My Faith in Humanity Has Been Restored

Somehow, my luck is such that no matter what time I leave my house, I always get to the corner just as the bus is pulling away from the stop across a very busy street. Sometimes, it's 3 buses in a row that drive by that stop as I wait impatiently across the street for the light to change.

Today was just such a day, except this time, I decided to run to the next stop. I figured the bus would have a red at some point and hopefully I could make it to the stop two blocks down before it left. This would have been a very good plan had I not been (and continue to be) hopelessly out of shape. So, my luck being what it is, I arrived huffing and puffing at the next stop only to watch the bus pull away as I ran alongside it.

It was at this point, just when I was about to get all worked up over the bus schedule, buses, all forms of vehicular transportation, Henry Ford and the whole 20th century in general, an angel pulled up next to me in the service lane. An angel - disguised as a Pakistani car service driver. The car was a nondescript brown, 1980's...I don't know what, with no car service name or number. But the driver called out, "get in, I'll take you to the next stop!" I paused at first, uncertain as to whether I should indeed get into a car with a complete stranger. And maybe I shouldn't have. But it was ten to nine. Cold. Windy. So I did. And then he kidnapped me and took me back to Kabakazoomistan to be his wife, and I've been held prisoner ever since.
Sorry - nothing as exciting as all that. But he did drive me to the next stop where I was able to get on the bus and get to work at a not-so-late-after-all 9:04. So, Mr. Ugly Brown Car Service Car Driver, wherever you are, wherever your car service travels have taken you now - thank you!

Fugly, Fattening, Flattening Flats

I do so hate flats
That's the truth, I'm afraid
I hate how they look
And I hate how they're made

I hate that in flats
I feel chubby and round
I look a good 10 pounds more
And I'm so close to the ground!

But the boots looked too wintery
After all, it is May
Yet it's too cold for sandals
Barely 60 today

So for lack of a better
in between kind of shoe
I'm stuck with the flats
And being a shrimpy five-two

Tribute to Shel Silverstein

If your reaction to the title of this post was, "who the hell is Shel Silverstein??" then I'm sorry to say but you have had a very deprived childhood. Shel Silverstein was one of the most influential writers in my life. His poetry was quirky, funny and so perfect for kids. He was like a grown up, slightly more normal version of Dr. Seuss.  I think it's safe to say that my (peculiar?) personality was shaped by Shel Silverstein poems such as the following:

I cannot go to school today, '
Said little Peggy Ann McKay.
'I have the measles and the mumps,
A gash, a rash and purple bumps.
My mouth is wet, my throat is dry,
I'm going blind in my right eye.
My tonsils are as big as rocks,
I've counted sixteen chicken pox
And there's one more-that's seventeen,
And don't you think my face looks green?
My leg is cut-my eyes are blue-
It might be instamatic flu.
I cough and sneeze and gasp and choke,
I'm sure that my left leg is broke-
My hip hurts when I move my chin,
My belly button's caving in,
My back is wrenched, my ankle's sprained,
My 'pendix pains each time it rains.
My nose is cold, my toes are numb.
I have a sliver in my thumb.
My neck is stiff, my voice is weak,
I hardly whisper when I speak.
My tongue is filling up my mouth,
I think my hair is falling out.
My elbow's bent, my spine ain't straight,
My temperature is one-o-eight.
My brain is shrunk, I cannot hear,
There is a hole inside my ear.
I have a hangnail, and my heart is-what?
What's that? What's that you say?
You say today is...Saturday?
G'bye, I'm going out to play! '
-Sick, by Shel Silverstein, courtesy of PoemHunter.com


or


"A genuine anteater,"
The pet man told me dad.
Turned out, it was an aunt eater,
And now my uncle's mad!
-The Anteater, by Shel Silverstein




Ah, dear Shel. How I wish I were 10 again.

Life & Work & the Incompatibility of the Two

Sitting at my desk today, ignoring the teasing spring breeze floating through the window, made me realize how pointless work is. We work all day, every day so that we can have money to live. And yet, in the ultimate paradox, working to have enough money to live leaves us with so little time to actually live! We work to enjoy life for 2 days each week. What, I ask you, is the point of that? God created the world so that we can enjoy it, not so that we can hole ourselves up in our offices and come out only on weekends. There is something so wrong with society when NOT living is the acceptable way of living.

