tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-58500102861274910462024-03-24T16:56:39.711-06:00Questions More Than AnswersHeidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11983870212066394294noreply@blogger.comBlogger275125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850010286127491046.post-28730278876037910542024-03-17T12:23:00.001-06:002024-03-17T12:23:44.357-06:00Swiftly <p>I watched The Eras Tour on Disney+. I went into it knowing only a few songs from Red and 1989 (the year I graduated High School ugh) and then a couple of melody through lines from Midnights. But that didn't stop me from smiling, singing, and even crying during "All Too Well."</p><p><br /></p><p>Here's how far Taylor reaches: I called my mid 70's parents' at home and when my Mom answers there's all this noise in the background:</p><p><br /></p><p>Me - What's all that noise?</p><p><br /></p><p>Mom - Oh! (Excited) We're watching The Concert on Disney+. Dad even turned on the surround sound.</p><p><br /></p><p>Me - Really? How is it?</p><p><br /></p><p>Mom - It's great. I really like her. I don't know any of the songs but I'm having fun. Where else could I see this concert? I could never see her in person. (Pause to listen to the song) I even think your Dad is enjoying it.</p><p><br /></p><p>Since then she's watched another documentary about her and is deciding which albums to buy first.</p><p><br /></p><p>How cute is that? My Mom is a brand new Swiftie.</p><p><br /></p><p>Okay, I might be one too.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5p9lNPBDTq6p3E88uIEBPI1vXYbLoziE-3W45TkELY6FQnoTBSz-UJETua1T-p0g4MDQ-g7omd7eUXy_uxWZnflZR4r9Wf_lJr5uW9CX7AV-YuQWiCB0KMKo_QxG3_yC4e1iyGVVzrrpk1mlKbdPL7UN5xNkykTLbJrupHsqeuQ00eBnRPVdUN8rxORvt/s4001/FtIj0POXoBIiLev.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4001" data-original-width="3000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5p9lNPBDTq6p3E88uIEBPI1vXYbLoziE-3W45TkELY6FQnoTBSz-UJETua1T-p0g4MDQ-g7omd7eUXy_uxWZnflZR4r9Wf_lJr5uW9CX7AV-YuQWiCB0KMKo_QxG3_yC4e1iyGVVzrrpk1mlKbdPL7UN5xNkykTLbJrupHsqeuQ00eBnRPVdUN8rxORvt/s320/FtIj0POXoBIiLev.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11983870212066394294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850010286127491046.post-77496552540794449412024-03-06T17:54:00.001-07:002024-03-06T20:31:02.316-07:00Piece of Peace <p>During my sophomore year of college in my first class of the day, I would always sit down and get organized, then take my yummy lemon scented cuticle cream out of my bag and center myself, while moisturizing my cuticles. It was my little Moment of Zen before the day would begin. </p><p><br /></p><p>Half way through the semester (yes, this was back when there were semesters) the girl that generally sat behind me, finally got up the nerve to ask what I was doing every day. She found it soooooo curious and mysterious. She admitted how she waited for that moment every day, to just watch my little ritual. It calmed her. Made her day better.</p><p><br /></p><p>My peace gave her peace. </p><p><br /></p><p>You never know the impact you can have. Just with a little bit of cuticle cream.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBYl53E2alnL_VfKf7XjsRDjGsLXwE_8BWWjLbfGqLBkGg2rYqtIeT3r4g4gZ1KjRbVfzhBWzx6F7W6bbq67-jWMwMs_a61jWHobz2MC5Ftk1w-UkFuKXpyeoHfM9DNbCd4ialOJtzJokl02nRW3w3vovohYWZgyCZy4d1WA7e_5pOMXuNb14DE3EslN4H/s763/FB_IMG_1709771656341.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="763" data-original-width="572" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBYl53E2alnL_VfKf7XjsRDjGsLXwE_8BWWjLbfGqLBkGg2rYqtIeT3r4g4gZ1KjRbVfzhBWzx6F7W6bbq67-jWMwMs_a61jWHobz2MC5Ftk1w-UkFuKXpyeoHfM9DNbCd4ialOJtzJokl02nRW3w3vovohYWZgyCZy4d1WA7e_5pOMXuNb14DE3EslN4H/s320/FB_IMG_1709771656341.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11983870212066394294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850010286127491046.post-44618871664747230002024-03-04T16:46:00.000-07:002024-03-04T16:46:28.229-07:00Don't Hand It To Me<p>Recently what I've discovered is that like Tony Stark, I too, do not enjoy having things just suddenly handed to me.</p><p><br /></p><p>As the kids say, gives me the ick. </p><p><br /></p><p>I get in your car and then BAM you hand me something? Nah. I need time. You walk in my home and instantly hand me something? Nope. I'm not looking at it. It's going on the floor or the counter. </p><p><br /></p><p>I need time to understand WHY I'm being handed the thing I'm being handed.</p><p><br /></p><p>I'm not expecting this to make sense. I don't even understand it. </p><p><br /></p><p>Did you ask for this information? No. </p><p><br /></p><p>I just handed it to you.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgbWG5efaLYtWDDLINBmAk1W50Nof4hei4TqN2GlXkWsa-ds5BQsMwj5nElQtnOmIcaHSmT1SebAIiVWF9nig0KXmZ_ACnhpjy03pbzDmgSEsQpQ0lFG0I1Oeq3m3Edtg-7lvH-xYrJF-87JbG2Z5FMf91gx-sNjGwBuwMBlnyLvgm83R6j-m0I-nyNJlf/s268/tumblr_pgs6teKKEK1s3c57po7_r1_400.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="240" data-original-width="268" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgbWG5efaLYtWDDLINBmAk1W50Nof4hei4TqN2GlXkWsa-ds5BQsMwj5nElQtnOmIcaHSmT1SebAIiVWF9nig0KXmZ_ACnhpjy03pbzDmgSEsQpQ0lFG0I1Oeq3m3Edtg-7lvH-xYrJF-87JbG2Z5FMf91gx-sNjGwBuwMBlnyLvgm83R6j-m0I-nyNJlf/s1600/tumblr_pgs6teKKEK1s3c57po7_r1_400.gif" width="268" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPPOzMg8A3B-3gA-4KbPGZXwqkkWFqlLttdN_KSZTqH_aw5Xy2rjUWm3iwdrIGhOvnvAr__rfn1D3QcuLVktolYpyPUoFxtB9yH0L9S9hJl_cBIYsPGW1Url3kBngWeiinyvFP2PEnFTygLtEAEK_949jXUvfgrSZ-KjQOB16ORZIAqTNT6CSee7tsBT8e/s245/main-qimg-75ca32f1677caeeb2d00f060d0a54345.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="175" data-original-width="245" height="175" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPPOzMg8A3B-3gA-4KbPGZXwqkkWFqlLttdN_KSZTqH_aw5Xy2rjUWm3iwdrIGhOvnvAr__rfn1D3QcuLVktolYpyPUoFxtB9yH0L9S9hJl_cBIYsPGW1Url3kBngWeiinyvFP2PEnFTygLtEAEK_949jXUvfgrSZ-KjQOB16ORZIAqTNT6CSee7tsBT8e/s1600/main-qimg-75ca32f1677caeeb2d00f060d0a54345.gif" width="245" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p><br /></p>Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11983870212066394294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850010286127491046.post-70992015978969115482024-02-24T17:21:00.000-07:002024-02-24T17:21:22.829-07:00On Being a Shithead<p>Talking to my Mom, of course. Talking about life, expectations, how I mostly have only had my brain my whole life. She mentions that I'm clever and I say that I know how much more clever I could be. Her response had us laugh crying for fifteen minutes.</p><p><br /></p><p>Mom - Well, you're not MENSA Shart.</p><p><br /></p><p>Me - Wait, did you just say shart?</p><p><br /></p><p>Mom - I don't know. Did I?</p><p><br /></p><p>Me - You said shart. That could not have been more perfect.</p><p><br /></p><p>We're both crying. </p><p><br /></p><p>Me - I need this on a shirt.</p><p><br /></p><p>She's still crying.</p><p><br /></p><p>Me - We could start our own club: The Sharts. (I start singing the melody to the Jet Song from West Side Story)</p><p><br /></p><p>This is peak Mom conversation. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI9BMrFczX3prsv7aua5TSE9MzO3UqRlE6ZHAY59UrPDzGuMUrR45AiUDAHLmMWcIOBBt6MTTEEj29yubqo6dtpMyPzI2TaJbZhrG9GN0x3nC0lGmsU0OeY4koSuaLcAVIdu_KeFv3QShpVVQmDT2LSQxnx2iQoPTvALH3ht0FtShP9VWmA91Wp_nwF5Zd/s480/giphy.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="220" data-original-width="480" height="147" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI9BMrFczX3prsv7aua5TSE9MzO3UqRlE6ZHAY59UrPDzGuMUrR45AiUDAHLmMWcIOBBt6MTTEEj29yubqo6dtpMyPzI2TaJbZhrG9GN0x3nC0lGmsU0OeY4koSuaLcAVIdu_KeFv3QShpVVQmDT2LSQxnx2iQoPTvALH3ht0FtShP9VWmA91Wp_nwF5Zd/s320/giphy.gif" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM9ttxqlg_xr8tlHUqxDjt4Tj2SWQgI5nTcKGHPPx4qPDtyoFLvybzEK-H5OgCRMrNaCrRlgKl_LnB0LMpFScV_M-0C4OrpT8i9DYGDrWBEzPEo_bsDXeFNqKaodkt_RDuVsC10E5zj0C_SD3s53cSGp_3u5S2EAUiuocxYidZ9w6l7wFE_NC4_OMfXLsz/s498/west-side-story-fingers.