Thursday, January 31, 2013

**REVIEW** L'Oreal's Magic BB Creme

Got my sample of this in the mail a few days ago from SheSpeaks (love those guys). Has only taken using it twice to know that it's not really for me. (BTW: My sample came in the "Deep" shade.)

Cons:

  • The creme had a sort of gritty feel when applying it. Almost like a very fine-grained exfoliating cream. (That freaked me out because I almost never use anything exfoliating on my face. No. No. No.)
  • The shade was a lot lighter than what most dark-skinned women would want. I would say it best suits someone with a darkly olive tone than someone with a dark red or blue coloring. (I'm just plain dark, with red tones.) I decided I could only use this as an under-eye brighter. ~shrug~
  • Once on, the creme dried my face to the point of being uncomfortable. I was afraid to smile because I was sure my smile lines would look like cracks on the bottom of a dry lake bed. The drying effect also made my skin break out just a little. (I don't know what the hell the word "hydrates" is doing in the description on the tube!)
Pros:
  • While not for my skin-color or type, this might be okay for someone with very oily skin. Matter of fact, I imagine it would be perfect for the oily skin type. Maybe L'Oreal should break this out (heh heh) by skin types - label this one for oily skin and formulate another that actually does hydrate.
  • The tube is cute and will tuck nicely into a handbag. 
Seriously, those are the only positives I can think of for this product.

The one thing I envisioned when I heard about this and other "correcting" creams, is that I could get good effects with minimal coverage. I'm not a full-on makeup type of woman. There are just days when I think I could just use a little bit of help to look my "natural" best. 

No worries yet. I have heard of similar creams by Garnier (comes in only 2 shades, but bound to be reasonably priced) and those put out by Asian companies. See if you can get samples from several producers so you can find your best match. As for me, this one ain't it.

For the other brown gals out there (love that), this might help get you started on a search for your own.

Peace
--Free

Pssst Script:

In case, like me, you were wondering, the "BB" in the name stands for Beauty Balm or Beauty Blemish.
The creams are trendy. In other countries, they might be used differently, but here in the U.S., they seem to basically be tinted moisturizers. Olay is honest and cops to the description. (You know I will be all over the Olay one - depending on the price and shades.)

**DISCLOSURE: I received a free sample to review as part of my SheSpeaks membership**

Wednesday, January 30, 2013

Distracted Much?

As if I am not air-headed enough on a normal day, just put something on my mind and watch the comedy ensue...

Woke up fighting the start of some sniffles, so I fixed a big pot of chicken noodle soup this morning. Chicken soup has been "proven" good for colds. As if we ever needed proof. For one thing, it calms my whole soul to just be  in the kitchen, chopping up pieces of chicken and dicing my celery, onions and carrots. Seriously. By the time I had everything going at a nice slow boil, I could feel my mother's presence.

Once I spooned out a nice bowl to enjoy, I realized I'd forgotten to add the noodles. That was today's first sign that I will never be a rocket scientist.

Later on, (after I added the noodles) I decided to toast a couple pieces of Italian bread. (Trying to get in the habit of eating any breads before 8 pm. You can ask me in a couple of weeks how that's going.) The microwave the roommate and I are so proud of ourselves for choosing has a nifty little grilling feature. What would be nifty to the max is if either one of us had ever read the manual or could just figure out how to use the feature. Yeah, so, I ended up putting the bread in the oven. Went away to check my email and came back a few minutes later to discover that bread only cooks when you turn on the oven.

Second sign of the day.

I figured, screw it. I'm not trying to find the third sign for anything today. I just popped some bread in the toaster and called it lunch.

Just a few minutes ago, I got into a fight with the bedroom window. Since my roommate (who has the circulation of a 90 year old mummy) is out for the day, I wanted to let in some fresh air. Damn window started acting like this apartment is prison and I'm the most dangerous inmate. I spent maybe three minutes hitting my fist against the edges and cursing the moisture that must all be outside (cos it's dry as Mesa inside) and sealing the window. Around Minute Four, I realized I hadn't unlatched the locks.

That damn third sign came all on its own.

The best thing I can do now is crawl into bed and pray for deliverance from my own stupidity.

Peace
--Free

Listening for God's Voice

This may seem like a strange post, but it came to me tonight and I can't let it go.

I have been doing a lot of contemplation and prayer in the past couple of weeks. So many things sitting restless on my mind. Now that I can look forward to a more healthful future, I am in a constant state of anxious joy. Anxious and jittery, but joyful. And thoughtful. My mind just won't be still.

As a Christian, I have prayed so many selfish prayers that I'm used to God just silently shaking His head and waiting for me to get over myself. I usually do. I know which of my prayers are silly and not even fit to have been uttered in the first place. The tough thing is listening for God's voice when I have prayed out of a sincere desire.

In the past few days, I have prayed for something that is truly between me and God, and I am wondering now if God leaves even some of our most sincere prayers unanswered.

My prayer this time is so real for me. This time I am not praying only for myself and I'm not praying for anything material. I even think that I am being given an answer - slowly and in stages - but how do I know that it's God's voice and not my own hope?

I have been known to run off on the wind, working under my own will and making things happen while convincing myself that it was God leading my success. I have learned the hard way that just because God let me get away with something, it doesn't mean He approved.

Once a long time ago, God gave me a significant blessing. I didn't understand that it was a blessing and I didn't give it the reverence and care that I should have. At another time in my life, I took what I thought was a blessing and ran with it. That was a disaster of my own making. I hadn't taken the time to even try to discern that situation before it got out of control.

Now I am at a crossroads of a sort. I've been stubborn and willful for so long, ignoring His voice and listening only for what I have wanted to hear. I am now trying to remember what the Lord sounded like to my heart.

I was taught as a young woman that we know and hear God's voice because we belong to him (John 10:1-4 *), and that we are supposed to flee from the voices of strangers. My problem has not usually been the misleading voices of strangers; my problem has been listening to myself.

Taking the advice I remember from childhood, I am going to do a prayer and fasting because I need to block out my own voice. I need to hear God and I am listening for Him.

If you are a praying Christian, pray for me.

Peace
--Free


*“Most assuredly, I say to you, he who does not enter the sheepfold by the door, but climbs up some other way, the same is a thief and a robber.  But he who enters by the door is the shepherd of the sheep.  To him the doorkeeper opens, and the sheep hear his voice; and he calls his own sheep by name and leads them out.  And when he brings out his own sheep, he goes before them; and the sheep follow him, for they know his voice. (John 10:1-4)

Monday, January 28, 2013

Pictures & Memories in the Making

My sister and I have a box of pictures that have traveled more than most air hostesses. That box holds memories of births, weddings, holidays, funerals, just about everything in this world of ours. For the past five to ten years, paper photos have been replaced by digital cameras and phone cameras. I wonder if my little nieces and nephews will yearn for the days when their parents and I sat around, looking through albums of paper photos.

