I Don't Understand

Something I've never been able to understand is how some charity money is collected. When you are asked to buy a bracelet, chocolate bar or any other item because a percentage of the cost will be donated to charity, I wonder why we bother. When celebrities pay $1000 each to dine in luxury so that a percentage of that $1000 will be donated to charity, I wonder even more.

When did it become the duty of businesses to get involved in collecting money for charity, all the while selling their own product to do so? I really believe that all these demands on the public to donate everywhere we look has made us reluctant to donate to legitimate charities. We've been bombarded too many times.

It's also a little scary to think how money donated is often not secure, allowing who knows who to skim whatever they can. Even legitimate charities aren't policed completely and we see over and over how too many of them use donations for their own purposes and not the one the money was meant for.

I guess I just don't trust but maybe that's not a bad thing. Being too trusting makes us into targets.

If You Knew

For whatever reason, I've spent a lot of the weekend watching documentaries of killers and it's been very perplexing wondering how their parents and families can keep on supporting and believing in them, even against undisputable evidence against them.

I wonder how I would feel if one of my beloved children or grandchildren committed a heinous crime. I know it would take strong evidence to convince me they'd done it but, even with a confession from them, would I still have an element of doubt? Once convinced of their guilt, I know I'd still love them to the very end, though. I'd want help for them but I wouldn't want a harsh punishment for them, no matter what they'd done.

Criminals either don't know or don't care how their crimes and convictions will affect their families. Often the offender's family suffers almost as much as the families of the victim.

The love you feel for someone doesn't end because that person commits a crime, no matter how offensive the crime. At least I don't think so and hope I never have to find out if this is true or not. Murder is so out of the norm that average people can't even understand the concept of someone choosing to end another's life.

Right now I'm watching a made-for-T.V. movie on the Karla Homolka/Paul Bernardo murders and there is no sense to be made of it at all. It's beyond understanding how these two handsome people could allow themselves to take the lives of three innocent teenage girls and for him to rape countless others. And it's further unbelievable that Karla Homolka spent only a short time in prison and is now free, married, and with children of her own. How could someone who committed the most horrible of crimes just carry on her life as though it never happened? Where and when will she receive her true punishment for what she's done? I wonder.

Murder

This was the day I chose to pull furniture out and thoroughly wash the floors of the trailer. Saturdays are fairly quiet around here and it's one of the few days I have to myself so it was nice to take my time washing the floors. There's not much room to move furniture around so I have to do the floor in pieces, clearing a section and washing it and then waiting for it to dry before doing another section. Inbetween times, I drank my coffee and watched home improvement shows on T.V. An ideal morning!

In the afternoon, I decided to stay home and vegetate in front of the T.V. where I watched story after story of how someone would commit murder for their own personal reasons...all true stories. It's pretty gruesome to see how a man or woman can fall in love with someone and then somewhere down the line feel the urge to murder them. Much of it is greed but some of it is just the old saying..."if I can't have you then no-one will!". How selfish, self centered and egotistical!

I napped through part of the murderous orgies and then went over to Faye's for a gin and tonic. I'd been simmering a lovely home made soup in my crock pot all morning and afternoon so supper was taken care of. When I came back to the trailer in the late afternoon, the stories of murder continued on the T.V. and I wondered what the true nature of human beings truly is. I wonder if, just under the skin, we're all potential savages. I worry that we might be.

Welcome Sunshine

Sunshine is a 9 week old yellow Lab who has come to live with Shelley, John, and Jake (and be a sister-at-home for Lisette and Nicole). I've already shortened her name to "Sunny" and I know she's going to bring lots of smiles and sunshine to her new family.

With Buddy passing last week, Sunny will help ease the family's sorrow at losing him but no-one can take Buddy's place. He was a unique little being that we all loved and there will never be another dog like him. Sunny will be her own self and we'll love her for that.

Sometimes I ache for the comfort of having a dog at home. It's hard to explain to people who have never had a dog how much we become attached to them and their presence. A good dog can add years to your life and happiness to your moments.

