What’s Important to Me

I’m on my way out of town to an appointment that is one of the most crucial to SO and myself. He may get a pancreas transplant, and when I think about that, it’s really hard for me to get worked up about Richard Armitage’s love life. Seriously. I just can’t process it as anything that concerns me.

Also, I’m just happy my kids are happy, and three of them are together in NYC (my son went to visit his sisters, my two oldest daughters who live there). They just sent me a picture of them in front of a building where we rented an apartment during one summer when they were all still at home. A neat little place on East 52nd next door to the River House. Very cool address. That summer changed their perspective radically and their lives irrevocably. I’m glad. I’m tickled, and don’t they look happy? This is what matters to me.



I don’t know what’s important to you, but life is too short to sweat over things that don’t matter. That’s not referring to you, but I hope encourages you.

A Crazy Fan who is so sane when it comes to family and what really counts it would probably make your head spin.

P.S. Still wish I could see The Crucible, but oh well. Maybe later.

Enlightening Maintenance and Ubiquitous Random Thoughts

Contrary to the belief of some, I was not taken in a rapture, but I have a disclaimer: I am currently on drugs, don’t really feel like editing this piece, so please don’t hold against me anything I say below. And you can sue me for the title, but that about sums up where this blog is at the moment.

A few weeks ago my clever hat was consigned to the dustbin without my consent, or to be clear, real life intruded on my little idyll here. In the meantime, I’ve been trying to get back in the mood of blogging. I figured the best way to do that was to review my previous posts to pick up the thread of what I was doing. My first observation is that I have some typos which years ago would have made me want to crawl under a rock, and even a few months ago would have made me cringe. Now? I got a good laugh out of them. Well, I did cringe just a little at first. Second, I really have had fun with this thing, whatever it is. Third, I’ve got a lot more to say, but no, I won’t lay all of that on you here. Fourth, I need to do some serious editing on some of these old pieces. Am I allowed? Oh, yeah, I’m allowed. Fifth, I’m lousy at being cryptic. I just read two of my diary entries that get a lot more reading than some, and I grew weary at how they go on and on and on and on and don’t essentially convey what I wanted. I edited out the parts that really held them together, and in the doing of that, they lost something that dare I say makes them compelling.

Oh, well, that was the point of this exercise of blogging — to learn how the heck to say some of this stuff — so I’m not going to get too irritated about it. Maybe just a little irritated. I do make the disclaimer in one of the pieces that I had not taken the hatchet as much to it as I did some others, but therein was the problem — it either needs more taken out or to be completely left alone. I think I may break out something to deal with it. A machete? Oh, and I finally let SO read it, and he said, “I liked the stream of consciousness.” LOL! I appreciate his encouragement, but then he had to smile a little as he said it. Whatever. If that’s how my brain works, no wonder I’m tired. Fighting through all of the winding around and pontificating and cryptic cuteness was work, and if there is anything I don’t want to happen here for the reader it’s work. Come to think of it, I may put the ‘public service’ tag on that post once I’ve cleaned it up.

Haven’t been online much this week and had to make up for it by inhaling as much of my Reader as I could. What does that have to do with maintenance? Well, it’s part and parcel of what goes into this blog, a type of maintenance if you will. Oh, you thought some of this just sprang from my head fully formed? I couldn’t think up all of this innervating junk. Thank God.

Some of what I found:

Summer is coming. Yes, it comes every year like clock work, and you would have to be deaf, dumb, and blind not to know that you have to get ready if you’re going to be a part of it. Um yeah, the arbiter of worthiness is whether or not you can wear a bikini successfully.

For those who are feeling less than at their best, some of the beautiful were slumming to make the rest of us feel better.

There is hope if you’re still not feeling better. Supposedly men like women who have “guy humor,” so you can leave the bikini at home. Yes, the bikini is really about the guys. No, don’t try to bullshit me with a feminist treatise. It’s about men. But if you can’t wear that bikini, your mouth might make up for it, and before I read this piece, I assumed it mostly meant girls are attractive who can appreciate crudeness, and yep, I was right. Sadly, no one will read that this was a flawed study. Aren’t most of them? Although after living with a man for quite a few years, I believe embracing some crudeness is a must.