Of course, maybe digital is the way to go. Just a few nights ago, my sister and I had to pick through one of our old boxes, trying to salvage what we could of photos that had gotten damaged in storage. It broke my heart to peel photos out of their pages. I saw tears rolling down my sister's face when we just could not save a couple of really old photos - some of my mother's brothers and sister. To me, if felt like Mama had left those memories with us for safekeeping and we failed her. It does not help my hurt to know that real memories are kept inside us and not on film.

So, here I am, taking pictures of pictures so that I can save them to my computer and an external drive. Irony?


That's my dad! R.I.P.

Me & my bro. So cool...*

I was happy. He was a little scared.*

A soldier to the end.

Don't know who that baby is I'm holding...?

And we are best of friends to this day.*

Remember the Gheri Curl? Yep. (17yrs old)


Me & my (shadow) little bro & his dog. (Big Spring, TX)


What the hell? Bad hair day. (My sis says I was 8 or 9)
The 3 besties. 16yrs old. Supposed to be doing homework.
Still friends. Still a little crazy.

Young, young, young. 21 yrs old.


My "kid" was only about 25 y/o. The backdrop is real, folks.
Too grown for my own good...
I feel a little bit better now. At least these photos will always be somewhere out there.

Peace
--Free
*photos blurred for privacy

Saturday, January 26, 2013

Accidental Anger

I have a LOT of incidents of getting mad on accident. I call these my "accidental anger episodes." Okay. Maybe "accidental" isn't the word to use, so let me explain.

Some days ago, I got irritated that I it seemed there was no way to use my G+ to chat on my phone. (I don't know why it bothered me since I am always showing as "invisible" on the chat. That was an accident too. I just didn't realize I was always "hiding." Anyway...) I mentioned something about this online - after I'd thrown two hissy fits and thought about kick-dropping my phone. One of the really nice people on G+ (hi, +Randy Kelly) calmly and casually mentioned the app I needed. That he didn't put our typed conversation on one of those sites, like maybe, "Stupid Things Android Owners Do," is something that may yet happen...

That's what I mean though. I got so mad that I seriously wanted to do damage to my phone - knowing that this device is my one lifeline to doctors, family and friends in case of some emergency.

Now that I am aware that I have this "anger" problem, I'm really trying to work on it, but I still have moments.

Yesterday morning, I got super pissed off that my Yahoo Messenger wasn't working. I knew it wasn't working because I had just talked to one of my nieces who'd said she was sending me something good and gossipy within 10 minutes.

Well.

I sat glued to my computer, afraid to move more than ten feet away. FOR 25 MINUTES. I was steaming when I never did get a message notification sound. I mean, my niece knows how I love juicy family gossip. My whole family knows how I love juicy family gossip, which is why some of them avoid me every now and then!

I couldn't call my niece right then because she was at work -working from home is a bigger hassle than you might realize - and I didn't want to look that eager for gossip. Anyway, I gave up on waiting for Messenger to fix itself. I tried to figure out who the hell I needed to contact at Yahoo to tell them about their crappy messaging program. I got myself all worked up over this until I wanted to chew some shoe leather (because I gave up smoking, remember?), and even hearing from one of my best friends didn't totally calm me down. (Now, if a hour-long phone call re-hashing those crazy ass Atlanta Housewives doesn't cheer me up, not much else will.)

I tuckered myself out being mad and fell asleep. The next day, I got a call from my niece. She was surprised that she hadn't heard from me after the info she'd messaged me.

"Huh?"

"Didn't you think that was hilarious?"

"Huh?"

"Um, Auntie? Have you signed into your Messenger?"

Well, hell.

I didn't know that I had to sign into Messenger to get the messages anyone sent me.  I thought that as long as I was signed into my computer, it would just...

"What did you think?"

"I thought that when you got a message something that Messenger would just beep. Or buzz. Or something."

When my niece got through laughing until she had the hiccups, she let me know that I have to at least sign in to be alerted to any waiting messages.

"I should have told you," she said. "You don't use your Yahoo mail anymore and you hardly ever have used Messenger."

Even though she was trying to be nice, I was still kind of ticked off. (And don't you just hate when that happens?)

Peace
--Free

Friday, January 25, 2013

Love It or Hate It

Love Revlon for their Black Cherry (#477) Super Lustrous Lipstick. Why? Because I have such a hard time finding a good red for my skin type. Oftentimes, the color will be okay, but the formula will dry my lips to the texture of sandpaper. Get it right, folks: all dark black people are not blue-toned; some of us have the red undertone.

Love "Wint-O-Green" Life Saver mints. They are my new addiction since I gave up the tobacco sticks. (Day 33) My only complaint is a petty one: what the hell is up with the Wint-O-Green and Pep-O-Mint names? People all over the world already think Americans are a dumb. I make spelling and grammar mistakes here, but I'm not being paid for writing this blog. Use the correct spelling, guys. (And are the makers of Life Savers even American? Wrigley's?  ~shrug~)

Love Werther's candies, but they cost damn near as much as my cigarettes. Still, love 'em! Just try one of the caramel apple ones and tell me you aren't in love.

Hate Air Wick's Fresh-o-matic Vanilla Cookie Scent. LOVE the automatic dispenser, but that scent is ugh. Smells more like stale cookies. (And I kind of have an attitude about the dispenser's snake-like sound, but...) Thank goodness it's a scent limited to funking up the holidays.

Love the Beyond Belief whipped body creme in the Fresh Cotton scent I found at Sally's Beauty Supply. I got a 4 ounce tube for a whopping dollar ninety-nine (cheaper on the web). Fell in love with the texture, smell and slightly pearl-esque glow it initially leaves on the skin. Most of all, my broke ass fell in love with that price. 

Looking at this list, I'm happy to see that I Love more than I Hate. Still, I need to find more of what I love. 

For instance, what are the best lipsticks for darker complexioned women? Are there any good soy candles out there that I can fall in love with and not go broke buying? Does anyone make a decent air freshener that lasts and smells good? While I'm at it, I'd like to know if there is a good gelato sold in major supermarkets? (Right now I'm down like James Brown with the Talenti brand.)

Ah well. Looking on the bright side,  the less I love, the more I save.

Peace
--Free

The Habit That Kicked Me Before I Kicked It

You might be real tired of hearing about it, but it is about to be Day 34 of my being smoke-free. Every day that I wake up, breathing better, feeling better - and, hell, just not making my sarcoidosis worse - I want to shout and dance like we used to do in church.

The cigarettes and I have a long and entertaining history. Think I'm kidding?

As I was telling +Marla Hughes and +J.D. Hughes last night, there was time when I walked to the store for cigarettes. Not that big of a deal to walk for the smoke, but this was 3 blocks from my job, I was wearing three and a half inch heels, a skirt and it was during the wettest, slip-tricky part of winter breakup. I must have looked like a jones'd-out hooker on my way back to my office, the way I was huffing and sucking on that cigarette...