I wonder if Shelley remembers that we once had a canary we named Sunshine? He was a bright and beautiful yellow canary who filled our days with his singing and who kept trying to make out with his image in the mirror in his cage. Cute.

Faye and I are going over to stay a few days with Shelley to spruce up her garden with some colorful annuals. She has a gorgeous backyard already but it's with lush perennials and she needs the annuals to complete it all. I'm looking forward to seeing it come alive with impatiens, begonias, marigolds, geraniums, and whatever else we find that will thrive through the hot summer in Tampa. The impatiens will be planted in the shade for sure.

Kim asked me to give Sunny a kiss for her but I think it's sort of disgusting to let a dog lick your lips. Instead, I'll cuddle every moment I can with this sweet little girl.

Selling on Ebay

This has been a lean year for me selling on Ebay. The economy is so bad in the States that few people have extra money sitting around to impulse buy on the net. That means I have less money from Ebay sales to pay my utilities and that is a first for me.

Of course, I'm not yard saleing like I used to, either, so my stock isn't refreshed like it used to be. I know I've sort of lost interest in Ebay myself so it isn't a surprise that others feel the way I do. It's the shipping costs and not the listed price that is the killer even here in the States but it's much worse in Canada. The postal service is causing it's own demise by paying it's employees far more than their labor deserves. I don't blame the employees at all for getting as much as they can but the unions have instilled unreasonable demands for exhorbitant salaries for unskilled labor.

These are frightening times for the unskilled labor force because, without unions to fight for them, they could only qualify for minimum wage jobs and no-one can support a family with that kind of money. With the U.S. discontinuing Saturday service (we haven't had it in Canada in years), many more high paid union jobs will be lost and where else can these people expect to make the salaries they have been making?

Unions have always served a good purpose by gaining fair wages and benefits for employees but somewhere along the line they've gone from "fair" to "ridiculous". CEO's (not in a union) have also gone crazy with their benefits and bonuses having no resemblance to how well or badly the company has done. We look on all of this as insanity but are unable to do a darned thing about it. We, the people, are not in control of the public purse.

Oh well, everything will work out one way or another. Some people will suffer and some will be promoted even though all is undeserved. It's the way of the corporate world.

R.I.P. Buddy

He was a gentle giant of a dog, somewhere in the 80-90 pound range, I think. At first sight, you'd see a huge yellow Lab who appeared to be smiling because he was always happy to see anyone who came through the door. He was careful of where his powerful tail swept...he didn't want to knock things over or whack anyone. His size was intimidating but his demeanor was all gentleness..always.

He loved everyone but didn't make a pest of himself. If you patted him, he was in heaven and waited patiently for more. If you told him to go away, he left immediately.

Buddy was jealous of Jake's new guinee pig (sorry, don't know how to spell that) when it first moved in and he'd gently check it out but never in an angry way. Buddy's way was to bring you a toy to try to divert your attention to him.

I wish so much that Shelley had bred Buddy because he was a prince among dogs and it's such a shame that all his wonderful qualities died right along with him. He does have a brother living up in Canada who I hear hasn't been neutered so Shelley is going to ask his owner if he will breed him just once so she can have a relative of Buddy's. It's a long shot but wouldn't it be nice?

Buddy was only 9 years old when he passed away suddenly. He was at the groomers for his scheduled bath so maybe his little heart wasn't as healthy as we thought. I remember his father, Monty (also owned by Shelley), died suddenly, too, so maybe it's an inherited defect.

Our pets are precious to us and we do love them deeply. They are never forgotten, just as we don't forget a family member who passes away. Buddy was surrounded by love in his family and was a very lucky dog to be so well cared for. He will be forever loved and forever missed.

More on Whitney

I can't believe that there is a movement to have U.S. flags flying at half mast to honor Whitney Houston. Are these people crazy? Just because someone was gifted with a beautiful singing voice doesn't mean that other aspects of their life shouldn't be considered. Should we make a hero out of a woman who destroyed her life, and that beautiful voice, by saturating herself with illegal drugs? I just don't get it.

