A Special Guest Post

April 28, 2018

A Special Guest Blogger:

Or Flipping Me the Birdies or The Birds but No Bees or Bye, Bye Birdies; Hello Butterflies.

As some of you followers out there in the real world may be aware, the usual author of this Blog is away for the weekend.  In her place today, I will attempt to explain.

Yesterday, My Lovely Bride traveled to Shawnee State Park in Southern Ohio for a few days of rest and relaxation with her sister, Diane.  In the process, leaving me alone except for Maggie to fend for myself.  My Lovely Bride assured me I will be able to stay alive until Sunday night.  She has left me a great deal of fruit and Tuna Pasta Salad.  But I found it was necessary to remind her of the four food groups that sustain most male life on this planet; which a she hadn’t yet provided for the weekend.  What are these four food groups I hear you ask?  These consist of the following; Potato Chips, Chocolate, Cookies and finally Soda Pop, specifically Vanilla Coca-Cola. 

Luckily for me, My Lovely Bride hunted and gathered those provisions from the list above.  I will not starve.  Unless I run out.

She was able to take leave of me in good conscience knowing I was well provided for.

When she told me of the plans for this trip I was I a bit taken aback.  She is going to be looking at birdies.  I had never before heard her talk of taking up golf.  She wasn’t talking about golf.  She doesn’t know the first thing about golf.  But did you know that people go out into the wilds of our beautiful lands to look at birds?  Me either.  And they look at butterflies too.  And wild-flowers.  I reminded her she was going out to almost the middle of nowhere to look at birds.  Why, did you know we have birds right here in our back yard?  Front yard, too!  I have even seen them across the street. I know.  I have seen them with my own eyes!  Maggie looks out the windows, front and back at them.  (For some reason; they seem to annoy her.)

We also have some flowers in our yard but mostly weeds but that counts as something doesn’t it?  We have those yellow things in the front yard.  (I have been informed those are daffodils.  Who knew?)  I have even seen squirrels in the yard.  I yell out the window at them because they are always digging up the grass to bury nuts.  But they, like My Lovely Bride don’t listen when I vent.

I haven’t seen very many butterflies in our yard but they are usually very small.

I told My Lovely Wife that I would be more than happy to download pictures of butterflies from the Internet and tape them up on the windows around the house.  She and her Sister could just walk around outside of our house and see “All of that Nature” and still stay in the civilized portion of our neighborhood.  And see the squirrels, too.  But, no such luck…

She insisted on this little vacation.  And off she drove, laughing hysterically.  

I sincerely wish and hope she has an enjoyable few days with her sister.  It will be fun.  I hope the sun shines while they look at the birds and the butterflies and the wild-flowers.  But I will miss her.  And I look forward to her return on Sunday night.

She will be back in this space next Saturday morning.  To one and all, have a wonderful weekend… (Just like My Lovely Bride)

The Magic of Branding

Harry Potter is getting his own show on Broadway.

Oh, to be J.K. Rowling these days.

It's hard to believe our friend Harry has been around for over 20 years -- the first book made its appearance in 1997. The seventh -- and final -- book of the series was published in 2007. Since that time, Harry Potter has become a franchise, popularized in movies, theme park exhibits and various and sundry merchandising. And, of course, there are the other books, the spinoffs, with stories about Hogwarts and Quidditch and such.

Admittedly, I was a big fan of Harry Potter. I rabidly read the first six books. Then slogged my way through the seventh, desperately cursing the lack of editing (the book should have been half the size). My son made it halfway through the last book and then bolted. I don't think he ever finished it. There came a point for me when I just didn't care anymore what happened to Harry. Who he ended up with. Or how his life turned out. Cold, I know. But we all have that moment when a beloved character jumps the shark.

I did take my son to see the first movie, but I haven't seen any of the others, and I probably won't. The original books were fresh and fun. But when you beat a dead horse, well...

Alas, Harry isn't the only abandoned fictional character. Many authors have a difficult time coming up with how to take a popular character of many novels and keep him/her from getting stale. On the one hand, it's a great problem to have, because you've already developed a character people are interested in. On the flip side, if your character doesn't live up to expectations, things can quickly get ugly.