There was another time that I learned to roll my cigarettes. (It's a sick habit when you are rolling something that isn't really going to mellow you out.) I learned the fine art of cigarette rolling because I had an unreliable husband and lived in the worst neighborhood I ever had. My husband kept the car (when we had one) and might disappear for days. Walking to the store that was down the street was out of the question. Being the slightly siddity, Bougie heifer I am, I was scared to walk to the mailbox without a security detail. Call me what you want, but the first chance I got, I bought a bag of tobacco, some tubes and a rolling machine. (My ex said I even went uppity in that respect. I guess most folks just use rolling papers.)

Like I said, cigarettes had my ass kicked several years before I kicked them. (Listen to me - talking like I've got years under the belt instead of a single month!) I would say that I had a bad thing going, but a friend of mine had it way worse to let her tell it. We worked at the same company but in different departments and, at one point, she had to spend a week on the night shift taking a class I was giving. During breaks, to keep herself alert, she told me stories of her life living and working outside an Indian reservation. I just about died laughing when she told me how she had let herself run out of cigarettes when she was without any transportation but a mule. The nearest, safest place for her to stock up was on the reservation - about six miles away. The funny part was when she demonstrated her riding that mule in dusky light to get to the store or whatever before it was too late. I asked if it was worth it. She said those were the best cigarettes she'd ever smoked in her life. At the time she was telling this to me, she had been smoke-free for about 10 years. 

I have another friend who almost lit her hair on fire. She was tossing a cigarette out of the car window (karma, karma) and it blew back in on her long hair. She damn near killed herself, trying to bat out the fire. 

Another friend got all dolled up for a date - fake hair, fake nails, tits might have been real - and, while lighting a cigarette, set an acrylic nail on fire. Had to dip her finger in her drink. Believe it or not, her and her date have now been married for a lot of years...

The most embarrassing things that have happened to me because of smoking have to do with bad luck, clumsiness and/or drunkenness. I have burned my fingers, burned my lips, and almost torched the front porch... (That last one was bad luck: Outside having a smoke, house phone rang, I dropped lit cigarette into what I thought was a paper cup with water in it. No water in cup. Cup lit up. Smoke alerted neighbor. I felt stupid. Shit, I could have felt homeless.) Once, when extremely drunk (off half a bottle of wine), I tried to put out a cigarette with my foot, forgetting I wasn't wearing shoes. I almost missed an important flight once because I just had to risk that smoke-break during a layover. Try leaving and re-entering Dallas-Ft. Worth airport's security with a twenty-minute window. Go ahead, try it.

Despite all the negatives to smoking, I can honestly say that cigarettes did serve some sort of purpose in my life. It was having a cigarette that saved my ex's life a couple of times. If I hadn't had that few minutes of smoking while I plotted, I might not have talked myself out of his murder. Think about it: no smoking in jail. There were times when the girls were teenagers and never had to find out what it would be like to have the taste slapped out of their mouths, the black beat off their asses or being knocked into a new year. This was all due to the calming influence of tobacco. Now that I think about it, my sister and I raised four kids and helped with another ten or twelve kids. I'm lucky that cigarettes is all I ever smoked. If I could drink, I'd have ended up an alcoholic, but I never get past the third glass of anything... Not to make light of it, but I'm pretty sure that crack was going to be next on my list of addictions.

Peace
--Free

Thursday, January 24, 2013

Things That Shouldn't Bother Me. Shouldn't.

These are some things that really, seriously bother me. Maybe they shouldn't, but they do. Any of this ever happen to you?
  • When there are 2 squares of tissue left, but no one changed the roll.
  • Going to the store with a list and still managing to get all the way home missing something.
  • Making plans with the people you love and they have the gall to hold you to them.
  • When someone comes into a room and drops a stinky Butt Bomb then leaves. I don't know about you, but I'm always sitting there either a) wondering if, among my other health issues, I am now emitting some kind of funk that I am unaware of at the time, b) looking like the guilty party when someone else wanders in, or c) trying to hold my breath and find the air freshener before the Green Mist can cling to me.
  • Getting your mouth all wet for last night's leftovers only to find an empty container.
  • Preparing a meal and, halfway through cooking and measuring,  realizing you are out of something. It's never the main ingredient, but it's usually one that makes the dish worth the calories.
  • When stuff is stacked so haphazard in a freezer that the ice cream fall out and damn near breaks one of your toes. (Does not matter at all that it's not my freezer and I am stealing a taste of your ice cream.)
  • When I eye-flirt with the cute guy who smiled at me in the store and he misses it because he's off in la-la land, but not the John Gacy behind him. No. It's those guys that always catch the look...
  • Waking up out of dead sleep because I have dreamed  the idea that will make me rich and happy - just as the idea is dissolving into a maddening fog of... nothing.
  • Seeing your doppelganger who looks better, dresses better and seems to set the standard for... being you.
I just want to think that I'm not the only one who thinks like this.

Peace
--Free

Monday, January 21, 2013

**REVIEW** Face & Body Care

Haven't done one in a while, and I really have been meaning to do a review of Bio Oil. It's just about one of my favorite things to keep on hand. Living in Alaska can suck the moisture out of a camel's hump. Imagine what it does to our skin. Bio Oil isn't the only thing, but it's one of my faves. Here it is with the rest of my personal arsenal:

Bio Oil  - Every skincare product does not work for every person, so I can't say what this will do for you. For me, this stuff is like magic. I use it on my face before I go to bed and first thing in the morning. Sometimes, depending on what type of Sahara effect this place has on my skin, I use it once or twice during the day. It goes on oily (duh), but rubs in so well that, at least for me, doesn't stay oily. I'm pretty sure all that massaging it in does good for the circulation. I mostly use it on my face, but when I have concerns about other parts of my body, well, it works good anywhere. (I originally heard about it from women worried about stretch marks after pregnancy. I've never been pregnant, but when that 65 milligrams of prednisone kicked in back in 2011, I looked like I was having somebody's triplets.)

I don't use it on my hair because it's too expensive for that (the oil, not my hair, which is all mine), but I have one friend with dry and kinky-but-I-mean-nappy hair. She doesn't process her hair in any way and says the Bio Oil keeps it soft and moisturized. I have started using the oil on my lips at night and in the morning along with a rub of lemon juice. (Getting these motherpuckers ready for Valentine's Day.) I also use the oil on my elbows and knees. I'd use it on my feet if I thought it would help, but that would be like trying to feed a continent with one Cheese-It. For the normal person with normal feet, Bio Oil is probably perfect. My feet need a quarterly appointment with a lady and her chisel and acid. Yeah. I have no real secrets left.

By the way, if the oil by itself does seem to be too oily for you, but you still want the conditioning of it, just use it on wet skin only. My income-poor ass has done that just to stretch out my supply.