It seems as though popular entertainers have been given a pass to carry on their lives in despicable manner just as long as they continue to entertain us. Michael Jackson, a pedophile, is still idolized by many. My beloved Elvis is another entertainer who threw it all away with drugs. There are so many of them who couldn't resist the temptations offered them because of their status.

Marilee objected to my comment on Facebook that I was sick of hearing Whitney Houston's voice on every darned newscast for the past week because she thought I wanted to erase the "voice". But, no, what I hate is the massive air time given to a talented woman who is dead at 48 because she chose to be a drug addict.

Children emulate their idols and, when a tragedy like the early death of Whitney Houston occurs, the stress should be on how foolish she had been to destroy her body with drugs. Yes, keep on idolizing her fabulous voice but do it with a touch of sadness for her lethal drug use.

Time Well Spent

It was our Swedish weaving get-together this morning and we had a few new recruits. A quick lunch and then back at 1 P.M. to learn how to make ladder ribbon necklaces. They were quite easy to do, needing only a crochet hook to make 3-7 chains and then to knot them together. At 5 P.M. we have our hamburger dinner at the clubhouse and, after that, we ladies will play cards until 9 P.M.

I suppose this is a simple life but our days are full of whatever we choose to do and the people I hang out with are all interesting and fun ladies. Maybe none of us are particularly exciting but that's okay. We've learned to live with our circumstances and most of us don't give a s..t if someone finds fault with that.

Me, I've had a great day so far and I know my evening will be full of fun because I'll be with some of the nicest ladies you'll find anywhere.

Ladder Ribbon Necklace

Jo taught us how to make these cute necklaces from ladder ribbon today. All you do is crochet 3, 5 or 7 chains and knot them together. I think I prefer the 3 chain necklaces so that's what I'll make next. They are so lightweight that you forget you have them on.

Just a fun craft that didn't take much time and was easy to do!

Wells Fargo

It tickles me that my new bank here in Florida is Wells Fargo. I remember when I was a kid and going to those old western movies where Wells Fargo was robbed by horse riding cowboys wearing masks. Now, here I have a bank account in that same bank. One never knows where time and space will take them, do we?

Wells Fargo took over my old bank, Wachovia, and that's how this all came to be. I used to think Wachovia was pronounced "watch ovia" but came to learn it was pronounced "walk ovia", probably more fitting for ruthless banking systems. Anyway, I think they went belly up during the recent mini depression hurting the U.S. and good old Wells Fargo, still hanging in there all these years, took them over.

I hope Wells Fargo takes good care of my account because there's approximately $37 in there right now.

Stress the Waste

Whitney Houston died the other day and the T.V. news has been filled ever since with videos of her singing. Personally, these repetitious videos just fill me with anger at the waste of such a great talent and I'm hoping the stress will be placed on where the illegal use of drugs will get you. Talented beyond words and cold dead at age 48!

It's hard for the average person to understand when someone of supreme talent gets mixed up with drugs and destroys their lives. I think that they must be surrounded by too many people who can't say no to them or tell them the truth about their actions. Those people are not good friends because a good friend wouldn't stand by and let you do harm to yourself.

Whitney isn't the first great talent to ruin her life with drugs and she won't be the last because they seem to surround themselves with "yes men" and people who only care about how much money they can make for them or dead head groupies.

There are success stories among celebrities and they are the ones who should be admired. They faced the same temptations but were wise enough to resist them.

I feel sorry for Whitney but I'm really sick of hearing about what a nice person she was. Tell it like it is...she had a great talent and she threw it all away.

Torn

I guess I'm going through some sort of phase in my life because I'm really torn about wanting time alone and wanting time with people. While I'm in Florida, it's possible to spend almost every hour of every day with people and have a darned good time doing it but every so often I like/love some solitude.

Today is supposed to be my one solitary day of the week but I've made plans to go out for dinner with friends. These are such good and fun friends that I wouldn't miss dinner with them for the world because I know we'll have tons of laughter and great conversation.

