Although I am not Christian, I did get into the secular part of Easter when my kids were small. I'd hide eggs and baskets. Occasionally, the cat would find said eggs while I was sleeping and we'd find an egg in the middle of the living room floor kinda cracked and smooshed.... apparently, Easter eggs are fine cat toys.
My kids discovered early on that there was no Easter bunny and chocolate bunnies also did not exist. We had the Easter Chipmunk. And really adorable Chocolate Chipmunks for them to eat. This happened by accident one year, and I had to foster that story on purpose for a lot of years after that (still do, btw).
As I was putting the baskets together one year (helping out said bunny), one of the chocolate bunnies was dropped and the ears broke off... Damn. Not only did they break off, they shattered. So, I warmed a knife up, and smoothed off the bunny's head (and ate the ears). Of course, I had to do the same for any other bunnies that were around. From that time on (1982 or so), the legend of the Easter Chipmunk lived.
In the late 1990's I was shopping for candy and discovered that one of the candy companies finally figured out what I had known all along: The best part of the choc. bunny was the ears. For a year or two, one could buy just the bunny ears! Of course, this did nothing to abate the ear-ectomies going on late at night on the night before Easter.
To this day, there are Easter Chipmunks wandering around, looking for a way to get into your celebrations.
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Friday, April 22, 2011
Weird stuff that's in my head
I don't really "get" Easter. Its a Christian holy day that is determined in a very Pagan manner (the first Sunday after the first full moon after the Spring Equinox). From there, you count backwards for Good Friday, Maundy Thursday and Ash Wednesday.
Okay, now for the week leading up to Easter.... First, you have virtual cannibalism; then either a sacrifice, murder or execution; and finally, a couple days later, reincarnation (or a zombie, depends on who you talk to).
What I want to know is: Where do the chocolate bunnies come in? And the jelly beans?
Okay, now for the week leading up to Easter.... First, you have virtual cannibalism; then either a sacrifice, murder or execution; and finally, a couple days later, reincarnation (or a zombie, depends on who you talk to).
What I want to know is: Where do the chocolate bunnies come in? And the jelly beans?
Thursday, January 6, 2011
The Fashion Police rant
There are things we see as adults that we just know if we had seen them as a child, we would have been scarred for life and would possibly never leave the house again.
Case in point: Larger woman in a very tight mini-skirt bending over to get something off the floor.... Ummmm, lady, the last thing I really need to see is your whoo-ha hanging out all over the place. Look in the mirror. Then look again as if you were looking at a stranger. Then, go back to your closet and find something else to wear so you don't flash (or moon) your co-workers.
There is more need these days for the fashion police than ever before. "Skinny" hip-hugger jeans really don't look good on anyone who wears a size 18 (or larger). Especially when said person seems to think they still wear a size 14. Add a 'belly shirt' and all eveyone else sees is muffin-tops. Made of jello. This is really not attractive. Please people! There is absolutely NOTHING wrong with wearing the size that fits! Honest, there are clothes for those of us who are 'healthier' than the average that look good and are "in". I wear a size 20 and I don't have a problem actually purchasing clothes that not only fit, but look good.
Larger people aren't the only ones making the fashion faux pas these days. I have seen otherwise intelligent people leaving the house in color combinations that are not only unflattering, but you can get the same painful effect by scraping your eyes with a cheese grater. "Hey, Mister! Whoever told you that it was okay to wear a lime green and blaze orange tie was wrong." And, yes, there are times when its okay to mix different patterns. But it is never, ever okay to wear a red and blue striped shirt with yellow, green and black plaid pants (my ex did this regularly).
Finally, "Casual Fridays" does not mean wear your jammies to work. Nor does it mean that you can wear your rattiest, holiest, worn-out jeans with a Megadeth t-shirt. At least, not in an office setting. I'm sure that somewhere there exists a description of what "office casual" means. There has to be. I don't want to have to be the one to write it....
Dawn
Case in point: Larger woman in a very tight mini-skirt bending over to get something off the floor.... Ummmm, lady, the last thing I really need to see is your whoo-ha hanging out all over the place. Look in the mirror. Then look again as if you were looking at a stranger. Then, go back to your closet and find something else to wear so you don't flash (or moon) your co-workers.
There is more need these days for the fashion police than ever before. "Skinny" hip-hugger jeans really don't look good on anyone who wears a size 18 (or larger). Especially when said person seems to think they still wear a size 14. Add a 'belly shirt' and all eveyone else sees is muffin-tops. Made of jello. This is really not attractive. Please people! There is absolutely NOTHING wrong with wearing the size that fits! Honest, there are clothes for those of us who are 'healthier' than the average that look good and are "in". I wear a size 20 and I don't have a problem actually purchasing clothes that not only fit, but look good.
Larger people aren't the only ones making the fashion faux pas these days. I have seen otherwise intelligent people leaving the house in color combinations that are not only unflattering, but you can get the same painful effect by scraping your eyes with a cheese grater. "Hey, Mister! Whoever told you that it was okay to wear a lime green and blaze orange tie was wrong." And, yes, there are times when its okay to mix different patterns. But it is never, ever okay to wear a red and blue striped shirt with yellow, green and black plaid pants (my ex did this regularly).
