKP8XGbtTkhoSBUbDiYeEhZ6jf0D7x2IBaJ9w-qQPydWYe/s640/AllieandEddie.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Eddie and Allie; the forelegs may be Glenn's. It's just hard to tell. Allie has more white on her face, and Eddie has like this checkerboard pattern going on on one side of his nose. Their differences physically are subtle, and when they're up to mischief, a stream of pet names, some long-deceased issues forth... smh.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Eddie
squeaked a lot on the ride home, and we had a fair piece to ride;
close to 45 minutes as I recall. The ASPCA had given us kitten food
and some instructions and some de-worming medicine for him. When we
got him in the house, we gave him a while to decompress from the car
ride, before we brought out Ripley. James had already thoughtfully
gotten a kitty tree for little ones, but Eddie mostly ignored that,
at first. He was too busy trying to be a kitten; prancing sideways,
climbing jeans and playing with his imaginary friends – all of our
pets seem to have LOTS of imaginary play mates! </span></span></span></span></span>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">When
Ripley was introduced, we got the famous puff-up, dance sideways,
hiss and growl – which sounds like a lion that has inhaled nitrous
oxide – and then, he spent a good 15 or 20 minutes trying to figure
out how to un-do all that shit, all the while going in circles
backwards. The best entertainment ever. Later that night, after James
fell asleep, Eddie cavorted up and down on top of him, doing
somersaults and handsprings; kip-ups and lay-ups, with his tiny, tiny claws getting caught in the
blankets for about 45 minutes. I didn't dare try to take a video, the
light would have woken James up, but, damn! That was a riot. That
kitten had the best time!</span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7QhBLt_R8pbCuXvt2T_8qu2w0GxGIFYu7wky7-2AGqQlBKB2OmlWnDA8USxtX6r6_KXCVwMWBuE-ur133WM9ClkrWXEzd_WC6FR0FhTNOL2LC2rHiKf2oaIOLB1_dLAWM-j7Z43PKrndG/s1600/Eddie1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="121" data-original-width="154" height="314" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7QhBLt_R8pbCuXvt2T_8qu2w0GxGIFYu7wky7-2AGqQlBKB2OmlWnDA8USxtX6r6_KXCVwMWBuE-ur133WM9ClkrWXEzd_WC6FR0FhTNOL2LC2rHiKf2oaIOLB1_dLAWM-j7Z43PKrndG/s400/Eddie1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This little mite of a kitten was (and still is) just a hilarious little thing. Now that he's growing up, he's more "serious", "supervising" in the kitchen with this same look on his face. The look that really means, "Just what in the HELL am I seeing here?"<br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">When
we got his sister Allie Cat or KittenMcGrabbyPaws, the following
week, we outright adopted her. We still had Eddie listed as a foster.
He apparently, had not been raised by his mom. I've always worried
about him; he's a week older than she is, yet she is sturdier and
seems to have hit certain benchmarks earlier than he did. He did
manage to catch up as they've reached the one year mark, though, and
he's quite a good-looking cat. </span></span></span></span></span>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">We
finally were able to adopt him at the end of July and he had to be
neutered, and of course, we were both so nervous about that. We were
afraid something would happen, but he came home and was fine. </span></span></span></span></span>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Eddifer
considers himself the Supervisor of the Kitchen. He must come and
inspect anything we do. He's not a pain about it and doesn't get in
the way and doesn't try to eat the food; he just likes to watch. I
had to laugh about the people on Twitter who have several names for
their animals. I have several names for all of mine; Eddie's are Ed,
Edward, Eddifer, Son, Asshat (generally, when he, Glenn, Allie and
Misty are playing “Viet Nam” or “The Floor Is Lava”). When
they crank those games up, they A) either start knocking over the
kitchen chairs and vacuum cleaner or B) it's 3 a. m. in the damn
morning and they use the corners of the bed as launch pads. I must
admit, as they've gotten a bit older, the 3 a. m. rampages are
slowing down and they're more apt to sleep through the night.</span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Allie (foreground) and Eddie behind, horsing around on Ripley's blanket, while he's out going for walkies. They're very close and like any two siblings, have their spats. When I hear the tiny roars, I make them stop and fight nice.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">The
only other thing that makes Eddie stand out from the other cats is
that he is not fond of loud noises or weird toys, or anything he
doesn't understand. He heads right to the underside of the bed and
stays there until the strangeness goes away, or he can figure it out.
It's just one more thing that sets him apart from the others. I hope
you're all having a great #atozchallenge! </span></span></span></span></span>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">April 19, 2020 is the date for Andy Toppin's blog tour on this website for the 1st installment of his book, "<a href="https://www.amazon.com/s?k=andy+toppin+jr&ref=nb_sb_noss" target="_blank">Rowan's Chronicle, Volume 1</a>". I hope you'll join me for his interview! He's a good friend of mine and a wonderful writer!</span></span></span></span></span></div>
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ViolaFuryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05796592763194795436noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4044142491333444735.post-50719230694687781992020-04-07T13:30:00.002-04:002020-04-07T13:30:17.394-04:00#A-TO-Z-CHALLENGE – LETTER “E” - EPHEMERA<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinYPyezvAFGT-Ks1oLx8PS2h8nfVmEO36JdORFxUBKyCEZgjL60Uq436YZKLa0qAW9MtQF5si_sad7M5oJp_iOQN7cZkhrGuolrRFH-u9U2Y8HEyBegLQsP1qYY68sVt7HHK1Pj5U9mELq/s1600/E2020.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="200" data-original-width="200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinYPyezvAFGT-Ks1oLx8PS2h8nfVmEO36JdORFxUBKyCEZgjL60Uq436YZKLa0qAW9MtQF5si_sad7M5oJp_iOQN7cZkhrGuolrRFH-u9U2Y8HEyBegLQsP1qYY68sVt7HHK1Pj5U9mELq/s400/E2020.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I
know this isn't about my new life in the carolinas, or anything about
my animals, but it's a word that's been popping up in my head a lot
lately. This probably has to do with the world's situation, and my
internal dialogue is always “on”. My brain seems to have a
running conversation with my moods, my reactions, how I interpret and
analyze things and it never shuts off. So, just lately, “ephemera”
has been coming to mind. I like the sound of the word; it's a
beautiful word, much like “tintinnabulation” or “harmony”. We
write and read for the beauty of the language, as much as we do for
the import of the words.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I realize I am applying the definition to people, when it was originally meant to be used in the context of written or paper items, but our existence, on this earth, in context to the entire span of the universe's length of time is rather short, so I chose to use the term to describe our time here on earth.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">By
our very nature, we are ephemera, when compared to the rest of the
universe, in terms of the length of time we exist, the amount of
space we occupy and the things that preoccupy us. We have a tendency
to focus on things that are less than monumental as a species and we
haven't even figured out how to feed and house the entire planet
peacefully. Rather, it's easier to make war over perceived slights
and wrongs, than it is to work towards a peaceful resolution, that
might garner less than the aggrieved party had hoped for. But, I
digress.</span></div>
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<br />
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Although,
our corporeal beings are ephemeral, our ideals, passions and values
are not. These things, abstractions really and any physical things
we've created, as artists and people will exist after we leave this
place. We'll be remembered; at least we hope so, and in a good light.
So, in some manner, I guess, we do continue existence; my father and
mother return every time I tell a story about them. There are their
pictures and things they held that have been left behind; burnished
by their touch. </span>
</div>
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<br />
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In
the time of the existence of the universe, it is less than we can
even imagine – I'm being poetic, because although I know there's a
hard number, it's still hard to grasp, because it's so minuscule in
proportion to the age of the universe itself. In the time span of an
epoch, it's a bit easier to grasp; however-many-score-years man is
allotted to tread upon this mortal coil. It comes down to, “hey, we
only get so much time. Make the most of it!” I'm really bad at this
kind of sky-larking, but I couldn't get “ephemera” out of my
head! Have a great #a-to-z-challenge! </span>
</div>
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<br />
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Please,
please, mark your calendar for Sunday, April 19<sup>th</sup>. I will
be doing a blog tour for Mr. Andy Toppin, Jr., author of “<a href="https://www.amazon.com/s?k=andy+toppin%2C+jr.&ref=nb_sb_noss" target="_blank">Rowan's Chronicle, Volume 1</a>”. Andy is a good friend of mine and a
wonderful person. He is finishing the edits for Volume 2 now!</span></div>
<br /></div>
ViolaFuryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05796592763194795436noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4044142491333444735.post-54159724180075845422020-04-06T17:27:00.000-04:002020-04-06T17:46:04.637-04:00#A-TO-Z-CHALLENGE – LETTER “C” AND “D” - CATS!!!! AND A DOG<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLLNb0YG5CGf8SD3rmNVJ1sqCSe3WG9oaEd4IA0jaj5fyJXnKMnglrX9MrqWtoWJJAcn8Nvhgc85GQEYOwKvp7dkiaBHClJyBfYIF3ci0agyJIFpyO0WsbXH8WOdCUJdSVX6fTs_LoMw9l/s1600/D2020.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="450" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLLNb0YG5CGf8SD3rmNVJ1sqCSe3WG9oaEd4IA0jaj5fyJXnKMnglrX9MrqWtoWJJAcn8Nvhgc85GQEYOwKvp7dkiaBHClJyBfYIF3ci0agyJIFpyO0WsbXH8WOdCUJdSVX6fTs_LoMw9l/s200/D2020.jpg" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhandFGSDE3gl4dG8F0cvi4zGwjiPzJBflrqGlFxH0xG1vJbxeaXu9mgjyMCK7OC3C2w2Gn-7sgQHTWZiKzZxxgrKPrCx0Lp_upcf9VuBzI-KGbcWRrnzzBHhhcZxMWmmPdfZzvp4CnjByO/s1600/C2020.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="450" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhandFGSDE3gl4dG8F0cvi4zGwjiPzJBflrqGlFxH0xG1vJbxeaXu9mgjyMCK7OC3C2w2Gn-7sgQHTWZiKzZxxgrKPrCx0Lp_upcf9VuBzI-KGbcWRrnzzBHhhcZxMWmmPdfZzvp4CnjByO/s200/C2020.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I'm
cheating here. I should have posted letter “C” on Friday, but I
had a little run-in with the SSA and then the IRS over this whole
“incentive check” nonsense, and after sitting on hold, listening
to horrible hold music and being hung up on by two different alphabet
agencies in these here Untied (sic) States, I was in no mood to write
or think about #a-to-z-challenge. Quarantining is bad enough and
then, trying to deal with our Federal Gubmint for ANYTHING, just
raises my blood pressure. But, I REALLY want to finish this challenge this year AND I digress.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">At
last count, in my household, we have four cats, one dog and three
birds. The cats don't really seem to know what the birds are, as the cats weren't raised by their mothers and never learned to hunt. They do
like to watch them fly around in their cages. We have two finches and
a cockatiel. The finches finch around, making that little beeping
noise, and the cockatiel has a variety of sounds that she lets loose
on the regular. It sounds like a zoo in here. The cats are more
likely to eat the birdseed that I scatter on the floor, when I'm
feeding the birds, for some reason. </span>
</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY-HKIt03kztgoqXr2yC4as2Kzf4Nb0F2OtBfxbaz7L15iv-hkWgsAgs8I1fb9CsiEy0DiZhcV3c6m88BFhR2ARe-AnKP5kUevZ_oFoGlYy8yeAdQ9BLfPBsbxL7KAJd2jrANJVVYZYPEb/s1600/Ripley.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY-HKIt03kztgoqXr2yC4as2Kzf4Nb0F2OtBfxbaz7L15iv-hkWgsAgs8I1fb9CsiEy0DiZhcV3c6m88BFhR2ARe-AnKP5kUevZ_oFoGlYy8yeAdQ9BLfPBsbxL7KAJd2jrANJVVYZYPEb/s640/Ripley.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Ripley, wallowing on my bed, after I spent twenty minutes making it. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">When
we first brought the two kittens in the house, we already had Ripley,
our husky-hound mix. Two things about Ripley, besides the fact that
he's an absolute sweetheart of a dog and is really easy with the
kittens. First, being part husky, he loves to run, and if there's an
open door anywhere in the house, he will run. RUN and will not come
back until he's good and ready. This wouldn't be a problem, except
someone put some buckshot in him once. He came limping home. We got
him healed up, and we thought that would cure him, but nope. He still
loves to run. Luckily, we're good at keeping him fenced up. The other
thing is, he yodels.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I
believe I read somewhere that dogs are only capable of ten types of sounds. Well, you sure
wouldn't know it by Ripley. He'll be outside on his lead, yodeling, in just about every key.
He's doing dog karaoke and hollering to his imaginary friends out
there in the forest that abuts our land. It's hilarious. </span>
</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSW8rw6KE_0kHguZWLLWd85aiOBqrXvaKfS536o9dh2AXaa6Zdb_V3pkZzhsQ0-PJ_82Oht2HZJGiBM8LjYHMSTDOZ48wE3TTh4l0Ik0w7gLVX5ImGujhyphenhyphenWpSNusN-oRoZBZqOFckBzT7C/s1600/EddieAndRipley.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSW8rw6KE_0kHguZWLLWd85aiOBqrXvaKfS536o9dh2AXaa6Zdb_V3pkZzhsQ0-PJ_82Oht2HZJGiBM8LjYHMSTDOZ48wE3TTh4l0Ik0w7gLVX5ImGujhyphenhyphenWpSNusN-oRoZBZqOFckBzT7C/s640/EddieAndRipley.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Eddie was barely two months old when we brought him home, as a foster. We ended up keeping him. We're kinda like the "Hotel California". You can come here, but you never leave. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Anyway,
when we first introduced each kitten to Ripley, they all had pretty
much the same reaction. Puff up, dance sideways, and hiss. I don't
know about you all, but tiny kittens getting all fierce is the
funniest thing ever. Poor Eddie, or Eddifer, as I call him, when I'm
not calling him “son”; he was so brand-new when we brought him
home – he was a foster – that he couldn't figure out how to
un-puff himself. He danced backward into his little kitty house and
circled around about three times, before he got it all figured out.
