Sunday, May 31, 2020


Oh brother, it's not even a word and requires a hyphen.  More reasons for me not to understand or like the word let alone the "activity."  It is NOT a sport.  Okay, let me clarify....... the ones  doing dangerous flips and tosses...... that is some talent and some guts and a little bit of craziness.  It is a very physical activity and  even athletic.  But, it is not a sport and never will be to me.  For me, sports require at least one ball.  It's a competition when teams go to events, yes.  But the only balls involved in cheer-leading are those possessed between the legs of  males who get credit for  being strong men, yes, but no, not athletes, in this case.  What about track?  Yes, that one gets me on my definition.  Runners are definitely some serious athletes as are swimmers.   So  let's throw in a clock or a stop watch........ there, now that is better.  Don't even get me started on curling.

Why are you talking about being a cheerleader, Windy?  Well, a few posts ago, I created a sentence that made me laugh when I wrote it.  So this post is inspired by my claiming not to be "some morning barking coffee chicken."  Laughing.  What I meant was that I am not happy and chipper and everything super duper all the time, especially  in the mornings!  (I am not a morning sex person and in fact, if Storm ever tried to get frisky when he wakes up at 6 am, I would probably sleep right through the activity because for some reason right around 6  to 8 am are primo sleeping hours for me.) 

There are different sides to me and I try to put my best foot forward here in blog land, but I don't always succeed.  And then I thought of Roz because she is like a blog land cheerleader with her faithfulness of showing up, cheering us on, often being the first one to greet us on our posts in the mornings, and I am thankful for that.  I had most of this post written for over a week, and then PK posted on her blog Thank You Roz!   I couldn't believe it.  She was thinking the same thing I was and we had not talked about it.   So funny!   And it says a lot about the quality of person that Roz is.  I don't think I've ever seen Roz comment anything negative or crabby.  She somehow finds something kind to say.  I laugh sometimes when I think of the things Roz has never written...... 1) Wow, this post sucked especially reading it first thing in the morning.  2)  What in the hell are you even talking about?  3) Stop complaining and go eat some chippies or something.  4) Your writing is atrocious.     Etc!   She is just a positive blog land person. ALWAYS!  Thanks, Roz!  So that kind of cheerleading, I can get behind..........

Now let's go back to the 80's.  Do we have to?  Yes.  Get some hairspray and spray the hair on your forehead straight up in the air.  Okay, that sets the mood and now you can see your computer screen more clearly.   But, I don't have bangs, Windy.   Well, it is technically the apocalypse in the entire world  right now, so I guarantee almost all of us look like some sort of wild haired cave woman, so go spray some hair on your body in some manner, even if it's your bush.  And if you have already been to get your haircut since some local restrictions have eased, I hope to God that you wore a mask.  Be safe. Don't be dumb. It takes zero effort to wear a mask.  (But, I love you even if you feel differently than I do about that.  Just don't breathe on me, please.)

Okay, so in the 70's and 80's.  Wait, you only said 80's.  Well, now, I'm saying 70's and if you've got the wild bush thing going on like I do right now, then you're all set.  If not, maybe put on some bell bottoms.  Better yet, take off your pants and be like Porky Pig. Windy, you know dog gone well, that nudity and free love thing is from the 60's .  You want us to go back that far? What I would like is for all of us to make it to the next dang paragraph!

Cheer-leading back in the day was not what it is today.  I grew up with the kind where a group of girls dressed up in uniforms with a skirt and no numbers on their chests.  Wait, I mean a skimpy uniform and the bottom half of that was shoved up their cracks.  Yes, these girls dressed up in their 1/2 uniforms to yell across the court or field at another group of people dressed up in 1/2 uniforms  while cheering for or against 2 teams with 2 different colors of uniforms fighting over a ball of some sort.  I just didn't get it.

There was a time when my girl was little and she wanted to be a cheerleader and I almost died.  But, she was still tiny and young enough to where it was cute......... way before the middle school and high school drama that often accompanies cheer squads.  Ugh.