I guess I avoid making committments for Sunday but, if a real fun one comes along, I can't resist it. Now, if someone had invited me to the flea market, I could have said no but the combination of having a nice dinner out and having it with Faye, Gary, Ron, and Gerry was impossible to to resist.

When I begin to tire from all the socializing we have here, I remind myself how little I have back home and that always spurs me on to join in as much fun as I can. Last night there were 7 of us playing "65" and we shared a laughter-filled 2 1/2 hours...how could anyone resist that? Sylvia, Gail, Barb, Joann, Peggy, and Candy...I wish they all lived in my neighborhood at home so we could get together there, too. The rest of our usual bunch were at a pizza party and dance that we didn't want to attend but we did miss them. A great group of ladies that I'm fortunate to be friends with!

Well, I still have tonight and tomorrow night to be alone and I'll use the time wisely, partly on the computer and partly vegetating in front of the T.V. It's not near as much fun as being with people but we all need a bit of alone time, don't we?

When All Is Said And Done

You know, no-one is ever going to get out of this world alive and the best we can hope for is to die of old age and not in pain. We human beings are really pitifully fragile entities, aren't we?

It's almost unbearable to see a terminally ill child but, when the patient is elderly, we feel a sadness to lose their presence but can mollify ourselves with the thought that they'd had a long life. I have a friend in his 90's who has begun to fail. It helps to know that he's lived a great many years and led a varied and interesting life. He's much loved by his family, well taken care of and will be to the end.

What's difficult for those left behind is the knowledge that the person they love is totally gone from them and they don't know how permanent the loss is...will we be united in another world or dimension when we pass away, too? Will we recognize each other if that should happen? Will the love and affection carry on in the afterlife?

It's almost universally true that we don't appreciate our lives or health while we have it and tend to fool ourselves that we'll never age or ail or, if we do, it will be in the far, distant future. I guess that's a preferable attitude than living our lives with the niggling fear of not knowing when death will strike us down, though.

When my friend does pass away, I hope he continues on a journey to maybe a better and kinder life than what we have on earth. I'm betting he does.

Murder/Suicide

A man murders his wife and gets away with it because of lack of evidence. Then he murders his two young sons before committing suicide. I often wish a severely damaged human being like this man would first commit suicide before harming anyone else.

I really do pity this man. His life must have been a living hell for him to do the things he did. But, living hell or not, I will never understand how someone can murder their own innocent children. It's almost as though he was trying to obliterate any and every part of himself.

I don't agree that suicide is wrong for everyone. It makes no sense to me for someone with a painful, terminal illness to be forced to continue living and suffering longer than necessary. But mental turmoil can be treated and made tolerable so that course should be pursued rather than allowing yourself to accept suicide as your only answer.

No one will ever know for sure if this man killed his wife but all signs point to it. I suppose he was unable to continue living with his sins...but why would he murder his little boys? Only a hopelessly diseased mind could contemplate doing this.

His father is another piece of work. He is also obviously mentally disturbed so who knows what kind of household his son grew up in...and maybe that could be part of the reason this man felt the need to murder his own children, to put an end to a bad legacy. We'll never know.

Child services did what they could to protect those little boys but their father's insanity proved too devious to save them.

My grandmother used to say that heaven and hell are right here on earth and, at times like this, I tend to agree with her.

Dreams

Dreams must mean something even if the meaning is obscure. My dreams these days are almost exclusively pleasant but I seldom remember much of them when I wake up, just the sensation of having been involved in an easy existence for a while.

For years I had the recurring dream of flying and then being dragged down to earth by running into power lines or trees. That was a simple message...I wanted to escape the ties that bound me but couldn't quite do it.

A recurring nightmare I had as a child was of my grandfather's brother's head on a plate on the table. I wonder what that was about, though.

A sort of interesting dream I very often had as a child was of what looked like the heart rhythms' machine you see connected to hospital patients. In my dream, the rhythms began on both the left and right of the frame and continued toward each other until they collided in the middle. That's when I would wake up.