For about two weeks, he was scared of Ripley. Of all my cats, he is
the least adventurous and the one most likely to be found under the bed at the introduction of ANYTHING new, including toys.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Glenn
Wallace – named by my husband, after my late father – is the
smartest and most adventurous, and he loves any new-fangled thing
that comes his way. We got this ridiculous toy that is
battery-operated, and it writhes around on the floor and sparkles and
snaps, and Glenn loves it! He also loves the Chitter toy, that makes
a chittering sound when played with, unlike Eddie, who just ran under
the bed when these toys were first introduced. Eddie doesn't hide so
much any more from them, but he just sort of tolerates them.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEFuZdAPHUCCv3DIeBf1y7gbt32ysmYEK_cn9kxRXKgNevQR70skccLr6Iy0kYfsnazk-aoCC4FYD41UHCY2nbFJ3hIH3rzLvZlT2zuRpXlgwGIueVt7kw1e4EYFsFCRKU1BytOwRQTsDb/s1600/5milesofglenn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEFuZdAPHUCCv3DIeBf1y7gbt32ysmYEK_cn9kxRXKgNevQR70skccLr6Iy0kYfsnazk-aoCC4FYD41UHCY2nbFJ3hIH3rzLvZlT2zuRpXlgwGIueVt7kw1e4EYFsFCRKU1BytOwRQTsDb/s640/5milesofglenn.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Glenn, sleeping. He always looks like he's come in after a really rough night at the bar. He's also the longest cat I've ever seen. He has long legs and whiskers. I'm devoting the letter "G" to him and will have a lot more to say later. Just revel in the length of this animal!</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Allie,
or KittenMcGrabbyPaws is probably the funniest with her balls and
tiny painting spool. She has these little wool balls, and she will
fling them around, or bring them to me and have me throw them for
her. It's so funny when she brings it back. I don't know if it's
possible, but she always carries the ball on the right side of her
mouth, so if that's a thing with cats – left-mouthed, or
right-mouthed – it's the first time I've ever observed it. My old
Russian Blue, Trotsky would play fetch, but as I recall he was
ambidextrous, when it came to carrying shit around in his mouth; tin
foil, wool balls, whatever we were playing. </span>
</div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The
other thing with Allie, or any of the kittens and Misty is when they
play with the spool, they make one HELL of a racket! It sounds like
they're playing hockey; the wool in the spool gets caught in their
claws, and they fling the spool around. It hits the wall, cabinets,
and floor and it sounds just like a hockey game. All we lack is a
fight. </span>
</div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaRDGhULyevNyd0PZWstOlpQx3xr0pu7b7ykYflkSIHssYEEY4QGB_jfVgweELW-hF6yGweLrvzrG5IRnqxdRo5qLwzmwnxQTZGz9_i7aNGPXMcua7zFtXfXAE7Am7WUtnbQjpoinXDEDK/s1600/ALLIEWILDANDFREE.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaRDGhULyevNyd0PZWstOlpQx3xr0pu7b7ykYflkSIHssYEEY4QGB_jfVgweELW-hF6yGweLrvzrG5IRnqxdRo5qLwzmwnxQTZGz9_i7aNGPXMcua7zFtXfXAE7Am7WUtnbQjpoinXDEDK/s640/ALLIEWILDANDFREE.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">My doofy husband, whom I adore completely, took this Alexa picture of Allie when we were out to dinner one night. "I wonder what the kids are doing?", he asked. Apparently, they were re-enacting "The Lion King".</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The
dog and the cats all get along; Ripley has discovered that he cannot
go leaping about on the furniture, and he can't play “The Floor Is
Lava”, but he's good for a cuddle! Letter “E” coming up; no
more calls to the IRS or the SSA. It is what it is.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">One
last thing, I'm going to be posting a special post for a
self-published author, a friend of mine, Andy Toppin, Jr., whose book
“<a href="https://www.amazon.com/s?k=andy+toppin+jr&ref=nb_sb_noss" target="_blank">Rowan's Chronicle, Volume 1</a>” is on Amazon. He's really a good
friend and a special person. I love this book, and hope you all will
enjoy reading about him! I'm enjoying this #a-to-z-challenge. I hope
you all are too!</span></div>
<br /></div>
ViolaFuryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05796592763194795436noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4044142491333444735.post-19267019685805960932020-04-02T14:38:00.000-04:002020-04-02T14:38:00.861-04:00#A-TO-Z-CHALLENGE – LETTER “B” AS IN “BUG” OR “BEETLE”<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJvTn0bqIGNKKsptWEQ6QtHKjOBfQJ66tD9nywIiA7OOtgui-ZIXjpUY3xFpCiqT2RjzEY94QWUj9ogmsUbnDeIy2J1aKcDKUi8XmyW6QODFfgWA4eLaC3szdbbZvmiNhzJE_QTTFs5uXW/s1600/B2020.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="200" data-original-width="200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJvTn0bqIGNKKsptWEQ6QtHKjOBfQJ66tD9nywIiA7OOtgui-ZIXjpUY3xFpCiqT2RjzEY94QWUj9ogmsUbnDeIy2J1aKcDKUi8XmyW6QODFfgWA4eLaC3szdbbZvmiNhzJE_QTTFs5uXW/s400/B2020.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Letter
“B” as in “Bug” or “Beetle”; more precisely, “Ladybug”,
or “Ladybeetle” as, my oldest and dearest friend, Pamela calls
them. I'm writing about them, because, like the kittens, and the dog
and birds, they have become part of my landscape and in a big way. </span>
</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfBpPd20LrpOruxq3tVfO219rFL_YRZ1MpFlPGgrWgDsRXmV6G2DNoQ6gJFKgQdI0HD_W_GT5S6T5K4ENPX7G7a2WxK2dY0IhI89JCJMuh-GgYbwpX8e_4FcqSegSgnDF6gIKBKao6FDb9/s1600/shutterstock_754559149-Ladybug.webp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfBpPd20LrpOruxq3tVfO219rFL_YRZ1MpFlPGgrWgDsRXmV6G2DNoQ6gJFKgQdI0HD_W_GT5S6T5K4ENPX7G7a2WxK2dY0IhI89JCJMuh-GgYbwpX8e_4FcqSegSgnDF6gIKBKao6FDb9/s640/shutterstock_754559149-Ladybug.webp" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: xx-small;">courtesy: <a href="http://familyman.com/">familyman.com</a> </span></div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My hubby also had a bunch of the little devils visit him in his woodworking shed as well.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">One
day, last October, here in the foothills of the uplands in the
Carolinas, in the countryside where we live, ladybugs took to
swarming; something I'd never experienced before. I'd seen scads of
lightning bugs as a kid in Michigan and later on, when I lived near
Gastonia, NC and, had heard tell of swarms of crickets from my aunt
when they first moved to Las Vegas some fifty-plus years ago, when
her husband, my uncle Stan, worked at the nuclear test site out near
there. I'd also experienced swarms of Mayflies from Lake St. Clair,
in Michigan, in June.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-7vrfLcMWZQGkpfg3epVdyfbqWS8aSru6hgBTHE7Eop99TXS2mc3QvIcbOmYP5NPV5Vt56JD1rP8LPjZq4ic0ifx-akQEFrkHV5L2UBhdtpFN0tP3-iO_RTBlg0nkPF1usf_xmMQXROhU/s1600/lightning+bugs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="393" data-original-width="590" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-7vrfLcMWZQGkpfg3epVdyfbqWS8aSru6hgBTHE7Eop99TXS2mc3QvIcbOmYP5NPV5Vt56JD1rP8LPjZq4ic0ifx-akQEFrkHV5L2UBhdtpFN0tP3-iO_RTBlg0nkPF1usf_xmMQXROhU/s640/lightning+bugs.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: xx-small;">courtesy: <a href="http://mdc.mo.gov/">mdc.mo.gov</a> </span></div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Lightning bug swarms are prettier than Mayfly swarms; here's a batch of lightning bugs in Missouri.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The
Mayflies came up out of the bottom and swarm all over the towns of
Grosse Pointe and East Pointe. People were sweeping them up with
their push brooms and they would crunch when you run over them with
your car. Kind of icky, but they disappeared fast, as the birds and I
think squirrels would get some new snacks. </span>
</div>
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<br />
</div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We
also had the love-bugs in Florida. Boy, did we have love-bugs.
Something out of a laboratory that got loose. Two bugs hooked
together that flew around for a few weeks. They just got mooshed
under your windshield wipers and were a mess to clean up. I was never
really sure where they came from, or what ecological niche they were
supposed to fill, but they were annoying.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyrMum5oU7nZ4ICv2J_0oXr7YHTL2X-pPT9Q3oyAgLYV-Lqvlsl-8W2x7ZkpLvlftgAO1ARoZGo3HLGdATXZXtB8pgKl4iolErWxXRdtqER7jof4aSMJkCh40aAo_sroZ8pwMqDe0QGBar/s1600/lovebugs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1431" height="356" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyrMum5oU7nZ4ICv2J_0oXr7YHTL2X-pPT9Q3oyAgLYV-Lqvlsl-8W2x7ZkpLvlftgAO1ARoZGo3HLGdATXZXtB8pgKl4iolErWxXRdtqER7jof4aSMJkCh40aAo_sroZ8pwMqDe0QGBar/s640/lovebugs.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: xx-small;">courtesy: <a href="http://tcpalm.com/">tcpalm.com</a> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Love bugs are supposedly a science experiment that got loose and have no known predator, so they just show up and annoy Floridians twice a year. The story may be apocryphal, but I was too busy cleaning dead love bugs off my car to care.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But,
the ladybugs I found rather charming. They apparently live for
between 2 and 3 years and they swarm in late October in the
upper-third of the United States, looking for places to hibernate.
They found refuge outside in my eaves, but several hundred, or
thousand – I wasn't taking names at the door – found respite in
my ceiling and my kitchen and bedroom and music room. They tucked
themselves in and went to sleep. They will live off their body fat
for the winter. The amusing thing is that it doesn't get really,
really cold here, so we'd have a warm day, and a few hardy souls
would come buzzing out and I'd find them creeping around in the
kitchen. </span>
</div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I'm
sure a few have fallen victim to the kittens and one did fall into
one of my frying pans when I was cooking. I was unhappy about that.
I've talked to people who work in construction and they're used to
coming up on packs of them in walls and things like that, so it's not
unusual, but I like having them here. At least they beat the wasp
infestation I had last summer. That was just annoying. At any rate, I
had to remember that terrible children's rhyme, “ladybug, ladybug,
fly away home! Your house is on fire, and your children are all
gone!” If I'm remembering that correctly, that's just the stuff of
nightmares. No wonder we're all in therapy!</span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I
hope you all are having a wonderful #a-to-z-challenge! Next up,
letter “C”!</span></div>
<br /></div>
ViolaFuryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05796592763194795436noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4044142491333444735.post-49382991989188459002020-04-01T14:40:00.005-04:002020-04-01T14:44:20.012-04:00#A-TO-Z-CHALLENGE 2020 – LETTER “A” ALLIE<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHKRtcFbZBIQ3N4Mmk7Jv3xt_rUeqi6TmviKoi66m6CmL1nCkBV3fQD2MNp_ucBHeJnf99wvefC_wb95SbjmTSqhQpHCS9qI4On4jRBnzFxx-NUDzZi3fzlyPiLY_w-N5ACnOWbUuYeTGe/s1600/A2020.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="450" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHKRtcFbZBIQ3N4Mmk7Jv3xt_rUeqi6TmviKoi66m6CmL1nCkBV3fQD2MNp_ucBHeJnf99wvefC_wb95SbjmTSqhQpHCS9qI4On4jRBnzFxx-NUDzZi3fzlyPiLY_w-N5ACnOWbUuYeTGe/s400/A2020.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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</div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Letter
“A” is for “Allie”. Short for Allie Cat; a tuxedo rescue, we
acquired at two months. My kitten Allie, aka “Kitten McGrabbyPaws”
is something else. She's going to be one year old on the 29<sup>th</sup>
of this month, and she's not the tiny kitten she was when we first
brought her home, but she's the squirmiest, grabbiest kitten I've
ever had. She's really the sweetest thing on earth, but not the
brightest cat around. But that's okay. She knows what she needs to
know to be a cat. She does try to be a person, on occasion however
and this is when she's at her funniest.</span></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGvps8qCbdPb6owDVqlrJap3TdgDmbPNPcHRPJ0eN8Xfeqpmq9R4r0qUpDuL_7n0fpQL85SAawYzGGUPX8kM04EJbhCpg6epyzGg5He_MeGMgpf70ekZkFvMrkkrpf0J91iAChWBYGgwWd/s1600/allie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGvps8qCbdPb6owDVqlrJap3TdgDmbPNPcHRPJ0eN8Xfeqpmq9R4r0qUpDuL_7n0fpQL85SAawYzGGUPX8kM04EJbhCpg6epyzGg5He_MeGMgpf70ekZkFvMrkkrpf0J91iAChWBYGgwWd/s640/allie.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Here is Allie being a ham, telling me I'm doing it wrong. Check out the fur on her hind feet. All the kittens have this fur, which we have dubbed the "tragedy of cat wool" for some idiotic reason.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">It's
generally when I'm trying to fold clothes, or walking across the
floor. When I'm folding clothes, she'll stand up on her hind legs and
try to grab at the clothes. She mirrors my actions and it looks
hysterical. I really need to get my fianc</span></span></span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">é
to film this, because it does look so ridiculous. She waves those
little paws around like they're little hands. She also tries to
“hold” my hand when we're walking side-by-side and she'll try to
get up on her hind legs. With very little success, I might add. </span></span></span></span></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihQ2Eu1hQ0JH3LYKgURt79elHRrTpNNF7PZg6glKFkkKqMd29HW4Ob5UAggLup0N1oTzqmwrs1YOmkvTGafjTmNXRgP6dW0XemlxlXzKoFyuCjSiaSMmKljGbGt7PfhMpQN2osAZR5f8MK/s1600/allie2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihQ2Eu1hQ0JH3LYKgURt79elHRrTpNNF7PZg6glKFkkKqMd29HW4Ob5UAggLup0N1oTzqmwrs1YOmkvTGafjTmNXRgP6dW0XemlxlXzKoFyuCjSiaSMmKljGbGt7PfhMpQN2osAZR5f8MK/s640/allie2.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I fail to see how anyone could be comfortable sleeping in this position, but she does this on the regular. Help. My cat is broken.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">All
in all, she's a happy creature and she's not that demanding for a
cat. We have a hard time finding treats that she'll like. The others
will pile into whatever fishy, stinky thing we find for them, but not
Allie. She does try to bury her food, though. I thought this was odd,
until I looked it up and some cats do have this atavistic trait of
trying to bury their food; it's left over from before their
domestication, when they had to kill to eat and they would cover the
part of the kill they didn't eat for a snack later. Our cats all have
their quirks and I'll be telling you about some of the secret things
I've found out about cats as we go through our #a-to-z-challenge! I
hope everyone is having fun and staying safe!</span></span></span></span></span></div>
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL4LnocIn4LR3IhpbX3oyZhG_xXavNfTqVSxbzhReu3lmF-tW5beMfiQVQ7zqeH46fFD-JxwZwCOYZQbqXrOpcu4ntD3aKW3eHX6VrkAdq_F8W73OOHP7SUHbEh-A4MWGfcC3vBXry9TbY/s1600/Allie3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL4LnocIn4LR3IhpbX3oyZhG_xXavNfTqVSxbzhReu3lmF-tW5beMfiQVQ7zqeH46fFD-JxwZwCOYZQbqXrOpcu4ntD3aKW3eHX6VrkAdq_F8W73OOHP7SUHbEh-A4MWGfcC3vBXry9TbY/s640/Allie3.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">She has the most bewitching eyes and she looks right at you! <3</span></div>
</div>
ViolaFuryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05796592763194795436noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4044142491333444735.post-4150012384257294682020-04-01T14:09:00.001-04:002020-04-01T14:09:45.748-04:00#IWSG APRIL 2020 CHECK IN – LOST IN TRANSLATION<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4Y-y_fc7MaA02Zshe6pGMaO3_o6aGzWvddfvk1KkB9ARTw0lGM34eoyF0By8QCS_DzTxeHUCxgjeYuFm1qRtwHcFLfgvMIW2igX772EPcSBlV5xSo5PAg_DpJfx5IYyOkie6SNuvVRXG2/s1600/Insecure+Writers+Support+Group+Badge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="315" data-original-width="320" height="393" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4Y-y_fc7MaA02Zshe6pGMaO3_o6aGzWvddfvk1KkB9ARTw0lGM34eoyF0By8QCS_DzTxeHUCxgjeYuFm1qRtwHcFLfgvMIW2igX772EPcSBlV5xSo5PAg_DpJfx5IYyOkie6SNuvVRXG2/s400/Insecure+Writers+Support+Group+Badge.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Several
years ago, when I was homeless in Tampa, I mentioned in a post that things got lost in translation. Sadly, I cannot find that post and it was probably horrible. My brain has not unscrambled
itself one whit and I still occasionally get things wrong. Hell, more
than occasionally; more like three or four times a day. It's been
this way since I was young, from an ER nurse asking me if I had a
“religious preference” and me hearing, did I have a “relative
present” and pointing to my then-husband. They both looked
confused.</span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This
current story isn't really about that, but more about how we can just
turn a sentence into a form of Mad Libs when one person, probably out
of frustration, or just to add to the pile of nonsense comes up with
something truly silly. This happened recently in an MMORPG that I've
been playing for the last fourteen years. This in and of itself is a
tale, since most MMORPGs don't last this long, with the exception of
Maple Story, WOW and a few others. We also have a clan that is
fifteen years old, with the SAME people in it that founded the thing,
for the most part. That in itself is a tale. At fourteen years in,
I'm a johnny-come-lately. But, I digress. </span>
</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-TBfCgH_5wYjZ2_HVcWpfQ5Dbg4oysS7UMu6tSoPb9Xfv3hFM90gOjaAjlfNRAg1nJmHx7QdcZqL1iYQYPgkYX05iK7VkJZQ34Az88cQQ4DRiPG9ODVekHYfMne1QCjL-kh6PeA53epU4/s1600/coupdegrace.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="650" data-original-width="1275" height="326" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-TBfCgH_5wYjZ2_HVcWpfQ5Dbg4oysS7UMu6tSoPb9Xfv3hFM90gOjaAjlfNRAg1nJmHx7QdcZqL1iYQYPgkYX05iK7VkJZQ34Az88cQQ4DRiPG9ODVekHYfMne1QCjL-kh6PeA53epU4/s640/coupdegrace.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">These are one of the Elite Dungeons where I practice my craft. I earn lots of money doing this. Like most MMORPGs, Runescape3 is grindy, but the community is awesome. My co-Leader, SpZ Wolf, started in the Clan, the same day I did and we're partners in crime. </span></div>
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<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">For
those readers who haven't put up with my ravings, I should explain
that at best, I feel like I have a tenuous grasp of reality at the
best of times. I'm perpetually in a state of out-of-itness and even
when I think I just get a hold of whatever the current train of the
state of affairs may be, it slips away from me. It's been like this
all of my life and I'm not sure if it's due to what they used to call
Asperger and now call something else, but was called “doesn't play
well with others” when I was growing up and is truly apt in my
case, or if I'm just dim. That being said, I've soldiered on, having
some fairly successful careers in both music and in computers, so
there's that. I still can't tell with all the lying going on in the
media and up and down the political spectrum these days. Again, I
digress, and I want to keep this light.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMiIrCA1DKrwVBxp_1dZV3VC0IJAN1CzOLC1yBqa6tS9ttrlnk6-nmpCNBkUS_O6WEqdP_jfp_l_NFRrgPhokplSWKg_tnibtleMdmofO1xbYGsiT6Icf6BPsldxuYzaioUY82XYMFnHk7/s1600/killingfields2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="695" data-original-width="1280" height="346" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMiIrCA1DKrwVBxp_1dZV3VC0IJAN1CzOLC1yBqa6tS9ttrlnk6-nmpCNBkUS_O6WEqdP_jfp_l_NFRrgPhokplSWKg_tnibtleMdmofO1xbYGsiT6Icf6BPsldxuYzaioUY82XYMFnHk7/s640/killingfields2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This is another dungeon, of Ascension Members. They are taken down with crossbows, which I double-wield. Every foe has a different strength and handicap. The depth and breadth of the game has grown over the years. We just added a new skill, Archaeology, so we're all starting from scratch on that and it's fun. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">At
any rate, the MMORPG that I have played for what seems like eons is
called “Runescape” and many of my clan mates have played as long
as I have or longer. We've all been together for the fourteen to
fifteen year range and have a solid cadre of about fifty people,
although our site lists us with 163 members. The game itself lists
over 250,000,000 accounts and I am ranked in the top 100,000, with my
Slaying skill being at number 8,281 out of that 250,000,000, as I'm
trying to get 200 million xp total. The skill is fun. The game itself
is about 80% combat, with about 20% for skilling and questing. The
skills are also tied into combat; you need to be able to mine and
smith the best of ores to make combat armor that is durable enough
for you to fight high-level bosses. </span>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It's
pretty much like any other grind-and-reward game. What makes it are
the people and the community involvement and they're a hoot. People
from around the world play the game, and we have them in my clan. We
also have perma-guests in our clan chat. </span>
</div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">One
of them is a published author, from Barbados, unlike me, who just
seems to dabble in writing and never finishes editing anything,
although I have scads of ideas that sound great and then I see a
shiny, or a symphony starts a season and I MUST go play. LintsJenesis
is his game name and we were in our usual pattern of throwing
badinage, banter and jesting back and forth, while skilling after a
ddos had hit our login servers last week, and had kept us off of the
game. For those who haven't experienced a “ddos” or a
dedicated-denial-of-service attack on a login server, it's basically
two asshats on two PCs who use scripted commands or macros to
continually request logins directed at certain targets. Jagex and
their servers have been targeted for ages and they are usually the
precursor to attacks that then cascade west-ward, as the traffic
backs up (Jagex servers are in the U.K. For the most part). The most
spectacular of these brought down a good portion of the eastern U. S.