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="278" data-original-width="498" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM9ttxqlg_xr8tlHUqxDjt4Tj2SWQgI5nTcKGHPPx4qPDtyoFLvybzEK-H5OgCRMrNaCrRlgKl_LnB0LMpFScV_M-0C4OrpT8i9DYGDrWBEzPEo_bsDXeFNqKaodkt_RDuVsC10E5zj0C_SD3s53cSGp_3u5S2EAUiuocxYidZ9w6l7wFE_NC4_OMfXLsz/s320/west-side-story-fingers.gif" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p><br /></p>Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11983870212066394294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850010286127491046.post-65599496673773289642024-02-14T14:22:00.001-07:002024-02-14T14:24:02.899-07:00First Fiction <p>My very first date with Preston was at the theatre to see "Pulp Fiction." He had been lobbying for this date in major ways. He made a sign that read "Will Work for Heidi" and stood on my road waiting for me to pass him on my way to work. </p><p><br /></p><p>I stayed home sick and never saw him.</p><p><br /></p><p>Then he called and we arranged the date. I picked the movie. Because, of course.</p><p><br /></p><p>Then, we're there. And THAT scene starts. He leans over and quietly asks "do you want to leave?" He's soooooo uncomfortable. Because, of course. I tell him "Oh no. I want to see this."</p><p><br /></p><p>It's still going. He asks again. I pat his arm. "I'm fine." He's not fine.</p><p><br /></p><p>The movie ends. I loved it. He's a wreck. Thinks he broke any chance with me.</p><p><br /></p><p>He never had a chance. I was still in love with someone else. Because, of course.</p><p><br /></p><p><a href="https://letterboxd.com/journal/crushed-worst-movie-dates-valentines-day/">https://letterboxd.com/journal/crushed-worst-movie-dates-valentines-day/</a><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXaXZyyLibOHrTCFgSrAmUB8en9Ig2P5F4fIPLp7682wVF8m7T2HbfVImCTQYxK0bcnwnMUEOptnOOxL-jPeWcEaZazqd-8EQR17VutowyM6Eo9492UMQBp3Bn4hZMqXsOF-uAyILNoHcIscH2yGqmBLv6KhLxuIwB_fISlxdcfUNizf5kVOJCAO49kygQ/s1920/pulp-fiction-pulp-fiction-13157913-1920-810.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="810" data-original-width="1920" height="135" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXaXZyyLibOHrTCFgSrAmUB8en9Ig2P5F4fIPLp7682wVF8m7T2HbfVImCTQYxK0bcnwnMUEOptnOOxL-jPeWcEaZazqd-8EQR17VutowyM6Eo9492UMQBp3Bn4hZMqXsOF-uAyILNoHcIscH2yGqmBLv6KhLxuIwB_fISlxdcfUNizf5kVOJCAO49kygQ/s320/pulp-fiction-pulp-fiction-13157913-1920-810.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11983870212066394294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850010286127491046.post-23410364367602958402023-12-31T23:56:00.000-07:002023-12-31T23:56:04.673-07:00Wishing Star <p> My New Year Wish is for everyone to get their wishes for the New Year. </p><p><br /></p><p>No matter how improbable, huge, selfish, tiny, redundant, crazy, lazy, or silly. I want everyone to find their bliss. </p><p><br /></p><p>Now, if your bliss is to be a whacko hurting humans and animals, I have nothing to do with that, and we're most likely not friends. So, no. No wishes for you. **not so fine print**</p><p><br /></p><p>Somehow in this life, I have always maintained hope. Even when pain seems unending and it's just one more thing after one more thing, I never lose hope.</p><p><br /></p><p>I have hope for us. Yes, all of us.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWKvM4huHrkv8EB6AKMubMhvOOjwJydoIIZK-EMw8a0vpiuQaA9osR42Z1IksYhaRtL6MCsjS7CxXVCM5T1BbNMnodMgRQO4-Ishmv5enp6BFt5lZD8DouA00gHUtdRCh4USFWUzM7sK1yRyj_VnqwTWxl7qfz1Jk2wIFAubhjKj4GLV_YJ_L-Kgl0M0fp/s1200/how-to-wish-upon-a-star-in.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="675" data-original-width="1200" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWKvM4huHrkv8EB6AKMubMhvOOjwJydoIIZK-EMw8a0vpiuQaA9osR42Z1IksYhaRtL6MCsjS7CxXVCM5T1BbNMnodMgRQO4-Ishmv5enp6BFt5lZD8DouA00gHUtdRCh4USFWUzM7sK1yRyj_VnqwTWxl7qfz1Jk2wIFAubhjKj4GLV_YJ_L-Kgl0M0fp/s320/how-to-wish-upon-a-star-in.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11983870212066394294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850010286127491046.post-45639450503614955492023-08-30T13:15:00.001-06:002023-08-30T13:15:29.825-06:00Driving Rain<p> I was watching Hurricane coverage on The Weather Channel and while the broadcaster was outside on a street in Georgia slicked with rain, commenting how most of the town was shut down, a UPS truck passed behind her. </p><p><br /></p><p>I laughed at first, imagining frivolous Amazon purchases or other online orders hurriedly being delivered inside a hurricane. Then I smartened up and remembered that people get their meds delivered and other healthcare devices. These are important and possibly life saving, specially for elderly people and the disabled that will be affected with major power outages and road closures. </p><p><br /></p><p>These drivers deserve every bit of the raise they negotiated. Plus hazard pay.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2obAkzIgBKE9YYW6Lol8BN79Dui9wu4JXR8zbgdhcdeoitIJyjIPe_X64WMDL4U1m8Le_lKagSulXw3sUrw7deCy_fcfh6uexWhOf_Iu2Ue5G-KJXGqeUToKlOQOPuB10xqncoSfBKD78N_Mzo_gvq7veW8iuUomQp4Wfx1bb8KptoxM8KJdkycUiAf8i/s210/images~2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="210" data-original-width="209" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2obAkzIgBKE9YYW6Lol8BN79Dui9wu4JXR8zbgdhcdeoitIJyjIPe_X64WMDL4U1m8Le_lKagSulXw3sUrw7deCy_fcfh6uexWhOf_Iu2Ue5G-KJXGqeUToKlOQOPuB10xqncoSfBKD78N_Mzo_gvq7veW8iuUomQp4Wfx1bb8KptoxM8KJdkycUiAf8i/s1600/images~2.jpeg" width="209" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6hK_zTAnE79A5d3XZu6lkCs_OovjISirce8HqBwKVTfViVVTDXw7JuoINUshwtFg_B2iXomMkzVASrx2DCYV2M1YBx5QqOiPT-TMCMlPOu6AHAJDiNw1rdBMF7R4xxcsWCWUEhlfTZwxtiAPVRJk6vXefkXnLQmmfKbNqut1z2iNyXQXC4QUlGitCDAuV/s960/VwNxqrk.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6hK_zTAnE79A5d3XZu6lkCs_OovjISirce8HqBwKVTfViVVTDXw7JuoINUshwtFg_B2iXomMkzVASrx2DCYV2M1YBx5QqOiPT-TMCMlPOu6AHAJDiNw1rdBMF7R4xxcsWCWUEhlfTZwxtiAPVRJk6vXefkXnLQmmfKbNqut1z2iNyXQXC4QUlGitCDAuV/s320/VwNxqrk.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p><br /></p>Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11983870212066394294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850010286127491046.post-53427483680133550872023-08-17T14:34:00.000-06:002023-08-17T14:34:36.857-06:00Get the Lead Out<p> Most mornings I've been writing in my dream journal about all the dreams I had during the night and morning. I use my favorite mechanical pencil. I've had that thing for decades. Well, I started to run out of lead. I searched and searched my apartment for the replacement lead (which I was positive was here somewhere) and could never find it. So, I ordered more. </p><p><br /></p><p>Today I'm putting the new lead into my most favorite mechanical pencil and decide to put the new lead somewhere that makes sense, where I won't forget it: at the bottom of the ceramic jug holding all my pens. </p><p><br /></p><p>When I dump out all the pens what do I find? All the replacement lead.</p><p><br /></p><p>I have enough lead to last until the apocalypse.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQTaIerF7gty-z250-gsVhQq-HhTfZJEnMjK_mpF8BMr8pvfoGgoZhqVozxOpppDwhKCVSio2d3dgFZ4CiqrzA7oQlfo6dJUIarX74pxhY0nj4OPp5J5jcrTE3gY6tk_hEJkPFzF9r6gH14Y5mhMcuOMvJsjHbXkE4vfGgkDwauwVRVvTrosySlMBoqM-I/s1200/Screenshots_2023-08-17-14-25-20.