Does This Blog Make My Butt Look Fat?

Bloggers...I've grown tired of this self absorption. 

A diary, as it were, that solicits comments.

At first, it was great fun.  A great exercise...but I think I'm done. 

Real life is demanding my attention. 

Gotta go...

Dater Hater

I'm scheduled to go on a date tonight.  The truth is...I can't do it. 

Oh, I can be entertaining.  I enjoy the praise, the attention, the flattery but my heart is elsewhere.

Stupid heart.

I remember when my heart used to listen to me.  But now it seems to have a mind of it's own.

This would be fine if my heart didn't have an IQ of 7.

Dating...YOU, make the call!

Okay people, here we go...

Which one should I go out with tonight?  (Cast your vote...it's not like I'm going to listen.)

They are all hilarious, attentive and intelligent.  I've spoken with each fella and, frankly, laughed out loud...

The cyclist and financial wizard.

He's cute in a I-hired-a-professional-photographer-to-take-this-photo... kind of way.

The business owner that wants to take me sailing.  In a race, no less.

I agree...why choose? 

Old People

Have you ever seen old folks overlooking a beautiful vista, say, at the beach?

Their eyes seem focused on some distant point...lost in reverie.

They appear humble and deflated, perhaps due to loss or lonliness?

We were sitting at the dinner table.  Yea, I brought the King of ignorance to meet the family...only to prove to my mother that, despite the fact I never married, I'm actually NOT gay.

At the dinner table, the King thought it would be funny to ask if anyone had ever been in jail. Because we are a morally righteous family, he expected a chortle, perhaps a guffaw.

My 75 year old mother commented she had been arrested twice.  In my family...that's nothing.  I mean, my grandparents practically met in jail...(It's an IRA thing...freedom fighters.) There are no actual "criminals".  Just political dissidents.

I was speeding at age 17, she was my passenger, the cop pulled us over...made me get in the patrol car.  She got out of our car and tapped on the policeman's window. "What are you doing with my daughter?" she implored. He arrested her for obstruction of justice.

The king asked, so when was the second time?

"None of your fucking business" she said. 

My point?  There is no distant look of reverie in MY mothers eyes.

The Leprechaun Show

My Uncles and Mother came to town.  They are from Ireland. They are short.  They are in their 70's.

They look weird.  They speak with brogues.

My Uncle Peter called from Ireland "Ach sure Charmaine,  if ya woon't kome to may, I'll kome to yow."

And so he did.

My Uncle John, Uncle Peter and mudder drove to California in a white van, filled with 100 classical music CD's.

"Charmaine, would you like to see the luxury feature I've added to me van?"

"I'm interested in technology...so "Sure" I said.

It was a kitchen sized microwave positioned on the floor, behind the passenger seat, plugged into the cigarette lighter. 

That's my family. Beverly Hillbillies meets Intellectual classical musician who happens to be physician...on the side.

When they left town, my uncle deposited several (like a hundred) classical music CD's in my hand.  With each, he commented on a piece of music contained therein. He said, "Ah, look at this one..."Romantic Classical Music".  (The romantic era was a movement in classical music.)

"Aire in the G-string" he said. He peered at my date and said, "Now don't be getting any ideas..mistha".

  

City of Hope

It's a hospital in Pasadena.  A really GOOD hospital. 

Cancer is their specialty.

The physicians are experts in their field(s).  Consequently, they flock to the place.

So...this guy I know had his appointment with Dr. Kawachi yesterday.  I call him Dr. Hibachi.  It's not that I'm irreverant, I adore Hibachi's.

I did the research. It's all going to work out fine.  My guy doesn't know how much I worry.  I lie to him, endlessly.I get upset, act foolish, drink wine and embarass myself over the issue.  He has no idea that my fear guides me lately.

He's made it clear he doesn't need me now that it's all squared away.  In my mind's eye I can see my father and how small he appeared in the hospital bed....he seemed to shrink. A few days later...he wasn't there.

My old boyfriend shrank too when he was in the hospital.  It made me feel protective.  I was there, I held his hand. I grasped his arm from the wheelchair and put him in my car.  I paid the valet (it was a swanky hospital) and I turned up the heat.

Then, when I was in the hospital...I must not have shrunk because I was not on the receiving end of protection.   As if my momentary vulnerability made me anathema to him. When he drove me home he took the top down on the convertible as if we were in a parade.  Sun glaring and me doubled over in pain. To this day he thinks I broke up with him because he put the top down on the convertible.

Being a woman is different then being a man.  As a women, you can't show real weakness.  Fake weakness, perhaps.  Blond bimbo weakness (because it's manufactured) just not real weakness.

When I visited my mother in the hospital, she didn't shrink.  She got bigger.  She started wondering around the sterile halls in the cute green jogging outfit I purchased for her.  Maybe she could do that because she knew I was there to protect her.   Under my watchfull eye...she was safe.

Who is watching over me?  The answer is...nobody.

That's just life. It's a rollercoaster of opportunites missed and grabbed.

Muslims

Hello class.

Let's talk about Muslims,shall we?

Do you know any folks of this particular persuasion?

I didn't think so.

You've probably met them, you just didn't know it.

They drive cars, they don't get traffic tickets, they repair your water heater and shake your hand.

I've met a few, one is on my doorstep now. 

I know about his religion because we discussed it, formerly. He wouldn't dare mention it now.

Don't be afraid of Muslims.  One is repairing my water heater and the one before him took one look at me and said, "I am just now seeing you. Allah told to me to help you pass your car on the smog test:".

And so he did. I passed because he was an engineer in his country and was capapble of tricking the smog test aparatus.He had a PHD in mechancial engineering.  When he arrived in this country he could not find work.  He opened up a garage.

I wondered why he had bothered to be kind and he replied, "In my religion, the sins of the father revisit the son.  If I am kind to you pehaps you will, someday, be kind to my son."

Go ahead, hate on some Muslims...but I'm not going with you.