banking; ATM's and gas stations were particularly hard-hit back in
2016 or so. </span>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The
rise of the pandemic has also seen the rise of the ddos-bots, and the
bad old days are here once again. As usual, I digress.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As
Lints and I were bantering about this, I mentioned that I got some
laundry done and mopped some floors, because, “the floors wouldn't
mop themselves” and the “clothes wouldn't launder themselves”.
I must've been babbling, as per usual, and after several iterations
of different ways the floors and clothing would get clean, Lints
comes back with this gem:</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLx6FhnL3YM8NeSB9BZ0MF2A9VTbj4HnnbATXn2Z_9V3K-RQbpUF-WP1khALHG4qkj5h6bQmLmpbtkFZChbtMJLm5uKLfeVNZFld3UdaUhug2jNvmj5SCtA-31GLWkk-obcYYJC-wo5nDG/s1600/nothingwontanythingthemselves.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="521" data-original-width="463" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLx6FhnL3YM8NeSB9BZ0MF2A9VTbj4HnnbATXn2Z_9V3K-RQbpUF-WP1khALHG4qkj5h6bQmLmpbtkFZChbtMJLm5uKLfeVNZFld3UdaUhug2jNvmj5SCtA-31GLWkk-obcYYJC-wo5nDG/s640/nothingwontanythingthemselves.jpg" width="568" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I'm sure Lints had heard enough of my yammering when he came up with this gem.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I
died laughing. Said I was going to use this and would give him
credit. I also plan on featuring his books on my blog and doing a
tour for him. He's an outstanding person and a good friend. I meet
some of the best people online! Hope your #IWSG is fantastic! I also hope you all are enjoying #a-to-z-challenge! See you there soon!</span></div>
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ViolaFuryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05796592763194795436noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4044142491333444735.post-17347485631517577002020-03-24T15:12:00.001-04:002020-03-25T15:46:25.524-04:00#BLOGGING #AMWRITING – CURSES AND CATS, AMONG OTHER OBSERVATIONS<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyCltn6MANgQx_hz9JAlfnq1wqgG_Ae_AZ3RjRzAyaAYsz7lu3uNcaUtRfFwDNyWNPSheIgCAVXM6VcwmfE1nX8zlidpwsDzMqTi31nzb-1eX2bn2rR5Or9mr94VL8GcXloa6HsZ47MkD4/s1600/Viola.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="229" data-original-width="213" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyCltn6MANgQx_hz9JAlfnq1wqgG_Ae_AZ3RjRzAyaAYsz7lu3uNcaUtRfFwDNyWNPSheIgCAVXM6VcwmfE1nX8zlidpwsDzMqTi31nzb-1eX2bn2rR5Or9mr94VL8GcXloa6HsZ47MkD4/s400/Viola.jpg" width="372" /></a></div>
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“<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">May
you live in interesting times...” is a curse that has been
attributed widely, from the Chinese to the Arabs, to Robert F.
Kennedy, of all people. Originally thought to be a beneficence to the
person it was bestowed upon, when parsed down, that “interesting”
was definitely NOT meant for good times ahead. Good times are
generally uplifting, giddy, and stamped with a tinge of amorality, if
you think of the good ol' roaring 20s, prior to the Depression, but
“interesting” is not high on the list of adjectives I would
ascribe to that era. </span>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">For
me, the “interesting” part in the 20<sup>th</sup> Century begins
in Western Europe in about say, 1933, when Hitler begins his climb to
power and the really interesting geo-political things begin to
happen. Russia had already been “interesting” when Lenin showed
up, and brought a feudal country into the 20<sup>th</sup> Century and
greatness. Their more “interesting” times were ahead of them, in
the form of fighting off the Nazis, which they did in epic style and
with their typical heroism and grit.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">At
any rate, I'm not here to take a trip down memory lane, as much as I
adore history and continue to learn new and more salient things about
the parties who all participated in WW II. I'm here to talk about
this “interesting” time we're in now, and why we all need to
ignore the gibbering fool, who appears to be the Ringmaster of this
Circus and stay hunkered down, until the CDC and/or Dr. Fauci says
it's all okay to come back out from under our rocks.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Trump
cares about one thing only: himself. He cares that the stock market
is rising, that he appears to be in charge and that he's right about
EVERYTHING. COVID19 is like Honey Badger (if you've seen that silly
video). COVID don't care about a little cobra biting it in the neck.
COVID don't care about a Big Leader of the Free? World telling us
that if we go back to work sick with a mask on, it'll be okay (it
won't; it'll just add to mortality. That's how disease vectors work,
and this is not as bad as measles, but worse than SARS). We could
kill 2.2 million Americans, by doing what we're currently doing.
WHERE would we bury all these people and what about the sick ones?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">They
will absolutely overload the currently bad state of our medical
system. This means that people with heart conditions, strokes, cancer
care, dialysis and diabetes will be pushed back and ever-higher
mortality rates will occur. The ability to look at the long picture
has completely over-shot this administration and this joke of a
President for too long and this really should be his Waterloo. </span>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I
had to make the terrible decision to bypass an infusion for the
osteoporosis that I have in my right neck and shoulder and my lumbar,
from all those many years of playing viola, but both my husband and I
are high-risk. This can wait; I'm gonna hurt for a few months, but
it's preferable than contracting some illness that I'm pretty sure is
gonna take me out.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">So,
with that said, I truly wouldn't be surprised if the Pinheads of
America elect this dolt once again. There seems to be truly nothing
that will stop him. Had I been head of the DOJ back in 2016, when the
first of the Russian collusion issues came to the fore? I woulda
clapped those teeny hands in irons and frog-marched his ass off to
gaol. He never had any business being on the GOP ticket. My ASS!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Now
that I've vented my spleen, I can move on to much more pleasant
topics. My babies. My dear, dear friend sent my an insane video of
cats having a fashion show and it's every bit as kooky as it sounds.
Let me show you some snaps. </span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh51201JFHegzGpXEn0tVt287TEpJygK6PKq41KwCvRxbaCXicotw0Pymkk0MVfmXdpCZgFfalfsSwj8zw1oppi5rmzPJUAMAdb2uc5Cy003Za65EZwVSotSqaLkTdmwbsXMp0xxynuENc-/s1600/kitty1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="325" data-original-width="278" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh51201JFHegzGpXEn0tVt287TEpJygK6PKq41KwCvRxbaCXicotw0Pymkk0MVfmXdpCZgFfalfsSwj8zw1oppi5rmzPJUAMAdb2uc5Cy003Za65EZwVSotSqaLkTdmwbsXMp0xxynuENc-/s400/kitty1.jpg" width="341" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: xx-small;">courtesy: krsvideos/facebook.com </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilTFOol-1rxJl8HfftgvSQ46-zpnwvqyt3S9KwypVJoMgKd7j5Sqm9rwUSvzO6h2q4jufCDajglbkMCJHdc4Py9EJHztvfFsPy8OKfx9DIpKFW0kplR6eSxq1s0dXoCwKZ80eijnLSQDc6/s1600/kitty2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="325" data-original-width="274" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilTFOol-1rxJl8HfftgvSQ46-zpnwvqyt3S9KwypVJoMgKd7j5Sqm9rwUSvzO6h2q4jufCDajglbkMCJHdc4Py9EJHztvfFsPy8OKfx9DIpKFW0kplR6eSxq1s0dXoCwKZ80eijnLSQDc6/s400/kitty2.jpg" width="336" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: xx-small;">courtesy: krsvideos/facebook.com </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5dnJuBETW74GmTubneVXgSKYoKc2ZZ7gvcroFInF1yWXtqT67dLF9REdlM_B80UV_x9Nq7mp9Bkb5F-88_Rd91X-HmQee2-s7GtmYRohRicYHEogaHiM15GifrjywSA3okWRjK8mAFQvO/s1600/kitty3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="326" data-original-width="286" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5dnJuBETW74GmTubneVXgSKYoKc2ZZ7gvcroFInF1yWXtqT67dLF9REdlM_B80UV_x9Nq7mp9Bkb5F-88_Rd91X-HmQee2-s7GtmYRohRicYHEogaHiM15GifrjywSA3okWRjK8mAFQvO/s400/kitty3.JPG" width="350" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: xx-small;">courtesy: krsvideos/facebook.com </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">So, right away, my husband said "N.O. No!" to any hare-brained idea I might have about a feline fashion show, although I think it would be hella fun! I could dress up the little tykes and after 3 hours of them trying to walk backwards and hopping, being entertaining and all and then, lying around like lumps and just being generally awful, they might be persuaded to walk in a straight line for a few seconds. Long enough for me to record them, swap out cute little pope outfits, a nurse outfit, and a John Lennon get-up, edit it all with some stupid music and throw it out there on YouTube. You just can never have enough idiocy on the internet in these trying times and I'm full of it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Although, I'd probably have to sew outfits, and I can just about manage a hem and a button, in an emergency. I tried to make a pair of pants once when I was a girl and I sewed the legs together; I ended up with a really messed-up evening gown. My mother thought that was hilarious. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdaa6poxauvTEouJL5RaTlC2viipG3eiXoYdkat9HhW2GHGXcadKWzrQD-LnqnbMbeYe4MCpDQnovxjauvglqMiJ53Yu7NjpNz7rTHf-mUCdvnKxYsqQSsZvabyNueQChSPaOnEoxOkMDG/s1600/SheilaByers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="764" data-original-width="960" height="254" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdaa6poxauvTEouJL5RaTlC2viipG3eiXoYdkat9HhW2GHGXcadKWzrQD-LnqnbMbeYe4MCpDQnovxjauvglqMiJ53Yu7NjpNz7rTHf-mUCdvnKxYsqQSsZvabyNueQChSPaOnEoxOkMDG/s320/SheilaByers.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">My mom flying (EGAD) an airplane. Both of my folks flew. I can barely stand to get in the death-traps, but if I had my preference, I'd fly with my father. My mother was an amazing woman, but not so much, a pilot. She'd crab and yaw down a runway. My father was an artist in a plane.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">All the kitties and the dog and the birds are thriving; it helps that the cats aren't too sure what the birds are. We got most of them when they were so young, they didn't have mothers to teach them to hunt. Misty is just an enigma. I suspect she was with an animal hoarder and had very little attention as a kitten. She seems frail at six years old, but gets on well with the others. Being toothless, she needs soft food, so the three black-and-white tuxedos have learned that she eats by herself and don't bother her. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii0q1Spvsdjkoo0ACPp6I2hwLbuDRwh4G24JVl1MjB1_AIY6EDQ7Yc6K-akS4mV50ozCqTN0LDyqERfycgvMqQMQ7Rh_mHLF1n_vb2j-zUDdbhZQMENkQVPbA8yylHYG7apDa6PeIPvoQj/s1600/misty2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="298" data-original-width="221" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii0q1Spvsdjkoo0ACPp6I2hwLbuDRwh4G24JVl1MjB1_AIY6EDQ7Yc6K-akS4mV50ozCqTN0LDyqERfycgvMqQMQ7Rh_mHLF1n_vb2j-zUDdbhZQMENkQVPbA8yylHYG7apDa6PeIPvoQj/s400/misty2.jpg" width="296" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">It's hard to tell how small Misty is here; and I take lousy pictures. My essential tremor gets in the way. At least you can tell it's an animal.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Other than that, she's healthy and joins in their little games of "Viet Nam" and mouse hunts. Glenn is the smart one; I caught him getting into my cupboards underneath the sink and I yelled at him. The second time I saw him making a run at them, I shouted "Glenn! No!" He made a sharp right turn and ran head-long into the cabinet that was at a 90</span><span style="background-color: #c5dcc1; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; text-align: left;">°</span><span style="background-color: #c5dcc1; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> angle to that cabinet, then sat down and licked his paw like "Uh-huh; I meant to do that." Cats. Just great.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk9Xkh3R3j06bhyphenhyphen01SV2Ed8yb3yI6wqGzcJb-8q8v52KPnIjcRdKVNKjqzSSuyuhoXzWxqkMqqfHlg98UIAbE19QR-VCiiHMZW-62l0X5Y51yX0HddsaDlzO2Z8XtN9UOqH0dspi1Qhyphenhyphen_3/s1600/Glenn4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="303" data-original-width="224" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk9Xkh3R3j06bhyphenhyphen01SV2Ed8yb3yI6wqGzcJb-8q8v52KPnIjcRdKVNKjqzSSuyuhoXzWxqkMqqfHlg98UIAbE19QR-VCiiHMZW-62l0X5Y51yX0HddsaDlzO2Z8XtN9UOqH0dspi1Qhyphenhyphen_3/s400/Glenn4.jpg" width="295" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: #c5dcc1; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Here's Glenn; an entire 3 feet of cat sprawled out on my bed. He's at least 4 feet long. He's got long whiskers, legs, toes, body. I'm not even sure he's all cat.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #c5dcc1; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Eddifer is the supervisor of the kitchen. He very politely comes up and watches everything anyone does in the kitchen, like he's taking notes and will get back to you. He was my 2-month old foster and is just the sweetest, most biddable cat. He's just there for the company and is happy on his own, or sleeping on my chest.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHRQTzfixmu6JX2ZFaaGFc2L0jXaQTgOxpl-f1c3BvaQ77EqdA22SK-eGdC9k3xJmLLJJ80BaFGZk6xDMEIbFPo7iEOvNmI2VPl7-y_vUQk0Ph7vBoRh89tBsNlPVrCDAR5QXqJId5Om5f/s1600/catsbecattin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="326" data-original-width="276" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHRQTzfixmu6JX2ZFaaGFc2L0jXaQTgOxpl-f1c3BvaQ77EqdA22SK-eGdC9k3xJmLLJJ80BaFGZk6xDMEIbFPo7iEOvNmI2VPl7-y_vUQk0Ph7vBoRh89tBsNlPVrCDAR5QXqJId5Om5f/s400/catsbecattin.jpg" width="337" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: #c5dcc1; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">For some reason, Eddifer is resistant to having his picture taken; so here is a picture of a couple of cats, who either got into the catnip, or are re-enacting a scene from "The Purrates of Penzance". All they lack are little tri-corn hats. I laughed like a goon for half-an-hour when I ran across this. God Bless the corners of the innerwebz!</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #c5dcc1; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Allie, or "Kitten McGrabbyPaws" is my husband's cat and she waits all day for him to come home and she just loves, loves, loves him. She is by nature, a very, loving and happy cat. She is the one who makes up weird games and invites you along for a Magical, Mystery Tour. She's also frolicsome and just a kick to watch, when she starts some wild game of her own devising in a box. Cats and boxes are the best!</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYqXT-IJTJid2sNQH5lOfiRrmGqVmRJjbiM6pUaJC7u91PNk_cPnBwE6Pq8YrybJ0lZ3nghgyq7v3hf87XeW2UcjSAYKtdwXbaOskf9RUJbrrxmaeK_J44YtqgK5kdI0Hi-7gJNP8w2tri/s1600/Allie3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYqXT-IJTJid2sNQH5lOfiRrmGqVmRJjbiM6pUaJC7u91PNk_cPnBwE6Pq8YrybJ0lZ3nghgyq7v3hf87XeW2UcjSAYKtdwXbaOskf9RUJbrrxmaeK_J44YtqgK5kdI0Hi-7gJNP8w2tri/s400/Allie3.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: #c5dcc1; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">This is Allie, with the most bewitching eyes ever! Still, she is a whole lot of fun and she loves my husband to death. She is a good and happy kitty, who will try to hold your hand!</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #c5dcc1; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I have to say that I never expected my life to take this turn and I am immensely grateful for the quality of my life. I was doing okay before and had the things I needed,</span></span><span style="background-color: #c5dcc1; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; text-align: left;"> but it's certainly ramped up in my opinion. Gratitude is something we can never express too frequently, nor is love. I want to know how all of your Apocalypses are going, as a friend asked me last night. Yes, we all still play Runescape. I'm leading a clan, with two others, (SpiritZ) that is now 15 years old and I've been there for 14 of those years, as have most of the members. To say, we're richly bonded, is to paint that faintly indeed. We're another branch of the family. Stay safe, stay happy, and remember, this too, shall pass. All my love to (almost) anyone reading! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #c5dcc1;">P. S. Don't forget! The #a-to-z-challenge starts 4.1.2020! This is going to be a great year!</span></span></div>
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ViolaFuryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05796592763194795436noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4044142491333444735.post-89369009555448727032020-03-20T19:41:00.000-04:002020-03-20T19:41:36.690-04:00#A-TO-Z-CHALLENGE THEME REVEAL KIND OF<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Well...
