10 Years and Counting!!


I’m celebrating today! I’d like to rejoice with everyone who is fighting the fight or has gone to battle. You are not alone! You will not be alone when it comes your time to celebrate your victory.

There will be many times you will think you are not strong enough to fight, or you feel like just giving up. We have all felt that way at one point or several times during our life with cancer. My best advice to all of you is to keep your sense of humor.

The medical people are going to do things to you while having onlookers you will think came from some mid-evil device invented to torture. No matter how embarrassing you find the procedures, you will survive. Ice cold hands will not kill you.

As the years pass, each anniversary brings a new sense of well being. Anxiety will become a thing of the past.

Let’s face the facts, none of us are going to get out of this life alive. Enjoy each day, find that bright spot each morning, hold fast to it and laugh. Each day you wake up is a good day. Some bad things may happen that day, but the day is still good.

Was I worried ten years ago when I was told I had cancer? Of course. Did I let it consume me? NO, because I’m just not wired like that. Does it ever cross my mind that cancer could come back? Of course, I’m human. Do I dwell on that thought? Hell NO!  I’ve got things to do, places to go, and people to meet.

Even if we should never meet, we are sisters and brothers in this fight. We have stood on the battle field and faced the enemy. Some of us have fallen, but every day, more and more of us join the ranks of survivors.

Today, I stand in celebration of my victory. I invite you to join me in celebration!

Views of Imagination

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As I look through the bare trees of winter on this rainy morning, the valley below appears white with the morning fog lingering. Some would say the view in winter looks barren and ugly, yet I see beauty and promise.

Looking out over the North Georgia mountains known as the Blue Ridge I wonder if de Sota traveled below, looking for the fountain of youth. It occurs to me that this view could have been what he was seeking.  Maybe de Soto and his Cherokee or Etowah companions camped below near the river, long before the dam made the lake.

I wonder how many Spanish, French or English walked the land where my house now stands. Did they hunt the ancestors of the deer I see feeding nearby? Maybe elk once walked this ridge moving to higher ground before they were all killed off. With abundant food, I wonder if the Cherokee hid here to escape the Trail of Tears? Probably not I think sadly.,

While history records the battles of the Civil War near Atlanta or to the north near Chattooga, I can’t help but wonder how many Union and Confederate soldiers walked these mountains either going to battle or making their way home.

The woodlands on this mountain are healthy, and during the summer when the foliage is heavy, I am not privy to the mist below. I think about the virgin forest before the lumber companies harvested the massive trees.  Even in winter, I would not have been able to see the fog below.

I wonder how many local boys and men traveled the roads below on their way to work on the Appalachian Trail that runs through these mountains? Those roads of dirt and gravel, traveled by horse and wagons, now paved and some even widened to four lanes.  Those roads were laid by the now abanded railroad tracks. Tracks that have not seen a train in decades.

I see all the history around me, some known but mostly unknown and unwritten. I grasp the times gone by that my imagination breeds on this morning. Indeed de Sota, I believe the fountain of youth may have been right here on this mountain.

Stop Breaking the Law


I’ve been listening to the DACA problem for what seems like twenty years. I’ve tried to keep my mouth shut. As I watch this tearing our country to pieces, I believe this can be solved. We, as a country just like most countries have immigration laws. They are there for reasons. Yes, we are a nation of immigrants. Just as far back as my grandfathers, were immigrants. They came here on visas, applied for citizenship and became citizens. They did not start families until they accomplished being an American.

I understand that these so-called Dreamers had no choice in this matter. However, it is not the Federal Governments fault or any other citizen’s that this happened. Yes, Dreamers, it was your parents breaking Federal laws of this country that put you in this situation. You should be mad at them, not the rest of the country. I wonder if your parents ever thought about putting up a fight from the country they left to make it a better place to live or did they just come to the land of the free. Free stuff that is.

Dreamers should be made to apply for citizenship and to go through all the steps that so many of our law-abiding citizens have gone through. Not put at the first of the line. Give them green cards until they can pass a citizens test. If they don’t want to do that, including their illegal parents, then send the whole family back from which their parents came.