Finally, "Casual Fridays" does not mean wear your jammies to work. Nor does it mean that you can wear your rattiest, holiest, worn-out jeans with a Megadeth t-shirt. At least, not in an office setting. I'm sure that somewhere there exists a description of what "office casual" means. There has to be. I don't want to have to be the one to write it....
Dawn
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
The Bitch Post
January 5 and I'm ready for winter to be over. Hello, welcome to my bitch post where I let off some steam and just complain about everything that bugs me.
Typos. Yeah, everybody has them, nobody wants them, and so many otherwise intelligent people don't fix them! If you want me to take you seriously, fix your freakin' typos! Nothing says "I don't care" better than 'teh', 'adn', 'thier' and myriad other un-fixed mistakes.
Then there are those who refuse to use the right word. Too, to and two are NOT interchangeable. A person bragging about being a teacher for 27 years should know the difference, but apparently not. Or, s/he is "to lazy too go back" and fix what is obviously a stupid mistake (made more stupid by not fixing it).
If you are under 30, don't bitch about being old. Especially to me.
If your dress size is 6, don't bitch to me about being 'fat.' I wear a size 20 sweetheart, and I will not be nice to you.
If you go out and get really, really drunk and then decide to call someone at 3:00 AM, don't be surprised if that person decides to play with you. If I am the person you end up drunk dialing to, I WILL ask to speak to your mother and I WILL expect you to wake her up. Why? So I can ask her why you are unsupervised since you are obviously not in control of your own actions. If your mother is not available, I will think of something else. Your best bet is to leave the phone off.
I am not amused by people who drive cars through puddles and slush and the like just to splash pedestrians. I am so not amused by it that I will take down your license plate and file a complaint with the local police department. Especially if I am on my way to work wearing a suit that needs to be dry-cleaned. You WILL pay.
Not everyone wants to listen to the music you are playing in your car. Nor do we need to have our windows rattling. Yes, you are impressed by your wonderful sound-system in that really ratty beater you drive. Take it somewhere else. You made me miss half of the dialog on the television program I was watching.
If you are smart enough to have graduated from college, then you are smart enough to know that when I am reading a book and have headphones on, I really don't want to talk to you.
That's enough for now, I think. I'll get around to the rest of the bitches later.
Dawn
Typos. Yeah, everybody has them, nobody wants them, and so many otherwise intelligent people don't fix them! If you want me to take you seriously, fix your freakin' typos! Nothing says "I don't care" better than 'teh', 'adn', 'thier' and myriad other un-fixed mistakes.
Then there are those who refuse to use the right word. Too, to and two are NOT interchangeable. A person bragging about being a teacher for 27 years should know the difference, but apparently not. Or, s/he is "to lazy too go back" and fix what is obviously a stupid mistake (made more stupid by not fixing it).
If you are under 30, don't bitch about being old. Especially to me.
If your dress size is 6, don't bitch to me about being 'fat.' I wear a size 20 sweetheart, and I will not be nice to you.
If you go out and get really, really drunk and then decide to call someone at 3:00 AM, don't be surprised if that person decides to play with you. If I am the person you end up drunk dialing to, I WILL ask to speak to your mother and I WILL expect you to wake her up. Why? So I can ask her why you are unsupervised since you are obviously not in control of your own actions. If your mother is not available, I will think of something else. Your best bet is to leave the phone off.
I am not amused by people who drive cars through puddles and slush and the like just to splash pedestrians. I am so not amused by it that I will take down your license plate and file a complaint with the local police department. Especially if I am on my way to work wearing a suit that needs to be dry-cleaned. You WILL pay.
Not everyone wants to listen to the music you are playing in your car. Nor do we need to have our windows rattling. Yes, you are impressed by your wonderful sound-system in that really ratty beater you drive. Take it somewhere else. You made me miss half of the dialog on the television program I was watching.
If you are smart enough to have graduated from college, then you are smart enough to know that when I am reading a book and have headphones on, I really don't want to talk to you.
That's enough for now, I think. I'll get around to the rest of the bitches later.
Dawn
Sunday, November 14, 2010
The Collector of Stories
I've dreamt of being a writer
A crafter of words.
To use the language I was given
To make people laugh and cry;
To weave an enchantment for all to wonder at.
I've dreamt of giving people life
With paper and pen.
For my heroes and heroines
To laugh and run and defeat all comers.
To let them love under the moon and sun.
I've dreamt of writing poetry
Lovely and sublime.
To show the world my aching soul
Or laughing heart.
To be able to write a flower that is like no other
That is mine alone to give to you.
But, no, it was not to be
The Gods and Goddesses give us all gifts
Some to write, others to draw
Some make music to honor all.
Still other craft things from wood and stone and clay.
Me?
I see the beauty in all these things
And collect them
To share them with everyone
I am but a humble storyteller
Sharing what beauty I've found with all.
A crafter of words.
To use the language I was given
To make people laugh and cry;
To weave an enchantment for all to wonder at.