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="852" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQTaIerF7gty-z250-gsVhQq-HhTfZJEnMjK_mpF8BMr8pvfoGgoZhqVozxOpppDwhKCVSio2d3dgFZ4CiqrzA7oQlfo6dJUIarX74pxhY0nj4OPp5J5jcrTE3gY6tk_hEJkPFzF9r6gH14Y5mhMcuOMvJsjHbXkE4vfGgkDwauwVRVvTrosySlMBoqM-I/s320/Screenshots_2023-08-17-14-25-20.png" width="227" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11983870212066394294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850010286127491046.post-9776131479829710942023-08-11T14:34:00.001-06:002023-08-11T14:41:39.031-06:00Tongue Tied<p> Dream if you will, a picture - of my Mom and I at a stoplight. Suddenly she notices a man to the left of us in the back seat of an old model Four Runner having a VERY animated conversation with the driver. With every word he is waving his bright Orange Polka Dot tie and using it as either emphasis or as the reason for each syllable.</p><p>Naturally we're intrigued, and a little bewildered. </p><p>Then I start the voiceover for Tie Guy -</p><p><br /></p><p>TG - Do you see this? This stain? This happened because you stopped so short. F$&K you Geoff! </p><p>Mom laughs.</p><p>TG- I inherited this from my Great Grandfather and now it has frappuccino all over it because you can't drive for shit Geoffrey.</p><p>More Mom laughter.</p><p>TG- IT'S SILK!! CAN'T YOU SEE THAT IT'S SILK!! </p><p>You owe me a tie you idiot.</p><p><br /></p><p>The vehicle turns with Tie Guy still waving his tie and berating the driver.</p><p>Mom and I are both cackling.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaOFX039DpumPoEkxILVZT0o5cNDIP67jImOyEprDTo6jAndXT1h4ZS3m0VlZ0NLfBsssDr-wvmimPPcAkyfzw30Jy3ZNquZBAObjJNjLN8wFdpOMvgSY4aBov4D6ztWFUGAPJzOw1bcZEOoXnqiAfmdMQEfNsbzsBsAmEsDRVCjEbm33MNpJRShRXdEse/s793/Screenshots_2023-08-11-14-28-02.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="479" data-original-width="793" height="193" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaOFX039DpumPoEkxILVZT0o5cNDIP67jImOyEprDTo6jAndXT1h4ZS3m0VlZ0NLfBsssDr-wvmimPPcAkyfzw30Jy3ZNquZBAObjJNjLN8wFdpOMvgSY4aBov4D6ztWFUGAPJzOw1bcZEOoXnqiAfmdMQEfNsbzsBsAmEsDRVCjEbm33MNpJRShRXdEse/s320/Screenshots_2023-08-11-14-28-02.png" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKpdkRAmAhgZ_2rwGzDTqaef646dpT5kwncIaWWdvEofRZJZhrgHz67jyyup2v8wB1Finx16jn6nqJcFR-YK6hfSSFYSOgweJOEAB7Wu4CKWIuyULNkQSjPzFVMey2RhAKrk_5WhES2bMzC1g8_ofCM6QLoWxhDLrrJgGR8iFfmi9nTpmKheVo3u_lfTh8/s794/Screenshots_2023-08-11-14-28-41.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="573" data-original-width="794" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKpdkRAmAhgZ_2rwGzDTqaef646dpT5kwncIaWWdvEofRZJZhrgHz67jyyup2v8wB1Finx16jn6nqJcFR-YK6hfSSFYSOgweJOEAB7Wu4CKWIuyULNkQSjPzFVMey2RhAKrk_5WhES2bMzC1g8_ofCM6QLoWxhDLrrJgGR8iFfmi9nTpmKheVo3u_lfTh8/w316-h228/Screenshots_2023-08-11-14-28-41.png" width="316" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11983870212066394294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850010286127491046.post-75163223552273990602023-03-26T18:12:00.001-06:002023-03-26T18:53:08.866-06:00Less Miserable <p> For my Mom's Birthday I bought her tickets to a matinee showing of a local Highschool's performance of "Les Miserables." She was very excited. We haven't been to any plays or musicals in years. Between her health, my health, and a world wide plague, being in a theatre, having to climb stairs AND be packed in next to the Coughy Coughersons was just, not, our thing.</p><p>So, yesterday was the day for "Les Miserables." We showed up at least forty minutes early to secure decent parking. Was that parking you say? We starting getting nervous when we noticed vehicles parked out on the street. Then, when we get to the actual lot, we find one designated handicap spot, of course full. At least two levels of stairs to get to the building and if there even was a ramp it must have been hidden. Cars were parked in non parking spots like a free-for-all. If we were to park at all we would have had to go back out to the street and by the time us pokey limpy gimps would have made it to the theatre it would have been well into the first act and WE would be Les Miserables.</p><p>"Les Miserables" was abandoned and we opted for a day of shopping and hanging out instead. I'm not going to lie, I cried. It's very frustrating. And sad. That just climbing the stairs to go into that Highschool was such a barrier. That my Mom didn't get to enjoy her gift. Plus the absolute shit parking was infuriating. I'm calling the School on Monday and letting them know the situation and seeing about a refund. It's the principal really. Maybe you think I should have done reconnaissance and found out about the parking and ramps ahead of time. I say, ramps and handicap parking and elevators and bathrooms bigger than a phone booth are THE way and if you don't have these then you are purposely refusing any disabled person access. Full stop.</p><p>Our day was full and fun nonetheless. They always are. It seemed everyone had the same idea that we had; to be out of the house. Everywhere we went was packed. Including all the roads. We stopped briefly at Asian Mart and on our way back to the car I saw these young ladies carrying some super cool pots. I hollered over at them "What are going to cook in those pots?" She giggled "Tamales!"</p><p>Then at JOANN Fabrics is where our patience was utilzed again. With the one checker scenario. Poor lady. Three gazillion customers in line and only one lady at the register, wearing carpal tunnel wraps on her hands. Immediately in front of us was a family. A sweet, sweet family: Mom, Dad, and three kiddos. The two older kids were doing a fantastic job of entertaining theirselves whilst waiting in line. It was impressive. Then finally, the youngest, he just started to break. He didn't want to be there anymore. Real heartbreaking tears. He had just had enough. We all had. His little cries were so sad, and relatable. I wanted to buy him every treat in that aisle. He tried so hard. </p><p>After they FINALLY brought up more people to the registers and things started to move, I mentioned to the Mom what great kids she had, how amazingly well they did waiting that long in line. It seemed to surprise her. But I felt that she was touched by it. It takes only a few seconds to reach a person. To reach them and, make them less miserable. 😉💖</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHayikscLM74ViaMCZOzcQrpvItsRVacChuGPv6yCNll3rERfgkx5cOTBQOscNpYD0MmccaR86ns9mN4yzmIokVXkWIx-SdxikLCGPPfjVjCkK9kOaSXKMcizUessu-1Dc4SIvpGIZofwi54hxLQOWDzGhwyADv0sNW6WP_kzVPv7NEjHbEU6EVM4Avg/s1535/Master%20of%20the%20House_%20Photo%20Johan%20Persson.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1535" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHayikscLM74ViaMCZOzcQrpvItsRVacChuGPv6yCNll3rERfgkx5cOTBQOscNpYD0MmccaR86ns9mN4yzmIokVXkWIx-SdxikLCGPPfjVjCkK9kOaSXKMcizUessu-1Dc4SIvpGIZofwi54hxLQOWDzGhwyADv0sNW6WP_kzVPv7NEjHbEU6EVM4Avg/s320/Master%20of%20the%20House_%20Photo%20Johan%20Persson.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwxIMZCLYr9c3BhGVigGHlFO0RpdnoJ-_MLtMhg1cBrn-50b8VI7Yg35yRcMw-YILlfLcx-oGHN6So9on77Mw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br /><p><br /></p>Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11983870212066394294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850010286127491046.post-38400527648507923342023-03-16T19:43:00.000-06:002023-03-16T19:43:30.158-06:00Enlarge Marge <p> You know when you want to expand/enlarge whatever you're viewing on your phone's screen and you do that very specific finger movement? That thumb and middle finger universal symbol/movement of "Enlarge." </p><p>Well, every time I use that movement my brain is simultaneously connected to a frozen moment in time. Now, because I'm writing this down and my brain is full of song lyrics and movie quotes, I have "Wrote a song about it. Wanna hear it? Here it goes!"