I don’t know about you, but I’ve noticed some pretty
hinky-dinky stressed out people lately. And by “lately” I mean for the last decade or so.
We Baby Boomers kind of freaked out at the year 2000 when we were younger. And by “we” I mean me. I remember thinking that I was going to be 42 at the turn of the millennium and that I would be
decrepit so mature I’d need dentures.
Then there was all the fuss about the Y2K meltdown because computer programmers didn’t leave four digits for the year on most of their programs. With all the computers confused about graduating out of their teens and into their 20′s, experts predicted that the banks would fail, the real estate bubble would burst, unemployment would skyrocket, and Justin Bieber would be famous for singing and looking like a girl. Blame it all on those frugal programmers who wanted to save two digits and ruin the future.
Add to that all this talk about the Mayans and the end of their calendar that just went on forever. But apparently it only went on forever backward, not forward. They had excellent hindsight. Um. I have that, even without my super-powers.
Should we really be putting all our future eggs in a basket woven by people from an extinct civilization?
Speaking of eggs. That reminds me of chickens and chickens remind me of Chicken Little–that paranoid excuse for poultry–which reminds be why I started writing this post in the first place. There’s something in the air that’s, well, unsettling. I’ve noticed it. Have you?
If you haven’t noticed it, maybe it’s because you’re part of it and it feels normal. Well, trust me, if you have any one of the following symptoms, then you’re on the trippy-dippy side of Unbelievabubble Street (translation for the un-hip–you’re not normal):
- It’s Cyber-Everyday! I’ll buy this crap just because I’ll get free shipping. Someone will need it, want it or regift it.
- Finally, Twilight, Breaking Dawn, Part 2 is in the movie theaters. Now I get to see for the 5th time that vampire love, just like vampires, is real and everlasting. Sigh. I wish I was a vampire.
- Not tonight, Honey, I have to watch the next episode of Breaking-Bad. I wish I was a dying Chemistry teacher. It seems so exciting!
- Dexter is my hero. There’s never a good sadistic sociopath around when you need him.
Take it from me. I know about normal. I’m constantly dizzy, converse with my dog, take 10 hours to write a post, and believe I have super-powers. I also meditate. If that isn’t normal, what the heck is?
So what’s making people so jumpy? Besides me and this weird post, that is?
Stop looking around and start looking up. There’s some wonky shiznut falling down from the sky. And I’m just here to warn you that maybe you want to wear a hat, a helmet, or a catcher’s mitt.
On September 26 in Butler, PA a 30-pack of beer came raining down on two police officers responding to a domestic dispute call. A woman, apparently not wanting the officers to come upstairs to the 2nd floor apartment, or not wanting any more beer (since it’s so filling and is bad for one’s figure), threw the beer out of the window hitting the two officers on the head. I know some people like a good head on their beer, but not the other way around.
On October 11 in Accomac, VA a one-foot piece of processed chicken fell from the sky and hit a teenager on the head. The teen was out exercising. This baffled local police and the execs at the nearby Tyson processing plant. No one could believe this story. Processed chickens don’t generally fly, they fry. And what was a teenager doing outside exercising, anyway? It’s all a bit hard to swallow if you ask me.
On October 22 in Novato, CA a 2-inch meteor fragment struck the roof of a minister’s home, right over his study where he writes his sermons. He was elated, believing that God was sending him a message. The parishioners, not as thrilled with the roofing repair bill, also saw this as a message: ”If the sermons aren’t more inspiring, we’ll make sure the next hit will be.”
Who knows what’s next? But you can count on me to keep you informed of any new developments.
In the meantime, take a listen to this oldie but goodie. Hopefully, it is only raindrops that keep falling on your head. I’d check often if I were you…
Ah… I feel so much better now after the scream. Sorry if I scared anyone. I’ve got to hand it to the many of you who manage to find time to write here on WordPress with regularity. I’m just busy, that’s all. So… no, I was not taken hostage, nor do you need to send out the search parties wondering if I’ll wash up ashore, and please no candlelight vigils, for I am alive and well. Just a bit preoccupied, that’s all.