Note that the the website hails Bio Oil as "America's #1 multi-use skincare oil." That may be true, but if you plan to "multi" anything with it and not go broke, try buying it in the 3-pack at Costco or Sam's Club. It's $10 for a 2-oz bottle at the Anchorage Walmart. I paid around $21 at Sam's for a pack with 2 2-oz and 1 4.2-oz bottles. Score!)

***

No 7 - This skincare product  line is by Boots. (Don't ask me. I never heard of this Boots. I thought the product was made by a company called Numbers.) There is a whole range of skincare, makeup, etc. Like I said, I didn't know. I just use the anti-aging serum called "Intense." (Makes me sound like I need a lot of help, don't it?) I literally stumbled over this stuff at Target's. Literally. A tube of it had fallen or been dropped on the floor and I stepped right on top of it and damn near slid to the furniture aisle. Whatever. I recovered my cool gracefully. My friend is the one who looked stupid, giving herself laughing cramps.

What I like most about the product is that it's cheap (about $12), hypo-allergenic, is cheap, goes on smooth, feels amazing and is cheap. It really does feel great on the skin - not greasy but very-- it's true so I have to say it-- intensely moisturizing. On top of being cheap, a little dab goes far. If you live in a normal climate, you probably will never have to use anything along with it. I probably won't in the summertime up here, but right now, I do use it over my Bio Oil in the morning only. (Remember, the Bio Oil soaks into the skin - or that's what it feels like.)

Palmer's Cocoa Butter Formula Moisturizing Body Oil - (My mouth dried out just saying it!) This is cheaper than Bio Oil so I use it on the rest of my body.  Actually, I would use the Palmer's on the rest of my body even if I was Bill Gates' wallet. It's just the best stuff. But I can't use it on my face. Also, I wish it didn't smell all cocoa-buttery, but, hey, the smell doesn't linger too long. This is something I do use on my feet as well just because, between chiselings, it does make those dogs look a little less... arid. Not summer-sandal-worthy, but it keeps them from being bad enough to shred paper with. (Why am I putting myself on blast like this?)

The best thing about this product is how silky it makes you skin feel. You watch, your skin will feel so good, you'll walk around touching yourself. (But don't. At least, not like that. At least, not in public.) I will warn you women: if your man is picky about how you smell, give this oil some time to mellow out before you add any perfume or such. Maybe because I have a thing about perfumes, I find that adding any scent too soon after the Palmer's is like "good + good = funk." Also - and I can't believe I almost forgot to mention this - do not get this crap on fabrics. I have a favorite sheet set that I now can only put on the bed top-part down. Shit. Got a big old bed out of a hooker-motel-looking stain the size of my ass on the sheet. That's because I sat my naked, oiled-up ass on the bed one day.

Anyway.

So, that's the lowdown. Get out there and be cheap and beautiful. You know what I mean.

Peace
--Free

P.S.: my friend pointed out that I didn't mention Oil of Olay's serum this time. That's because they don't pay me. Let me quit fronting: NOBODY pays me to talk up this stuff. I just feel like sharing the news. At any rate, I've talked enough about Olay before. Apparently, the serum is only working for me during the summers now. I guess my skin had a mood swing about seasons or something.

Put Your Own Jam On It, Girl

This is probably one of the cutest videos ever.

To set the scene: it's a couple days before Christmas, me and the roomie are broke, but feeling just glad to be alive. We've finished getting the two gifts we can afford for family & friends and we are going to my fam's for dinner. Just as the roomie is about to turn off the car, one of her favorite songs comes on.

We are stupid, but we manage to cope.


Yeah. This is how we handle life and its ups and downs.

Peace
--Free

Sunday, January 20, 2013

It's Business Time!

+Spencer Bryant started something with this the other day. I have a friend who sent it to me and whenever he calls me now, instead of "Hello," I hear, "It's bizness, it's bizness..." before he is laughing too hard to finish.

Had to share this with more than the Google Plus crowd...

I seriously cannot watch this without laughing out loud - loudly. (My roommate has a crush on both these guys now. They are cute and so damn funny, I don't blame her.)




Um, okay - I couldn't leave you with just that one. This next one is the one I tease my friend with now:

I'm going to become their B.A.G. - Black Alaskan Groupie! ROFL

Peace
--Free

Saturday, January 19, 2013

Random, Wandering Thoughts

Random thoughts:
  • I just hate when I find a product I love only to have it go away. Not go away as in a friend or sister stole it out of my house, but as in whoever made it decided to stop.
  • Bodycology's "Sugared Vanilla Bean" fragrance falls on the list of things that went away. So does the Brown Sugar and Fig line of products at The Body Shop. (I actually won't buy from them because of that.)
  • In the Foods Not Great For Me department: I can't decide which gelato tastes better  - the Talenti or Villa Dolce brand. I wonder if either comes close to "authentic" gelato? ~shrug~
  • 26 days, 10 hours smoke free. I'm happy and proud, but why the hell am I just as broke as I was before this? Dafuq is up with that, huh? (I got my new cuss word from a cool G+ chick)
  • I hate conceited folk. I don't care who you are, you just ain't that hot.
  • I hate whining. It's not that bad if you are still able to whine.
  • I love someone who can laugh. I don't mean a cute "tee-hee" kind of thing - I mean a big old gut throbbing laugh. (I really love someone with a contagious laugh. I have a niece who has me laughing when I don't even know what's so dang funny.)
  • Mad, mad, mad that I cannot figure out how to wear eyeliner without damn near putting out an eye! (Told my niece about this & she gave me a tip: apply a little face cream around the eye, blot, then apply liner. Goes on smoother. Well, I will be damned.)
  • Started this post yesterday and today someone made me laugh right from the gut. My friend got a perfectly timed photo:

good thing I'd already brushed those teeth.
  • Putting together my Amazon Wish List. Told my sister and she dead-panned, "What for?" (Guess I will alert the brothers since my sister doesn't seem that interested!)
  • Just thought of something I should ask my doctor about: is it  possible to have a vanilla deficiency? Not as in "not enough Keanu," but as in vanilla spray, vanilla candles, vanilla hand lotion... I am seriously beginning to wonder.
Anyway. That's enough of that. I was starting to bore myself into a nod-off. Tomorrow I will be happier and more interesting. I promise. (Baby DJ gets back on the red-eye tonight. I can't wait.)

In case you've all forgotten how adorable my nephew is, here's a throw-back pic:


Peace
--Free

Friday, January 18, 2013

Get Ready. (It's Coming....)

Yep. Valentine's Day is just around the corner.

I'm not always a grouch, so I'm going to dedicate this one to my real-life sweetheart. Perry - this one is for you. I think you will feel it even from all these miles away.

(Doesn't this remind you of us? LOL)

To the rest of the folks out there - you better start getting ready to fit into those special costu- I mean, ahem, outfits. Get saving for the flowers, candy or whatever it is that makes your sweetie smile.