</p><p>Years ago, my Bestie and I were at the Utah State Fair, and with us was her friend/date. I don't remember this man's name. He was pleasant enough. What matters the most is that he had the map to the fairgrounds in his back pocket. After we had seen enough of the prize winning pumpkins and zucchinis, Mr. Date presented the paper map and became the navigator of our adventure. When Mr. Mariner couldn't find where and what he expected to find, he did the "Expand" move on the map. Then he did it again. It took about four tries for Not Magellan to realize what he was doing. </p><p>I remember this in a flash every time I make that movement with my hand on my phone. Mostly because It's hilarious and I love it so much. I love how one silly event with people you could most likely never see again will stick. With you or them. Possibly become a core memory. Think how many stupid quirky sweet kind dorky things you did in High School, and since then, that are now permanently part of someone's daily joy. Chances are you have no idea whom many of them are. </p><p>Alllllll those possible encounters and moments. And expand.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTUy6Uq7hD1aMkct_2T75Hzr3GQmNiLr474_mydWOo0cf2y9tBbMntXCMtMBxz4-Z6QxdD6dhrYMJ0VgaJ5CCcrWsnlIENF1yDhsxqsSQCYmHyfxsidL8m1z1wIIYBGJgOqmqDMEmDJbscXL0tVx6wFCSoR0RxcFofU7eG8BS6YULZZZ9pZdhlnSLgzQ/s1600/nyusilver.style.1600.900.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTUy6Uq7hD1aMkct_2T75Hzr3GQmNiLr474_mydWOo0cf2y9tBbMntXCMtMBxz4-Z6QxdD6dhrYMJ0VgaJ5CCcrWsnlIENF1yDhsxqsSQCYmHyfxsidL8m1z1wIIYBGJgOqmqDMEmDJbscXL0tVx6wFCSoR0RxcFofU7eG8BS6YULZZZ9pZdhlnSLgzQ/s320/nyusilver.style.1600.900.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11983870212066394294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850010286127491046.post-89999638080291677922023-03-08T16:13:00.000-07:002023-03-08T16:13:18.896-07:00Can You Describe The Ruckus<p> It's Mom's Birthday today so we ran errands and went to lunch. I had an appointment to hand in paperwork and go over my yearly rental recertification. As I sat in the waiting area before the appointment a rather large gentleman sat on the other side of the room, facing me. He was fidgeting, shuffling his feet. He wore a large backpack and it forced him to sit a bit forward. All of a sudden he rips a very loud fart. </p><p>You see, the fart was trapped under his thighs and butt cheeks. Then it ricocheted off the flat surface of the chair so the volume of the fart expanded like a trumpet BLATTTT! He initially looked around like he himself was curious about where the sound originated, then barked "I have heartburn!" </p><p>If that wasn't funny enough, the secretary was on the phone and when she heard the butt ruckus, leaned to the left to get a perfect picture of the culprit. Her WTF face is the stuff of legends.</p><p>Then Mister Fartburn pulls his backpack out from behind his back and continues to bark "I hope I didn't sit on IT?" I'm thinking, oh honey, you sat on it. But he's fiddling with a cannister of pepper spray that is hooked to the bottom of his backpack. "It has a carabiner! I got it from the police. You can spray it at... COYOTES! You can spray it at... MOUNTAIN LIONS! You can even spray it at Rattlesnakes! They just roll away."</p><p>I kindly engage and watch his fingers as he keeps flipping the pepper spray and think at least getting pepper sprayed in a waiting room would be a good story. "It's SPICY!" I say I have no doubt it is.</p><p>He does have heartburn.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaj9cXjlaS89wz2pCD53gerGO8s-XSiJfHcZWakBqeZOkjcMp9wNhxT1N5F2B0APssTtMiXTc0s1FvzcnLOze_Yh778S8AI0HvhB3IPug2q0lVlnwSIgPYCKZBGDoKA_fULUFXWZxku_S2-zLBeK1XfCg2EOvC24oUy3EqvrcGcm6Fev4yqfJ-l1Rslg/s1800/explainer-lead-peppers-1660072231.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1800" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaj9cXjlaS89wz2pCD53gerGO8s-XSiJfHcZWakBqeZOkjcMp9wNhxT1N5F2B0APssTtMiXTc0s1FvzcnLOze_Yh778S8AI0HvhB3IPug2q0lVlnwSIgPYCKZBGDoKA_fULUFXWZxku_S2-zLBeK1XfCg2EOvC24oUy3EqvrcGcm6Fev4yqfJ-l1Rslg/s320/explainer-lead-peppers-1660072231.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11983870212066394294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850010286127491046.post-21837569571635616352022-10-25T12:59:00.002-06:002022-10-25T12:59:58.186-06:00Peep Show<p> Every morning I open my curtains to let in the sun. I don't open my blinds until AFTER I've changed into my clothes for the day. I'm smart like that.</p><p><br /></p><p>Today after I changed, I opened my blinds and then decided to put an extra blanket on the bed. It seemed to go straight from needing my little bedside fan to two blankets over the weekend. Okay back to the story.</p><p><br /></p><p>I'm finished with my new cozy warm blanket so I go over to the window to gaze outside. Like I do. Like any normal human would do that likes the Crows and sunshine and clouds and whatnot.</p><p><br /></p><p>I notice that there's a car. A car parked where it shouldn't be parked. A different car. An out of place car. So I stare at it. Pondering. Then I notice two "young people" doing things in the front seat IN BROAD DAYLIGHT that I really wish I could scrub from my brain, my eyes, my existence.</p><p><br /></p><p>Then the dude looks up. I slam my blinds shut.</p><p><br /></p><p>The car is gone now.</p><p><br /></p><p>The images are not.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE9HMgoCXI2B3D_cZDd1QvQeyYjUuh6StMMkHGxSzGbFxpU8HNhqk6tjg3TFRQBrfoidTK-13D_XMHF-Ul4bX2K5HPvwQzB6Ek4SftaJygfIedM_Xtxx8M40gwPzkV8QCvPElDd4eo5PjF6bV7ZBjbazwX5qCFc2Pslt5oArLCPrgce4a6vjKkVou83g/s973/img_5684.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="973" data-original-width="730" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE9HMgoCXI2B3D_cZDd1QvQeyYjUuh6StMMkHGxSzGbFxpU8HNhqk6tjg3TFRQBrfoidTK-13D_XMHF-Ul4bX2K5HPvwQzB6Ek4SftaJygfIedM_Xtxx8M40gwPzkV8QCvPElDd4eo5PjF6bV7ZBjbazwX5qCFc2Pslt5oArLCPrgce4a6vjKkVou83g/s320/img_5684.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11983870212066394294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850010286127491046.post-34422536827090149682022-08-31T14:06:00.001-06:002022-08-31T14:06:17.340-06:00Little Things<p> Here's the Costco Roundup for today.</p><p><br /></p><p>Mom explaining to her kid that was asking her to buy something "Mom and Dad are a partnership and they have to make decisions together." </p><p><br /></p><p>Lady got a sample of the Philly Cheese Steak in front of my Mom. My Mom bumped into her later and asked her how it was, she leaned in and whispered so the Costco Gods wouldn't hear her blaspheme "There wasn't any cheese."</p><p><br /></p><p>A Mom with her ten month old twins in the front of the cart walked by the Christmas tree display and asked them if they liked the tree. They immediately started to cry. She said "Okay okay, we won't get the tree! This is Walmart behavior, not Costco behavior."</p><p><br /></p><p>Older Lady on the phone giving directions - "I'M BY THE FISH!"</p><p><br /></p><p>And the best was a sweet little boy wearing a "Crew Member" t-shirt, sitting in the front of the cart, waiting for his sample. He was doing the "I'm So Excited I Get To Have A Treat At Costco" Dance. </p><p><br /></p><p>I think we should all be that excited. Be that in love with the little things. </p><p><br /></p><p>I know I'm gonna try.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpWHa1KyBCvvI_u7X1BdIVa2OQp8Epkdm3Sd9ZQqieB8s5QWRSaT1oSjDXq-NSp65rtHkkLZpCMAuVDsQy7r8UzlcYGeh2tVQYiO5rnPFxpTcg4RVPBUDeHSCOkdlE1M7FpCA3_lKo4Iuht-7ifpieH-ynTwmIBigmBumrg6hql039K6gdjgHTKYk8-A/s2143/il_fullxfull.1853035156_l025.