shit. Here I was going along, having survived stupid mopes invading
my home. Beating up two muggers, getting past essential tremors and
burying a companion who was one of the best people I ever knew. I had
generally just stopped writing, because my viola playing had more or
less taken off again, and I was getting to play challenging things in
orchestras like the Tampa Bay Symphony. I was also getting out and
about again; I'd recently become an Inspector for the Clerk of
Elections of Hillsborough County and was working all of the General,
Primary and Special elections, when one of my online viola students,
whom I'd been teaching for several years, thought we'd make a pretty
good team in life together. I wasn't averse to this idea; I'm not someone who wants to spend the rest of my life alone, but I'm not looking for just any old body either; we share much of the same outlooks and values and have the same quirky sense of humor. Since irl match-ups have been so horrible, I thought this might worth a shot.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"Wolf" was the unwitting matchmaker</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Since
we were very familiar with one another and talked several times a
week, I thought “why the hell not”; I packed up my
computers and my viola, “Wolf” and headed to South Carolina, to live with a man, I'd never met irl.
Being legally blind, I was having trouble getting rides to the TBSO,
and fed up with all of that, I quit. My newly-minted </span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">fiancé</span></span></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">assured me that all the rides I ever
could need would be provided happily and he's been great with that.
We set up house in the country, filled it full of cats, with a dog
for security and three birds, just for the hell of it. We run a sort of half-assed cat rescue
for tuxedos, in memory of my poor Bootsie, ("Bootsie's Retreat") who was so cruelly treated
by my ex-husband, that he died of starvation, less than a month after
I got him out of the house that I was forbidden to enter, when we
divorced. </span>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My ridiculous dog, Ripley, wallowing on the bed, I just spent 20 minutes making. He's also a riot.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The
cats are a hoot; tuxedos HAVE to be the clowns of the cat world. We
fostered one tiny two-month old kitten, named “Eddie”, or
“Eddifur” as I call him. The night we brought him home, he was
introduced to our husky-hound mix, “Ripley”. Eddie looked at
Ripley and did the puff-up-walk-sideways and backed into his little
kitten house. He was so tiny, he couldn't figure out how to un-puff
himself, so he circled around backward about three times, before he
figured that shit out. Later on that night, after James had fallen
asleep, this tiny creature proceeded to cavort all over James and
turn somersaults, when his itty-bitty claws got caught in the
blankets. James slept on, and I cackled much like Muttley in delight,
as quietly as I could; it was so funny.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Eddifur, in front, photo-bombing Allie. Eddie is the sweetest boy and I call him "son". He's really a gentle cat. His favorite pastime is to "supervise" in the kitchen.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A
week later, we adopted another tuxedo, named Allie, for “Allie
Cat”. She too, puffed up and walked sideways when she saw Ripley.
The most notable thing that she and Eddie did together, other than
multiply exponentially in the mischief department, is they showed me
the meaning of good housekeeping, and by that, I mean, unplugging
appliances, when you are through using them. One calm evening, when
all was quiet, James, Ripley and I were all tucked up nice and snug
in the bed, snoozing away, when HOLYMOSESONACRACKER! SOMEONE DROPPED
A 747 ENGINE IN MY HALLWAY! </span>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"Allie", alias "KittenMcGrabbyPaws". This is the squirmiest, grabbiest kitten I've ever had. She tries to stand up and walk on her hind legs like a little person, and she made up this game one day, where she grabbed my hand, walked me over to a box (sorta on her hind legs), sit down, and then grabbed my hand and led me away from it, only to repeat said action. I know not what the object of the "game" was. She looks like she has wool on her hind legs, so naturally, all of our little darlings suffer terribly from "catwool", whatever that is...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Nope;
it was just two tiny kittens assing around the vacuum cleaner and
they turned it on. This is one of those big ones, that will suck up
the entire living room, if you're not careful. The kittens, of course
became ghosts. My hilarious friend, Alex, asked, “Did you turn the
kittens into ghosts for that, or did they just evaporate?” Ha ha.
“They just evaporated”, I answered. James observed “At least
this is different than them Singing The Song Of Their People at 3
am!” Sort of, I guess?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A
short time after that, James came home from work, and as he opened
the front door, he says “Mary! How did the kitten get out of the
house?”, and he was bent down picking up a tuxedo kitten, about the
same size and configuration of our two. I hadn't been outside the
house all day, so I at first thought “Hmmm, this is James' sneaky
way of getting another kitten in the house!” I said, “Look behind
me, here are our two chuckleheads!” and he looked. He was probably
thinking, “Hmmm, this is Mary's sneaky way of getting another
kitten in the house!”, but he brought this kitten in, who was about
the same age as the other two. The kitten was in distress; hot and
frazzled. James gave him a bath and we called our county's ASPCA.
Both of our kittens had been vaccinated, but this one had not, so we
weren't worried that this new kitten would make them sick. When it
was apparent that the shelter had no room for him, we figured we were
in for a penny; in for a pound and added him to our brood. James
named him after my father, “Glenn Wallace”. The exponential
quality of mischief-like behavior continued, only instead of four, we
now had nine little busy-bodies and boy, are they something.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"Glenn Wallace" or just "Glenn" or "Chucklehead" or "Asshat" (which applies to all 3). Smarter than hell. He knows his name and he bonded quickly with me. His idea of a good time is to snooze in my lap all afternoon, even if I'm practicing.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">About
this time, I thought up the idea of a “Tuxedo Rescue” and
mentioned it to James as we were driving off to the Walmart. He
smartly returned with, “Hey, we're really close to the Harris
Psychiatric Hospital! Would you like a short stay there?” After a
good laugh, he said (being the compassionate soul he is) <br />“Maybe
there's something to this idea....”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We
started looking at all the shelters in our area for tuxedos. We found
a blue-and-white one recently. Her name is “Misty” and she was in
a situation where the people hoarded animals. She has no teeth, and
must eat soft food. She's just the sweetest thing and will play if
she thinks no one is looking. She and Glenn are the smartest, with
Glenn being scary-smart. He knows hand commands and they all know
their names. I guess this is my dotage. Not bad, coming from the
'hood and a horrid situation. We look constantly; they are few and far between...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Misty is tiny, tiny, tiny. I'm not sure if she was malnourished when she was young. I do know that she was only spayed a year ago -- she's six years old -- and has had at least one litter of kittens. She's really a good cat, and sneaky fun. You have to catch her at playing. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My
health is better than it's ever been; I've put on fifteen pounds and
I feel great. I'm playing well (I'll get to why I'm writing now in a
moment), after I fell and cracked my elbow. But, I fell and cracked a
rib and I broke my hip and had it replaced in October of 2018. I had
the fastest recovery and rehab EVER then, as I lived alone and you
cannot show weakness in the jungle of Nebraska Avenue. I can still
kick the shit out of people, but have no reason to do that anymore.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Glenn is also the longest cat I've ever had; he's a full four feet, when stretched out. He has really long whiskers, so I sing to him, "Scaramouch! Scaramouch!... CanyoudotheFandango?, in a high voice and he looks at me like I'm an idiot.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Anyway,
I joined a new orchestra, here in the Carolinas; the <a href="https://foothillsphilharmonic.org/?gclid=Cj0KCQjw09HzBRDrARIsAG60GP9LhnxIDGs6pfqPXtkHijjpNTof8TSNqCvUOWzzdGVKfaAqRypsOQwaApxcEALw_wcB" target="_blank">Foothills Philharmonic</a>, conducted by the wonderful </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><a href="https://www.erskine.edu/staff-member/kory-vrieze/" target="_blank">K</a></span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><a href="https://www.erskine.edu/staff-member/kory-vrieze/" target="_blank">ory Vrieze</a>. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;">we were practicing “Scheherazade”, much to my
delight. We did such an awesome job with it in 2015, with </span><a href="https://marksforzini.com/" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;" target="_blank">Mark Sforzini</a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"> and the </span><a href="http://www.tampabaysymphony.com/" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;" target="_blank">Tampa Bay Symphony</a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;">, and we were going to do just as
fine a job here.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Alas,
a thing called a pandemic intervened. Coronavirus shut down the orchestra, along with the rest of the country. I've worked at a tertiary care
facility, and did so for four years. Virology always fascinated me
and I understand disease vectors. I knew six weeks ago, that I would
be in a quarantine of my own making. I'm at high-risk, and I've
survived too much awful shit; had so much good luck, that I cannot
continue to bank on that happening indefinitely, so I ran right to my
doc's office and we did our shorthand discussion: “triage”,
“shortages of supplies”, “out-of-date infrastructure”, “lack
of leadership” and so on. I was supposed to take a trip
out-of-state to meet my fianc</span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">é's
parents, later on in the summer. Since they are elderly and since I
am high-risk, none of this is happening. It's no one's fault; it just
is.</span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">However,
now that I am blogging again, I can also freely express my total
dismay and contempt for what I see happening; not only in our own
government, but around the world. I do feel that our so-called
President has finally found himself in a position that he cannot
possibly lie or backpedal his way out of and his actions, even before
his taking of office have been treasonous, illegal and immoral. I
will never accept what he has done to our Supreme Court, and his
minions within the Senate and Congress, should all be held liable.
This is the kind of thing that in times past, would bring about
Revolution; line 'em up against the wall, shoot 'em and start over.
Lenin had it right.</span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Anyway,
I'm back, and while I'm happy in my life and having a great time, I
fear for our WAY of life. Looking forward to <a href="http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/" target="_blank">#a-to-z-challenge</a>!</span></span></span></span></span></div>
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ViolaFuryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05796592763194795436noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4044142491333444735.post-60766758707522537722019-04-04T00:48:00.000-04:002019-04-04T00:48:54.956-04:00#A-TO-Z-CHALLENGE - LETTERS “C” AND “D” - CATS AND DOGS OF NEBRASKA AVENUE<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Living
on and around Nebraska Avenue has been a colorful journey and the
denizens here have been sure to bring along their four-footed
companions on whatever this all is. We have quite the assortment, and
one breed of cat, known as the “Havana Brown” originated right
here in V. M. Ybor. The cat is a beauty to behold; dark, small and
fierce and so brown as to be almost black. It is related to the
Siamese and is a striking animal. </span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLa884FfLLqy02kotamqyLzREceeHS8qoq-tCcwN-s7r07NF_TB4bORSkRE-w_4oAOJiv1DCcgrtqFRO41K3fu4pWjeC0xt6jOFNpAaeDGG5TisIYCR1mCW58L2PSVCEVv3dbwd-YBg4is/s1600/havana-brown-in-dark.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="375" data-original-width="300" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLa884FfLLqy02kotamqyLzREceeHS8qoq-tCcwN-s7r07NF_TB4bORSkRE-w_4oAOJiv1DCcgrtqFRO41K3fu4pWjeC0xt6jOFNpAaeDGG5TisIYCR1mCW58L2PSVCEVv3dbwd-YBg4is/s400/havana-brown-in-dark.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Havana Brown</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But,
we mostly have an odd breed of cat that doesn't seem to know what it
wants to be and they are most typified by my old matriarch, who has
since passed on, “Mama”. She was part-calico, part-striped, with
patches and colors a-riot. Her progeny are all over this 'hood and
have been adopted by the good-hearted folk. When she came to us, she
was pregnant with her last litter, and we had her spayed, but her
descendants are still here, with all of her colors and patterns.
These cats are almost all fixed, and they loll about the streets
around Nebraska Avenue, living the lives of kings and queens all.
It's fun to walk about the 'hood to see them.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"Mama" standing on my porch, looking for a treat. This animal did not know what she wanted to be, so she was a bunch of everything. Her descendants are still cavorting around here. I miss her, dearly.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">There's
also a feral colony that I feed and they like to just come in the
house and run riot. I'm not too sure where they came from, but I do
feed them and they seem to have adopted me. I named one “Chloe”
before I discovered he was a male, but he doesn't seem to mind. He
enjoys coming in, eating and then sleeping somewhere, until I've
forgotten he's in the house and then scaring the hell out of me. He
wouldn't let me pet him for the longest time, and now, he likes to
make an ass out of himself by rolling all over my feet for treats.
So, yeah, his name is “Chloe”. He brought along two younger
siblings and they all played “Rodeo” in my kitchen one afternoon,
as I was airing out my house on a cool afternoon. Who doesn't love
cats romping through the house on a sunny afternoon?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Batch o' newborn kittens. Almost 3 summers ago, I hand-raised 5 newborns up to 5 months, before I toured Japan. I was so exhausted by the 2nd week of feedings. But, I raised and adopted out 5 healthy, beautiful kittens. Their mom had been hit by a car and no one else in the 'hood had ever done this before. Me and my fat mouth.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">They
may not be that feral; they could be the type of cats that “dine”
at several houses and live the life of Riley. This would not be the
first time I've been scammed by cats. It's harder for dogs to get
away with that kind of nonsense.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvl0ffJ-QpquhNIigNz2ENCygnjVLxP4Dhu3_eUQ4vRsjIxF4IAA0iLZG7bf3pORlKPyCFde5YmmTsM0kDD_CjBBFnPy5HciwsARC0igI18-JUGLzwzcnDq5X5KnBdsOkcElU28-APJF2R/s1600/This-Pitbull-is-Not-Dangerous.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvl0ffJ-QpquhNIigNz2ENCygnjVLxP4Dhu3_eUQ4vRsjIxF4IAA0iLZG7bf3pORlKPyCFde5YmmTsM0kDD_CjBBFnPy5HciwsARC0igI18-JUGLzwzcnDq5X5KnBdsOkcElU28-APJF2R/s640/This-Pitbull-is-Not-Dangerous.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">All the pitbulls I see around here are happy like this guy. Simba looks like this. He's real happy now that his "family" has been extended. Even if it is just more cats.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Dogs
are a lot different anyway, and the dogs of Nebraska Avenue are no
different. They are a loyal bunch, and there are many of them here.
