Royal Wedding hype . . .

Is it just me or is the Royal Wedding hype just a bit over the top? I realize in Great Britain this is a huge affair. I get it. Their British. They still have a queen and other royal titles held over from the dark ages, as if King Henry VIII were still around. They don't rule the land or remove heads anymore (like Henry did). They simply exist in a huge palace. If you meet the Queen in person, you must curtsy and never touch her. In 1776, we told the King of England to take a royal hike. Now we have to bow and drink tea with our pinkie finger balancing the cup. I hear there are whole classes on meeting with the Queen. Can you imagine what that class is like? I'd go for a regular handshake. If it wasn't for us she'd be speaking German.

I guess girls think it is a fairy tale to marry a prince. This princess had to take a class on how kiss properly in front of a crowd. Hmmm . . . they been together for eight years and even live together. I am guessing they know how to do a lot more than kiss. I wonder if she really knows what she's getting into. Although this prince isn't a frog like his father.

I wish them well, but I don't get the hype.

No sex in space . . .yet

On virtually every news channel the headlines were about the first lady's plane. The pilot had to abort a landing because it flew within three miles of another plane. That was the headline on both conservative and liberal news sites. I'm not kidding. Why is that news? Why do any of us give a rats ass about that?   

One headline states,  "The Russians say there has been no sex in space . . . yet." I was just wondering about the other day. It was at the top of my mind, right along with my mortgage payment, paying for daughters college education, and what I was going to eat for lunch. Yep. It just popped right into my head. I needed to know this. The thought of two cosmonauts have orbital intercourse is something that should make headline news.

We all needed to know what outfit Lyndsey Lohan wore to court. Headline news. Last week we treated to the thoughts about global warming from Charles Manson. You're kidding right? Nope. Headline news. Snooki's weight loss treatment. Headline news. Coco (who the f$%k is Coco) wears tight pants. Headline news. Then there is a 'Don't say the word Gay Bill' that is gaining traction in Tennessee. They want to ban a word that is defined in Webster's as meaning; joyous and lively, merry, happy, and lighthearted. Aren't we getting a little sensitive in a time of three wars, economic chaos, and the royal wedding coming up? I know it's hard to take it all in. But it's headlines news. Then there is the really important news like the first electoral college map of 2012. Can you hear me gagging? Sharon Stone in a bikini. Still gagging.

Great job reporters. Still gagging.

It made me wonder . . .

I saw an old home in Oregon last week, sitting alone, in a green field by side the road. It looked like a giant had pushed it sideways, stretching it in a twisted tilt. Weeds grew like spider webs all over it. The roof bowed from time and weather. Only chips of white paint were visible. The barn behind it was in worse shape. I thought about the people who built the little house after walking for months. They picked this spot to build their dreams. There were no roads, only trails. Only the ghosts of their memory remain. I wanted to stop and take a photo, but we were driving by too fast on the highway. It made me think about times past. Their world was about family, food, shelter, and freedom. Our world is about money, success, fame, loud music, fast cars, big house, bling, I-pods, I-pads, flat screen TV's, reality shows, lottery tickets, computers, Facebook, Twitter, traffic, crime, extremists, taxes, self-interest, Republicans, Democrats, taxes, and constant noise.

Who had it better? Just a thought

It's not funny . . .

Have you read the newspapers lately? The online news services? Left wing or right? There's nothing funny in any of them. Try to find something. Charlie Sheen got laughed off the stage. That would be funny, but he's not. Snooki got paid to speak at Rutgers. That really isn't funny. It's kind of twisted. The phrase "baby bump" has now become common. Donald Trump for President? Gaddafi (correct spelling is a mystery) wants it to stop. Please leave. Jon Gosselin gets a new gig. Who gives a s..t. Congress is bickering over the budget. Isn't that all politicians do?  A hole in a Southwest plane. Now that's not funny. UConn and Butler? The only people who think that is funny bet big Vegas. Arizona may add a $50 tax for smokers and obese. "Please step on the scale so I know how much to tax you for the cigarettes." Huh? Maybe that's a little funny, unless you happen to be the person being weighed.

What do you think?

Faces in the Sand ... excerpt

from ch. 4

My mother stopped collecting things about me when I reached grammar school, about the same time Daddy left. There might be a book of school pictures somewhere, but I can’t recall where. Mama didn’t collect photo albums or even pictures for that matter.

    She always said, “What’s past is past and we shouldn’t dwell on it.” The problem was she didn’t dwell on anything. I always thought she never had time for keeping scrapbooks, always working two or three jobs to support us.

    Once, I came home with a blue ribbon from school earning first prize in a spelling bee in the third grade. I was so proud. The next morning the ribbon was in the trash. Why didn’t she love me? What did I do wrong? Wasn't she proud of me? It hurt me very much. I can still feel the blow today, as if she hit me in the stomach whenever I think of it. She wasn’t a perfectionist. She just didn’t care.

    I tried to be a good daughter and make her proud, but it didn’t matter what I did. I was a burden—a chore that she didn’t need around. I used to think she was mad at me for making Daddy leave. Maybe it was my fault. Now, I use that first place ribbon as a bookmark, reminding myself that I am someone.

Cap'n Crunch and Felix the Cat...

I heard a rumor that Cap'n Crunch was going to discontinued. Government agencies, like the IRS, and the United States Weather Bureau, have determined that Cap'n Crunch is not good for you. I wonder how they feel about Lucky Charms, Cocoa Puffs, and Rice Krispies? Why stop at cereals? The little yellow ducks (PEEPS) can't be that nutritious and neither are the little candies that come out of PEZ dispensers. Doesn't Coca-Cola dissolve the dirt and rust off pennies? Don't get me started on HoHo's, Ding Dongs, and Twinkies. McDonalds only had Big Mac's, Quarter Pounder's, regular hamburger's (with or without cheese), fries, and for desert . . . a warm cherry pie. Now, they serve salads, and iced coffee, with the calories on the menu. What's with that?

That brings me to another point: What happened to the cartoon Felix the Cat? The cat with his magic bag of tricks.  Remember him? They took it off the air in the early 80's. The government thought the show was too violent. Our kids now watch educational programs like Teenage Moms, The Jersey Shore, and my personal favorite Bad Girls. They spend hours playing videos games like Grand Theft Auto and Doom while downing Red Bulls. But it's okay. Don't fret. At least they won't be eating sugar cereals.

Leave our Cap'n Crunch alone, and put Felix back on the air.  

Faces in the Sand ....excerpt

 When I was ten, I discovered we were poor. Mama came home with tickets to the Nutcracker Ballet. She was so delighted, dancing around our small living room. I think she always wanted to be a dancer. She was in one of her good moods where she opened up all the blinds and played the record player loud. She’d been saving all year to take me.

     We got all dressed up and took a cab to the show. There was a long line outside to get in. The lights on Broadway were so bright. A long black car pulled up to the curb in front of us. A man, wearing a funny hat, stepped out and opened the car door for the people inside. My eyes made contact with a pretty blond girl about my age. She was wearing a beautiful green dress, with shiny sequins all over it, and a red shawl. We looked at each other closely. I ducked behind Mama not wanting the little girl to see my old black coat. I wasn’t sure why I did that. It was the look in her eyes. She was looking down at me. Her family didn’t have to wait in the line. They went right to the front and the doorman let them in.

     Our seats were so high I could barely see the performance. I spotted the girl sitting in a balcony very close to the stage. Mama said they were rich. After that day, I was on a constant look out for these strange people with long cars.