Peace
--Free

P.S.: T.C. Carson used to be one of my hottest celebrity crushes... He played on that show "Living Single" with Queen Latifah. Isn't he just a chocolaty piece of gorgeousness? ~sighhhhh~

Thursday, January 17, 2013

(Re-post) Children & Wisdom


(I was going through some old emails the other day and the one that prompted this post popped out at me. I've been too busy the last couple of days to play, so here's a copy/paste re-post. Enjoy)

I got this in an email & it gave me goosebumps. Maybe because I have been struggling lately over what love really is and what loving someone really means. I have been looking in the Bible for insight on the love between spouses and keep landing on Corinthians 13:4 - Love is always patient; love is always kind; love is never envious or arrogant with pride. Nor is she conceited.

When I saw the answers these children gave, I realized they understand love a lot better than I do. The question "What is love?" was posed to children aged 4 to 8 by a group of professionals (according the the email) and these are the answers given:

  • 'When my grandmother got arthritis, she couldn't bend over and paint her toenails anymore. So my grandfather does it for her all the time, even when his hands got arthritis too. That's love.' Rebecca- age 8
  • 'When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different. You just know that your name is safe in their mouth.'Billy - age 4 ('Safe in their mouth.' What a beautiful thought!)
  • 'Love is when a girl puts on perfume and a boy puts on shaving cologne and they go out and smell each other.' Karl - age 5
  • 'Love is when you go out to eat and give somebody most of your French fries without making them give you any of theirs.'Chrissie - age 6
  • 'Love is what makes you smile when you're tired.' Terri - age 4
  • 'Love is when my mummy makes coffee for my daddy and she takes a sip before giving it to him, to make sure the taste is OK.' Danny - age 7
  • 'Love is when you kiss all the time. Then when you get tired of kissing, you still want to be together and you talk more... My Mummy and Daddy are like that. They look gross when they kiss' Emily - age 8
  • 'Love is what's in the room with you at Christmas if you stop opening presents and listen.' Bobby - age 7 (Wow!)
  • 'If you want to learn to love better, you should start with a friend who you hate,' Nikka - age 6
  • 'Love is when you tell a guy you like his shirt, then he wears it everyday.' Noelle - age 7
  • 'Love is like a little old woman and a little old man who are still friends even after they know each other so well.'Tommy - age 6
  • 'During my piano recital, I was on a stage and I was scared. I looked at all the people watching me and saw my daddy waving and smiling. He was the only one doing that. I wasn't scared anymore.' Cindy - age 8
  • 'My mummy loves me more than anybody. You don't see anyone else kissing me to sleep at night.' Clare - age 6 (ROFL!!!)
  • 'Love is when Mummy gives Daddy the best piece of chicken.' Elaine-age 5
  • 'Love is when Mummy sees Daddy smelly and sweaty and still says he is handsomer than Robert Redford.' Chris - age 7
  • 'Love is when your puppy licks your face even after you left him alone all day' Mary Ann - age 4
  • 'I know my older sister loves me because she gives me all her old clothes and has to go out and buy new ones.' Lauren - age 4
  • 'When you love somebody, your eyelashes go up and down and little stars come out of you.' (what an image) Karen - age 7
  • 'Love is when Mummy sees Daddy on the toilet and she doesn't think it's gross.' Mark - age 6
  • 'You really shouldn't say 'I love you' unless you mean it. But if you mean it, you should say it a lot. People forget..'Jessica - age 8
And the final one --

Author and lecturer Leo Buscaglia once talked about a contest he was asked to judge. The purpose of the contest was to find the most caring child. The winner was a four year old child whose next door neighbor was an elderly gentleman who had recently lost his wife. Upon seeing the man cry, the little boy went into the old gentleman's yard, climbed onto his lap, and just sat there. When his Mother asked what he had said to the neighbour, the little boy said, 'Nothing, I just helped him cry'

(I felt like crying myself when I read that last one. I once heard a minister preach about being a friend by sitting with someone during their suffering and grief. He illustrated his point with Job 2:13 Then they sat down on the ground with him for seven days and seven nights with no one speaking a word to him, for they saw that his pain was very great. The minister said that sometimes when people go through suffering, the best thing to do is to say nothing but to "sit where they sit," in other words, to sit with them in their grief. That little kid could teach everybody something.)
Peace
--Free


P.S.: This is a good time to be busy. Outside looks like this:


HUGE flakes still coming down. No signs of stopping. Ugh, winter.

Monday, January 14, 2013

You Want Cute - Or Comedy?

The weather is apparently having a mood. Here in Anchorage, the temps have parked themselves in the 30-40F range for the past couple weeks. In Australia, they are having a heatwave the The Vandellas didn't sing about. A Net-friend of mine was down near Detroit and felt temps near the 60's,

What is really going on?

Whatever is happening, parts of me love it and part of me is worried. The happy parts are up top: my head and heart are just thrilled. My ass? Not so much. Because this is what the ground looked like today:






Just try switching your ass to walk cute. Break a bone you never heard of.

On the other hand, looking upwards, it was prettier:


 I kept my balance and did the "cute" walk long enough to be flirted with, but the poor man walked into a door while he was checking me out. (~sigh~ I still got it!)

When I checked on an auntie in Texas yesterday, I learned out Alaska temp was a few degrees warmer than Fort Worth's. That's some tricky business.

Hope things are safe wherever you are.

Peace
--Free

Wait Til He Cuts More

Because I am missing him so much, D.J.'s parents are trying to call from different points in their cruise. The first day they were on the ship and having the Bon voyage party, there was too much noise for me to understand what the baby was trying to "say" to me. Turns out, noise wasn't the only factor. Apparently D.J. was charming every woman over the age of anything and getting spoiled for his charms.

"He's eating," his mom reported. "Every woman that sees him falls in love and wants to feed him."

I got another call really late (or really early) a couple hours ago and got to speak two words to the kid. Whenever he gets bored of the telephone, you'll hear strange noises right before his mom starts shrieking at him to "No! Stop spitting!" (His first nasty habit.)

"What's he doing?" I asked when I realized he didn't want to be on the phone with me.

"Eating."

This is ridiculous. The kid has two teeth. Two. He's eaten more food since he left a few days ago than Methuselah had during his whole life.

I warned his mom that she's letting him develop bad habits: first the spitting, now the over-eating.

"It's mostly fruit and veggies," she promised me. "And he doesn't really eat it all - he just takes it to make all the women feel better."

And we wonder why the way to a man's heart is through his stomach? I guess because we start programming them early...

Hopefully tomorrow I will hear more from D.J. himself. If he's not too busy on his food tour. Hopefully, yes, because I miss the little brat.

Peace
--Free

Laughing By Myself

You ever do something so stupid or silly or funny that you not only laugh at yourself, but have to call and tell someone else about it? Not me. Well... not often, but...