Because this is the 'hood, the breed of choice is the Pitbull. Or,
for some peculiar reason, little tiny anklebiters of indeterminate
make. The people who own Pitbulls are very good and kind with them
and they are great dogs to have. We had one show up once, when I was
at the homeless shelter and he played and romped with several of us,
before his panicked owner showed up, looking for him. </span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2_cUObb2RShvWnbwP0Nx8OpwkntR0nRC7PHLIqovsKDtvc7SmULBCrXZCqqZFTHbqRov0T3vNOHUbbP6uXDWacVcRqWFEgFtXy80zMbnieyxOpeHm28kN0TUY-TaFhz3qwYuWkJNRCtLl/s1600/anklebiter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="425" data-original-width="640" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2_cUObb2RShvWnbwP0Nx8OpwkntR0nRC7PHLIqovsKDtvc7SmULBCrXZCqqZFTHbqRov0T3vNOHUbbP6uXDWacVcRqWFEgFtXy80zMbnieyxOpeHm28kN0TUY-TaFhz3qwYuWkJNRCtLl/s400/anklebiter.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The other families that don't have pitbulls have these little dogs, furry and non-furry. There's no in-between or medium-sized dogs here. So, I guess we either go large or small, or go home! Not sure what it says about our demographic here!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The
neighbors had a pitbull before they moved and he was such a sweet,
biddable dog. I was sad when they moved and he left. The only other
dog I currently know, is Simba, who lives upstairs. He's a Pitbull
and he's very excited. His sister-cat just had kittens and he is
going to help raise them. The mama cat, Maggie, seems fine with this
arrangement. Since they all live in an apartment and Simba can't hide
the kittens, I'm sure it will be fine. </span>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I
just remember growing up, we had a large dog who was very excited
when one of our cats had kittens. He “kit-napped” them and we
found them all in the garage; he had gathered the kittens inside his
giant paws and was guarding them. They were yowling angry, because
they were hungry. Simba has no hiding place. He'll have to do his
“guarding” right there in front of Mama cat!</span></div>
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ViolaFuryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05796592763194795436noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4044142491333444735.post-77806558687378258752019-04-03T02:25:00.000-04:002019-04-03T02:25:14.451-04:00#IWSG - APRIL 2019 CHECK IN<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiA40wCCopVsQns_4UCvJj9XvdIEEhyRY5Dk4BbEJLFJGxHmaogH1t1LXflFldYJnFyDfOAO5y6EpdTqsK5B8wueMyQEM-2X34KEwt0xCEssWPlXN4QeQSyaH4IyWMPbUt49fR0Lc2gKHX/s1600/Insecure+Writers+Support+Group+Badge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="315" data-original-width="320" height="393" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiA40wCCopVsQns_4UCvJj9XvdIEEhyRY5Dk4BbEJLFJGxHmaogH1t1LXflFldYJnFyDfOAO5y6EpdTqsK5B8wueMyQEM-2X34KEwt0xCEssWPlXN4QeQSyaH4IyWMPbUt49fR0Lc2gKHX/s400/Insecure+Writers+Support+Group+Badge.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The question for this month, if you could have one wish to help you with your writing one scene/chapter is a good one. Just starting a foray into fiction writing, I think for me, it would HAVE to be a "first kiss" scene. I don't think I'm so great at writing about relationships or developing characters yet. I'm more able to write descriptive scenes or write rhetorically, since that's what I've always done and I'm most comfortable with that. So, please, Alex, send the Relationship Fairy my way to help me out with that. I know this is one short post, but I'm working on "Cats of Nebraska Avenue" and getting ready to leave the state, so I do hope you understand. I'll be writing something else when I land. I do wish everyone a GREAT #IWSG! </span></div>
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ViolaFuryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05796592763194795436noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4044142491333444735.post-43839275717005110572019-04-02T16:28:00.000-04:002019-04-03T01:54:32.076-04:00#A-TO-Z-CHALLENGE 2019 - LETTER "B" - BUSES OF NEBRASKA AVENUE AND ITS ENVIRONS<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz59zj12-xmFf5nvDDBZ9PML6aL6-0ZxZY0EbSyZPcw1Z7lCri7aillXJK3dPg4W9Fk80JR6pSRb8dpoX3wkqukUzLMHmF2b4J7OgNlGmf-cfy4A7UYDVTtZ3b4dSdpiBrZnfL6g7Q7C0B/s1600/AtoZ2019B.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="450" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz59zj12-xmFf5nvDDBZ9PML6aL6-0ZxZY0EbSyZPcw1Z7lCri7aillXJK3dPg4W9Fk80JR6pSRb8dpoX3wkqukUzLMHmF2b4J7OgNlGmf-cfy4A7UYDVTtZ3b4dSdpiBrZnfL6g7Q7C0B/s640/AtoZ2019B.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b>B</b><span style="font-weight: normal;">uses!
The many bus stories I have written over the many years of living
here in the 'hood have covered varied facets of life in the streets
of Tampa. Everything from a frothing bus ballet, when they all
meet-and-greet in the central hub the Metro Bus Center downtown and
do a delicate dance of braking and squealing and farting, as the
dodge one another on their way to their separate berths. Being a
passenger during one of these Stravinsky and Najinsky-inspired Rites
of Spring is definitely not for the faint of heart, as metal
behemoths dance by on one tire, mere inches from their partners. Yet,
somehow, this craziness is repeated on a daily basis with no
applause. Drivers all, I simply say, “bravo”. Except for Mr.
“Safety First”, whom we shall address soon.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">"The Rite of Spring" Ballet. Music by Igor Stravinsky; Choreography by Najinsky caused rioting at its premiere in Paris in 1913. It was mainly the ballet that created the mayhem and that was soon dropped. "Rite of Spring" went on to become a landmark work of Stravinsky, but the chaos and weirdness of Najinsky's ballet never caught on.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">It's
not only the drivers who are diverse and long-suffering. They are
forced to put up with the guy who insists on yelling on his
cell-phone to his cousin in oh, say Venezuela, or Germany. He's so
loud that the phone isn't really necessary. The fact that he's
blargling in some kind of English makes it not on whit better either.
Tired of listening to him yammer, I look ahead to see some kid
play-acting along with whatever is on the screen of his phone. The
4</span><sup><span style="font-weight: normal;">th</span></sup><span style="font-weight: normal;">
wall is truly broken here. To make matters worse, the kid jumps up to
look out the window, and I reflexively jump up with him for FOMO.
Kill me now. At least I'm not sitting next to “shouty guy”; the
guy who just yells incoherently at nothing every five seconds.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Understand,
this is just the very worst of the worst on a day on the bus. They're
not generally like this. Most of the routes are rather normal, unless
you're on the number 32 route, then you're on Psychiatrist Row and
it's a grab-bag of looniness. The drivers who drive that route must
have done something awful to have gotten stuck there. Once, when I
was homeless, I was standing at the 32 bus stop, with my late
companion, Jim, and the bus pulled up. We were visiting our
Psychiatrist together, and Jim said, “Oh geeze, it's this old
crab.” I just busted up laughing. Old crab is right. The time
before, it had been pouring rain, and some not very nice people had
deliberately soaked us with their car, by aiming for the puddles.
Three very sweet women drove by right after those two guys and gave
us two umbrellas, but the damage had been done; we were dripping wet.
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">As
we clambered on the 32 bus, the Crab said, “Geeze, you're getting
my bus all wet (the floors were already wet, but he just HAD to
bitch), this is so rude!” From the back of the bus, one of our
homeless compatriots, who was pretty feisty, yells from the back of
the bus, “Bitch! It's not because we don't give a shit! It's
because we're poor and homeless you numb fool! You're not gonna have
to clean this up! Yada yada yada!” As Jim and I shuffled off to our
seats. Great. I thanked her later. I'm usually the Mouth of the
South. That shut the Crab up for that trip, but he was always snarky.
He finally went to another route, or retired. I don't know what
happened to him.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Much
later, after Jim had died, my pretend-adopted-son Alex and I were
trying to get home from the grocery store. We had to take the
Nebraska Avenue Rapid Metro Bus, that crosses MLK, Jr. Blvd. Just as
we were crossing the street to get to the bus stop, there was an
accident in that intersection and it was serious enough to louse up
the traffic, plus a Semi died and put out some hazard cones in the
south left turn lane on Nebraska Avenue. Now, this did not stop a few
intrepid buses from navigating around this treacherous scene and
proceeding south on Nebraska to bear passengers to their destination.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">However,
the bus that Alex and I happened to land in was helmed by Mr. “Safety
First”, a clod who never made the bus kneel when I tried to get
off, so that I was at high risk of bashing my teeth out on the
sidewalk, and never waited until I was seated, before jamming on the
accelerator, as if he were trying to launch number 400 into outer
space. So yeah, “Safety First” wasn't really an apt title, as we
shall see. Said clod decided that he was unable to make his ungainly
bus make a simple 90</span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">°
right turn down a side street, like all the OTHER nice buses did, he
was gonna sit there until. . .? Well, first off, we had a guy who had
been in some kinda special forces unit over in Iraq and had driven
heavy equipment, who OFFERED to drive the binch of a bus around the
corner if the driver wouldn't do it. “Oh no! I'm all about safety!”
The driver opined. I just goggled at him. “Well, Mr. Safety First!
How's about you get on that fancy radio of yours and call someone to
come and drive us the hell out of here?” I said. Bus driver
dithered around some. </span></span></span></span></span>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I was torn for today's topic, that's why it's late. I was thinking "bois" or "bakeries" or "badass" me. All I do is yell at the druggies around here and run them off, bleh. "Bus" is so much more fun!</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">I
looked out my window and happened to see some policemans directing
traffic in the intersection, not too far from where we were sitting.
This was getting ridiculous. We'd been here, like what? Thirty
minutes? The buses behind us weren't coming, because the broadcast
had gone out that there was an accident, and this guy wasn't doing
anything. I started pounding on the windows, yelling “Help! Mr.
Policemans! We've been kidnapped by a deranged bus driver! He won't
go around the corner and we're being forced to sit here against our
will!” The other passengers began to laugh. My pretend-adopted-son
Alex was trying to hide. Mr. “Safety First” was dithering even
more. I turned to him and said, “Now, you ready to get on that
walkie-talkie and call your supervisor?” He nodded and did so. (I
guess they get points off for that kind of stuff, but really, this
was idiotic.) </span></span></span></span></span>
</div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Pretty
soon, a guy drives up in something that looks like it was made by the
Dinky-Toy company and he gets out and gets on the bus to find out
what all the ruckus is about. Both Special Forces and I 'fess up,
saying we just want to get the hell out of there. The Supervisor
looks at us both and doesn't say a word. He yanks Mr. “Safety
First” off the bus and they have a chin-wag. The driver then gets
back on the bus, fires it up and follows the Dinky-Toy car, around
the 90° right turn. We make a slight detour and then, we're back on
Nebraska Avenue, south of the still on-going accident scene. I'm home
in 2 minutes. As I get off the bus, I turn to Mr. “Safety First”
and say, “Listen, d'you mind kneeling the bus, please? I don't
wanna bash out my teeth. Thanks.”</span></span></span></span></span></div>
<br /></div>
ViolaFuryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05796592763194795436noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4044142491333444735.post-47329466927979817622019-04-01T01:13:00.000-04:002019-04-01T01:13:06.258-04:00#A-TO-Z-CHALLENGE 2019 - LETTER "A" - AVENUE<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiReWI5fJz2RQp_9gB8u8spLiltlcr_lrYXKuAuZ_dJ9C2uXP0eqhWqK0eTMicObwA_6_5v81fuoEswhAmxsJc9NDILq8sYh2aU-TnVVNyKJxPMu0Neoq8vS7EyGRpK-w5O1oDTmbWdI_sP/s1600/AtoZ2019A.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="320" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiReWI5fJz2RQp_9gB8u8spLiltlcr_lrYXKuAuZ_dJ9C2uXP0eqhWqK0eTMicObwA_6_5v81fuoEswhAmxsJc9NDILq8sYh2aU-TnVVNyKJxPMu0Neoq8vS7EyGRpK-w5O1oDTmbWdI_sP/s640/AtoZ2019A.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This challenge is going to be very different than other challenges that I've participated in, in years past. This year, I am going on a trip of remembrance of my time living here on Nebraska Avenue, thus I'm starting with "A" for Avenue. I'm going to be leaving here and leaving Florida shortly for a new start with a wonderful man and we are going to make a life together in another state. More about that later. I certainly wasn't looking for it, nor was he, I wager, so when it came, we were both bowled over. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Anyway, "Homeless Chronicles in Tampa" will cease to be, and something else will appear in place. But, on to the "Avenue". Nebraska Avenue is one of the most vibrant, colorful and dangerous places I've ever experienced. I was reminded of this the other day, as some numbskull was tearing up and down the Avenue, belting out his Reggaetone; it was full of life, beautiful, loud, sensual, and annoying all at once. The beat was infectious and I couldn't stop tapping my toe to it, even as I was very glad that this guy wasn't my neighbor.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This 'hood has been like that, since I've been here in 2010, only it's become more so over the years. Chaos pretty much rules here and for those denizens who learn to survive, you either learn to stare it down, or it will eat you alive. I chose to thrive in the environment, and revel in the crazy. I was fortunate enough to experience the "Sharpie Lady", who decided in a fit of DIY that a red and black sharpie were the perfect make-up tools. I survived the two fools who decided in an opportunistic mood, when my door blew open, while I was asleep three Marches ago, to come parading into my house and try to disturb my slumber, that this was a wise move. They lived to regret that move. A stun gun was then in my future. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But, with all of that, there's the grizzled man on the bus who held a potted flowered plant, gently in his bear-like hands and when we all ooh-ed and aah-ed over it, he said simply "I was just feeling a little blah, today." We all murmured in sympathy; who hasn't been there and we all felt grateful for him having shared his flower with us. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">That's the thing about this place, the lows are really low, but the highs and the good things when they come by are amazing and those are the things I will miss about this stupid, crazy place, most of all. So, this is the first of a good-bye and a love letter to Nebraska Avenue. You've been a great lot of fun!</span></div>
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ViolaFuryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05796592763194795436noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4044142491333444735.post-27668626077238518682019-03-06T00:13:00.001-05:002019-03-07T01:55:46.241-05:00#IWSG – MARCH 2019 CHECK IN – FROM WHOSE PERSPECTIVE DO I PREFER TO WRITE? PROTAGONIST OR ANTAGONIST?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh54sAFH5g9IJbnF-mNaurDeGimkWxjCtKelaaNjJ84Y7PvBthX-uq4ONaI3uMa4UxyY5Kfk43fmqQbIngaUll3YBWsRJ0f0ZgiFYhSAtEibJneozQYvJt5pk2y8EVpCWq_YMpdCtnmBrXa/s1600/Insecure+Writers+Support+Group+Badge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="315" data-original-width="320" height="630" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh54sAFH5g9IJbnF-mNaurDeGimkWxjCtKelaaNjJ84Y7PvBthX-uq4ONaI3uMa4UxyY5Kfk43fmqQbIngaUll3YBWsRJ0f0ZgiFYhSAtEibJneozQYvJt5pk2y8EVpCWq_YMpdCtnmBrXa/s640/Insecure+Writers+Support+Group+Badge.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">This
is a real poser for me. I'm pretty much a rhetorical writer and the
very small bits and pieces of fiction that I've dabbled in have been
from a rather omniscient view and a not very well-organized one, at
that. I tend to feel like I have the early days of the Bolshevik
Revolution shouting out the beginnings of some kind of Constitution
after the October Revolution in my head most of the time and I rest
sublimely within my bubble of confusion, with Lenin, Bulganin,