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2143" data-original-width="1500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpWHa1KyBCvvI_u7X1BdIVa2OQp8Epkdm3Sd9ZQqieB8s5QWRSaT1oSjDXq-NSp65rtHkkLZpCMAuVDsQy7r8UzlcYGeh2tVQYiO5rnPFxpTcg4RVPBUDeHSCOkdlE1M7FpCA3_lKo4Iuht-7ifpieH-ynTwmIBigmBumrg6hql039K6gdjgHTKYk8-A/s320/il_fullxfull.1853035156_l025.jpg" width="224" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11983870212066394294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850010286127491046.post-16831744790789066792022-08-11T11:57:00.001-06:002022-08-11T11:57:27.079-06:00But First A Selfie <div class="kvgmc6g5 cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-align: left; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: start;">Anyone ever get ready, in their own bathroom in front of their own mirror and then go "Hey, I actually look kinda cute today." </div></div><div class="cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql o9v6fnle ii04i59q" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; orphans: 2; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-align: left; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: start;">Moments later you're out in the car getting ready to go wherever you're going and you think "okay, I'll take a damn selfie. I looked pretty cute." </div></div><div class="cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql o9v6fnle ii04i59q" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; orphans: 2; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-align: left; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: start;">The following is a conversation I had with the camera on my phone.</div></div><div class="cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql o9v6fnle ii04i59q" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; orphans: 2; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-align: left; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: start;">Me - What the hell? I looked cute inside just a minute ago.</div></div><div class="cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql o9v6fnle ii04i59q" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; orphans: 2; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-align: left; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: start;">Phone Camera - Uh yeah, that was inside. Bathroom lighting you dork.</div></div><div class="cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql o9v6fnle ii04i59q" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; orphans: 2; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-align: left; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: start;">Me - But now, my hair looks flat, my face looks fat, and my skin! Are you doing this on purpose?</div></div><div class="cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql o9v6fnle ii04i59q" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; orphans: 2; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-align: left; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: start;">CP - It's called NATURAL LIGHTING. They don't call it the Cold Light Of Day for nothing.</div></div><div class="cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql o9v6fnle ii04i59q" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; orphans: 2; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-align: left; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: start;">Me - Excuse me, it's 90°. </div></div><div class="cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql o9v6fnle ii04i59q" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; orphans: 2; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-align: left; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: start;">CP - At least something's hot! </div></div><div class="cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql o9v6fnle ii04i59q" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; orphans: 2; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-align: left; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: start;">Me - This is why people put filters on you.</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: start;"> </div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: start;"> </div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: start;"> </div></div><p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAeICNj39SjC9n0kLPGJufl8Jfm7v0cF7-lRK5FSnBKCms-pgT63JKW5LwPIRNp4qujSPvVJ4bbyG5xJQ3tLMwg5N2WBdCueTVTCR4f0K5ijdFQ7HQebqfk0PD05VcsfAuD8Pzi47XBILXu6fKs82rZ44Qzcnqp5hylPl4uorH4OleAL6zK9zOgRRm2Q/s640/296970540_10227425125523180_2295321402756525683_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAeICNj39SjC9n0kLPGJufl8Jfm7v0cF7-lRK5FSnBKCms-pgT63JKW5LwPIRNp4qujSPvVJ4bbyG5xJQ3tLMwg5N2WBdCueTVTCR4f0K5ijdFQ7HQebqfk0PD05VcsfAuD8Pzi47XBILXu6fKs82rZ44Qzcnqp5hylPl4uorH4OleAL6zK9zOgRRm2Q/s320/296970540_10227425125523180_2295321402756525683_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwtpkBraU9mtLPpwXGtE-Fv30Lq-XH68Flu7zp6YIFMkz3hQrgZI9nBVu1HOy0UsPW7aXAOTN7rzMQ9CruAlzFHaOyvnxkA98bomjEyhpDiAN3m1ICjZW8tQe1aL1IxK48v04Dq-WMi4DL3pBUT8BngIEZEJtnzoEZ28dTmTbMIgAL7hotW783OmUpUQ/s320/297264978_10227425125483179_1776672868379088615_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="263" data-original-width="320" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwtpkBraU9mtLPpwXGtE-Fv30Lq-XH68Flu7zp6YIFMkz3hQrgZI9nBVu1HOy0UsPW7aXAOTN7rzMQ9CruAlzFHaOyvnxkA98bomjEyhpDiAN3m1ICjZW8tQe1aL1IxK48v04Dq-WMi4DL3pBUT8BngIEZEJtnzoEZ28dTmTbMIgAL7hotW783OmUpUQ/s1600/297264978_10227425125483179_1776672868379088615_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11983870212066394294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850010286127491046.post-19850068418524285592022-08-11T11:51:00.001-06:002022-08-11T11:51:33.797-06:00Hopelessly Devoted<div class="kvgmc6g5 cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-align: left; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: start;">I wanted to be three things when I was young: Charlie Bucket, an astronaut/ballerina (sure technically that's two but I make the rules) and most of all, I wanted to be Olivia Newton-John. </div></div><div class="cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql o9v6fnle ii04i59q" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; orphans: 2; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-align: left; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: start;">My neighbors and I would "play" Grease. How does someone "play" Grease you ask? Great question, I'll tell you. <span class="pq6dq46d tbxw36s4 knj5qynh kvgmc6g5 ditlmg2l oygrvhab nvdbi5me sf5mxxl7 gl3lb2sf hhz5lgdu" style="display: inline-flex; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; height: 16px; margin: 0px 1px; vertical-align: middle; width: 16px;"><img alt="😉" height="16" src="https://static.xx.fbcdn.net/images/emoji.php/v9/t57/1/16/1f609.png" style="border: 0px;" width="16" /></span> </div></div><div class="cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql o9v6fnle ii04i59q" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; orphans: 2; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-align: left; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: start;">First you need your neighbor's mother's old pantyhose. About three pairs. Then you cut holes in the side of the control top of each pair of panty hose that have runs and tears and old nail polish <span class="pq6dq46d tbxw36s4 knj5qynh kvgmc6g5 ditlmg2l oygrvhab nvdbi5me sf5mxxl7 gl3lb2sf hhz5lgdu" style="display: inline-flex; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; height: 16px; margin: 0px 1px; vertical-align: middle; width: 16px;"><img alt="💅" height="16" src="https://static.xx.fbcdn.net/images/emoji.php/v9/tc9/1/16/1f485.png" style="border: 