But last night I had my first nightmare in a long time. I was in a van with my husband and he put it on some sort of cruise control while we were driving along a narrow road. Then he left the driver's seat to go into the back of the van for something. I woke up screaming at him to get back and steer the car. Hmmm! Could that be my inner feelings about having to deal with everything by myself now?? Sounds reasonable, doesn't it?

I do believe our dreams are the result of our brains continuing to try to make sense of our lives even as we sleep. These days I have a mainly peaceful life, therefore peaceful dreams usually go with it. Life is pretty darned good.

Nan

I called my grandmother "Nan" because, as a very touchy teenager, I thought that calling her "Nanna" was too babyish. Nan was my mother figure, sometimes harsh in her ways of punishing me when I was younger but always very loving. I lived with my grandparents all of my life, along with my mother and then my sister, who was 9 years younger than me. Nan, at about 4' 10", was the boss in our household and we clashed a lot because I was a strong willed child. I never really appreciated her at the time but I think differently now.

Nan never worked outside the home but she had her little side business, bootlegging, that she did on the weekends. It always looked to me that our little apartment was a place for lonely bachelors to come for a few hours of socializing, have a couple of beers, and then traipse home with a bag full of preserves that my grandmother had packed for them. I doubt she ever made a profit from her bootlegging. She was generous to a fault and seldom did anything for herself.

Nan had a few vices. She thought nothing of taking a load of paper napkins or cutlery home from a restaurant. I was shocked to discover this one day while I held her shopping bag as she was paying the restaurant bill. Nan, like most of us, had her own ideas about honesty so I wisely stopped going to reataurants with her in case we both ended up in jail.

Nan, like me, loved to shop with whatever small funds she could put together. When she passed away, we found unopened boxes of various knick knacks piled under her bed. She had been attracted to their prettiness but really had no place to display them in our tiny apartment. When I think of my grandmother, I think of a tiny old woman who made the best she could out of a rather poverty stricken life.

My grandfather worked well into his 70's and my mother worked, too, but both had poor paying jobs. We were the epitome of the working poor so I strongly identify with people in those circumstances. We struggled but our apartment was spotless clean and there were always good meals on the table.

It's too bad but often we don't appreciate our elders until we're older ourselves and that's how it was with me. My grandparents took on the responsibility of raising an infant when they didn't have to do so. Then they took on the further responsibility of raising my sister 9 years later. Granted, my mother was there, too, but she would have had it much harder if we didn't live with my grandparents.

I know now how much she sacrificed for my mother, sister, and me and wish there was a way to thank her. Maybe she already knows how I feel, anyway. I hope so.

Furbies

People seem to either love or hate Furbies. I happen to love them and they're one of the few things I collect even though some of my Furbies do end up being sold on Ebay. My friend, Joann, has found most of the ones I have for me and they are becoming more difficult to find at yard sales every year.

For some reason, none of my present Furbies will talk. Since I don't sell untalkative Furbies, I just might be stuck with all of them, darn it. I tried new batteries to no avail but they were dollar store batteries so I'll bite the bullet and buy some at Walmart...probably the same darned batteries for 4 times the dollar store price! It doesn't seem possible that all of my Fubies lost their voices at the same time so I have hopes of hearing them all talk once again.

I've heard some people say that the Furbies gave them the creeps and I just don't understand it. They really are adorable with those big eyes and tufts of hair.

The cutest thing happened a few years ago with one of my baby Furbies. I accidently knocked it off the counter and, when it hit the floor, it yelled, "Mama!". Now, isn't that sweet?

Canada Day at the Park

We had our Canada Day dinner and dance last night at the clubhouse and it was a rousing success. A group of French Canadian residents took on the job again this year to cook a terrific dinner, arrange for 26 door prizes, and also arrange the entertainment. I think it was the best dinner we've ever had for any of our special events.

Last year was the first time we've been allowed to include American residents at our dinner (I have no idea why they were ever excluded in the first place but the routine has always been to have the dinner only for Canadians and then allow the Americans to come over for the entertainment). This stupid rule also held for the U.S. Day dinner and I could never understand it. Our new owners made the wise decision that no resident should be excluded from dinners like this so now we have a full clubhouse for them, just the way it should be. Everyone is friends here and no-one cares whether their friend is Canadian or American.