Trotsky, et al. , shouting at once and only coming out when
necessary to deal with such things as rent, bills and such
necessities. This is what solitary living has done to me. I'm
comfortable in my bubble, but probably a bit <i>too</i> comfortable
and need to get out more. </span>
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<br /></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">That
being said, I'm not out of ideas of things to write about, nor
opinions about daily life around me. The 'hood is still the 'hood and
still full of the usual colorful people and antics. Our current
mission in V. M. Ybor is to get Trinity Cafe shut down and moved out
of here, as what we feared has come to pass. It has become a magnet
for more ne'er do-wells and lay-abouts and way too many people with
no fixed address who have driven up the already-alarming crime rates
in this district. </span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrndFibImoCDliUcrIgtKjHAY5yFB1PIwsBSrzJbMUk3cG-eqPST_iT8sYiE1nJoLXm_bhcNmjmmALnx2sYxua3X9rzs9VlMHgHojTqDrQfe9b-TpV7oHpI9MqzIQdNPQG3iS_Op8F9eJQ/s1600/checkersofthedamned.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="705" data-original-width="1153" height="390" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrndFibImoCDliUcrIgtKjHAY5yFB1PIwsBSrzJbMUk3cG-eqPST_iT8sYiE1nJoLXm_bhcNmjmmALnx2sYxua3X9rzs9VlMHgHojTqDrQfe9b-TpV7oHpI9MqzIQdNPQG3iS_Op8F9eJQ/s640/checkersofthedamned.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">NOTE: THE FOLLOWING IS 100% FACT-FREE!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I have no idea what this building was originally. I have to walk (at a dead run) past this on my way to the bus stop. You can't really see in the windows, 'cause it's all dark and shadowy, with dirty windows and shapes move soundlessly within. I suspect this may have indirectly caused me to break my left hip when I fell last October, although I wasn't near this building. This kinda Evil travels. It's a Proven Fact!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">On
a lighter note, the Checkers of the Damned is still in business
across from the real Checkers on Floribraska Avenue and Nebraska
Avenue, where all the cool guys and ghouls can drive their Christines
thru the Drive-thru and get Maggot Burgers after 12 a. m. Free this
week; a side-order of deep-fried fungus; only with coupon. Yum!</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Anyway,
not to meander, what was the question again? Oh! Pro or con? Not sure. If
I ever think of writing an epic piece of fiction, I'll probably write
from both views, cosmo-like. I like the idea of playing a chess game
with myself! Happy #IWSG'ing!</span></div>
<br /></div>
ViolaFuryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05796592763194795436noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4044142491333444735.post-33446904572190553152019-02-06T00:12:00.000-05:002019-02-06T16:43:26.764-05:00#IWSG FEBRUARY 2019 CHECK IN – BESIDES WRITING, WHAT OTHER CREATIVE OUTLETS DO YOU HAVE?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4cwg3y_US1-1prHR8XvgUyuFQTDLkQyGOIBUpdyFypbsRYlpvZGuwaXK3aoObGccLJm-NmHzwxCtdiyTWWOlCQF7JANNafZ8RweF__op4rgAuyesNw0gRtA2QSu2z45YblLu4d0N0U3q1/s1600/Insecure+Writers+Support+Group+Badge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="315" data-original-width="320" height="630" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4cwg3y_US1-1prHR8XvgUyuFQTDLkQyGOIBUpdyFypbsRYlpvZGuwaXK3aoObGccLJm-NmHzwxCtdiyTWWOlCQF7JANNafZ8RweF__op4rgAuyesNw0gRtA2QSu2z45YblLu4d0N0U3q1/s640/Insecure+Writers+Support+Group+Badge.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Gee,
this is a great question, and before I ever wrote, all I ever did was
play the viola. Then, I came down with essential tremor, an inherited
neuro-muscular disorder (my mom was afflicted and never diagnosed,
nor treated, poor woman) and until I could get a proper diagnosis and
treatment, which normally takes on average six years, but was
accomplished in about five in my case, I stopped playing and started
blogging and also wrote and completed a NaNoWriMo book in 2013. THAT
still needs editing! I'm not sure that I'm cut out for long-haul
writing, but I'm damned good at seat-of-the-pants,
stream-of-consciousness ramblings. I submit to you this earlier post
about a playoff NFL game that somehow morphs into a symphonic
stare-down as proof that absurdity abounds and can be found anywhere
and is alive and well in my life! I'm back playing, but have writing
now for fun! What a great life!</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB91id5zf5NANvHJgIT2ayS_-u5Lye1ieh5pAW1C3A_znmoI6qWdkmz7vo_SaqGgr4xB5Ss4thJha3sbGrkItJe0jUJBCGzuNhlJMTxuVXERn6vcKe5yzP8dBI0dmjSzwi53NyUR9CdnEt/s1600/Alien6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="93" data-original-width="1046" height="56" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB91id5zf5NANvHJgIT2ayS_-u5Lye1ieh5pAW1C3A_znmoI6qWdkmz7vo_SaqGgr4xB5Ss4thJha3sbGrkItJe0jUJBCGzuNhlJMTxuVXERn6vcKe5yzP8dBI0dmjSzwi53NyUR9CdnEt/s640/Alien6.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">originally posted 1/13/13</span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "arial";"><span style="font-size: medium;">I'm
totally cheating here; today for the first time since I started with
the seizures, psychotic break and tremors, which is about 18 months,
I played my viola, and surprise of surprises, I sounded damn good
(for about 3 minutes; I have my work cut out for me!) So, that right
there is an achievement. My goal for writing still stands, although I
have edited nothing, but I'm so over the moon about being able to
play. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnyc48m1hm73FuY9rhMxuQ6XHOgyUDpQrFgQWFTEy60kF38mCHmXldjbT-byhn6hiOn0EYuejGgZB6CeNWNqssp081_rRTddxhUjYVPxt0FX_TeRtOuHcGZtCqReOZwkx_50xBJIwDEgvX/s1600/images.jpg"><img align="BOTTOM" border="0" height="300" name="graphics1" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnyc48m1hm73FuY9rhMxuQ6XHOgyUDpQrFgQWFTEy60kF38mCHmXldjbT-byhn6hiOn0EYuejGgZB6CeNWNqssp081_rRTddxhUjYVPxt0FX_TeRtOuHcGZtCqReOZwkx_50xBJIwDEgvX/s400/images.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I
wonder if these are free-range violas, because the price has really
skyrocketed!</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Q:
Have you heard about the latest form of urban violence?</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">A:
Drive-by viola solos.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "arial";"><br />So,
here's a little number I cobbled up during the American Football
season last year as we headed into our playoff season. Enjoy!</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "arial";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">This
is not your typical Sunday check in post. Nope, first off, it's
Monday and second off, here in the good ol’ U S of A, it is <a href="http://www.nobelprize.org/nobel_prizes/peace/laureates/1964/king-bio.html">Martin
Luther King</a> Jr.'s Birthday and <a href="http://www.whitehouse.gov/administration/president-obama">President
Obama</a>'s 2nd Inaugural Celebration! So, what better way for me to
celebrate, than to write about yesterday's <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/National_Football_Conference">NFC</a> Championship
game between the Atlanta Falcons and the San Francisco 49ers that
featured</span></span></span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span></span></span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "arial";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">guys
running over guys and plowing into unaware guys on the side-lines.
That’s right, “UNAWARE” guys on the side lines, during one of
two games that will decide which of two teams are going to the Hyper
Bowl, er, uh I mean, Super Bowl LXVII (is that 47 or 67? I failed
Roman Numerals in Ancient Times class.)</span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjGk5RDRflfEMoZOMtiTUdKkyR0P21Ltztzxj9rOfpTByyTUd9jqn45vn9BrySy5jjjeFEPsSBwEN4vYrC_wqWW6-EfrE9gPBDq9jSTgox9KrG6KUWOMQj5jEASQzb4Zn0TMijnOMTcZd5/s1600/18wheels.jpg"><img align="BOTTOM" border="0" height="400" name="graphics3" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjGk5RDRflfEMoZOMtiTUdKkyR0P21Ltztzxj9rOfpTByyTUd9jqn45vn9BrySy5jjjeFEPsSBwEN4vYrC_wqWW6-EfrE9gPBDq9jSTgox9KrG6KUWOMQj5jEASQzb4Zn0TMijnOMTcZd5/s400/18wheels.jpg" width="309" /></a></span></div>
</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "arial";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Sing
Along: "I see I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX, X, XI, XII,
XIII, XIV, XV, XVI, XVII, XVII Wheels"</span></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; text-align: left; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "arial";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Anyway,
dude got clipped below the knees and fell as if pole-axed, backward
onto that hard surface and landed backwards, head-first, with a
bounce or two and was thankfully unhurt. Apparently, he works at the
Atlanta Falcons field and this was their first ever(!) playoff event,
and really, he can’t be faulted for that part of it. The poor guy
had his back turned to the action and was most likely, looking at and
marveling at the crowd and all of their noise, hoo ha, folderol and
mostly, NOISE. And boy, howdy, there was a bunch of it, being as how,
my Google says, the Georgia Dome can shovel 71,250 people into
permanent seats. </span></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; text-align: left; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "arial";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">The
first time I ever faced a crowd like that was when I played for
the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Moody_Blues">Moody
Blues</a>. I was in my mid-30s and had been playing viola
professionally for about 20 years, by this time. My performing
experience went from symphony-polite-coughing and maybe a standing
ovation, or two. Occasionally, the standing ovations were
prolonged.</span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: black;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB-LR_eQElXUMM6l80dk5_bTMvxiw1RuGm8QTzQKT3urS1N2m2AAPg0sJ3XqvUIa-rtLOVaU4M8cAVCSBkLjEC7WnHb11gw3cwEqUrTEgSrvk1NKX_p9wGnvlxjuR6xOEc7hB0oabmjJKP/s1600/audience.jpg"><img align="BOTTOM" border="0" height="428" name="graphics4" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB-LR_eQElXUMM6l80dk5_bTMvxiw1RuGm8QTzQKT3urS1N2m2AAPg0sJ3XqvUIa-rtLOVaU4M8cAVCSBkLjEC7WnHb11gw3cwEqUrTEgSrvk1NKX_p9wGnvlxjuR6xOEc7hB0oabmjJKP/s640/audience.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "arial";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Stunning,
wonderous. I love Mozzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz..... *snore*</span></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "arial";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Once,
during a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fermata">Grand
Pause</a>, or a fermata, where the orchestra came to a screeching
halt after a fortississimo passage and it was deathly quiet, I had
the great good fortune to hear a bellowed “I FRY MINE IN LARD…”
from the back of the audience and then, stunning quiet. Nary a peep,
cough, fart or rustle.</span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "arial";"><span style="font-size: medium;">The
fermata fortunately, is one of those musical devices that has no
metered time, so as the Conductor stared us all down, daring us to
laugh, and we all played “one potato, two potato, three potato,
four…” Concert master and Principal Second Violin and Principal
Viola and Principal Cello all sitting there, giving one another, the
hairy eyeball, becoming rather like “High Noon,” and I and my
stand partner who are on the 2<sup>nd</sup> stand, not daring to
look at one another, because we are truly deranged idiots and jokers,
are puffing up like horses around rattle snakes, we’re both holding
our breaths, because HolyMotherOfGod, I’mSoGonnaLaugh… I see his
viola scroll start to shake out of the corner of my eye and just
then? As I start to go eeeeeeeeeee? As the air is leaking out?</span></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "arial";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Mercifully,
the Conductor gives the downbeat and off we go. To this day, I do not
remember what on God’s Green Earth we were playing, probably
Rachmaninoff. I’ve been ambushed by him a number of times. Him and
his G. P.s. Well, that was a digression.</span></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "arial";"><span style="font-size: medium;">This
all changed when we started playing in open-air theaters and
stadiums.</span></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: black;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_elXo5_iJzfGCXTUEd6jdgEnGDSAPJkBpJYfGbYU9I4ZmOv931-4COcb94H4Vg7Pmeu1hetBoyEjXcMj3Ie5Qyae97xsDIrPY3sPm_CktJXXiz4jfeal5A8MQ_D4vnpigCrxbfiQazPTP/s1600/standingo.jpg"><img align="BOTTOM" border="0" height="418" name="graphics5" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_elXo5_iJzfGCXTUEd6jdgEnGDSAPJkBpJYfGbYU9I4ZmOv931-4COcb94H4Vg7Pmeu1hetBoyEjXcMj3Ie5Qyae97xsDIrPY3sPm_CktJXXiz4jfeal5A8MQ_D4vnpigCrxbfiQazPTP/s640/standingo.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "arial";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Okay,
I haven't faced Wembley and I'm sure I don't want to; actually, I
probably do. We rocked it at 1-800-ASK-GARY Field. A name like that
for a Venue just drips class. I can't wait until Kotex, or Fleet
Enema buys a sponsorship and demands to have it named after their
company.</span></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "arial";"><span style="font-size: medium;">In
the summer of 1992, the Moody Blues were in a resurgence and instead
of having a summer off, we had a tour around the Midwest for a few
weeks. We had an afternoon rehearsal with their conductor who told us
the basics, micced us up and off we went. We had a full orchestra,
and plexiglass partitions between each section. I felt like we were
in cattle pens. That night, the orchestra was in place, when the
Blues with Justin Hayward took the stage.</span></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "arial";"><span style="font-size: medium;">There
were 10,000 people in the audience. Up to that point, I had never
played with that many people in an audience. When that audience
roared and that sound hit the stage, the orchestra, who for the most
part had not experienced that before, was pretty well aware that this
night and this concert was going to be different. But first, we had
to get over the shock of all of those people yelling. If we had been
zebras, we’d have been dead ones. We all just froze for about 2
beats and then our training kicked in and off we went.</span></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: "arial";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">It
was an exhilarating experience I’ve always loved the Moody Blues
more orchestral stuff, but the conductor, Larry Greene is also their
arranger, and he had gone back and arranged some of their harder rock
stuff like “Ride My Seesaw” for strings and that’s a blast to
play as well. I’ve found that I like music with a harder edge to
it. I’m sure it’s one of the reasons I don’t like Mozart and I
revere Beethoven. </span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "arial";">Mozart
gets right up to an idea and then backs away. Beethoven takes it in
his teeth and ragdolls it. I love that. I also love the fact that he
doesn’t bore the violists to death in his orchestral and other
ensemble writing. Mozart is precious, hard to play and there’s
damn little reward for all of that work; he’s insipid. Oops, lemme
get back to our sideline guy.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "arial";"><span style="font-size: medium;">I’ve
enjoyed my rock ‘n’ roll violist career, which has also veered
off into blues, metal and a bit of rap, believe it or not. But, back
to our poor dude. Man, did I feel for him. Guy stood up; I was so
relieved, he fell hard. As he was turning around, the Fox Team,
(Terry, Howie, Michael, Jimmy and Whoever) were helpfully pointing
out that this was the Falcon’s first playoff Event ever. The guy
who had been knocked over was wearing a jacket that said “Event
Team” on it.</span></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "arial";"><span style="font-size: medium;">As
the man turned and looked at the camera you could tell what he was
thinking: “Oh dear, can I move to Saturn? Maybe to Pluto. Pluto
isn’t far enough away… My wife is going to divorce me. What was I
thinking, looking at that stupid bunch of loud-ass people? My ass is
on the line, here. My ass... is my ass too wide? My grandkids are
going to be talking about this and wanting to hear this story,
forevah!. This is going to be on AFV, isn’t it? Geez, on National
TV, no, INTERNATIONAL, TV! Gack! Did my Aunt in Outer Slobovia see
me? I hope I don’t get fired. Geez, does my head hurt. Can I go
home?”</span></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "arial";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Relax,
guy, if I hear you got in trouble over this, I’m writing a letter.