I suppose that sounds a little hard, but life is hard. If you start your new life as a felon in a new country, then you should expect to be treated like a felon. Instead, the majority of illegals feel we owe them everything. Got news for you and your kids, we owe you nothing.

Not until every American child in Foster Care has a permanent home, not until every American has a roof over their head, not until every American with a mentally ill problem is being cared for properly, and not until all those people who have already started the process of becoming an American citizen has become one, should any illegal receive a damn thing.

I’m proud to think America and Americans should come first. Dreamers if you want to be an American, then American and its laws should come first. Stop breaking the law!

They’re Not Special


Would I like to see my mug in a magazine, on TV or even on the big screen? Of course, I’m human. I have talents. I’m not a total stooge, most of the time. But for the life of me, I can not understand why people idolize celebrities. I don’t comprehend why people think just because someone is an actor, a TV show host, or a news anchor; it makes them wiser and better than the rest of us working stiffs.

Someone works hard to land an acting job, or they just happen to luck out and get that big break, why does that equal in them having a more intelligent opinion on anything?

I have a news flash. Celebrities are not just like everyone else. If you think the person we see as stars and politicians in public are the same when they are off camera or out of the spotlight, you are sadly mistaken.

I would dare guess that 99% of all humans behave better when out in public, at work, or any other time they are in the presence of others. I do it, you do it, and probably everyone you know does it.  It can be as little as being just a bit more polite when you’re out and about.  It’s just human nature. Now multiply those actions by a hundredfold, because your career, your fans, your votes, and your livelihood depends on how people see you in those situations.  Soon you find if you do screw up and act like a total jackass in public, your friends, and colleagues, whose status also depends on their public persona depends on, they are covering up for you and praising you. You can take that to the bank.

My proof is in all the disgraces coming out of Hollywood and Washington DC. And yet, Americans keep gushing over stars and politicians no matter what they have been involved. Praising them because they raised a ton of money for abused women, while they abuse women. Congratulating each other because they finally after 30 years came forward and said something about horrible activities they knew about all along. Acting as if they better than the masses or more intelligent. I ask why?

The sad thing is that so many Americans contribute to this by flocking to their movies, watching their television programs, voting for them over and over again, and finding reasons for their atrocious actions vile speeches.

Celebrities and politicians are cut from the same cloth. Humans that will say and do anything to promote their well being.  It seems that both groups of people have forgotten that so much that they have said and done was recorded. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to look back at old videos to see what celebrities and politicians said in the past. It’s quite entertaining actually.

The next time you state how much you like this personality or that legislator, I hope you will stop and think. They may have once been similar the person next door, but they aren’t any longer. I doubt if any of us would want them for neighbors.



Looking Back with a Smile


I just finished reading Scavenger Hunt by Meg Buchanan that set my mind racing back to my youth.  Made me start thinking of all the things of my youth I experienced, lived to tell the story, wished I hadn’t been so stupid, things that could have changed my life for the worst, and the things I passed up that could have made my life better.

I sit here on this Sunday morning wondering “What was I thinking?” Or maybe even better, “Why wasn’t I thinking?”  Did I think I was truly ten feet tall and bulletproof? The many escapades in which we survived, only fueled our attempts to try even more silly and dangerous things.

We surfed on the hoods and trunks of our cars long before any Hollywood movie set that scene. We were dirty dancing and making out in at the local drive-in theater before that was popular in the movies. Decades before Hollywood started making movies about teens occupying their time around a bond fire, drinking beer, and telling ghost stories, we had that mastered.  Our favorite story was the one about the couple parked on a lonely dirt road, making out when they hear something. Getting scared, they drive away. When the guy stops and goes around to open his dates car door, there is a hook as used for an artificial hand attached to the door handle.  They had just escaped the dying at the hands of the “Hook.”

I often wonder if I could go back, would I change any of the shenanigans we were lucky enough to live through? Probably not. Looking back, these experiences, good or bad, made me who I am today. Maybe they made me a better parent, or a better friend. Maybe they gave me my love for life and my strange sense of humor.