I've dreamt of giving people life
With paper and pen.
For my heroes and heroines
To laugh and run and defeat all comers.
To let them love under the moon and sun.
I've dreamt of writing poetry
Lovely and sublime.
To show the world my aching soul
Or laughing heart.
To be able to write a flower that is like no other
That is mine alone to give to you.
But, no, it was not to be
The Gods and Goddesses give us all gifts
Some to write, others to draw
Some make music to honor all.
Still other craft things from wood and stone and clay.
Me?
I see the beauty in all these things
And collect them
To share them with everyone
I am but a humble storyteller
Sharing what beauty I've found with all.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Eternal Dance
Bitter winds howling
Songs in the night
Ghostly and surreal
Haunting the dark
Shadowy figures
Drift in the gloom
'Midst skeletal trees
Under a moonless sky
The dance of the dead
Weaving and swaying
With the sinister melody
Turning and reeling
To the ominous cadence
In the eternal dance
Whispering voices
Beckon to me
To join in the ball
The apparitions
Drift ever closer
Phantom fingers touch
Like weightless feathers
Frozen in place
I cannot move
Not wanting to stay
Yet fearing to leave
The dancers surround me
And then drift away
Still the music remains
Ethereal, illusory
Is it real or imagined
Asleep or awakened
I can no longer tell
A sleeping life
Or waking dream
Or nightmare here on earth
Songs in the night
Ghostly and surreal
Haunting the dark
Shadowy figures
Drift in the gloom
'Midst skeletal trees
Under a moonless sky
The dance of the dead
Weaving and swaying
With the sinister melody
Turning and reeling
To the ominous cadence
In the eternal dance
Whispering voices
Beckon to me
To join in the ball
The apparitions
Drift ever closer
Phantom fingers touch
Like weightless feathers
Frozen in place
I cannot move
Not wanting to stay
Yet fearing to leave
The dancers surround me
And then drift away
Still the music remains
Ethereal, illusory
Is it real or imagined
Asleep or awakened
I can no longer tell
A sleeping life
Or waking dream
Or nightmare here on earth
Friday, November 5, 2010
Broken Glass
Was doing a lot of thinking last night as I was going to sleep. Do you think I could remember any of it?
Actually, it was mostly about what and how I write. I write in a journal a lot. I write poetry that is an outlet. A way of exorcising whatever demons have been making my life more interesting than I want it to be. I know that when I write, I am not the same person at the end as I was at the beginning. The process itself changes me. For good or ill, I"m not really sure, but I do know there are changes. Some are rather small, other changes are huge.
I've also found that if I go back and read what I wrote a month, a year or a decade ago, I find myself wondering how I got to where I was at the beginning. I read through what I wrote, and find myself changing yet again in ways that are different than they were the first time through.
A lot of what I write is very dark. And some of it, while nightmarish, is actually quite beautiful.....
Actually, it was mostly about what and how I write. I write in a journal a lot. I write poetry that is an outlet. A way of exorcising whatever demons have been making my life more interesting than I want it to be. I know that when I write, I am not the same person at the end as I was at the beginning. The process itself changes me. For good or ill, I"m not really sure, but I do know there are changes. Some are rather small, other changes are huge.
I've also found that if I go back and read what I wrote a month, a year or a decade ago, I find myself wondering how I got to where I was at the beginning. I read through what I wrote, and find myself changing yet again in ways that are different than they were the first time through.
A lot of what I write is very dark. And some of it, while nightmarish, is actually quite beautiful.....
The road that lies before me
The path that I must take
Is paved along its length
With shards of broken glass
The path that I must take
Is paved along its length
With shards of broken glass
No shoes are upon my feet
In beggars rags I’m clad
I must walk along this road
Paved in broken glass
In beggars rags I’m clad
I must walk along this road
Paved in broken glass
There are no places on the side
Where I might go to rest
No place to lie my head
Or rest my weary bones
Where I might go to rest
No place to lie my head
Or rest my weary bones
The path I’ve left behind me
Is where I’ve left a trail
Bloody footprints for all to see
All in a staggered line
Is where I’ve left a trail
Bloody footprints for all to see
All in a staggered line
I see where I have stumbled
Where I’ve stood a while in pain
Looking for a place to stop
A place to end the march
Where I’ve stood a while in pain
Looking for a place to stop
A place to end the march
Looking to the left of me
Monsters I do see
Waiting for me to leave
The road of broken glass
Monsters I do see
Waiting for me to leave
The road of broken glass
My life is all around me
The past is bathed in blood
Of footprints made on shards of glass
Walking down this road
The past is bathed in blood
Of footprints made on shards of glass
Walking down this road
Why am I on this bloody path
Who chose the way I go
My feet were set upon the way
So many years ago
Who chose the way I go
My feet were set upon the way
So many years ago
Choices made when I was young
Wrong choices it now seems
Have put me here on this path
To go as best I can
Wrong choices it now seems
Have put me here on this path
To go as best I can
So now I must go along
Reaping the seeds I’ve sown
My future lies before me
On this road of broken glass
Reaping the seeds I’ve sown
My future lies before me
On this road of broken glass
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