0px;" width="16" /></span> on the runs so that when you and your two friends step into the hose and pull them up to your chest the control top is now a tube top and the panty hose section is a demented taupe "Solid Gold" wannabe dance costume, with 80s flowered little girl undies bunching up underneath. </div></div><div class="cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql o9v6fnle ii04i59q" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; orphans: 2; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-align: left; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: start;">THEN - you sing and dance and dance and sing and sing and giggle and sing to the Grease album. </div></div><div class="cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql o9v6fnle ii04i59q" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; orphans: 2; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-align: left; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: start;">I would always "play" Sandy because my hair feathered. <span class="pq6dq46d tbxw36s4 knj5qynh kvgmc6g5 ditlmg2l oygrvhab nvdbi5me sf5mxxl7 gl3lb2sf hhz5lgdu" style="display: inline-flex; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; height: 16px; margin: 0px 1px; vertical-align: middle; width: 16px;"><img alt="🤷♀️" height="16" src="https://static.xx.fbcdn.net/images/emoji.php/v9/te3/1/16/1f937_200d_2640.png" style="border: 0px;" width="16" /></span> Like I said, I made the rules. </div></div><div class="cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql o9v6fnle ii04i59q" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; orphans: 2; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-align: left; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: start;">I sang all the lines (even if it wasn't my turn I still sang it quietly.)</div></div><div class="cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql o9v6fnle ii04i59q" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; orphans: 2; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-align: left; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: start;">I was really good at playing Grease.</div></div><div class="cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql o9v6fnle ii04i59q" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; orphans: 2; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-align: left; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: start;">I will never stop wanting to be Olivia Newton-John.</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: start;"> </div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: start;"> </div></div><p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsT1Wzf4O7XJ617Qbt_IlvVQdSNxHBEZpG5HFsl3PqRi6sYYQI2e9gkAhQ_fRJUEQIEMki7g5tqLmDgp6LtPQ4ZXTp_JHtvT7voK7nijtErNiV5pRvPRZovynyt1y2FXOc2yipmic_o2zlRqkMSkj5NQp9pFoN6xTbclSlvme--YEMC7OO8r3C4dDUWw/s2048/Olivia%20Waving%20Goodbye.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsT1Wzf4O7XJ617Qbt_IlvVQdSNxHBEZpG5HFsl3PqRi6sYYQI2e9gkAhQ_fRJUEQIEMki7g5tqLmDgp6LtPQ4ZXTp_JHtvT7voK7nijtErNiV5pRvPRZovynyt1y2FXOc2yipmic_o2zlRqkMSkj5NQp9pFoN6xTbclSlvme--YEMC7OO8r3C4dDUWw/s320/Olivia%20Waving%20Goodbye.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p>Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11983870212066394294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850010286127491046.post-76990544020854472402022-08-11T11:47:00.000-06:002022-08-11T11:47:00.000-06:00Nicole<p> </p><div class="kvgmc6g5 cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-align: left; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: start;">Tuesday I had my last session with my longtime therapist Nicole. She is leaving her job to become a fulltime (and first-time) Mom. There were many tears (by me of course) and lots of laughter. Just in that session alone. Nicole carries pieces of me that no one else will ever carry. I am forever grateful to her.</div></div><div class="cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql o9v6fnle ii04i59q" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; orphans: 2; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-align: left; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: start;">We were trying to summarize the years, find any way to say goodbye, and send each other off into our lives without being ridiculously awkward.</div></div><div class="cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql o9v6fnle ii04i59q" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; orphans: 2; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-align: left; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: start;">Nicole - You are such a unique person. In the best way possible. If (insert new therapist name here) doesn't recognize that...</div></div><div class="cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql o9v6fnle ii04i59q" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; orphans: 2; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-align: left; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: start;">Me - You know where they work?!</div></div><div class="cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql o9v6fnle ii04i59q" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; orphans: 2; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-align: left; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: start;">Much much laughter.</div></div><div class="cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql o9v6fnle ii04i59q" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; orphans: 2; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-align: left; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: start;">Yes, my heart is broken. Yes, I know I will be okay. But maybe today, I will allow myself this sadness.</div></div><div class="cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql o9v6fnle ii04i59q" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; orphans: 2; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-align: left; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: start;">There is time later for blossoming.</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: start;"> </div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: start;"> </div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: start;"> </div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: start;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsRjeOJMUFl5YINgcDCltPPMSgZkzuHRErAnO_c2xBMJtSqlcU874tTAFgd8s23z2jcIy8BD0N_0ML3C_htEULGQOY8_XP565Xjulbl35vBuHpLBqWJV9vHnDeMkaseSjg_B0qNonMPDnGpcIvv8zKdWA2pFAae9pKXOcv2mBqjcMZ7BXGdhwmm_o-2A/s5175/afd5d521b8d644d19dc6d90e0cecdae6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2911" data-original-width="5175" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsRjeOJMUFl5YINgcDCltPPMSgZkzuHRErAnO_c2xBMJtSqlcU874tTAFgd8s23z2jcIy8BD0N_0ML3C_htEULGQOY8_XP565Xjulbl35vBuHpLBqWJV9vHnDeMkaseSjg_B0qNonMPDnGpcIvv8zKdWA2pFAae9pKXOcv2mBqjcMZ7BXGdhwmm_o-2A/s320/afd5d521b8d644d19dc6d90e0cecdae6.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /> </div></div>Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11983870212066394294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850010286127491046.post-32037834409567055912022-03-04T13:39:00.001-07:002022-03-04T13:39:46.904-07:00Butting In <p>Dream update - not only are a small percentage of my dreams being narrated but they are going to great lengths to construct sight gags. </p><p><br /></p><p>Last night/ early this morning there was a scenario, or scene if you will, since this dream's basic construction was like a stage play, where a couple were lounging on a couch. But then there were a series of quick cuts and in each new shot they'd changed positions - more slouched, more legs akimbo, more and more chaos of legs and arms and crumpled cushions, until the next to final shot had the female stand up and leave what I thought were her legs behind. </p><p><br /></p><p>BUT NO! The couch was covered with mannequin parts, mostly legs and butts. Higher percentage of butts. All this draped over the slouched sleeping medieval costumed man (forgot that part.)