I wasn't feeling very well last night, having a bit of trouble with my breathing. It felt like a touch of asthma so I didn't stay long at the dance but came home and turned on the air conditioning which helped immediately. The clubhouse is air conditioned but it was still terribly warm in there due to the large crowd. I've had some allergic reaction to the pine pollen, sneezing violently now and then, so maybe that's what my problem was last night. Anyway, it seemed to clear up as soon as I got into my air conditioned trailer.

One of the ladies last night wore a t-shirt with the American and Canadian flag entwined. I've seen this before and wanted to get one for myself but it sort of slipped my mind. Now I'm going to check on Ebay to find one. It so very much signifies how we live in this park, especially.

Well, we've reached February and my winter here is starting to fade away. I'll be going home in just a couple of months but, once again, I've enjoyed my time, my friends, and the lifestyle here immensely. It's something I don't take for granted but feel grateful for every day I'm here and hope to return for a few years yet. This could well be the happiest time of my life and I do savor every day I'm allowed.

Memories of Touch

When you grow older, it's amazing how some memories of long ago times are still so fresh in your mind. Many of mine are of touch. My earliest and strongest memory of being caressed by the early summer sun is of when I was 11 years old. Strong memories of the touch of my children's and grandchildren's baby skin stay filed away in my mind, too. I don't imagine I'll ever forget the touch of my husband's skin, either.

Stored away in my memory are surprisingly fresh pictures of the day a girl pushed me hard when I was about 12 years old. It hurt but I refused to flinch and hit her back hard enough that she never approached me again. I remember the sting of pain when my grandmother whipped me with my skipping rope or my grandfather's razor strop. But I don't remember the feel of pain when I gave birth to my children, only a vague memory of the events themselves.

I remember how lovely it felt to raise my face to the warm sunshine but know the sun on my face these days bring only a slight fear since having skin cancer. I remember the pain of sore feet in new shoes when I was about 16. The shoes were cute so I gladly suffered the pain rather than changing shoes.

I remember the feel of heartache...that happened many times over my lifetime but I haven't felt that in a long, long time. I hope I never do again.

I also hold dear in my memories the feeling of being hugged by friends who love me. Those are such pleasant memories.

Memories...it's a good idea to fill your mind with as many good ones as you can manage so that they can push the bad ones to a small corner where they can't overwhelm you ever again.

Voting

I've been watching the American republican candidates as they travel the country begging for votes and it makes me glad I don't fall for their bulls..t anymore and it also makes me sad that politicians never change.

Has there ever been an election where the candidate didn't occasionally show up with his shirt sleeves rolled up and not wearing a tie? They are trying to portray themselves as just one of the common people, someone who can identify with our needs and wants and most of us fall for it. Most of us are able to forget that the politician pulls in millions of dollars a year and has never been poor in his life. Most of us think he really does want to make things better for us. I say bulls..t!

Mitt Romney could well beat Obama in the next election and he tries awfully hard to look like one of the masses but he can't erase that "privileged" persona. He can push his sleeves up all he wants but his manicure and upper class bearing insures he'll never be mistaken for a true working man. Not that regular working men don't sneak in a manicure now and then but it's fairly rare.

I wouldn't be surprised if, at one time, he's donned a cowboy shirt and cowboy boots to entice the farm vote. It's embarrassing, really, seeing to what extent these politicians will go to buy a vote. They'd wear a clown suit if there were enough clowns to make it worth their while.

Our elected officials can even be jailed for felonies and still almost count on being re-elected once they get out of jail. Many of us voters blind ourselves to the game so well that we're able to be convinced that a good old boy who dresses down and has the gift of gab is fit to lead us even if he's a criminal. I wonder when we'll wake up and open our eyes.

Mitt Romney isn't a criminal, so far as I know, but he isn't aiming to become president of the United States to do the common good. He's in it to continue robbing the poor to pay the rich...just like all of them.