Repost:
Anything regarding sex was dark and unmentionable in mixed company. Children were not to embarrass adults by noticing any veiled reference made in their presence, never asking why any adult was in the hospital, and vacating the room if the words complications, hormones, or nature came up in conversation. Above all, women should never refer to their “period.” Continue reading
Reblog from Art by Robert Goldstein
butchcountry67 just lost his beloved wife reblog
Reblogging from this Brilliantly silver lady at Silver in the Barn!
Why I would imagine that the color of my hair would hold an iota of interest to you, dear reader, cannot be explained other than to say I learned the hard way that it’s a subject that can ignite opinion, solicited or not.
I was serving as parliamentarian for a civic organization a few years ago and during a meeting, one of the members, henna-tressed, suddenly blurted out “What are you doing to your hair?”
“Nothing, really. I’ve just decided to stop coloring it.”
Stunned silence. Or as the hipsters say, “Crickets.” Just like that I was able to stop the proceedings of our monthly meeting. What power.
The president of the group, a woman in her mid-70s with expensively highlighted blonde hair, then offered this little gem: “But Barbara! You’re much too young to go gray!”
Tell that to the melanin levels in my hair follicles, please.
And as I looked out at the women around…
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Reblog from Kindness Blog
Taylor Swift is so amazing. I love everything she does, so much, and I am so glad that she cares about the fans. Fans are everything to Taylor. She cares about them. I’ve been a fan for as long as I can remember. My name is Caillou Pettis, and I love you, your fans, etc. Your songs are so sweet, and they’ve got so much meaning in every lyric, and it really makes me smile to know that a celebrity with tens of millions of fans replies to fans. It’s incredible.
I get bullied everyday, and I try to #ShakeItOff. One of the biggest reasons why I…
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My mother practiced an excellent form of birth control for her daughters. She only bought cheap cotton panties because “nobody is supposed to see your underwear anyway.” I don’t know how I would have behaved otherwise, but I wasn’t about to get frisky in those horrible britches. Sometimes Mother was lucky enough to find some so cheap they didn’t have elastic in the legs, just the waist. The fit wasn’t too bad in the morning, but by midmorning, these Continue reading
Our life with Annie, our surly, farting Dalmatian was complicated by her partner in crime, Greg, the ever-present kid from across the street. I use ever-present in the strictest sense. Greg’s mom worked nights. In a casual relationship never addressed by any of us, Greg made a beeline to our house as soon as he got home every day, hit the pantry for a snack, and let Annie out of prison. Greg was well known for investigating our premises, keeping himself abreast of what all that was going on at our house, while he dawdled about, picking things up, questioning, “What’s this? When did you get this?” We’d chat about his day. Afterwards, he and Annie would go off on a ramble, since we lived in a rural neighborhood with many large wooded areas. They were a common sight, known all over the neighborhood.
At any rate, one afternoon he and Annie stumbled on a construction site, just as a human skull was unearthed. Naturally, the ensuing hub bub was tremendous. With law enforcement and news crews arriving, Greg and Annie managed to be front and center, part of the big story. Greg was ecstatic, carrying the news all over the neighborhood, taking full credit for the entire situation. Anxious to milk the situation for all it was worth, Greg made a hasty trip back to our house to retrieve a gag item of my daughter’s, a dummy arm and hand intended to hang from the trunk of a vehicle, giving the impression of a body is in the trunk.
Returning to the wooded area near the site of all the excitement, Greg tossed the “arm” to Annie, initiating her favorite game of “keepaway.” Annie burst from the woods, arm in her mouth, ripping through the yellow crime scene tape. Greg was right behind her, yelling his head off. It was like a scene out of a Monty Python movie. Annie, no novice, at being chased by shouting strangers, headed home, dragging the incriminating arm. Winded, she scratched at the back door, still clinging to her prize. Shortly, she was followed by Greg and a bevy of law enforcement officers, asking to see the arm. She’d hidden in the bedroom, reluctant to part with such a desirable prize, but I brought it out for their examination. I was so glad not to be Greg’s parent that day.
Oh, the skull turned out to be that of a Native American who’d probably died more than one hundred years before.
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Excellent post from Kindness Blog
In 2005, I was travelling in Italy with my parents. My Dad was in his early 80s, suffering from advanced Parkinson’s… but he wanted to see Italy before it was too late.One morning in Venice, he slipped and fell, and had to be taken to the hospital by water ambulance (an adventure in itself!). A couple of hours later, my Mom called me from the hospital–they were releasing him, but couldn’t give them a ride back (it was a holiday of some sort), so I needed to take his wheelchair to him.
It was raining when I left the hotel with the folding wheelchair. It only weighed about 20 lbs, but it was large and awkward to carry, and there were 17 bridges (all with stairs) between me and the hospital. I dragged/carried the chair up each flight of stairs and bounced it down. By the third or fourth…
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Annie, our surly Dalmatian with gastrointestinal issues was not only a pooping housebreaker (see link below), she was a wedding crasher. We knew the Craig’s across the street were hosting a wedding, so made a point to give Annie had plenty of time to spend in our yard to conduct business before their guests started arriving at one-thirty in the afternoon. In the interest of being good neighbors, we’d even made a last minute inspection of their yard before the guests arrived, just to make sure she hadn’t left an unwelcome “wedding gift.”
Alerting the family to keep her incarcerated, the whole family was on alert. Annie was a lazy dog, normally content to sleep the afternoon away, snoring stertorously. Apparently, the party traffic was disturbing. She spent her afternoon whining at the back door, dancing with her legs crossed, claiming she had to pee. We took her out on her leash a time or two, but she came up dry while attempting to escape to the party across the street. All went well until a neighbor kid came bursting in our back door, releasing Annie just as the wedding party exited the house across the street. Bowels urgently loaded, she streaked over to join the fun. In all the excitement of tossing the bouquet, she escaped the crowd’s notice as she laid a prize-winning turd a few feet behind the gaggle of bridesmaids vying for the bouquet. One of the more top-heavy ones slipped in her offering, bringing the rest down like a bunch of bowling pins. Annie scored a perfect strike! I could have sworn I heard shouts of “Dog-S–T!” rising above that bevy of pastel Southern beauties. I guess their mama’s didn’t raise them right!
Coming up next: Annie is accused of murder. Human skull found in our neighborhood and Annie found with detached arm!
https://atomic-temporary-73629786.wpcomstaging.com/2015/01/21/pooping-with-brian/
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"Creative Insights for Designers & Digital Artists
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Let’s fix it
Finding Meaning in Modern Life
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Exploring biblical promises and their fulfillment in Israel and the Middle East.
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