About five minutes ago, I damn near gave myself a heart attack.

Because I quit smoking (and because I am a lover of all things that smell good), my nephew bought me one of those automatic air freshener doo-dads. You know what I mean - the thing that spritzes the air every so often? Yeah. It's pretty cool. I don't have to burn through my candles every couple of weeks. I set the timer to spritz from 15 seconds to 10 minutes and - spitzzz! - I get a nice fresh shot of Vanilla Bean fragrance. It's really good if I don't forget not to stand right in front of the nozzle.

Anyway.

I climb into bed to relax a bit (notice I didn't mention sleep) and play around on the social networks, maybe listen to a little music - anything but sleep. Sleep is not something that happens much for me these days. Anyway, it's too damn hot to sleep. So... I'm lolling around, bed-dancing to random Shoutcast jazz, pretending I can sing and having a good old time. Then it happens. (Well, it happened a few minutes after I came across a picture of a snake.) I close my eyes, just to rest them for a moment. I can't get the image of that damn snake out of my mind. Pretty soon, I'm doing the little eww-shiver thing I do whenever I think of snakes. And

SPITZZZ!!!

Popping hell! I screamed and damn near fell backwards out of the bed. For a split second, I could've sworn something slithered across the foot of my bed.

My poor roommate is actually awake for a bit and up front, watching her TV shows. She came running, bless her heart. I couldn't even play this one off. I told her, then called my sister. When they stop laughing, I can inform them that they are both off my Christmas 2013 list.

If I had a case of insomnia before, I know have whatever the opposite of a coma is. I might not sleep for years.

NOTE: If I know you and find out you laughed at me about this, we're over.

Peace
--Free

Saturday, January 12, 2013

Got Me Going In Circles

I see that quite a few of my G+ pals read the blog. This is why I sometimes use it as a platform for issues that first come to my attention on Google. Right now, I want to explain something I did the other day.

When I first signed up on Google Plus, I was so happy to be free of Facebook that I lost 95 percent of my mind and went on a Circle adding spree. If someone made one decent comment, I added them. If a user profile had anything about Alaska, the Northwest, cold weather or snow tires in their profile - I added them. Pretty soon, I was adding people who weren't even posting in a language I could read or translate!

This "Add Madness" happened in a pretty short period of time. November 2011 is the closest I can come to nailing down my start on Plus. In that 14 or so months, I'd gathered over 3400 people into my Circles. I talked to about 40 of them on a regular basis and was able to pay attention to a few more "social-ebrities" as I call people with good content and a large following. (Actually, there is one fabulous photographer over there who I just l.o.v.e. because he always acknowledges his fans. Beautiful.)

Anyway. A while ago, I decided it was time for some paring of the Circles. I started with trimming people I never saw online anymore, then decided I will keep trimming bases on the following:

  • If you only ever post the rudest or lewdest - I don't want you in.
  • You're argumentative and snotty - or both, well, you don't need to share it with me.
  • You're not a president or royalty, but you can't be bothered to interact with your circlers, then, "Buh-bye."
I've kept only people I can learn from and laugh or respectfully debate with. Even if you are kind of a social-ebrity, if you seem too arrogant or into yourself, I'll just "cut ya" like a drunk sailor.

Okay. So, now that I'm down to a really good group of people, I can enjoy and relax with Plus instead of working it like an unpaid job.

The thing now is, how do I meet new people on Plus? I changed up my profile, hoping to attract only decent people who want to actually share ideas and fun. Either people don't bother much with the reading of profiles, or I screwed up something.

Well, here's the deal: I will add you if you let me know who you are what you're about. That requires either an email, message or anything other than that "Add" button on Plus. I totally ignore those Added You notices now. Totally. They just clutter up my email with willy-nilly nonsense from folks who aren't telling me anything about themselves - except that they obviously didn't read my profile.

Okay. That was my little rant for the day. I know it sounds selfish, but I figure if you do Add me now, it's because you really wanted to. (And, be warned: if you come into my Circles, I will probably introduce you to someone I think you might like to know yourself. That's the way to grow Circles.)

Peace
--Free

Parents and Technology

I just saw something posted online poking fun at parents and the internet. Made me think of Mama. She passed away in 2001 when I was still rocking jackets that had been broken down by a phone like this:

except the battery in mine was the size of a Yugo

Mom was just plain fascinated with that phone. She was also a little pissy about it. She thought that the only person so important and needing to be reached at any given time should be addressed as "President" or "Your Highness." Matter of fact, she felt like even a queen needed peaceful bathroom breaks.

Cell phones were extravagant, in Mom's opinion. There was no real purpose for them other than to be showy. Computers, on the other hand, were wonderful. 

I remember when we got our kids their first computer - a Gateway desktop - and my mother would sit with them while they did homework. Homework was pretty much all they were allowed to do on the computer. Mama would watch while they pulled up articles on Encarta. The way she looked on in awe at the rotating maps and scrolling timelines damn near brought tears to my eyes. I had never seen my mother in such a state of wonder. (I got a little bit worried about her when she started checking out the back of the PC as if she thought there were little green men back there operating the machine.)

Well, if Mom was weird-ed out by the phones and computers back then, I'm pretty sure she'd be throwing holy water on the stuff we all have in our homes now. 

Understand that I come from parents who came straight out of the sticks of places like Big Spring, Texas and Hope, Arkansas. I have an aunt, now in her late seventies, who used to believe that if she turned off a radio mid-song, the same song would continue when she turned on the radio three hours later. (True story. I learned this when I stayed with her for a couple of weeks back when I was around thirteen.)

This is not just about my Mama. A lot of you are going to be laughing with me when I tell you that Mama worried that Gameboys might be the work of Satan. If she'd lived to see it, I guess she'd have keeled right over watching us Skype. I don't even want to think of how she'd have felt about people walking around Walmart, chatting to their unseen Bluetooth devices. We probably would have had to have her committed for treatment.

Not to sound like Grandma Kettle myself, but... The other week, I was marveling over the cool gifts my nephew got for his first birthday. The talking broom really cracked me up (D.J. has a thing for sweeping), but the vacuum cleaner his parents got for him was so cool, I wasn't sure it was really a toy.

It's a Dyson. Seriously.

While I was raving over the "realistic" features, I noticed that the damn thing actually works. It has suction and everything. Think I'm lying? Here's the Sam's Club page - though I think D.J.'s came from Costco. I would be mad, but D.J. actually understands how it works. Hey - anything teaching a male to do housework is cool with me.

I try not to, but can't help but be fascinated by some of the stuff I'm seeing when I go into Best Buy. It's getting embarrassing. The first time I played around with a touchscreen computer at Best Buy, I swear I heard a kid whisper, "Get over it, Grandma."

In the old days, I'd be allowed to smack him upside the head for being rude.