I do not regret my past. It’s just compiled memories that I can look back on with a smile on my face and appreciate that I lived this long. Today is a new day and tomorrow will be another new day, if I’m lucky enough to still be here.


#The Last Friday of 2017

Send off 2017, welcome 2018 Fireworks

As my friend says, “Woop tee Do!”

This is exactly what I thought when I just saw a post on Twitter. I did stop to think, I wonder what I did last year on the last Friday of the year. I have not a clue. And in that respect, unless something major happens today, I will probably not have a clue next year as to what I did today.

I suppose I can get on Face Book and check out the memories from this date a year ago, but that wouldn’t be the last Friday of 2016.

Being honest with myself, I had to stop and think of what I did last Friday. We drove to Alabama to pick up the newest member of our family, an eight week old Boston Terrier. The rest of this week has been a blur.

Being honest again, this year has been a blur. Sold a house. Bought a house. Moved from Arizona to the mountains of North Georgia. Made new friends. Had old friends visit.  Furnished and decorated our new home. And just like that, the years is almost over. Bam!

Does it really matter what we did the last Friday of any year? I believe all that matters is that we treat each day as if it is our last. That we treat every friend as if today will be the last time we talk to them or visit with them. That we treat everyone like we want to be treated.  You don’t have to like a person to be kind to them. And just because you don’t like them doesn’t mean you have to spread hate about them. Like my mother use to tell me, “If you can’t say something nice, then don’t say anything at all.”  Shouldn’t that apply to our tying messages and post on social media?

Make today the best day you can for yourself and everyone you come in contact. You will all enjoy happier days, whether it’s the last Friday of the year, our your last day on earth.


Never Miss an Opportunity

peace love and kindness

It seems that I ask myself the same question every single Christmas. As humans, why can’t we extend our kindness during the holidays throughout the year? Too busy? Too greedy? Too what?

The holidays are a bit depressing at times for me only because the feeling of abandonment after the first of the new year. People going back to their everyday lives. Forgotten are the well wishes to others. Forgotten are the wishes for peace to our fellow man.  Forgotten are the promises to visit again soon.  Forgotten are the promises of phone calls or future dinners together.

What if tomorrow never comes?  Will you have made that phone call? Did you have dinner with people you care about? Did you send that email?

Never take for granted there will always be a tomorrow. Never take for granted your loved ones. Never ignore the opportunity to made someone smile.

The smallest gesture can make someone’s life better.

A little bit of loving kindness goes a very long way in this busy world we live in. Don’t miss a single opportunity to spread some love to everyone.

By the way, Merry Christmas.

Who Am I?


Looking at this promo banner this morning I questioned ‘Who is that woman?’  You would think after almost sixty-eight years on this earth I would have had that figured out long ago. The fact is, I might not have a clue.

I know where I have been and all the things I have endured, experienced, seen, heard, and wondered about, but is that who I am? I know all the things I try to be good at, although throughout the years there have been some epic fails.  On the flip side, I’m a good friend to many, a pretty good mom and wife, I like to think I’m a good writer, painter, decorator, dog trainer, marksman, fisher, boater, and a few dozen of other things. Again, I ask still, who am I?

If I should die today, I wonder what people will say? I also wonder if I really care? Will they talk about all the good things I have done in my life or ponder over the stupid things of my youth? Maybe they will talk about my crazy sense of humor. I’d like that the best.

Maybe I would like to be a world wide best selling author so I can have my fifteen minutes of fame? After all I haven’t experienced that as of yet.

Maybe, it’s just best that I do not think about these things. I am ME. There is no other one like me. I’m a limited edition, the only edition. Good, bad, indifferent, what you see is what you get.

Sometimes I’m too loud, other times I’m too quiet (mostly when I’m sleeping.)  I can be lady like but I can also cuss like a sailor. I know how to dress like a princess but I prefer blue jeans and a shirt. I can walk and dance in heels but prefer mules. I know I should exercise more but talking myself into doing more seems to be a waste of time.  I do eat healthy but I would rather munch on chocolate anything.

