The Spectrum of Bitterness — part four

virginiallorca:

Day shift repost

Originally posted on finewhine:

Image result for image of girl chased by crowd

Image result for image of girl chased by crowd

“The last time I saw Richard was Detroit in ’68 and he told me. . . “

Joni Mitchell

Last night I spent about three hours on a three -way, (don’t get your hopes up. . .) cell phone, voice and text message discussion.  A person close to me called.  They were in distress half-way across the country from me.  I spoke and texted with all three members of this debacle, until my wi-fi finally said, “Fuck this.” and gave up the ghost.

Among other things, I was told pieces of family history that a person had told another person that were part enhancement, part disremembering , and part hog wash.  I dealt with tears, lies, condemnations, praise, laughter, pleading, drunkenness and despair. This morning I was texted that every thing was hunky dory and they were going to experiment with one of the pieces of advice  I  had thrown…

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The Spectrum of Bitterness — part four

Image result for image of girl chased by crowd

Image result for image of girl chased by crowd

“The last time I saw Richard was Detroit in ’68 and he told me. . . “

Joni Mitchell

Last night I spent about three hours on a three -way, (don’t get your hopes up. . .) cell phone, voice and text message discussion.  A person close to me called.  They were in distress half-way across the country from me.  I spoke and texted with all three members of this debacle, until my wi-fi finally said, “Fuck this.” and gave up the ghost.

Among other things, I was told pieces of family history that a person had told another person that were part enhancement, part disremembering , and part hog wash.  I dealt with tears, lies, condemnations, praise, laughter, pleading, drunkenness and despair. This morning I was texted that every thing was hunky dory and they were going to experiment with one of the pieces of advice  I  had thrown in. (Not the one where I said shut the fuck up) and see how that worked out.

I responded, since they were all in search of emotional peace of some sort and none of them had a handy firearm, that the texter should tell one certain member of the triad that I find it very difficult to text while my tears are pouring over the keyboard. I pretty much felt like I was run over by a truck.

It isn’t like this same horrible blood-letting drama hasn’t unfolded on at least three other ocasions, word for word. No. This was all new, fresh wounds and never before experienced pain and anguish.   Remind me to press record call the next time it happens.

One of the persons, near and dear to me, is very well known to react, or should I say ‘lose her shit’ over specific issues that this unnamed person does not care to deal with at that moment, which is 99% of the moments in that person’s life.  So I am hoping that some of these people will soon learn not to rock that boat, or pull the tail of that tiger, or poke that hornet’s nest, Of course I admonished one and all that it would be very difficult work to even reach 50/50 compromises on these hot button issues and they all agreed that they would whole-heartedly make that effort. Again.

I am thinking of ordering a t-shirt that says, “I am not Ann Landers.”  but no one knows who that is anymore.  I am a rather socially solitary person and I cannot figure out how I end up in the middle of these things.  After each one of these crises has passed, if I dare say, “So, how’s it going” or “So, what’s new?” I usually get the “Go away, you meddlesome bitch” sneer.

My brothers were feuding for a good many years.  I felt like a frigging ping-pong ball.  They actually, were they to accept an inquiry, could neither of them remember what the feud was about. The demise of our beloved father caused them to put the conflict aside and be “brothers” again. This, of course, since I am not only the middle child, but also an ignorant female whose life experience with dealing with  aging and dying parents and rest home bills, etc. counts for naught, means the ping- pong table was folded up and put in the crawl space, and this ping-pong ball was immediately relegated to a dusty corner of the “high, high” shelf. And, since I have had many a year to develop certain scars and calouses, I just don’t give a shit.  I am just me.

It isn’t even reality.  Everything that I experience takes place only in my brain, a beautiful garden where I am very content.  Lots of weeds, but I know how to get rid of them. I am quite capable of generating a colorful alternate history. (Which any of you that wish to, can delve into.  Google me. Cherry pick from the reality and the fiction. Whatever suits you.)

“No man is an island.”  That’s baloney.  I am an island and if you are on it, be it ever so briefly, it is because I allowed it.

And Richard died, so I don’t have to deal with that anymore either.

READING

virginiallorca:

Archival

Originally posted on finewhine:

First let me announce the production of an entirely new novel, way off the beaten path from the frivolous but fun stuff I write. The YA (young adult)  (lots of sex, but implied) market is so hot right now, especially if it is paranormal  so I have decided to whore out my abilities.

In this book the main character is a young girl about sixteen years old.  Since she “became a woman” at age thirteen she has noticed she has strange powers.  She can levitate small objects by thinking at them.  Every day she finds she can levitate bigger and bigger objects.  Her husband/boyfriend will never need Viagra.

Then she falls in love and her love interest is aware of her powers and she fears that is the only reason he is consorting with her, but he is nice and she likes him.  Then, with his prescient power, one of…

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Tempest in aTea Pot

Another forced attempt to distract us from what is going on.  Divided we fall.

Big fuss over a flag. How ’bout we forbid ten percent of the displaying of the Confederate Flag?
And, by the way, George Washington owned slaves. I want to say something about pigeons coming home to roost, but probably not politically correct — a HUGE concern of mine. Not.

MORALITY

virginiallorca:

Archival goodie. . .

Originally posted on finewhine:

 

I write stuff that can be seen by the public.  This has its risks and rewards.  I don’t care too much about either of those things.  But I am noticing a trend.  Maybe I am just waking up from a long sleep or finally surrendering my ancient cloak of denial.  But I am noticing things about love.  

First of all, I am tired of people using the word carelessly.  “I love that new shade of orchid paint.”  “I love men with beards.”  “I love you”.  This word is so necessary.  But so over used.  Maybe that is a good thing. And what are my choices?   “The way you look tonight gives me an abundance of positive feelings.”  “I feel so many different positive emotions about my new grand child, I cannot begin to put it into words.”  To the rescue:  “I love her.”

I frequent a popular…

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Butter

This is an opinion piece, not a paid advertisement or solicited review.

We quite frequently shop at our nearest military commissary.  There are many advantages. Too many years ago, I would always use only Parkay or Imperial margerine as a spread or whatever. I felt other brands were noticably greasy. Then someone mentioned that margerine was one molecule away from being plastic and I heard from another person that butter was “natural”. At that time butter was considerably  more expensive, but I made the change and have never veered from my choice.

While shopping one day at the  commissary  (they often carry locally unfamiliar brands) I noticed  Challenge butter. It was packaged by the pound in two different shapes. The conventional stick and a short chubbier stick. The pound of shorties must have been priced as an 8 oz. package because it was, and still is, cheaper than the conventional  size. Thus we became Challenge users. We noticed immediately that it tasted wonderful, used as spread or in baking. I make Baker’s one-bowl brownies and you can totally experience the difference.

Then I began to hear of Kerry Gold. One person said she was a strict vegan except for Kerry Gold. I ran out and had to borrow a pack of Kerry Gold from my daughter. It is an unnatural shade of yellow that is surely  enhanced unless they feed their cows only carrots. It is prohibitively expensive and it has no taste experience, much less delicious or “better”.  I feel like I am changing a passage in the Bible. Kerry Gold fans are rabid. But Wal Mart generic tastes better and, hands down, Challenge wins the taste war. It is delicious. The acid test is melting it for popcorn and it cannot be beaten. You can just take my word for it cuz if you ever try it, you will know for yourself.