Peace
--Free

Friday, January 11, 2013

Good Days, Bad Days

I'm glad that today is turning out to be a good day for me because yesterday was just hellish. First off, I woke up more tired than when I went to sleep because the T. Rex that lives upstairs apparently thinks that pacing will relieve his insomnia. His lead-foot travelling and grunting all night is not really a problem. I sleep so rarely these days, my body has adjusted so that I can sort of function on a forty minute nod-off. The problem is, I was too tired and uninspired to use lights or a mirror to dress this morning. That wouldn't have been much of a problem if I hadn't had an appointment for an infusion.

Second, my appointment that started out fine, ended up on a sour note. As soon as I get to the doctors' office and the nurse gets me all set up, I crash into a dreamless coma. It probably doesn't help that they administer Benadryl prior to infusion. I don't even notice the first three vitals checks by the nurse (including the thermometer going into my mouth - and ain't it scary that I slept through that?), but near the end of the treatment, I started waking up.

Now, I rarely doze off in public. For one thing, I was traumatized earlier in life by watching my Mama nod off in church one time during a marathon sermon. (We were Pentecostal, so all the sermons were as long as "Driving Miss Daisy".) The nodding off was fine, but when she woke herself up snoring... Yeah. The other thing I hate about people seeing me sleep is that, while I want to believe I look like this -


I worry that I look like something like this -


I certainly didn't feel attractive after the treatment when I woke up, looked around and saw a gorgeous man standing not four feet away. Of course, I wear my lust meter on my sleeve, so I was crazily gaping at the poor guy. I probably looked a whole lot like a female version of the dude that stalks women leaving bars. You know the guy - he's dazed, confused, has two teeth and breath that killed the other 30, but he's sweet and wants you to know that, "You so purty. Really, really purty."

This man was just so gorgeous, really, really gorgeous.

Of course, I tried to rescue myself by feigning indifference. Kind of hard to do when my heartbeat's banging through my shirt like Pepe Le Pew's when he's in heat... I felt awful when I saw that Gorgeous Guy was with a woman who was wearing a wedding ring. I think they were visiting patients, but I didn't get a chance to ask the nurse. The nurse is a super sweet woman, but I was kind of annoyed that she snickered at my embarrassment!

Anyway. That's how yesterday started. It only got a little better when I swung by to see Baby D.J. The little brat is cutting teeth and didn't seem too thrilled to see me. Even worse, I won't see him for seven days because he and his parents left for their cruise last night. I went to sleep feeling sad and missing that little booger.

This is for my little loudmouthed D.J. It's one of his favorite songs for us to dance to. And I think he likes we do the whole

"IT STARTED WITH A WHIS-PER-RRR!!!!"




Peace
--Free

P.S.: Today is good. It's Day 19 without the cigarettes. The sun was shining most of the morning, and I'm destroying this bedroom and re-arranging everything.

Wednesday, January 09, 2013

Music, Intelligence,Reality

As usual, I was over on G+ when I saw something that reminded me of something else. (I write just like I talk. I know, I know.)

This article on classical music and intelligence is going over a theory I've heard before. Classical music is great. Most music is great. I think children should be introduced early to music. Even if the music did nothing but shut a kid up for half an hour, it's a good substitute for "Square Bob Spongepants" or whoever. Here's the thing, though... (You knew there was going to be a thing, didn't you?)

My niece - or as I think of her, the mother of the most beautiful baby in the world - decided a couple months back that Baby D.J. should learn music.

And why not? He already plays me like a fiddle...




Anyway...

My niece has a friend who has offered to teach D.J. how to play music. They are looking for a suitable keyboard.

Now, not to be the ancient auntie who isn't down with all this "newfangled nonsense," but what the heck are you going to teach a one-year old child? Okay - maybe any other year old kid could be taught, but this is D.J. We can't get him to sit still for more than five minutes unless one of us is sitting still and letting him paint our face with Graham Cracker slime. No - I have to take that back. One time he lay still for an hour because he had a fever and was cutting two teeth and his butt was burping out foul things that bewildered all of us. I changed his diaper, the fever broke and he saw his cousin playing with his favorite toy. The war was on.

D.J. is not going to be that un-teachable child who will live his life all out of control, but he is going to be the child who learns by taking things apart and putting them back together. D.J. is not going to be the child who sits quietly to read his Seuss books; he'll be the kid who will hang out of his bed, head to the floor, reading about dragon-slayers. And reading. probably, at the top of his voice.

It might happen, but I'm not taking bets on D.J. sitting still long enough to do something as calm as playing lullabies on a keyboard. He might be rocking out some Jerry Lee Lewis...

I might be wrong. Musical ability runs in the family. Well, it gallops in some part. My sister can sing like Aretha and my little brother can play anything from piano to drums to a trumpet. Too bad all this talent traipsed right past me. I can't even beat a tambourine (and I grew up in a Pentecostal church). I sing so badly that people who really, really love me (or want to sleep with me) try to find it adorable and not hazardous to any mammal within hearing range. It's bad, people. My ex was a professional musician. He caught me singing one time and, when I asked how bad I sounded, he saved his life and the marriage (for then) by remarking that my speaking voice is B-flat.

Let's hope that, if D.J. doesn't have any real talent, that he at least hones his intelligence. If he happens to have something going on, let's hope he turns out like this -



and not this -


Peace
--Free

Tuesday, January 08, 2013

I Have Trouble In Bed

(Not that kind of trouble, so nothing good to see here.)

I have sleep troubles. I am either exhausted and have to fight sleep if I want to have a life, or I can't sleep. When I started on Chantix, I had trouble staying awake. For the first few weeks I could nod off into a coma during a pap smear. And I dreamed a lot of dreams. Not the Disney-colored fun dreams, but those nightmares where I would experience at least one of my phobias in full CGI while paralyzed.

Fifteen days ago, I put cigarettes down for good. At that point, I was so traumatized by all the fresh air in my lungs, I can't remember now whether I slept or not. Now, though, I'm nicotine free.  (Yay me!) I'm also pretty much sleep free. No matter how tired I get, I sit up at night like a twitchy junkie waiting to rob my sleeping roommate  This would be the perfect time for me to foster a colicky two-year old (or teenager with midnight creeping tendencies).

Let me tell you, insomnia is not good for someone like me. I'm already moody, I am manic and highly impulsive, and I have access to the internet. I was just on G+ bitching about the evil nature of Pinterest. Now I'm blogging about this shit. Back in the day, I'd be reduced to counting sheep or re-arranging my closets. These days, there's probably an app for counting sheep and I can't do anything in my closet without pissing off the chick who lives right above me. (This apartment living is a bitch. Walls are so thin, if the neighbors have sex, I want a cigarette after.)

Yeah, I'm in a pissy mood tonight.