I do know that if you call on me for help, I will do my best to be there for you and try my best to do what ever you need done.

So if you wonder, who is this K. D. Bloodworth, just wrap all those thing up in a neat package and that’s me.  I guess I know who I am after all.


Release Date December 19, 2017


I’m so thrilled that I’m under contract with Junction Publishing. They have taken me in, critiqued, coached, and supported me in my journey to make MrPerfect.com the best book I could have written.

I’m so excited to announce that MrPerfect.com will be released on December 19th, not only in the U.S. but also in the UK and Australia.

You can pre-order your copy at: http://geni.us/M15Tc5w

You can still find me on FB: https://www.facebook.com/KD-Bloodworth-411342242325034

and on Twitter @kdbloodworth




Busy, Busy, Busy!!

Pre order now

That’s the word from my corner of the world. Seems as if my days fly by as my to do list keeps getting longer and my done list never seems to grow. Reading, writing and my photography seems to take up all my time, which isn’t a bad thing. Unless you look at my wood floors when the sun is shinning through the many windows on the South side of the house.  As I sit at my computer desk, trying not to see all the stuff on the floor surface, I wonder where does all that stuff come from? I’m surprised we can even breathe the air. I suppose I could pull the blinds until sunset.

I can’t even remember when I ventured downstairs to clean.  I keep saying we don’t use those rooms very often, so they don’t need cleaning so much.  I guess it’s better to keep telling myself those lies.

Yes being busy makes us all liars. “I’ll get to that later.” “I will get that done first thing in the morning.” “That can wait another day.” “If it’s just a couple days out of date, it’s still good to eat.” “I thought I got something out to thaw for dinner.”

On top of being busy with the release of MrPerfect.com, writing a new book, helping other author’s promote their works, taking care of husband and dog, I came down with a nasty virus. Now my busy has slowed to a stop, I’m farther behind than ever, and I decided we need a puppy.  She arrives just before Christmas. That gives me twenty days to get everything done, caught up, and things in order.  Talk about busy? Holy cow!!

I remember the days of long ago, when I would complain to my mom that I was bored and there was nothing to do. Mom would tell me that when I grew up I would be wishing for a day when there was nothing to do because when you grow up you are always busy. I didn’t believe her then but I do now.





A must READ!


Friends to the End, a soul searching, heart wrenching, anger inducing, teary eyed, laugh provoking, drama of real life. At first, I hated both Bethany and Kate, for different reasons.  Slowly, I started to understand why I was hating them and why they were acting or reacting to a horrible part of life.  With that understanding, I soon started to love them.

After living with my father in-law during the five years he fought the same illness, I realized how Susan Tarr completely conveyed the ups and downs of the patient and those that love them. This story searches all the topics terminally ill people search and how their caregivers search and find peace too.

Just as in real life, there were times I wanted to slap some folks and tell them, cut the drama, life is too short for that kind of crap. Then other times I fought back the tears, wanting to hug both women.

Thank you Susan Tarr for this marvelously written tale


How I See the Opiate Crisis


I’m not a doctor or any other kind of health care provider. My opinion comes from living almost sixty-eight years, have seen many doctors, father-in-law was a doctor, I worked for a clinic, and while there,  I worked in the insurance processing department.

The way I see this crisis is not the result of bad doctors or drug addicts, or people just trying to forget the woes of today.  The problem started with insurance companies.

In my lifetime I have seen the medical community lose their minds and common sense. There was a time, not so very long ago, we could go to our family doctor from birth until either they retired or died, or we died. Whichever came first. I was never taken to a pediatrician as a child. I was taken to our family doctor who took care of everything from bad tonsils, chicken pox, shots, sprains, coughs due to colds, bronchitis, several cases of pneumonia, birth control, and the list goes on and on.  As the saying goes, from birth to the grave. When we detoured from this practice, I do not know.

However, during the transition from family practices to having a specialist for every known disease and problem a human can have, the insurance companies learned they would make more money by having the family doctor needing to refer a patient to a specialist. Granted, there are some things a specialist is required. Brain surgery comes to mind.