And I guess I’m not the norm, since I’m not as attracted to brooding men possibly filled with shame (the characters of Richard Armitage aside :D) as some women. My thumbnail on this is that women are attracted to men like that because many of us have a bit of a savior complex, which could lead to some worship. Don’t we all want to be loved, adored, cherished (take your pick) and what better way to know than to be worshipped? Meantime, I couldn’t get this out of my head:

No, not those dweebs, but they do make a point about the crudeness that’s just part of that Y chromosome. And this is the reason some women will almost kill themselves to get a bikini body? When really they just need to crack some crude jokes and maybe perform some crude acts.

Perhaps the only reason I didn’t fall into the normal pattern of being drawn to shame filled men is I knew I really wasn’t worthy to be worshipped as a savior. Therefore, a confident, at peace, smiling man, was my choice. I’m happy to report that he’s still smiling although he’s had his obstacles, and had his moments of introspection, anger and yes, some villainy (he is a human being), but still loyal. May my daughters be drawn to such a man.

I do sometimes worry about the male society my girls are going into. People are not loyal. That is the great dichotomy of this world. Many want loyalty but don’t want to give it. That’s why commitments don’t happen for most. In some cases the need to shuck it off is understandable. Maybe their driver will lose them over there. Unfortunately, there is a line to take their place. So glad I’ve never watched those shows, and I hated that I even spent any of my time watching that clip. Hopefully, the next paragraph will redeem the erroneous investment.

Back to the point. Commitment is the key, and of course I understand a piece of paper is not necessarily indicative of commitment, but this is how I’ve put it to my girls: do you want to make a commitment to someone who is not clear about their commitment and is not willing to declare it to others? I never have understood how a nebulous arrangement was edifying. No, don’t fill me in, the drugs would keep me from really receiving it right now. It just seems that it’s really about f*cking (of course enjoyable f*cking), but when did that ever get a firm commitment? Really? I don’t think so. It’s just f*cking unless someone’s heart is engaged, and out of the abundance of the heart someone will speak. And yes, God yes, take an accounting of their character before the witnesses are present. Speaking a few words at a hyped up ceremony designed to put the bride and her momma in a euphoria are not enough. Never have been. I laugh when I think my mother got married in a brown suit with spectator pumps while standing in front of the fireplace of her future sister-in-law’s living room in a service that was planned by my Dad and her mother was not there, or if I think of SO’s mother who got married in a blue tea length dress (her best dress at the time) at The Hitching Post wedding chapel, which was the first one on The Strip and no mother there. And no f*cking was necessary from them before hand. Just a man of character who loved them. My father passed away after 40+ years of marriage and was still committed to my mother on his way out and she to him. That was after all the hard times they weathered. Piece of paper my ass. The commitment was clear from the start, and I don’t believe my mother has ever owned a bikini nor has SO’s mother.

If I’ve thoroughly depressed you, well, you may not have to live with it long. If someone really does succeed in hacking Lockheed Martin well enough, they might be dropping those bombs soon.

In the meantime relax and maybe watch some “So You Think You Can Dance.” It’s going to be on a little longer. Where are those drugs?

Oh, and I was going to put in a line about missing Nat, and then she showed up! Good to see you posting again, Natalie. You are a ray of sunshine.

Last, did you catch Amy Poehler’s speech to Harvard’s graduating class? Well, it’s viral now, so I’m sure you can find it easily. I’m too lazy to post a link. She didn’t say anything that really hasn’t been said a thousand times at graduation speeches, i.e., LIVE! but she really did understand the humor in them choosing her. I’m not sure the class got that, and I find myself not really caring.

Found the drugs. See ya later.

edit: for those who asked, yes, I’ve worn a bikini many times, so this is not my angst about inability to do that. I just think it’s crap that women still see their worth as almost totally equated with their bodies and their ability to give some. Hate that.