If you're wondering whether or not I would classify fishing as a sport, my answer is no, I do not.  It's a challenge, it's exciting (to me)..........   but there is no ball ....... although technically, there is a tiny one that you put on your fishing line for a certain reason but I won't get into it as who cares and it still doesn't make it a sport.  It's just a hook and a worm up against a fish.  If the body of a fish is smaller than the palm of one's hand, you definitely throw it back.  But, before you do, a good fisherwoman tells this fish to go back in, hide better from bigger fish, do not take candy(worms) from strangers, and do a good job growing for a while, and I'll see you again in a few years.  Look at that encouragement.  Kind of like a cheerleader!  I have seen other fisherman do and say similar things.  My dad, for example, tells a tiny perch to go back in the water and send back his big brother.  He has also said to a small fish that have accidentallly run into the hook with their fin or their eyeball or whatever, "You dummy! You zigged when you should have zagged!"   And that always makes me laugh.

I don't know which of you were cheerleaders back in the day, and some of y'all might have dressed as cheerleaders for role play, but I love ya anyway!  And, no, sex is not a sport even though there are usually 2 balls involved!

Thursday, May 21, 2020

Gone Fishin'

I am at one of my Happy Places....... fishing with my dad!

I love walking into my parents' house because it just smells clean and looks very pretty. My mom has excellent taste in decor and it looks different this time because she has been painting.   There are always naughty snacks around, yummy dinners, and fresh, clean sheets.   It's really good to see them as it has been a while.  We are social distancing in the house, yes, and nobody has been out running around like an idiot for the past 9  weeks, so we're safe here.

As we visit, none of us  guarantees that we know what day of the week it is, but we definitely know what time it is as there are a hundred and nine clocks here and even if I don't have my glasses on, I can just look up at these clocks with the diameter of almost 3 feet and figure it out just fine.   There are many bells and whistles going off with everyone's text alerts and phone ring tones chiming, squawking, buzzing, etc.  I can't figure out if I am in some sort of fairy land or hell.  Depends if I have a migraine or not.   We have to speak loudly to the Giant (my dad)  who lives here if we expect any kind of coherent answer.  There is no hen that lays golden eggs, but the mother hen makes a mean scrambled eggs and sausage for breakfast!  There are no magic beans to throw out the window that grow into a gargantuan stalk, but the chipmunks dig up only the yellow flowers every night so my mom has to plant them again!  There is also a raccoon that steals the hummingbird feeder if my dad forgets to bring it in overnight.  This place is hilarious!   Amazing birds visit every day.  Redheaded Woodpeckers, Downy Woodpeckers, Orioles, Cardinals, Blue Jays, and today a Scarlet Tanager! My father is a birder and he taught our daughter from the age of 2 to be one as well. She is a photographer and a birder and she is now a college student once again.  We are thrilled and so proud of her and how far she has come since battling a serious illness  that stole way too many years of her young life.  We celebrate victories big and small here in our home.  We share them with those closest to us who know the struggle is real and love us anyway.

During this visit, my mom does have to remind my dad of some things such as the technique of coughing into his elbow.  He doesn't like that she bosses him, so he teased and said she was mean.  I eyed the big old cheeseboard with a handle on it that my mom uses as the base of a centerpiece for the large dining table and it is obvious to me as it sounds to you that it looks like a giant paddle.  I picked it up.  It's quite thick and  heavy and I  swung it gently toward my mom's rear end  as my dad was looking on.  He replied, "It aint big enough for the job."   We all died laughing.

When the fish aren't biting, we nap, read, and visit.  My mom had to walk down to their sweet hippie neighbor's house to get some paperwork from him.  My dad said she wasn't fooling anyone and he knew she was going down there to smoke pot with their friend.  Laughing! 

Both of my parents were thrilled to hear that the trees and/or Rose of Sharon sticks that we planted in my yard last fall finally look like something other than snowman arms.  I texted my mom last week and said that my snowman arms finally have little  green leaves on them!  I sent a snowman emoji and a leaves emoji to her.  She replied with about 15 emojis representing some kind of celebration  at the good news and then she included this:   And  "insert middle finger emoji" to all the doubters and Christopher, too!  HAHAHAHA    So there is the update I promised you all last year on the tree planting and the stranger who almost talked my mom into taking him to the big city.  He tried a repeat performance a month or so ago when he showed up in our backyard again and I heard him yelling at his caregivers trying to corral him back in to their car. 

And now, guess where I am headed..........