Not until a few years ago, I had never heard of such a thing as Pain Management. WTH? In my day, if I was having back pain, I went to see my doctor. He didn’t start throwing drugs at me. He started doing tests, trying to find out what was causing the pain. If he couldn’t figure it out afterward, then he might send me to an orthopedic, maybe. Still trying to get to the bottom of why I had shooting pains running down my back and legs.

Now, I would be sent to physical therapy. I understand physical therapy is a good thing. After my shoulder surgery some years ago, a physical therapist helped me get the full range of movement back.  But the insurance company demanded I have physical therapy before my surgery, when in fact this made my muscle tear even worse, according to the surgeon.

Nowadays, insurance companies might approve x-rays, or MRIs but only after physical therapy, regardless. The sad joke around our house, “Got cancer? Go to PT.”  If the cause of your pain isn’t something clear cut on an x-ray or MRI, you’re pretty much screwed. Insurance companies will not allow doctors to keep on testing, or god forbid perform an exploratory surgery, which is almost unheard of these days.

What do insurance companies approve? Pain management clinics. They do not care that you are not being cured. They don’t care that the opiates you’re  given are habit forming.  All they care about is the money. You were referred to a specialist, which cost more money, higher deductibles, higher co-pays and you can only get one month at a time of the drug that is allowing you to move somewhat better. You are forced to go back in thirty days, adding more money to the insurance company’s bottom line. The problem now is that you can’t operate a car or machinery, per the drug company and most state laws. Hard to hold a job when you are sitting around at home drooling on yourself.

Yes, this is a crisis, no doubt about it, too many people hooked on opiates. They need help. The rest of us need help too. As the population ages, we have more issues regarding bones and muscles. Many of us, live with a lot of pain because we don’t want to take the drugs the pain management doctors are prescribing, and the insurance companies will not approve enough testing or surgeries to help us get to the root of the pain or fix what is wrong.

I’m not sure which ones are worse, the insurance companies, the politicians who help the insurance companies with legislation so that they get the favor returned for re-election.

Our whole government is so corrupt we now look and operate like a third world country. In the meantime, citizens suffer.

Old But New Again

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This week I was wrapped in the excitement of an old feeling of acceptance that has turned into a new feeling of hope.

This week I signed with Junction Publishing, giving me not only the longed after feeling of acceptance but the hope that my work is not only accepted but people will actually read my writings and enjoy what they read.

After signing, I found myself feeling inspired. Actually wanting to write more than the monthly writer’s club ditty on various subjects. Although, that monthly meeting has helped in getting my creative juices flowing again. No matter what your writing skills, if you are a writer, want to become an author, are published, self-published, or wanting to be published, I highly suggest you seek out your local writer’s or author’s clubs and join. I wish had done so long ago. The honest comments and support are more important than one would think.

I am now also finding honest, inspiring support from not only my new publisher but also from the other authors they represent.

Of course, as every author dreams, I can vision my books on a best seller’s list, or a top 100. Wouldn’t that be a life-changing event for an author? Dreams do come true. My signing with Junction Publishing is proof of this. So why not dream of the day when my books are listed on those popular lists?

Yes, they are all old feelings and dreams. Old but never forgotten. Old but new again.

K.D Bloodworth



The World’s First Responders


Well, I’m not going to win any Brownie points with this one, but again, I’m an American and have the right to my opinion. If anything, maybe my words will be a cause for some thinking.

First, let me say I feel sad and heartbroken for the people of Puerto Rico, and for the thousands Stateside that have suffered because of the devastation brought on from the hurricanes.  However, there are a few thoughts that have come to mind the past few weeks.

It seems many do not want the Federal Government to enforce the laws of this land, regarding the Consitution. No need to be a legal citizen. Let everyone in and give them citizen rights. Certain States and cities are now sanctuary regions, not following Federal laws, yet they still stand with their hands out for all Federal aid.

It wasn’t so long ago that Puerto Rico was trying to decide again, as to become a State or remain a US Territory.

“This year’s referendum on statehood was Puerto Rico’s fifth. Statehood won for the first time in the last vote, in 2012, but the results were questioned and Puerto Rico’s status remained the same.