I propose we all give up our jobs. Barter for what we need. Keep moving. Live life. Enjoy life. Nuff said.

The Blah's

Day in, day out
Both women & men
Work, eat, sleep
Just to do it again

Night turns to morning
And morning to night
Then back to morning again
With no end in sight

I call it the 'blah's'
That feeling I get
When nothing's quite wrong
But I still sit and fret

Fret about nothing
Just sit feeling blue
For no reason at all
Can't quite explain it to you

It'll pass in a bit
I guess it usually does
Till the next week or month
Month? Maybe that's what it was...

Guess Who's Back (back, back)

I'm back! And better than ever. Long absence due to yours truly actually getting a life, but I've come to the conclusion that getting a life should not and will not prevent me from writing. How did I come to this epiphany? Well, my husband showed me an interesting article in the Reader's Digest. (I know, the Reader's Digest? But since that's among three lone pieces of written work that he actually takes the time to read, I smile and nod.)

Anyway, ever since I was a little girl, I've always had the strangest thoughts. Actually, it's not the thoughts themselves that are so strange as much as they way I think them. I'll be walking down the street and thinking to myself, 'She strolled down the street at a leisurely pace, stopping every now and then to admire the scenery.' Or, for example, right now I'm thinking, 'She sat at her computer, typing rapidly, giving little thought to how utterly ridiculous she might sound.' Now, when I first told my husband about this, he thought, quite understandably, that this was very odd. I never knew it was odd because I kind of thought everyone did this.

So, like I said, he showed me this article in the Reader's Digest, called 'Am I Nuts' or something to that effect, where people write in odd things that they do and a psychologist tells them if that's normal or if they should go seek mental help. One of the people wrote in that they do exactly the same thing I just described. The psychologist replied that this is perfectly normal. "One way people learn things is by rehearsing a scenario in their heads. Most of us do this in a visual way...You just happen to do it verbally, as do many novelists and poets."

Well, I was quite happy to be in such company, but it made me realize that it was hardly warranted if I never took the time to write anymore. Hence, this post, Yeah, hence! (Sorry, The House Bunny reference)

Anyway, the bottom line is that I'm starting up my blog again. So, all you imaginary readers - cheers!

I Can't Wait

I can't wait to join the big girls at school
I can't wait to enter grade one
I can't wait to start 'departmental'
I can't wait till the school year is done

I can't wait to cross two-way streets on my own
I can't wait till my age has two digits
I can't wait to go to sleepaway camp
I can't wait for my parents to visit

I can't wait to finally start junior high
I can't wait to move up to grade eight
I can't wait to end elementary school
I can't wait till I graduate

I can't wait to start my first year of high school
I can't wait to finally learn how to drive
I can't wait till grade twelve when we're seniors
I can't wait to be free before five

I can't wait to receive my diploma
I can't wait to graduate
I can't wait to start college and my 'real' life
I can't wait to start to date

I can't wait to finish up my major
I can't wait to meet the right guy
I can't wait to get accepted to graduate school
I can't wait to get married in July

I can't wait to finally start working
I can't wait till I have a child
I can't wait till I finish my masters
I can't wait till my thesis's compiled

I can't wait for my child's one year birthday
I can't wait till he learns to walk
I can't wait till he's finally toilet trained
I can't wait till he learns to talk

I can't wait to buy our very first home
I can't wait for my son to start school
I can't wait till he stops making trouble
I can't wait till he listens to rules

I can't wait to get that coveted promotion
I can't wait for those teenage years to pass
I can't wait for my son to settle down with a nice girl
I can't wait to be a grandma at last

I can't wait to watch my grandchildren grow up
I can't wait for them to come visit me
I can't wait till my 65th birthday
I can't wait to retire peacefully

I can't wait to see my grandchildren marry
I can't wait till they have kids of their own
I can't wait to hold my first great grandson
I can't wait till those noisy kids go home

Tomorrow's my 120th birthday
I can't wait to blow out candles on that cake
I can't wait to enjoy all life's given me
I can't wait to wish it isn't too late