I know I’ve been a bit sparse around here and at your sites leaving my snarky little comments, but it doesn’t mean I don’t love you anymore. I’ll get back into the swing of things soon. In the meantime, Happy Thanksgiving to my fellow Americans, and best wishes for a terrific week to everyone else. Until we meet again, adieu!
Another month, another musical topic for the Music Passion game hosted on Dolly’s Blog, All About Lemon. Carolyn, who writes and blogs on ABC of Spirit Talk is a repeat winner for both September and October. She has selected “World” as the theme in this month of November. Congratulations Carolyn – two in a row!
I’ve selected a song written and performed by War titled “The World is a Ghetto.” It is the title track of the album, released in 1972. In vinyl. It is hard to believe this melancholic and mournfully trippy song is now 40 years old. Moreover it seems to stand the test of time. Kick up your feet and have a listen – I’ve managed to find the full album version that has a great sax solo in the middle.
Halloween is past, all the little trick or treat kiddies are now on a sugar buzz, probably driving their parents and teachers to the brink of madness, and most folks are tossing out all their Jack-O-Lanterns freshly carved up just a few days earlier. When I was a child, most pumpkins were either carved into the familiar spooky scary face, or maybe was made into a head as part of a scarecrow like person, clothes stuffed with hay. Lately though we seem to have become a bit more artistic with this annual interpretation of expression. Witness the following sightings floating around:
Apparently these pumpkins are not bashful about showing off their assets.
Yeah, the idea is to get into the spirit of Halloween, not let the spirits of Halloween get into you.
I’m speechless with this one. Never ceases to amaze me what folks can do with a simple knife, a few pumpkins and maybe a vegetable or two, and a wild imagination.
Come on now – you know you smiled. I just know you did.
The last time I posted, I asked Phil’s readers to ponder why Phil would let me be a contributing writer on his bomb diggity blog.
The vast majority (over 80% of those who voted) decided it was that “Lorna cast a spell over Phil and he was drunk on wine and Jazz, thus unable to resist her blue-eyed magic.” I’m not sure if this speaks to my supernatural powers or Phil’s all-too-human weaknesses, but I’m going with my supernatural powers because it’s close to Halloween, I’m writing this post and it just looks better for me.
Some of you know me well. Some of you kind of know me. Others of you are wondering if WordPress is wonking out on you again because you know Phil doesn’t refer to himself in the third person on his site.
Well, it doesn’t matter. I’m going to let all of you in on a BIG secret that will make me unforgettable. You’ll stop wondering, “Who is this Lorna person and what has she done with our adorable Phil?” Well, you still may be wondering about the last part.
I was born under the astrological sign of Scorpio, which makes me mysterious and breathtakingly alluring. I don’t quite get the connection between “exotic deliciousness” and “creepy lobster bug.” But just because I can’t explain something , it doesn’t mean it isn’t real. I can’t explain quantum physics either.
Combine my Scorpio-lishness and my ability to connect with the world beyond what most mere mortals can see (think Ouija Boards not the fluff beyond the range of the Hubble Telescope), and I’m a perfect candidate for
dancing communicating with the stars spirits and casting spells on our sweet, unsuspecting Phil.
You don’t believe me, right? I thought not. Skeptics! You probably don’t believe that Jeannie lived in that bottle, either.
The only proof I can offer are my first person encounters. I know I joke around a lot, but these stories are true. Maybe I should call them accounts. Accounts have numbers and you can hack into them. That makes them very real.
- Account 1: I helped my sister locate her lost cat. Pippin was in a wooded area about 100 miles from her home and lost for 3 days. I guided my sister (via cell phone) to the precise spot where Pippin was hiding under a shrub. I was 150 miles away at my home, giving her the instructions.
- Account 2: My friend had a lump in her breast. Prior to the procedure to remove it, I envisioned the lump as if it was a tablet of Alka Seltzer dissolving in her body. I did this twice a day for two weeks. When she went for the pre-op ultra sound, they couldn’t find the lump, cancelled the procedure and has been fine since (4+ years).