You know how when you are sick and can't sleep, you kind of want someone sitting up and checking on you every now and then? (Or is that just me?) Well, if I was sick and not just restless, I'd be dead waiting on my roommate to give a shit. She can sleep like it's an Olympic sport and she's got a title to defend. I've known her for over twenty years and never knew how hard she sleeps. If she's not driving, eating, talking or smoking - she's sleep. And I don't mean she just dozes off - unless "dozing off" means passing out like someone beat the hell out of you with a horse tranquilizer. I'm not sure if she even stays completely awake for sex. I'm going to have to ask her about that.

When I first came to bed tonight, I checked my watch. Just checked again and, after four years, only and hour has gone by.

If I manage to stay sane for another hour and a half, my niece will be getting up in North Carolina. I could call and talk with her for ten minutes before she has to start work.  She works from home and in her PJ's, so I might get another ten minutes of sympathy chat before she pretends her boss is on the work phone and she just has to hang up with me...

I suppose I could do some exercises, but I make noise when I exercise. My neighbors might think I'm having sex or something. Worse, since there are no cars in visitor parking, they'll think I'm having solo sex. Damn. Okay, so that rules out exercise.

The only thing left is finding something to watch on TV. Nothing funny though (I laugh like a guffawing goat when I am over-tired), and nothing that involves any kind of cruelty (or I'll be writing "rant" letters to a television network or something), and nothing with even a hint of male-female physical contact (the solo-sex thing again, because when I get tired...), and that leaves... what? "Caillou"?

What the hell. I'm going to go back over to G+ and read happy affirmations that just piss me off.

Peace
--Free

Someone posted this the other day. It seems fitting for this moment:


Monday, January 07, 2013

What IS Chemistry Anyway?

You know, I haven't been a bitch for  minute, so I have some making up to do... Today's post is all about the mystery of physical attraction. Heat, chemistry, whatever. I don't understand it at all. Apparently none of my close friends get it either. I was talking to a couple of the girlfriends tonight after we heard a Bobby Brown song on the radio. What the heck is the "It" thing that some people have and others lack? You know the "thing" I'm talking about. The thing that makes you drool out of lust or out of disgust. What is that?

There are the folks who, no matter who they are or what they do, they are never going to be the type of people who can even seem nice or kind or sweet or... sexy. Just like there are people who are not attractive by most standards, but are so freaking hot.

There's Edward James Olmos and Lawrence Fishburne - not what most women think of as heart-stoppingly handsome - yet, they can speak or move in a certain way that just makes a woman want to throw her drawers over a lampshade and lose her morals. (William DeVane, when he played on "Knot's Landing" did that for me. Damn, how I used to want that man!)

Then... Well, there are those people who can be handsome, ugly or whatever, but they just don't do it for us.

Doesn't do it. Just... does not.
~shrug~

On the other hand, this young dude here... Makes me wanna rock the hell out of that cradle:
Does it & does it well. If I wanted to go to jail for getting it done.

Now, Eddie Murphy rode both horses. He was hot as hell at one point. So hot that I got a fever just looking at him:

Sexy & smoking hot.

But Eddie kind of fell off at some point. Had nothing to do with his picking up questionable, er females or taking on goofy roles. (Jerry Lewis, for example, was the king of goofy, but was always sexy. To me. Shut up.) Eddie, though - eh, he didn't do it for me anymore.

Uh... no. No, ma'am. Not hot.

And this gorgeous creature (may he rest in peace) could have gotten me pregnant just by looking at me. Good mercy, he was so damn fine... 
He wasn't even singing at his best that night. But. Damn.

(My girlfriends are as confused as I am. We all agree that chemistry is truly a great mystery. I left then debating why Clinton and Obama are hot and Bush II is not.)

When I was younger, looks (and only looks) did it for me. I got older and got hooked on a sense of humor. Now I'm all about smarts. Okay and humor. One of my girlfriends said that as long as it's male, clean and breathing, she gets excited. I'm pickier than that. So far.

Who knows though? Maybe what we call chemistry really is something more. Maybe it's spiritual. Way back when I was still in love with my first love, I told him the corniest but most genuine thing I'd ever felt. I told him that I thought God created us all out of one spirit and that, in life, when we found the right person, we were just re-connecting. (I was only fourteen and too much "in love.") Well, that first love of mine turned out to be a jerk. He laughed at my young attempt at romantic philosophy then and broke my heart a few years ago. But I still believe. 

Peace
-Free

Sunday, January 06, 2013

Phones Smarter Than Us

A G+ user shared an interesting post the other day and I can't stop thinking about it. The post linked to an Mashable article (Apps: 10 Things You Didn't Know You Didn't Know You Could Do With Your Smartphone") that had me up for hours checking out apps on Google Play.

Some time ago, I downloaded the useful Pressure Log app to keep track of my blood pressure, weight and exercise. My doctor appreciates is greatly because this Sarc has given me a mind like a steel trap. A rusty steel trap. I can't remember my phone number, let alone where I last set down my written pressure numbers. The app is a lifesaver. Of course, now I realize just how many amazingly useful apps are out there on the market. I certainly learned about some new ones, but I made a list of ones I have used over the last few years. Maybe you will like some of them for yourself:

  • WeatherBug is a favorite because, living here in Alaska, I am a fanatic about outdoor temps. Is it too cold to go to Walmart? How long do we need to let the car run to warm up? Do I miss Baby D.J. enough to get out there for a visit or will a phone call do? ("Hi, Stinks!!!)
  • I l.o.v.e. Bump. Loved it more when my niece +Gabrielle B lived here. We had a blast sharing pics and apps and stuff. ~sniff~ I miss you living here, Gabs. So sorry you have to go back home tomorrow... Now, I mostly use Bump to share between my phone and PC.
  • Classic Notes Lite is my constant companion. It's the memory thing again. I have half my book stored in this notes app. One day, I will get all that into manuscript format. Of course, there are similar apps you can check out: Extensive Notes, Simply Note B/W, and Styled WikiNotes are just a few.
  • I don't drive much anymore, but I have GasBuddy installed to navigate my friends-slash-chauffeurs to the nearest and cheapest gas stations. It's the least I can do since I drive them crazy with my backseat-driving mania.
  • In the darkness of Alaska winters, everyone here should have something like Flashlight LED Genius. I downloaded this when I walked into a wall and damn near knocked myself out going to the bathroom one night. I still run into things every now and then, but at least I can describe what I hit. (My niece prefers Brightest Flashlight so I am giving it a try.)
  • Because I on a budget so tight that I have to squeeze Mr. Lincoln til he screams, I downloaded the Expense Manager app. Because I am forgetful, it doesn't do much good. For others, though, I think that it might be perfect for setting limits and tracking expenses. A friend uses it and says she now can't live without it. 
I love my phone and I love my apps. I think I love the apps more. (Someone reading the Mashable article had me laughing at "Can you still call with them?" Who cares? Calls just interrupt my Angry Birds game.

Peace
--Free