And the story was whatever was the song

Ah yes, the shift to standard time, just to make sure that the children in their black Halloween outfits will have no possible chance of being seen by oncoming cars in the darkness that is October 31. Next year, and perhaps this is the only thing that I appreciate that has come out of the current administration, the change will take place a few days into November. Hark I feel a possible good idea set forth.
I wanted to dress up as Ugly Betty for work, and I still intend to, however I am assured that know one will know who I am because I just look like me with a somewhat odd dark wig.
This will be the first time I've dressed up since college when my best costume was a car hop replete with tray bearing taped and glued bun, hamburger, fries and Styrofoam cup. I was also on skates, of which I had no skills to be wearing, my old boyfriend and another friend rolled me screaming as they ran down Chester holding me by the arms, loosing what I thought had been well attached frozen fries at every crack in the sidewalk that I vibrated past.

Check it and see

I got my annual I'm going to make myself sick for three days by getting a flu shot, shot yesterday. And yes, that sinking feeling is upon me. I have asthma so there is a real need for me to get it. In addition, I've had three boys who had the virus at the same time last year so I know from listening to their laboring for air that I am one of those candidates that must roll up the sleeve every time.
Every time, the nurse will ask, have you had any reaction to this vaccine in the past and each time I say that it makes me sick for a few days I'm told that it must be something else because the shot does not make people sick. So, I have a vivid imagination; confirmed and I'm a Hypochondriac; established. I don't even bother anymore, I wonder what it's like to have that kind of assuredness to know something is or isn't even though the evidence clearly shows something different.

Walking in the air

Snow means boots, hats, gloves panic that we never and I mean never can remember where it all is stored, but we do find it and that would be in April, we unearth a treasure of these things, often with tags because I bought them at the end of the season. Last year I bought 8 black ski hats @ 99 cents a pop and there is not one left. Then, there's this growing thing where the stuff that they had last year no longer works, and it's all bought to light at 6:40 am when I'm not at my best. There is however a bit of glee at the change of season and the promise of, though it may be somewhat cheesy, there is the nostalgia button that brings the rosy cheeked, cocoa packets and Michelin boys to a new height until of course it melts and is just becomes wet sludge.

Of life's inner meaning

Talking about personal issues in a public venue can be disconcerting but it's also cathartic or the 50 trillion bloggers wouldn't be spilling it online every day.
It's a fine line (pun alert) to not reveal so much information that you are really just being an egotist. There are other people involved so taking that into consideration is perhaps going to deter full out balls to the wall honesty, or not.
Depression runs in my family, and not just the blood relation side. It rears it's enormous fat and ugly head and I'm reminded once again how difficult winter is going to be, how it's a struggle to be up and Patridge family happy in the face of darkness that surrounds me in both a physical and metaphoric state.
Oddly enough a minor cure for this is to take a walk, especially in the metroparks not far from our home.. But if you're me as a added bonus, you'll step in dog shit right when you got fooled into thinking things might be okay.

When all is said and done

I was making an apple pie yesterday and it actually came out quite well. As I was cutting and peeling I thought of all of the work that goes into anything that individuals make and or provide for others. It's all, no matter how hard we try to value it, it's all taken for granted. Thusly the pie was eaten in one sitting by I'm guessing, two people at my house. I did get to try it but it was a small bit just to make sure the thing was edible.
Okay, I'm not saying stop and smell the roses, but leave some for Jack at least, it's one of the few things he'll actually eat.

Before we get much older

In the normal world, you have a child, that child and you argue, make up, resolve your differences and learn from the experience. In my world which has never been of the normal nature, you wait it out. There is no learning with my oldest. He keeps alienating himself and not getting anything out of a negative experience that he can actually learn from. It's disheartening at best and paralyzing at worst. Ohio is one of the few states where a young adult who doesn't want to live with any rules whatsoever cannot become emancipated. Well, actually there are two exceptions, the first is marriage the second is the military. So, if he wants he can start a family or risk his life otherwise we're stuck for another year and a half.