I’ve done so much stupid stuff in front of the public, it’s not
funny. I’ve fallen off stages, fallen out of chairs. Fallen off
risers. I very gracefully draped myself across 3 people once, along
with my viola and bow, held up over my head and rolled like a barrel
down to the floor, protecting my baby, my viola, Wolf. How I managed
that, I will never know. I’ve taken bows wearing Taco Bell on
formal, black velvet unknowingly, after playing a triumphant
Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony. To make matters worse, my stand
partner’s fly was open during the whole performance. I don’t
think Beethoven would have minded.</span></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "arial";"><span style="font-size: medium;">The
point is, a roaring crowd is pretty impressive; I was awed by it when
I was on the “receiving” end of it the first time. It does take
some getting used to. So, Guy Who Was Knocked Down and Was
Embarrassed, don’t be. I hope you get a chance to get used to
playoff events as more come your way. I hope you are okay. You
totally made my day!</span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH_ssv6VMBq9-5M7zqkbCkOoaqVDvgI4_0tSgZqmHrUVDPRUagX-2SaC_E_WfKzgNgLLHCocU7udKNnjeRFUW2qS_JM1-xA1jQOErUSF4K5CzBg4C-JDte6VBaOborYXZp26ROZhcIk_jH/s1600/Alien6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="93" data-original-width="1046" height="56" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH_ssv6VMBq9-5M7zqkbCkOoaqVDvgI4_0tSgZqmHrUVDPRUagX-2SaC_E_WfKzgNgLLHCocU7udKNnjeRFUW2qS_JM1-xA1jQOErUSF4K5CzBg4C-JDte6VBaOborYXZp26ROZhcIk_jH/s640/Alien6.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">So, I'm glad I got a chance to take up writing and I'm also glad that I got to play again, too. My playing career is not nearly as intense as it was in the earlier days and that is okay, but I'm able to play and enjoy it and it's fun. The writing is great, too. It's the best of both worlds; happy IWSG'ing all! </span></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"></span></div>
ViolaFuryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05796592763194795436noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4044142491333444735.post-18536843372131870732019-02-01T19:13:00.000-05:002019-02-03T02:31:22.787-05:00#AMWRITING #BLOGGING – COLOR ME ABSURD<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">What
started out as a funny incident related to a very dear and old
friend, became a surreal experience as she and I took a fond trip
down memory lane. The trip began a few weeks ago, as I was on my way
to the grocery store and pharmacy and was trying to wait at the bus
stop. I say “trying to wait” because the seats at the actual bus
stop have become places where the druggies now congregate, with boom
boxes and mini-bars; a sort-of bohemian party-on-the-go, minus the
class. This one was particularly obnoxious and I decided I'd had
enough of these idiots taking up the citizens' seats, so I discreetly
hid behind one of the advertising kiosks placed near the shelter and
called the non-emergency phone number for the Tampa Police
Department.</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCnztROx6IxOS880wmWjjQt80b47NDG0GcB8ZpDMzFaFq69o1EA5Z0XDtzs4UenzLR8vqReRqcLdLXL2ZeyFDNhOBffe1rVF2x4jJ0P7hhT38WcSkYKRbNiFadM7luOz_MI62nO3qPZ8WD/s1600/TPD.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="498" data-original-width="664" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCnztROx6IxOS880wmWjjQt80b47NDG0GcB8ZpDMzFaFq69o1EA5Z0XDtzs4UenzLR8vqReRqcLdLXL2ZeyFDNhOBffe1rVF2x4jJ0P7hhT38WcSkYKRbNiFadM7luOz_MI62nO3qPZ8WD/s640/TPD.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Hey! Mr/Ms Policeman! Come and get dem druggies outta my bus stop!</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The
conversation didn't go very well because my upper denture decided now
was the time to come un-stuck in my head, so it went like this: Me:
“Herro? I'd like to haf the Powice come and get these dwuggies out
of the Bus Sheltew.” Operator: “Can you describe them, please?”
Me: Trying to whisper “Werp, they'we dwuggies all spwawled ovew the
benches whewe the wegulaw people sit.” Operator: “Can you speak
up, please. You're a bit hard to understand, ma'am. Can you describe them for me? What are they wearing? How many are there? Men? Women? What color?" I'm thinkin' "Binch, dey be naked, dere's 50 of 'em. They're troglodytes and purple! I'm tryin' to be discreet here, so they don't beat me to death, binch!"</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Just
then my upper teeth fall out of my mouth and onto the pavement. Me,
having run out of patience by this point and seeing the big, green
bus coming, holler into the phone, “Just send a damn squad caw to
the cownew of Nebwaska Avenue and Flowibwaska Avenue, m'kay? I have
to catch the bus to the Supewmawket!” and hang up the phone, grab
my teeth off the sidewalk and run to catch the bus.</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpljYXLeQVIaShx6lwTt7OhcOZRUXiBFVXxWVfX9DFC1qF6mwMG7i-vPQmuLGGD0fdvRAz8to3Dcc9-LmDLXNSAVWXwbWz4x4NTznXALOoTTl6JFCE6TaCXvmofonzVWoXMnWIyB6qFuz9/s1600/Hartline.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1204" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpljYXLeQVIaShx6lwTt7OhcOZRUXiBFVXxWVfX9DFC1qF6mwMG7i-vPQmuLGGD0fdvRAz8to3Dcc9-LmDLXNSAVWXwbWz4x4NTznXALOoTTl6JFCE6TaCXvmofonzVWoXMnWIyB6qFuz9/s640/Hartline.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">This eyesore is easy to see from 12 miles away. Hartline is supposed to keep the bums off the shelter areas, but they haven't the manpower and TPD treats it as a nuisance call. It's still a pain in the ass, though if it's raining or really hot out to seek the shelter that belongs to the patrons.</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Later
on that afternoon, I call my oldest and dearest friend from high
school and tell her all of this nonsense and describe this entire
scenario, while I'm laughing. She's laughing too, because the whole
situation is funny, although it's really not, because, here we have a
bunch of law-breakers draped all over the seats meant for the patrons
who are supposed to be able to wait for the bus in comfort; out of
the sun or rain and here I am hunched over, like a troll, by this
kiosk, while the traffic is screaming up and down Nebraska Avenue,
roaring engines, squealing brakes and me, trying to whisper into my
cell phone to get these ass-hats, moved AWAY FROM THIS AREA! Calling
the cops, to get them arrested, or at best, moved away from this
stupid bus stop and I feel like a damned idiot, because my upper
plate just fell out of my head and I cannot enunciate properly!</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">So,
my dearest and oldest friend, who has heard all of my stupid stories,
from home invasions and me chasing stupid idiots out of my house and
being homeless, from my street parkour and broken hip, to my success
upon returning to playing. She's been a constant and such a wonderful
friend. </span>
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Well,
after I had described this latest idiocy on my part, I prepared for
bed that night. What did I find awaiting me?</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHmTURdXnw3qfNVpAIr6I7CIbNGenlbUe8ae6XnNhxOqFQv7vCO6PfAKiPsGDvS-dT9uEtfPLOyp1DOdt5AOuJ2AuPfBAt4Ie6DikP-5Nj3ZYP_vJbMXPB1lIgjAwWSNIESFTQ_o_gqNFH/s1600/BatmanPam.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="678" data-original-width="348" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHmTURdXnw3qfNVpAIr6I7CIbNGenlbUe8ae6XnNhxOqFQv7vCO6PfAKiPsGDvS-dT9uEtfPLOyp1DOdt5AOuJ2AuPfBAt4Ie6DikP-5Nj3ZYP_vJbMXPB1lIgjAwWSNIESFTQ_o_gqNFH/s640/BatmanPam.jpg" width="324" /></a></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">ah-hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I just love this! We used to have the most fun in high school, and when she visited me the summer before last, we were just the same. We're still zany.</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">This
is just the MOST awesome picture ever! She wanted to show me that I
wasn't the only schmoe from our graduating class! I musta laughed for
45 damned minutes when I saw this! I still crack up every time I see
it. </span>
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">This
picture of course, I would NEVER use without her permission, so I
called her today to ask if it was okay if I could use it without
naming her. She was of course, fine with it; she is a gracious and
generous person, but this also led to more hilarity about
pre-PhotoShop pictures. </span>
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Somehow
we got on the topic of doing your own “edits” once the picture
was taken, and I think it stemmed from “Sharpie Lady”, the woman
in my 'hood who decided sharpie black and red made great eyebrow
pencil and lipstick! </span>
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Well,
my friend had had a really nice picture taken of herself and her
husband at a wedding, and my friend wasn't wearing any lipstick, so
she gave herself some lipstick with a sharpie, post-picture-taking
and it actually came out pretty well. This got us to reminiscing
about the color picture my mom and her family had had taken when my
mom was a teenager and it was in COLOR! This was back when my mom was
a teenager, in the 1940s and the entire family was seated around the
fire-place, with a pet deer(?) for some reason. The only problem was
my mom's eyes were shut during the taking of this historic photo, and
the photographer, in an attempt to right things, painted my mom's
eyes open(!?!?) The effect was pretty startling to say the
least. He painted her entire eye blue (at least he got the color
right) but as my friend remembers and she remembers right, “It was
the most absurd thing I've ever seen!” Let the howls of laughter
begin! I am not sure if I still have the picture; I'll have to dig
around and see, but my mom used to drag that stupid thing out for
laffs. She thought it was a riot! At any rate, it looked something
akin to this, googly eyes and all:</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8OTnI7RywmwNapf6KqGe-Ba_vnt0NuZ6DWdiJbuLfLFTHL9zrQVpVjkjS4z_uLLS8IA2RDk2mSTwWm5OsJsh0ApXrQQS7elYTcLTdtrOLAu5MsC2KpaST8n7_tdFwUDBHKsZ42uZypHrG/s1600/sheilaeyes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8OTnI7RywmwNapf6KqGe-Ba_vnt0NuZ6DWdiJbuLfLFTHL9zrQVpVjkjS4z_uLLS8IA2RDk2mSTwWm5OsJsh0ApXrQQS7elYTcLTdtrOLAu5MsC2KpaST8n7_tdFwUDBHKsZ42uZypHrG/s1600/sheilaeyes.jpg" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">My mom was just as goofy as they come. <u>This</u> isn't the picture; I WILL try and find it!</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Enjoy!
I'll see you all at #IWSG!</span></div>
<br /></div>
ViolaFuryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05796592763194795436noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4044142491333444735.post-10498600758925175002019-01-02T17:36:00.001-05:002019-01-02T17:36:49.784-05:00#IWSG - JANUARY 2019 - CHECK IN - A NEW ME??? I CERTAINLY HOPE SO!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2wgklg9KeZ_W3wtWUOs5DzyPRpbkEBFDgCg4AkEe9qmrNwUlBL240fpbL2ZGVK87HWASFgLHgPRCTZaL5md8O_wvL0xmaiJbGOtOtuumewd2PcODTRGQq4Fq0lOciTNej8uslK-DVmw4F/s1600/Insecure+Writers+Support+Group+Badge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="315" data-original-width="320" height="630" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2wgklg9KeZ_W3wtWUOs5DzyPRpbkEBFDgCg4AkEe9qmrNwUlBL240fpbL2ZGVK87HWASFgLHgPRCTZaL5md8O_wvL0xmaiJbGOtOtuumewd2PcODTRGQq4Fq0lOciTNej8uslK-DVmw4F/s640/Insecure+Writers+Support+Group+Badge.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Here we are at the start of a new year. 2019 and I certainly hope it is better than the last three. Well hell, for me, I'd like it to be better than the last thirteen, but I really can't quibble. I'm no longer married to the guy who got the gf when I was hospitalized, so there's that. I have a roof over my head and food on the table and will apparently, have slightly more of it this coming year.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Now, if I can just start remembering things; like, days of the week, where I'm supposed to be and where I've laid certain paperwork that just MUST be filled out right away! Trying to set and keep these goals also involves trying to set and keep goals for writing. I've been writing some of the things I've remembered for a dear, dear friend about the Roman Empire during the Imperial Age - fact-checking all the way, to make sure I remember names and dates - and this has been a lot of fun. She's enjoyed the stories and it's fun to do.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I'm going to continue in this vein, but am going to expand and write more fiction this year, too, Juneta, look out! Anyway, I want to wish every one a very happy and prosperous and productive 2019. Happy #IWSG'ing! </span></div>
</div>
ViolaFuryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05796592763194795436noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4044142491333444735.post-12907218579240882392018-12-13T00:59:00.000-05:002018-12-13T00:59:56.178-05:00#AMWRITING #BLOGGING – BARBARIANS AT THE GATES?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-TFdbey_O4tonZdbJwLwSF3fuL8YBctmxtvvp6U6zmAydNBD3EM7aE56Z2ekRwHPYvFxeh0vqILY2BCvvFKea0ifr9-oyVr6yLcUJGgLnOoXtI2-YC47MWpbUR0qeZdk1n5Am4aEIZcP8/s1600/Alien6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="93" data-original-width="1046" height="56" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-TFdbey_O4tonZdbJwLwSF3fuL8YBctmxtvvp6U6zmAydNBD3EM7aE56Z2ekRwHPYvFxeh0vqILY2BCvvFKea0ifr9-oyVr6yLcUJGgLnOoXtI2-YC47MWpbUR0qeZdk1n5Am4aEIZcP8/s640/Alien6.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">With
less than a month to go in 2018 and reflecting back on the last several
years in this country, as well as globally, it would seem that
ideologically speaking, our planet is taking a pretty direct veer to
the right. Rather than being aligned with the Allies, it would seem
that we have more and more nation-states auditioning for parts as a
member of the Axis team, which we all remember fondly from World War
II. Do we remember that, or teach it to anyone anymore, and the harsh
lessons that were learned there?</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It
would almost seem that is not the case. I remember pretty vividly
comedian Jay Leno, on the “Tonight Show” in one of his
“Jay-Walking” exercises asking random people who had been some of
the Axis leaders. One answer stands out pretty well. Apparently, Tim
Hitler led Germany into war against the world. I bet he was a fun
guy!</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Seriously,
we seem to have forgotten the principles that make up ANY democratic,
or pluralistic society. Y'know, those ones about people striving to
be free? This would also encompass being equal and safe under the
law, but we've pretty much thrown all of that out the window with the
abrogation of our III, IV, V, VIII, IX and XIV amendments. Lest you
think I'm just getting all fancy with my Roman Numerals, let me
assure you that I do know some Constitutional Law and I've also
spoken to some law officers who've agreed with me. They're also
concerned that we've violated Writ of Habeas Corpus, as well. Shit.
The only thing we lack in this fun-house are snappy uniforms and
jack-boots.</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I
realize too that I've whined down this road before and I'm never
gonna say “I told you so”, because in the end, any country gets
what it deserves, when it votes stupidly. I truly believe that. I've been working as an
Inspector for the Hillsborough County Supervisor of Elections and
this election was remarkable, especially here in Florida. </span>
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We
had three very close races that ended in recounts and manual
recounts, and even ended up with Miami-Dade County's Election
Supervisor resigning in disgrace (honestly, she shoulda gone long
ago; that whole county is crooked as a dog's hind leg, in my
opinion).</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I
was already mad at Senator Bill Nelson (D), because one year ago,
last September, when I was calling people like mad, and other
Senators, Congressmen and all kinds of people to rally the vote for
Net Neutrality, I couldn't even get my own damned Senator to set up a
Town Hall meeting, 'cause he was worrying about re-election. He did
absolutely NOTHING for us, the men and women who spent years building
and improving the internet. I set up so many Town Hall meetings for
other Senators and people, but I could never get Bill Nelson to do
something this important. So, when the General Election came around,
I wasn't surprised that he and Rick Scott, our soon-to-be
ex-Governor, who has all the charisma of a crowbar were pretty much
neck-and-neck and it was RECOUNT time! Not just for the Senate race,
but the Governor's race and the Secretary of Agriculture. (Rick Scott DID win for those keeping score at home.)</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">All
of these too-close-to-call races came down to a bunch of school-yard
name-calling, neener-neener-ing and the usual shenanigans that always seems to devil
Florida politics, but this almost the worst yet; the worst being the
year 2000, when we had no President for what seemed liked an eon; I
early voted in N. C., where I then lived, went on a concert tour,
moved back to Florida, after celebrating the New Year and we STILL
had no goddamned President. It took the Mary Kay of Political
Nonsense, Kathleen Harris to throw the vote to the GOP, after months
of flap-doodle about hanging chads, bushels of ballots being thrown out of the
backs of moving vans on I-95 and more chicanery
than ever existed in Huey P. Long's imagination when it came to
rigging politics. </span>
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Throughout
our history, we've tried to burnish our political
wheelings-and-dealings with a patina that it doesn't quite deserve.
We may mouth plenty of good words about how we stand united and how
equal we all are in the eyes of the law and flower it up a bit to
make it sound really pretty, but the fact is, we've really done a
pretty shoddy job here, pretty much since our inception. Our
performance is patchy at best, but, in the past, we were able to fend
off such icky things as tyrannies and treating our Leaders as Cult
figures – although we're skating on thin ice in this area right
now – because we had this remarkable capacity to sit down and
discuss our differences like the rational humans we purported
ourselves to be.</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Yes,
we did live through the era of President Obama and to a
fault, I never heard an African-American say “Obama's OUR
President!” - I voted for him - I was thrilled that he was elected and never saw the
type of behavior that has been witnessed with the election of Donald
Trump. No one on “the other side” behaved as though they were
some found member of a long-lost Wu-Tang Clan bandsman crossed with
Jesus, nor acted with the kind of superiority one sees from the
Trumpkins. By the way, I vote principles, NOT platform; put your crayons away, you haters.</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Is
this just the kind of ass-hattery that occurs to simpletons who find
themselves on the right side of the so-called rising tide of some
ill-gotten demagoguery that will most surely come to a bad end when
Robert Mueller finally does subpoena Donald Trump? Trump cannot
possibly think that he is going to pardon himself on these charges of
malfeasance and payments and kickbacks and bribes to shut up
mistresses and I could go on and on and on, but you get the point.</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I
rather think that Trump will resign and then paint himself as a sort
of martyr, rather than ever have the bald facts surface and have the
countless naifs see him (well, maybe) for who he really is. The truth
is, it will be one more excuse to see the truth through the prism of
their own ignorance and once again, cry “fake news!” and
completely mis-read everything that has gone on in this country for
the last decade or so. To say that we have just insulated ourselves
within our own echo chambers, via the internet and like interests is
also to say that we have truncated our own ability to discern what
the real truth is. </span>
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It
is completely easy and understandable to go ahead and say “nay!”
to anything that is in opposition, when we have Balkanized ourselves
so completely. To truly educate ourselves, we MUST reach out, must go
where it is not comfortable, must expose ourselves to thoughts and
ideas that expand what we think we might hold to be self-evident.