- Account 3: I had another friend with stage 4 lung cancer. This time I thought of her healthy cells nibbling away the cancerous ones until they were just crumbs easily swept away by her immune system. She lived for nearly 20 years.
- Account 4: An owner of a Golden Retriever with severe hip dysplasia told me she was thinking of having 7 year-old “Hoops” put down. He was hardly able to walk. I asked her not to change anything about his food or medications, but to wait for 2 weeks. I visualized him as a healthy, vibrant dog twice a day. She called me after 2 weeks to report that “Hoops” made a miraculous recovery. He was running and playing like when he was young. “Hoops” went on to live a healthy life for six more years.
- Account 5: An elderly friend of the family was dying. Slowly. Everyone wondered when the final time would come. I made a prediction that seemed outlandish because it was in weeks rather than days as the doctor predicted. Only my then-husband I knew which day I foresaw. He died on the day I predicted.
I have more accounts but that should put a dent in your skepticism. Whatever I have doesn’t always work. My ex-husband was immune to my charms and I can never pick the right lottery numbers. But still, I’ve got something going for me.
Is it any wonder that Phil would fall under my spell, wine and jazz notwithstanding? No matter how hard I try to keep my powers under wraps, they just ooze. I’m sorry.
In honor of Phil and his music-themed blog and Halloween, please enjoy this song. Not that I need any love potions to cast spells. Just being a Scorpio seems adequate.
I’ve been busy these past few days. Hurricane Sandy, or what the weather forecasters in full Armageddon mode are calling the Perfect Storm, part deux, is bearing down on the Atlantic States waiting to take a left turn and make landfall on a pathway pretty much where I live. I am far enough inland to be spared the Tidal brunt of the storm surge, but the forecasters are calling for very heavy precipitation as the storm stalls and intensifies, along with high gusting winds. Likely result – flooding and power failures with fallen trees.
As a result, most of the weekend was spent in preparation of the storm’s wrath. This is the height of falling leaves, and I cannot begin to estimate how many cubic yards of leaves were raked up and mulched. All the drains were given a good cleaning, and I also had some fun up two and a half stories on a ladder cleaning out the gutters. Anything not bolted down was brought into the garage. The generator was brought out of storage and tested – all systems go. Batteries all stocked up, lanterns ready to go, and plenty of candles as well, just in case. I made the mistake of running out to the grocery store to pick up a few items last minute – big mistake! The place looked like a throwback to the Soviet Union. I was amazed at the empty bread shelves, no milk to be found, and eggs all gone. No wonder folks need to stock up on toilet paper in large amounts! I left, for it wasn’t worth waiting an hour for coffee creamer. Black will do just fine in a pinch.
I decided to get out and take advantage of the early voting allowed in our precinct. Oh the irony! Early voting is supposed to eliminate long lines on election day. This is the first time I decided to vote early, and the result is the longest I’ve ever had to wait in line to complete the process – about an hour and a half. I suppose all the other fellow citizens were wondering how their vote might be counted if there are power failures now that the ballot is electronic. Got my vote in just in time. The early voting will be shut down for the next three days until Sandy blows over. The closure may last longer should there be a sustained power failure. Last year, Hurricane Irene caused outages that lasted almost two weeks in some areas of the State.
It’s now raining in the wee hours of Monday morning. By Tuesday morning, the storm will be making its pass overhead. Nothing left to do but sit back and take whatever Mother Nature decides to dish out. So here’s a little mood music to drift off to sleep by, courtesy of The Doors.
Stay dry everyone!
October around my place is a month full of birthdays. In the extended family that lives nearby, there are five birthdays to be celebrated. Rather than do each separately, we usually opt for one big gathering and throw a large dinner party on a weekend convenient for just about everyone. This weekend, the festivities were held at my home. Lorna, I know your birthday is in October too and I have to say, you missed out on some really good food and some killer desserts!
The festive atmosphere filled with so many conversations bubbling at the same time, all at loud levels inspired me to write about that phenomenon of simultaneous conversations and its portrayal in Opera as ensembles. I decided to write the entry in my other blog instead of here. The teaser is here:
Click and enjoy!