Are Mommy’s Fat Blobs Sexy?

I take my morning walks and think of the darnedest things.

This is either before or after listening to the morning news that is always about Covid or Trump’s and certain Republicans’ latest and constant attempt to subvert our democracy. Sigh. No, no. Everyone else is writing about that.

We have to pay so much for the stupid “over-the-shoulder-boulder-holders” as my dad called them, which are exceedingly uncomfortable, and if your fat globs are large, even more so.

Yet men convince women that large blobs are best, even though the sweat that coagulates beneath the darn things is, at the very least, an aggravation, and at worst, leaves red streaks and burns. I’ll bet men own most of those companies that make and market those bras, too. 

Then there is cancer.

Women have been made to feel they are no longer women, or feminine, if they lose a fat blob to cancer. Never mind their life. I had a good friend who had this kind of cancer. Heaven forbid she be as attractive with the loss of one of her fat blobs. They took some of her other blob to fix the one she had lost. Darn if she didn’t look better with smaller fat blobs!

It’s just another man boss of human society thing, you know.

What do they see in these things? Mommy, of course. What else could it be? That old attachment to feeding, getting all they can. Admit it, guys. Suck away.

Personally, I’d give my fat blobs to anyone who wanted them if I could. They are now and always have been a complete nuisance.

Another Icon Has Passed On

Another icon passed on last night. I don’t write “obituaries” when special people like Ruth Bader Ginsberg leave us because I am no good at doing them justice. But I feel so very sad for our country, for liberals, for anyone who cares as much about other people as they do for themselves. For those who are concerned about our planet.

It's time to fight fire with fire.
This photo was taken by a firefighter unknown to me, but the thought is mine.

I am angry at vultures like Mitch McConnell and Trump and those Republicans like them who are celebrating. You know they have been hoping this would happen. They have won another round today and they know it.

Do they play fair? Never.

They count on us playing fair and laugh when we do so.

What do we do?

We must learn to beat them at their own game or our country and our planet are lost.

An Award to Connect

Sunshine Award

Sunshine Award

Thank you, bunnyslippers, for nominating me for the Sunshine Award. I think. I discovered that a nomination is as good as receiving. Receiving this award is similar to those chain letters you get by email that state you had better send them on to a certain number of people or you will break the chain. You’re not sure if you’re happy or sad you’ve gotten it. Know what I mean?

I don’t know if WordPress or some zealous blogger started this award, but I expect they had the best of intentions. Isn’t the Sunshine Award about connection? I’m supposed to nominate ten more bloggers for the award, which means ten additional connections from my blog to theirs, and they continue on with ten more connections after linking back to me. Math has never been my thing, but picture that across the blogosphere. Yikes!

This linking started me thinking (OMG, a rhyme) about the several meanings and levels of connection:

. “Hey, man, let’s connect.”

. You connect the doohicky to the thingamajig

. I met her, and right off, we connected on some level. I mean, we really connected.

I was on the phone with one of my closest friends a couple weeks ago, and we were discussing connection with a capital “C.” She and I had felt a Connection when we first met some years ago.

Many would say that, for people, this feeling can explained by shared commonalities and similar histories. Biologists might even say pheromones. Some would say past lives.

It also happens when you feel something on a deep level that can’t be explained.

Sometimes connections hold over miles or over years. Sometimes we feel the connection for only a moment.

When we meet the eyes of our dog. Or cat.

When we stop in the middle of a hike to listen to the wind in the trees.

When we watch our child sleeping.

When we’re away from home and a stranger smiles at us.

When we sit silently in a boat at dawn and don’t care if the fish bite.

What connections have you made recently?

Courtesy of Jinterwas, Creative Commons

Courtesy of Jinterwas, Creative Commons



Oh dear. I nearly forgot the questions I’m supposed to answer with this award, so here goes:

Favorite food: Depends on my mood

Favorite actor: What’s her name. I’m getting older, and my memory has turned to shit.

Favorite TV Show: Right now I’d have to say Game of Thrones, but I’m getting a kick out of that new one that follows it, Silicon Valley, or is it Silicone?

Favorite Tear Jerker: Movie – American Beauty; Book – The Reading Lessons

Favorite Sport: To play – badmitton; To watch: zilch

Lucky number: None are lucky for me.

Tea or coffee: Not fair. I can’t have caffeine, though I’d love to, so I’m stuck with herbal tea.

Holidays:  Does this mean favorite or ones I hate? Halloween’s my favorite; I ignore Christmas. You can’t imagine how calming it’s been.

Favorite Christmas Movie:  Oh, please.

My ten nominees are (please forgive me, you guys): – Oops! No, no. I think this is the guy who doesn’t want any awards. Can’t blame him. This is taking me all morning and past lunch to complete. He’s got a great blog, but I won’t ask him to do all this work. OK?

Now I’m supposed to go visit everyone and tell them what is happening. I hope they are all in a good mood this morning. This is where I need a smiley face.

Earth is an Orange

space I have been watching the news on PBS every week night for a couple years, and maybe that’s too much.

This morning I was lying in bed on the downside of a migraine headache when the following rumination entered my head: The earth is an orange. Humanity is an organism upon the orange. This organism is growing so fast it is eventually going to take over the whole orange, so much so that the orange is decaying; it can no longer support the organism. Conversely, while the organism is growing, parts of it are also destroying itself, which is a natural occurrence in nature when any organism becomes so overgrown that it begins to destroy that which enables it to thrive. In this particular case, there is almost a balance between birth and death, but not quite. The question is, how will the future of the organism and the orange turn out?

Perhaps hundreds, or thousands, of these oranges exist in the universe, all running this same scenario. On some of them, the organism burned itself out, left an orange that could no longer support it. On others, hopefully, the organism adjusted itself in order to exist with a healthy orange. Only those organisms with healthy oranges survive to leave their oranges and move on.

What organism would want one who could not even take care of its own orange to join it in the universe?

A Yellow Chicken

My muse has flown the coop.

Lately I have read too many excellently written books.  Is that possible, you may ask?

It is when you are a writer and think, “I can’t write as well as that.”

I want to write as well as that.  But I never will.  I love (or used to love) writing, but I love so many other things, too.  Like traveling, hiking, reading (yikes), eating (double yikes), movies, ….  You get the picture.  Plus big changes or going on in my life at present.

Mainly, though, it’s the fear I am not good enough.  I write a paragraph and think, “yuck.”  Rhymes with “cluck.” 

This is part of a writer’s journey.  I seem to have fallen off the path for the moment.

Above All Be Genuine


Child Dreaming in WindowAccording to Pulitzer Prize-winning author, Robert Olen Butler, the process of writing is not intellectual, but emotional, and it is necessary to enter our dreamspace in order to write honest, inspired fiction.

I dream a lot; our dreams dive deep into our true selves—into our anxieties, fears . . . and joys.

The photo above? That’s me, eagerly looking out the window at the world. Many pounds and wrinkles later—still searching.

I like to know what other people are thinking. I hope you will let me know. You can disagree with me, of course, but please be nice about it.