I wish Harry all the best on his Broadway show. It's been a hit in London, which bodes well, I suppose. It would not appear that Pottermania is going to let up anytime soon. The kids who read the original Harry Potter books are having kids of their own. A new generation of fans, ripe for the picking.

J.K. Rowling, when asked what she considers the primary genre of the Harry Potter books to be, replied "death."

But I don't envision Harry Potter taking a dirt nap anytime soon.

Smiling Faces

I don't know why I find it so annoying when people tell me to smile.

Apparently, I'm not the only one. A coworker experienced this situation last week, and it prompted a lively discussion.

Admittedly, I am not a smiley kind of gal. There's far more snark than sunshine in my demeanor, an observation that will surprise no one who knows me.

Having a stranger telling me to smile sends my hackles into overdrive. What am I, a doberman pinscher? "Bark! Sit! Heel! Good dog!"

Perhaps it's that old chestnut of how women need to be pleasant and friendly and try harder to make the boys feel comfortable and not threatened. "Now girls, you have to play nice, or the boys won't like you!"

How many times are men told to smile?

All of this, of course, just deepens my scowl.

Fortunately, at this stage of my life, those who know me would not suggest that I show my pearly whites. I mean, if my mom couldn't get me to smile, it's unlikely the general populace will have better luck.

One year, when I was pissed at my mother, I refused to smile for my school picture. We'd had a fight about my hair. She insisted on pulling it away from my face ("you look so pretty"), I wanted it all one length and around my face. So I protested by sulking in the photo. In hindsight, she was right, of course, as moms generally are. I have a lot of hair and a small face, and it did look better pulled back. Wherever mom is right now, I'm sure she's smirking.

And, if I could have her back right now, I'd smile for her, all she wants.

But anyone else can stuff it. I smile when I feel happy or someone makes me laugh.

Otherwise, I'm gritting my teeth.

And yes, you can tell.

Foul Language

Today's rant comes with a PG-13 warning. If you're sensitive about bad language, you should probably hit the back button now.

I've often wondered who decided which four-letter words would constitute swearing.

I understand "damn" and "hell," because of their biblical references.

But why "shit" and not "poop"? Or "crap"? 

And, the granddaddy of them all, "fuck." It seems like this one is the most heinous of all swear words, though I can't think for the life of me why one word should be so powerful. Is it because the most common meaning is to fornicate?

I still remember coming home from grade school one day and asking my mom what it meant. I'd seen it spray painted on the school bus. My mom, who was never one for frank discourse, simply told me it was a bad word and never to use it.

Fast forward twenty-five plus years, and I am getting a report from a fellow parent about my son, who, ever helpful, when asked by a classmate what the "f word" was, obliged by telling her. The other parent was aghast, partly because she actually believed her daughter didn't know what the word was (hah) and partly because the revelation took place in front of the Blessed Virgin Mary statue after mass. I mused that at least he hadn't put the word "mother" before it and "er" after it. But I don't think it would have appeased her at all.

In my upbringing, swearing was a capital offense. My mother, to my knowledge, didn't swear at all, while my dad used other words instead, which had the same sting, if not the same zing. (Remembering him saying, "You dumbbell!" still makes me cringe.) Although I'm certain that when he worked on his home improvement projects with my mom, he did not hold back.

My grandmother, who was less prudish than my mom, could be heard to mutter "shit" under her breath. Which resulted in censure from my mom and an eyeroll from my grandma.

Personally, I believe swear words were designated as such based on the satisfaction you receive by uttering them. "Goldarnit" just doesn't have the chops that using the lord's name with "dammit" does. And, quite honestly, there are just some times when I would like God to damn something. I mean, what's so awful about damning a knife that slices your finger open? I think even Jesus would agree, this is pretty harmless.


Admittedly, there are some words I do not like and will not utter. For example the "c" word, which uses the female anatomy in an angry way to demean and belittle.

But I have to say, "asshole" and "son-of-a-bitch" are two of my favorite go-to words, especially when I'm driving.

I'm not proud of my potty mouth. I imagine in my dotage, I'll be dropping the "f bomb" left and right. And the nurses will probably chalk it up to my being a crazy old cat lady.

But we'll all know better.

It's just how I roll.