</p><p><br /></p><p>THEN, the narration pipes in "NO MORE BUTS."</p><p><br /></p><p>My unconscious went to a lot of trouble for that joke. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg3lQSZKIpocCEwnvDdYGGW5JeVCFdrAG-Uku_OEzm3rnyTfw4NKrILWOv5J-sPghFse_KaWbRlU0dmnXOhAfmA1XfZpeWL8MEUe_ekcXn9y5GObxGqWW9sWYnnlzOog43ZLibYwzydxs29ALur_G11PmvAyLye6T0HgILyH7_1ZakT_mUAHxEHAx2GSQ=s390" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="280" data-original-width="390" height="230" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg3lQSZKIpocCEwnvDdYGGW5JeVCFdrAG-Uku_OEzm3rnyTfw4NKrILWOv5J-sPghFse_KaWbRlU0dmnXOhAfmA1XfZpeWL8MEUe_ekcXn9y5GObxGqWW9sWYnnlzOog43ZLibYwzydxs29ALur_G11PmvAyLye6T0HgILyH7_1ZakT_mUAHxEHAx2GSQ=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjdkmjE8p6H-xUpO0zGgNaYCPAjIF0AF5a1DW8C170iH2KzHBL9tJgzkTvLRczyuvX5O-6Ass8kcTStUb6RzCzFiV3rKBnGaeV8bBrYXOeacWJx9-aBUUZQmA6z_hvV1FQ4LsvryzhAe8prpZGGcrvupvuqbnxtuhvNTIjeCmOZisdzweU-8ThvUfqMmA=s252" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="200" data-original-width="252" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjdkmjE8p6H-xUpO0zGgNaYCPAjIF0AF5a1DW8C170iH2KzHBL9tJgzkTvLRczyuvX5O-6Ass8kcTStUb6RzCzFiV3rKBnGaeV8bBrYXOeacWJx9-aBUUZQmA6z_hvV1FQ4LsvryzhAe8prpZGGcrvupvuqbnxtuhvNTIjeCmOZisdzweU-8ThvUfqMmA" width="252" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11983870212066394294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850010286127491046.post-48370374355221213722022-02-26T11:08:00.000-07:002022-02-26T11:08:38.511-07:00Rude Awakening<p> Scene - My Bedroom 8:34 a.m.</p><p>Me - Stirs awake by the odd and confusing noise of someone rapping on the front door.</p><p>More furious knocking.</p><p>Me - WTF? Why? What?</p><p>Me - Gets out of warm bed, puts on glasses and slippers and trudges to the door.</p><p>Me - As supposed human knocks numerous times again, I peep through my peep hole.</p><p>Me - In my all caps voice "WHO ARE YOU?!"</p><p>Who Are You - Laughs and knocks again.</p><p>Me - Again, In Bold All Caps "WHO ARE YOU?!"</p><p>WAU - Laughs again, thinks it's a joke. Thinks he's funny. "I'm Charles (inferred duh.)"</p><p>Me - Still All Bold All Caps Voice "WHAT DO YOU WANT?!" </p><p>WAU - Tiniest bit of confusion dances across his face, "Is Olivia here?" Hurriedly messes with phone.</p><p>Me - "YOU HAVE THE WRONG APARTMENT AND NEED TO GO AWAY!!!!"</p><p>WAU - Trips backwards and never says another word.</p><p>Me - Gets back into warm bed. 8:38 a.m.</p><p>End Scene.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEivy8esqdxUh4T2DzWhAese29jGOvyG5NQVxP9_Sztehi9SdUMNXPCuE-pTDPuxMzUn3DOzLh4kY9mjRUp9Bg9SGqygPL33EnoeDrZbpJk7qhaI_lBO9Jy7JZ4YDiH0b8NqQAXKPSvvXFwb6o00UFaz5TSr0P6tm8pvbdPrgzduVACL9pu2khgf3QZCOA=s4032" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEivy8esqdxUh4T2DzWhAese29jGOvyG5NQVxP9_Sztehi9SdUMNXPCuE-pTDPuxMzUn3DOzLh4kY9mjRUp9Bg9SGqygPL33EnoeDrZbpJk7qhaI_lBO9Jy7JZ4YDiH0b8NqQAXKPSvvXFwb6o00UFaz5TSr0P6tm8pvbdPrgzduVACL9pu2khgf3QZCOA=s320" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11983870212066394294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850010286127491046.post-52707105196652095272022-02-07T15:51:00.002-07:002022-02-07T15:51:46.499-07:00Just Right<p> Me whining to my Mom about my weight and I say the dreaded word Fat.</p><p><br /></p><p>Mom - You're not fat.</p><p><br /></p><p>Me - I'm not thin.</p><p><br /></p><p>Mom - You're just right.</p><p><br /></p><p>Me - So I'm porridge.</p><p><br /></p><p>Mom - (laughing) No. </p><p><br /></p><p>Me - I'm Baby Bear.</p><p><br /></p><p>Mom - (laughs more) NO! (then sweetly and profoundly says the thing she thinks will solve all the things) You're Goldilocks. </p><p><br /></p><p>Me - I'm an entitled white girl that breaks into people's homes and takes other people's stuff and eats their food.</p><p><br /></p><p>We both laugh. Hard.</p><p><br /></p><p>Finally...</p><p><br /></p><p>Mom - You like things how you like them.</p><p><br /></p><p>Mom - And you're not fat.</p><p><br /></p><p>This is why we have Moms.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiizhGdM1wDlmisBEHd-D_0sL5IEYREpmQdIo-b7AuwvTdFKCoQzf-hj6HISYONujk4jp4BW-tGS7wORbJyO2HKF_keXf6m3zWMPaJRMLnH06qJR9SNRmKDy0YG9hppoXNoHsX-okzKNV8yisBtORzA-Mm3mNw2sRcBvuVelKjlWaMQYzm2829z2pEAUg=s478" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="266" data-original-width="478" height="178" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiizhGdM1wDlmisBEHd-D_0sL5IEYREpmQdIo-b7AuwvTdFKCoQzf-hj6HISYONujk4jp4BW-tGS7wORbJyO2HKF_keXf6m3zWMPaJRMLnH06qJR9SNRmKDy0YG9hppoXNoHsX-okzKNV8yisBtORzA-Mm3mNw2sRcBvuVelKjlWaMQYzm2829z2pEAUg=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11983870212066394294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850010286127491046.post-34925574407534058302022-01-30T15:03:00.003-07:002022-01-30T15:25:43.820-07:00A Word<p>Last evening while watching the Sundance film "Fire of Love" there was a line that has now been swimming in my brain ever since; "Love's other word is Understanding."</p><p>Love's other word is Understanding. <br /></p><p>I'm actually delaying watching another Sundance film so that I can write this. Maybe give my brain some space to let inside other ideas? But to me this is huge. Because, you know that space. That complete release and peace when you allow yourself to understand. It could be with a human, a concept, a trauma, a moment, even a bunny.<br /></p><p>Love's other word is Understanding.</p><p>I understand that.</p><p> </p><p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj3Mi_bje2Sxf6n4oSX0-jPm28Bb33YRMGantbrOwXaf0S89OCdSf4gno5uMi-2lI5hvQuCXaG6ZXFqhdCBsylWw883QuqRjv9ExqvxlMvuImW8hnKXGUSSe825U3ddv4z3IPPYmzIp3-i94C7lgWNuB7inKcxF8BGuHpQWr4Xun-izviSXJt7JCvulLQ=s385" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="385" data-original-width="355" height="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj3Mi_bje2Sxf6n4oSX0-jPm28Bb33YRMGantbrOwXaf0S89OCdSf4gno5uMi-2lI5hvQuCXaG6ZXFqhdCBsylWw883QuqRjv9ExqvxlMvuImW8hnKXGUSSe825U3ddv4z3IPPYmzIp3-i94C7lgWNuB7inKcxF8BGuHpQWr4Xun-izviSXJt7JCvulLQ=w294-h299" width="294" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11983870212066394294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850010286127491046.post-78640142342237460442022-01-03T12:49:00.000-07:002022-01-03T12:49:37.501-07:00Have A Slice<p>In 2008, I was anxiously and nervously driving my very very very sick bunny to his vet. I was talking to him the entire way. Making bargains, and promises. The magical thinking that comes with that fear of losing your loved one. Yes, he was my loved one. As we drove past Clearfield, from the freeway I spied a classic favorite pizza place, The Circle Inn. In my magical thinking mode I made The Bun a promise: when he got better, we'd order a Circle Inn pizza to celebrate. </p><p><br /></p><p>He never came home. I never went to The Circle Inn again.</p><p><br /></p><p>The Circle Inn burned down to the ground last night. It's just gone. </p><p><br /></p><p>I think I'll have pizza for dinner tonight, just to celebrate being alive.