There is no certainty any more and we must get used to that. </span>
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We
need to face one another in this time of near-crisis; for ourselves,
our planet, our future and our sanity and most importantly, for our
grace. For if we do not do this thing and come to accounts with each
other, we will surely perish and soon. </span>
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Rant Over!</span></div>
<br />
<br /></div>
ViolaFuryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05796592763194795436noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4044142491333444735.post-12295304371691044702018-12-05T23:36:00.000-05:002018-12-05T23:36:31.408-05:00#IWSG – DECEMBER 2018 CHECK-IN – REVVING UP THE ENGINES<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh36DTFAu5zMv1CjtR2FwIZaCYx_1GxXIA_ifXz0TZ3TEjCP-x-r8PuL45NdOWr-SNcJcsODRRs3A2RW0fAEDYJ0xPRsJrIPAGqzxGEjj5S2_iD96m6vXnmJACz1dQSo2HLP0SUYcE4T1S8/s1600/Insecure+Writers+Support+Group+Badge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="315" data-original-width="320" height="630" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh36DTFAu5zMv1CjtR2FwIZaCYx_1GxXIA_ifXz0TZ3TEjCP-x-r8PuL45NdOWr-SNcJcsODRRs3A2RW0fAEDYJ0xPRsJrIPAGqzxGEjj5S2_iD96m6vXnmJACz1dQSo2HLP0SUYcE4T1S8/s640/Insecure+Writers+Support+Group+Badge.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">After
being dormant for so long, it seems there is a plethora of things and
themes and subjects to write about. I want to pursue fiction, but am
not sure I'm all <u>that</u> creative. When I was in high school, I
was trying to write a piece of music and the best I could come up
with was “meh”. One of our Composition teachers had an ABSOLUTELY
FOOLPROOF METHOD for writing the perfect melody and we hastily got to
work. </span>
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We
sat side-by-side on the piano bench and blocked out some chords and
then carefully picked out the notes, according to Mr. Hathaway's
method. I put them all together and then added some rhythm and
syncopation in the melody. It looked beautiful on paper. It rose and
fell and died away and came to a beautiful conclusion. I eagerly
played in on the piano and looked at Mr. Hathaway. We both looked at
one another for a minute. Then, we busted up. “That's horrible!”,
he said. I agreed. I'm no composer, although I can INTERPRET music
beautifully and make it my own, so, using that as my guideline, I am not sure that I can create
fiction.</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I'm
a hell of rhetorical writer and great with historical events and
dissecting things and analysis, but I'm not sure that I can cobble
things up out of whole cloth. I've dipped my toes into some flash
fiction which is fun and I think I need to continue in that vein and
then go from there. </span>
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Anyway,
I see that my shambolic life has leaked into my blog. What was to
have been a post just about where I had been and what I was not doing
all of this time and ending with my crap-tastic fall that garnered me
a broken left hip, has somehow confused the #IWSG gang. (See previous post.) THIS is the
#IWSG post, ha. Oh well. I do things like this all the time. I had
entered “#IWSG” in the title and of course, Blogger helpfully
remembered it for me. Gah. Anyway, happy IWSG'ing everyone! I do hope
you're all looking forward to the Holiday season. I certainly am!</span></div>
<br /></div>
ViolaFuryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05796592763194795436noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4044142491333444735.post-2290079730611112952018-12-02T21:41:00.000-05:002018-12-02T21:41:53.744-05:00#AMWRITING #BLOGGING – THANKSGIVING WITH EXTRA TURKEY<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">NOTE:
This was intended to be posted on this blog on Thanksgiving Day, but
because Google got really stupid and wouldn't recognize my 2-step
Authenticator, I ended up posting this on my tumblr blog instead,
which made me not one bit thankful or happy. I then spent the next
week wrestling with Google to get them to REMOVE said 2-step
authenticator, which they finally did, today. Argle. Google is really
the worst when it comes to customer service. Anyway, enjoy some
warmed-up turkey. At least it's not baloney!</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVem3b6Oyo33PovN0lx0N_TVgZMXFLchsdpkDXXNnxJJ-sb6Yj286dRTp8NIZLXYFoGD1HY8DUXDl3jaUyLIpgSxrb7xUNcJT-AqxkGuKVgJKyn3EzZDpAI-4iBQ89zcxDv6B5J6gdcNCk/s1600/Alien6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="93" data-original-width="1046" height="56" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVem3b6Oyo33PovN0lx0N_TVgZMXFLchsdpkDXXNnxJJ-sb6Yj286dRTp8NIZLXYFoGD1HY8DUXDl3jaUyLIpgSxrb7xUNcJT-AqxkGuKVgJKyn3EzZDpAI-4iBQ89zcxDv6B5J6gdcNCk/s640/Alien6.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I
haven't blogged in quite some time, or barely written anything.
Something I've sorely missed. I know that it took me years to develop
my own “voice” and style and I should probably be flayed for
letting it slide, but I've let a lot of things slide in my life
lately, due to a severe case of “I don't give a shit”.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I've
gotten to a certain age, where benchmarks and things that define us
normally as people, are fewer and fewer in my future, with the
exception of death, and that is just a stark, and bleak outlook, one
I need to shed myself of, but seem hell-bent on hanging onto, never
mind the fact that I am only 62 years old. Rather than looking for
new things to do, I've been worrying over this fact like a dog
chewing on a huge Brontosaurus bone that has no ending and I've found
myself unable to get out of it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Thus,
the only way to do so, is just to DO something. Do ANYTHING. I think
I had a bit of a wake up call too, when I broke my hip recently. On
October 2, 2018, I was walking to the bus stop to take the bus up to
Hillsborough Avenue and then walk the ½ mile to my doctor's office.
For those who've been playing along at home, and may not know, I'm
legally blind and I had a run-in on my way to the bus stop with one
of our local hobos. He just irritates the shit out of me and has been
trespassed from every little business in town. I had just chased him
off and was agitated, and I really wasn't paying attention. I was
nearing the corner of Floribraska Avenue, and Nebraska Avenue, and my
cane that I carry, letting people know I'm legally blind, hit the
part of the curb that is elevated for wheel-chair users, while I was
down in the trench where the actual wheel-chairs ride to cross the
street; this effectively creates a mini-ramp for them, but it's an
obstacle for all visually-impaired people, because the curbs are not
painted in a bright color to bring awareness to the height
difference.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">It doesn't help that the infrastructure is crumbling and uneven in this part of town, but there are many visually-impaired people here. "Legally blind" generally means there is SOME vision. Had there been bright coloring on the berm, I would have seen it. Tampa needs to fix this shit.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfKCoowDJJ6aELnGXE-Bb5OrW29B6aiR4-NjLil5m1MsSQr2MTQQhg7R3EHi8L4mrSdQpHCP9HksD5M51X1T92DdelMpb2ZPD7rp61f-rD_DLHwEb4pa9ZzrLuyN7L7a8AI8hM9ai8wqmc/s1600/StreetViewofCurb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="447" data-original-width="737" height="388" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfKCoowDJJ6aELnGXE-Bb5OrW29B6aiR4-NjLil5m1MsSQr2MTQQhg7R3EHi8L4mrSdQpHCP9HksD5M51X1T92DdelMpb2ZPD7rp61f-rD_DLHwEb4pa9ZzrLuyN7L7a8AI8hM9ai8wqmc/s640/StreetViewofCurb.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">It was at this corner where I fell; I was up on the portion nearest the light pole and my cane had gradually gone down into the ramp. I have no depth perception and couldn't feel the difference, as I was moving quickly, the way I normally do.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Now,
being visually-impaired, I'm used to falling and I know how to check
myself, but this was different. I tripped so quickly and fell and
fell like a tree that had been felled in a forest; hard and swift,
and I fell directly onto my left hip, and knee. I had on a sun dress
and I heard a crunch. I was able to pull my head to the right and
keep my head from hitting the cement, which would have been
disastrous; my neck ached for weeks afterward. But I did fall so
hard, that my brain seemed to re-boot. Reality just kind of changed
for a minute; colors were different, everything was muted and
everyone moved so slowly. I just lay there on my side. I knew I was
badly hurt.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Two
people; a man and a woman, came running from somewhere, I didn't see
where and helped me up. I could put no weight on my left leg and I
sure had one <b>hell</b> of a strawberry on my left knee.
Idiotically, what went through my head first, was a nick-name my dad
had for me when I was a kid “Red-Knees Wallace”. I was certainly
living up to that name now! The second thing I knew was that I was in
extreme PAIN and I have an extremely high pain threshold. I was in
the hospital once over a domestic, and I went an entire week with a
broken right hand, before it dawned on me that that nagging pain
wasn't going away; I had two smashed knuckles. My current pain was
much, much worse than that.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The
two people asked if I wanted an ambulance; I said “no”; I needed
to see my doctor on this particular date. So they helped me hobble to
the bus stop, but as I sat there waiting on the bus, I realized that
there was no way I could walk the ½ mile from where the bus was
going to let me off to the doctor's office, so I called a cab. The
cab took me to my doc's office and we got our business done and I
took a cab home, where I somehow thought I was going to “gut”
this out.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The
“gutting” out lasted about six hours. Every move I made; trying
to go to the bathroom, trying to cook something, trying to lie down
was just excruciating. I even just took my normal night meds and lay
there for about ½ an hour and said “screw it; this isn't going to
work”, before I got up, hobbled around and packed up a few things
and then hobbled out to my porch. I apparently left every light on
the house on, including the porch, as Alex told me later – he came
over and very thoughtfully turned them all off.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The
EMTs took me to TGH and they took x-rays which were inconclusive, so
they dumped me in Observation for a while, which is a tomb-like area
in the bowels of the hospital. After two days of trying to get
comfortable and being miserable, they came back and took some more
x-rays and said “Okay, you're now PRN, and we're gonna operate. You
got 2 options. One is we put 3 screws in the side of your hip, but at
your age, you're gonna have to deal with arthritis and more surgeries
later on. Two, is we replace the hip and you have a bit more rehab,
but no more surgeries or arthritis, and blah blah blah”. I had quit
listening after “no more surgeries or arthritis”; I can rehab
like a mo-fo. </span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnTI-rQk6vOIG2OOC1sZpalccEZSIMfo6b3g0EbFs1GZWaEC5VM7W0Haf3GlXjIqe4RHXPSwLDF-Euw36TLeL69XpC6g6DQCDkxN9cTaqa3Xgu3rnge5nGv0xy8UfSlKbzEFDyPGGXQBJd/s1600/walker.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="523" data-original-width="526" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnTI-rQk6vOIG2OOC1sZpalccEZSIMfo6b3g0EbFs1GZWaEC5VM7W0Haf3GlXjIqe4RHXPSwLDF-Euw36TLeL69XpC6g6DQCDkxN9cTaqa3Xgu3rnge5nGv0xy8UfSlKbzEFDyPGGXQBJd/s200/walker.jpg" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijm-aVwbXQacFUwslZgxSxyb0HvVxc7yXLE6mAqNqWSB2dcfiQckNlyRfLehunPJ0RR3utT23rZW1XaPswoPh4xlOdwfpKjDLioyAPZmsQ40FGqx9GRkb9fXjcjGnCqIBerc0cUlx9alZ6/s1600/wheelchair.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijm-aVwbXQacFUwslZgxSxyb0HvVxc7yXLE6mAqNqWSB2dcfiQckNlyRfLehunPJ0RR3utT23rZW1XaPswoPh4xlOdwfpKjDLioyAPZmsQ40FGqx9GRkb9fXjcjGnCqIBerc0cUlx9alZ6/s1600/wheelchair.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="522" data-original-width="522" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijm-aVwbXQacFUwslZgxSxyb0HvVxc7yXLE6mAqNqWSB2dcfiQckNlyRfLehunPJ0RR3utT23rZW1XaPswoPh4xlOdwfpKjDLioyAPZmsQ40FGqx9GRkb9fXjcjGnCqIBerc0cUlx9alZ6/s200/wheelchair.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">They thought I was gonna ride around in this here wheelchair? I decided I'd be better off pushing the chair, since they wouldn't let me have a walker quite yet. Silly hospital; they kept me in a monitored bed, which meant bedpan, and I don't know if you've experienced the new "slenderized" version, which just lets everything run out the sides and onto the bed. It's terrific! Said no one ever.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">So,
that evening after the surgery, I was up and in a wheel-chair, and
then I got up out of the wheel-chair, and pushed it around my room
for a bit. I hate wheel-chairs. I was discharged to an inpatient
rehab place for another 10 days after my surgery, because I live
alone and there was some fear that I might fall again, plus, I don't
live in the safest place in the world. While in rehab, I did my job.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I
rehabbed like a mo-fo, and was up and walking all over the place and
it just continued when I got home. I was hearing all of these horror
stories about people who were still in wheel-chairs four years after
their surgeries and I'm not about that. I'm agile and mobile and here
we are six weeks after my fall; I walked a mile yesterday. I exercise
and work this body, so I need to work my mind and heart as well.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I
need to share the gifts I cultivated with my blogging friends and
participate with the people I love and care about. It's difficult
living alone, but it's no excuse to shut myself off from people who
care about me and whom I love dearly. For doing so, I'm heartily
sorry. Nebraska Avenue craziness and my own craziness is still
happening and I need to share it with you all. To everyone, a Happy (belated) Thanksgiving!</span></div>
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ViolaFuryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05796592763194795436noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4044142491333444735.post-12699354085980439732018-07-04T21:38:00.004-04:002018-07-04T21:53:05.168-04:00#IWSG JULY 2018 CHECK-IN – WHAT AN AIRHEAD<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi41Y3KkIyJEMPjxuQQJm1k52svL0ArlHHqoGQ3Yk5jMgcmE-XezR6toBB9xgW8ifoPwKM0bPjIdV5YwVahn8aItuR7wU-llM-vsc_vhI8QpwIquMQT8x7-SKqin2yuE7vce-ddMYtIP-U6/s1600/Insecure+Writers+Support+Group+Badge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="315" data-original-width="320" height="630" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi41Y3KkIyJEMPjxuQQJm1k52svL0ArlHHqoGQ3Yk5jMgcmE-XezR6toBB9xgW8ifoPwKM0bPjIdV5YwVahn8aItuR7wU-llM-vsc_vhI8QpwIquMQT8x7-SKqin2yuE7vce-ddMYtIP-U6/s640/Insecure+Writers+Support+Group+Badge.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It wasn't until about the middle of June that I realized I'd missed that month's #<a href="http://www.insecurewriterssupportgroup.com/2018/07/july-is-in-full-swing-pitchers-ready.html">IWSG</a> check-in. I've been living alone for so long, that it's easy to lose track of days and apparently, months. So, as I was shuffling around trying to figure out what it was that I had missed, it finally came to me in the middle of the month; AHA! I missed June's check in. Blargle. I've been trying to get back into the habit of writing again, but with one thing and another, stuff with finances and all, it just is hard for me to get back in the rhythm. Poor Alex Cavanaugh must wonder if I'm coming or going.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Never mind goals and such; I just need to re-develop that habit of sitting down every day and writing. I'm trying to find part-time work and have focused quite a bit on that, but I still should be able to manage writing with that; provided I ever get hired.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This is really no excuse, but one of just pure empty-headedness and my inability to focus at times. I think I'm too easily distracted by shiny things or things that move. I don't understand why other adults can manage this all fairly well, yet I'm a mess on two legs. Oh well, I have to occupy some space on the number line of humanity. It's not quite 0, but closer to a 3 or 4 at times. I then wonder, if I'm getting too damned old to learn new tricks, but I don't really believe that. I think I'll start leaving post-it notes on the ones I pasted up on the wall last May. Well, maybe I should take those down first! Happy #IWSG-ing!</span></div>
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ViolaFuryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05796592763194795436noreply@blogger.com0