Tin Roof

Friday night what. Never did I think I would find myself and Eamon in the stands at a high school football game, with him screaming for Gus or singing to the band playing Love Shack. I don't know if it was the cold getting to him or some sort of forced enthusiasm for something we could never have planned for.
Here are two misfits at best. We live under the radar because likely for both of us the days of institutional schooling were about avoiding events that were either crowded or sports related. Now, I have a "stadium kit". It consists of a seat thing, umbrella and water bottle. Of course yesterday I left it in the car, oh let me talk about the cars. We parked Eamon's car at the high school in the afternoon, drove up in mine but left it at the middle school which is about half a mile away because we did not want to deal with the parking issue that is a Friday night-nightmare. So I left the seat behind and paid the price with that frozen to the core thing.
Then there are the hawkers, it's like a bazaar in Istanbul and I can say that because I've been there. There is a roar, and selling stuff, food and intrigue. It's a veritable village of the damned and I for once am a member of the club.

It was Mockingbird Hill

I guess for me, it's the authentic that seems to be missing. Everyone is acting now, acting like they think they should, sounding like they think it's supposed to sound, and of course looking like they're supposed to look.
The treadmill is in the basement and I have been watching tv as I bounce my miles. There is no remote, so I have to stick to the station that I pick which is usually one of the music channels. This being October there are those pesky, I mean abominable political ads that make me choose to look how far I haven't gone rather than having to look at the bullshit on the screen.
I am not for censuring but I think and I'd bet that any one with a functioning cortex would agree that there should not be advertising involved with political decision making and or choices of who is going to be a voice in Washington or on some state or local level. Advertising is about lying and manipulation nothing more and only less.

You know that it would be untrue

Today the library closed for about two hours. We had a small "electrical incident". My colleagues and I evacuated the building like any good 70's disaster movie cast. There were actually many people who just sat there as the alarm went off and we used kind but firm body language sort of like you have got to get the fuck out of here.
Then, standing out front with two trucks one the giant ladder, and people driving up, parking close and walking towards the front door. Exactly what does it take I wonder for an individual to realize things are not business as usual.
Then we were sent home with the condition that we might have to come back, and we did, but, I had my first glimpse at siesta and it ruled. Lunch at my counter, finished left over tea, let the dogs out, read the paper; and now I'm back refreshed and pumped by the change of pace and routine.

In the stillness

I think about what it is like to be in a coma, I had been looking at a book review of a biography of Ariel Sharon; and was trying to remember if he was still in one. What is that in between world like, does it consist of dreams and or any form of consciousness that can't always be detected with brain function.
When I was young I used to get sick with respiratory infections and the sort.
I recently had looked at my medical records dating back to when I was two and the average came at me once a month for many years. Anyway, with a fever there is often that dream/awake/delirious time that is kind of scary but deep as well. Or, do people go elsewhere and travel sort of on another plain. I'm not saying that there is a reason to be convinced that one is anything other than in a state of comatose, but our brains provide such a rich variety of possible scenarios, I suspect anything is possible.

Got to give us what we want

Every morning, or rather almost every morning, Jack has a routine of opening both sides of the refrigerator/freezer checking inside, closing them and then going over to the pantry and opening that, taking a look around and then closing the door. Let me preface this with, we all stand back when opening any food containment area at my house because I always buy too much. So, then Jack goes back to the counter, sits down and says that he can't find anything to eat. Welcome to the land of plenty I say. Lots of stuff and never the right thing.

My will gets weak

Forgiveness is a thing that I keep trying to work with like taffy; it's sticky and glutinous and doesn't really resolve itself into any shape until you swallow it.
I think of the hurts that I've kept with me for a lifetime. When my best friend Susan's brother commented on me eating seconds at their house for dinner, the first and last time I was there. Or, when my Dad called me a name or a friend made some dig. I've kept them though not in the front room, more like down the hall towards the back of the house in the mud-room where they can remain dirty and stick together in a dark area.
Then there are things I've done. Remarks and offhanded jabs. It's a shorthand for us, to say something of a nature to hurt and make it sharp when it really is a mass or amalgamation of all that makes us not right with ourselves so like any surface holding down the pressure, we pop and let it out in the wrong place and usually at the way wrong person. But, we go on and collect these items in our hand baskets and head towards the checkout.

Born into this

I'm equally as disillusioned at 44 as I was at 22 or 11, and so on. I had hoped that I would come to grips with arbitrary leadership and wealth; perhaps finally understand that things were in place for specific reasons, but as I age the lapse in acumen has become even greater.
I really didn't have expectations about what it would be like when I got older, what I did perceive was that the population would grow wise to the manipulation on a political, financial and social strata and stop tolerating or supporting the mindlessness of blind acquiescence.
Silly me. I'm not that bright, I may have insights and a venue to share them, but how is it that there is so little questioning of the motivation of leadership and the powerful urge to be led into almost anything as long as the people telling you represent themselves with authority and absolute.