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEitbySrSKGrpcfDtFNr4wKAeL_bjfSSFm7QS_tkw4gZeygLXFd8mq4ldQMfTBBWhGBSDYJsmtbSgxI8Ywz0aZEr7krHiyH1HBC8YZcHw2SXBC5FBUku9jBkDLOtrRe37A0k2Hea0Yb2j5ceYYA0fht4op6NKteV0NNKz_5_TbZRyuwKi6w69B1S3AGCpg=s604" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="453" data-original-width="604" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEitbySrSKGrpcfDtFNr4wKAeL_bjfSSFm7QS_tkw4gZeygLXFd8mq4ldQMfTBBWhGBSDYJsmtbSgxI8Ywz0aZEr7krHiyH1HBC8YZcHw2SXBC5FBUku9jBkDLOtrRe37A0k2Hea0Yb2j5ceYYA0fht4op6NKteV0NNKz_5_TbZRyuwKi6w69B1S3AGCpg=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhPnypctFi21-dtz8NOQiUSWQhg9X-fBn8Eoab0_54825cOyMosM5AFr7bhor5rbwgPOmOZjG1PX4Ae2nPYAEi8D88uNr2_QlStCkMYNiTWaATEbHXDy5N--YBdjCD1T_SK9SIgbFbk4HuygR1pbhCFDDR-91RHXV8k9C5giVfmEeWbB-j6tAHrHCybgA=s1800" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhPnypctFi21-dtz8NOQiUSWQhg9X-fBn8Eoab0_54825cOyMosM5AFr7bhor5rbwgPOmOZjG1PX4Ae2nPYAEi8D88uNr2_QlStCkMYNiTWaATEbHXDy5N--YBdjCD1T_SK9SIgbFbk4HuygR1pbhCFDDR-91RHXV8k9C5giVfmEeWbB-j6tAHrHCybgA=s320" width="213" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11983870212066394294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850010286127491046.post-44019816779167963222021-12-11T18:56:00.002-07:002021-12-11T19:04:26.681-07:00When You Care Enough To Not<p> I have never watched one of those Hallmark Channel Christmas movies. Because I refuse. I do study and judge them by their trailers and posters though. And I mean judge. It seems to me that a huge percentage are a weak sauce attempt to remake "Baby Boom" but instead of a baby it's a dog/and or a whole kaboodle. </p><p><br /></p><p>Then there's the magical side to them: getting sent back in time or Fairy Godmothers and Santa and Aliens. It should be Aliens. I don't even know. I think Aliens could help.</p><p><br /></p><p>And another thing, why always the long lost love? The "Christmas is now complete" trope. Why does this Holiday need to be pressure cooked by unrealistic romantic idealizations? Ugh. Just ugh infinity. </p><p><br /></p><p>Give me a sad little tree that flourishes under the love from children any day over this sour sad tripe. </p><p><br /></p><p>True, Die Hard has a love story at it's core. It also blows up a building and drops the bad guy from it. I call that even. </p><p><br /></p><p>I'm off to watch all the Rankin & Bass Christmas Specials where NO ONE moves to Connecticut to be a Nanny for the talking dog of Santa's Fairy Godmother that leads the white girl main character through a magic portal to where she ends up helping a baker that's about to lose their shop that's going to be foreclosed on Christmas Eve if they don't sell one hundred thousand million cookies to an abandoned town of people that hate Christmas because of that mysterious thing that happened that no one talks about at the cookie factory but the talking dog sniffs out the ONE person that can save them all that's now homeless and they're the lost love of the baker and COOKIES FIX EVERYTHING and now they live over the shop and the town is now called Cookie Town and the talking dog and the white girl go back to the Fairy Godmother and ask for a wish and the girl wishes that she was never in this movie. </p><p><br /></p><p>The End.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEig3M0BWlWp0PTEvsn7JbMtRYFSIH-jDgU6xrIbsXxDtD8CZHQW76dtH47hPDqsG8BOFP2LPZuoMpaK2m7yZYErVkRod8f5Sp7jJ9rZTrX3vGwwG_uOaBKBiqePmM_-d1pP8FS8S2l7ub6ofPd62Fk4d5uCl-OqahVCKyvBj0XbTJi0xlMCCzm6dFTzKA=s320" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="240" data-original-width="320" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEig3M0BWlWp0PTEvsn7JbMtRYFSIH-jDgU6xrIbsXxDtD8CZHQW76dtH47hPDqsG8BOFP2LPZuoMpaK2m7yZYErVkRod8f5Sp7jJ9rZTrX3vGwwG_uOaBKBiqePmM_-d1pP8FS8S2l7ub6ofPd62Fk4d5uCl-OqahVCKyvBj0XbTJi0xlMCCzm6dFTzKA" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11983870212066394294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850010286127491046.post-61297987759111080512021-11-11T13:33:00.000-07:002021-11-11T13:33:41.660-07:00Dream Tok<p>Okay, new dream sharing post. I was on a road trip. Driving up from Southern Utah, just enjoying the views. The music playing in the vehicle was a bunch of female artists : Brandi Carlisle, Sarah McLachlan and Tori Amos. Very Lilith Fair. Then, when Sarah's "Angel" starts playing it does that Tik Tok Llama 🦙 interrupting thing and I woke up laughing. If you don't know, here's a sample of the chorus.</p>
<p dir="ltr">In the arms of the LLAMA<br />
Fly away from here<br />
From this dark, cold LLAMA<br />
And the endlessness that you feel<br />
You are pulled from the LLAMA<br />
Of your silent reverie<br />
You're in the arms of the LLAMA<br />
May you find some comfort here.</p>
<p dir="ltr">You're welcome.</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/4vFa7ugp01w" width="320" youtube-src-id="4vFa7ugp01w"></iframe></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/OB8gy0Ajog0" width="320" youtube-src-id="OB8gy0Ajog0"></iframe></div><br /><p dir="ltr"><br /></p>Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11983870212066394294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850010286127491046.post-74649346915438005402021-11-08T13:41:00.002-07:002021-11-09T15:57:22.634-07:00This Seat's Taken<p> Okay, this whole Travis Scott tragedy. I am more of the "Is there assigned seating?" age now. Whom am I kidding, I have always been that age. ANYWAY, I was at a Toad the Wet Sprocket concert decades ago. It was during their farewell tour (before they reformed again.) Point is, Toad is not the place where you'd expect a mosh pit. AND YET. Yup, there I was, down front and when Toad started the entire crowd pushed forward, crushing and mashing together. The girl next to me grabbed my hair at one point, yanking me down into the chaos. I had to elbow at least two people in the stomachs to get out of that mess. When I finally made it to the grass (with my ex) and we were watching the melee from a safe distance, Glen had stopped the entire concert and refused to return to the stage until people chilled the "f&*k" out. I think it took at least five to ten minutes to get the dumbass crowd under control. I mean, it is dangerous enough for me to just stand up let alone be in a crowd of moronic drunks crashing into a stage. Never again.</p><p>I cannot imagine the fear and panic that was happening inside that crowd in Huston. It saddens me. There is nothing that compares to that exhilaration and sheer joy a concert experience brings. I have learned to experience it differently. Safely. Probably too safely for some. I of course am older and not daring. Ready to sacrifice that euphoria for safe keeping.</p><p>Just give me a seat and I will be blissed out without having to elbow anyone. Promise. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFzygug-P_0SeVdvv68IWh1d1myHjQ6s5FWN4Rc7h9g2xRoB9zL73g7htlDgGX3dLpaVysMlYyTJPaTdz_JIaw18FiIn4PQVAsjhdyVM8ZuZaZkclWTD3umyr-lNMZttH-Hma5NrJrEksg/s1140/7206598c-999a-4a31-9d06-0691675a2a66_1140x641.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="641" data-original-width="1140" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFzygug-P_0SeVdvv68IWh1d1myHjQ6s5FWN4Rc7h9g2xRoB9zL73g7htlDgGX3dLpaVysMlYyTJPaTdz_JIaw18FiIn4PQVAsjhdyVM8ZuZaZkclWTD3umyr-lNMZttH-Hma5NrJrEksg/s320/7206598c-999a-4a31-9d06-0691675a2a66_1140x641.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMOpipC3pMd9eCEAlOFNtlZQNCQJ1kfZM2MJsYFgSMIDkLEddLMqOKerDPWPOwq6tnoDY6-xjiG-ZjS9bOfustbEvW6NC7kuEFrQp30HxfkBVO-eYSGTgCsQ7ffxByUMQvWviI2HSbzoY2/s937/20180702_174918.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="937" data-original-width="636" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMOpipC3pMd9eCEAlOFNtlZQNCQJ1kfZM2MJsYFgSMIDkLEddLMqOKerDPWPOwq6tnoDY6-xjiG-ZjS9bOfustbEvW6NC7kuEFrQp30HxfkBVO-eYSGTgCsQ7ffxByUMQvWviI2HSbzoY2/s320/20180702_174918.jpg" width="217" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11983870212066394294noreply@blogger.com0