Turnout in the election was low, with initial statistics showing below 25 percent of voters went to the polls. The island’s major opposition party, the Popular Democratic Party, boycotted the election. Two other political parties that don’t support statehood also boycotted the election.” (http://www.washingtonexaminer.com)

It would seem to me, people want all the benefits of being a state but do not want the obligations of being a citizen, such as paying taxes.

What I furthermore see, many people here in this country and many in others, are always saying, “The United States is not the World Police. They should  keep their opinions and ideas out of other countries.”  But who do these people call in a time of any kind of emergency?  The United States of course. It’s fine that we be the first responders to the world.  Again people that do not like us, or in some cases actually hate us, always looking for help from us when the going gets tough.

Should we help? Of course. But I believe we must help ourselves before we help others. As long as we have one homeless person in this country of citizenship, one Veteran needing help or health care, one elderly person suffering from the lake of care, or citizens going hungry, then the amount of money going to foreign aid needs to be cut, if not out completely, most surely cut back enough to take care of our problems first.

As once being the caregiver to two elderly parents, the one thing Hospice taught me was to have the ability to give proper care to anyone, I must first take proper care of myself. Doesn’t the same apply to our nation?

If our country is healthy and doing well, then we can give more to stop the suffering all over the world. Seems to me it’s simple math and common sense.

Common sense. That’s another subject altogether.



As I See It

new glasses

I’m no world scholar or claim to be. I’ve managed to live almost 68 years, through several conflicts, several wars, riots in the cities of this country, highs, lows, and everything in between. I’ve traveled all across this country, lived out of my car, been broke, been what I would consider wealthy as to how I grew up. I have been to the best parts of many cities and the places I thought I might not get out alive.

My conclusion on this protesting crap is that it’s all based on lies. It’s true I’m not black, have never been black, and will never be black. How can anyone believe that people of any color in this country are being oppressed when the last President was a black man? There are hundreds of non-Caucasians holding office in the Federal Government, in State and local governments. There are non-Causcasians not only in the rank and file of the police departments around this country but also Officers in our Military.

The only oppression I see happening is coming from other non-Causcasians. Call me a racist if you wish, I really don’t care at this point. When young black children are afraid to go outside in their neighborhoods because they might be gunned down stops, then maybe I will listen to your protests. Facts and figures from our Justice Department prove that most shootings done in your inner city were done by black males, not the police, and not white people.

All the NFL protesting has done nothing but causes everyone to look past the hundreds of people that have been shot this year alone in cities like Chicago, Atlanta, Baltimore, Cleveland, St. Louis, and many more. You’re protesting but are you doing anything to stop these crimes? Same ol BS that I’ve heard all my life, since the race riots in the fifties and sixties, blame the white man! Do you think it was just the black vote that put President Obama in office for two terms? Why didn’t the crime in our major cities go down during those eight years? Maybe it’s because so many of you were still trying to blame slavery and white people for your own problems. How about putting the blame where blame belongs.

Truth being, black women, are more likey to have children out of wedlock and have children from multiple partners. Black grandmother is more likely to be raising their grandchildren. What happened to parenting and marriage in your communities? I don’t see any of you football players protesting that. No, many of you come from single mother homes, no daddy in sight. I guess you can still blame the white oppression on that too?

We all enjoy many freedoms in this country, as your right to protest, your right to have children and as many as you want from as many partners as you want, but that freedom doesn’t mean your actions are right.

Get your own house in order before you start telling others how their behavior is affecting you. Respect has to be earned. Just because you make a lot of money playing a game does not mean I should respect your opinion. It’s hard for me to respect your feelings about the poor blacks or any other minority in this country when you bought two Bentleys because you couldn’t make up your mind what color of car you wanted. The cost of one of those cars would have gone a long way in helping children of some inner city neighborhood. But your money or in this case your knee where your mouth is.

Stop the protesting and get out there and do something positive in the suffering neighborhoods of this country. Stop the lies

The Magic Is Gone

This new life I began not long ago still seems so very strange, as for as far back as I can remember, Sunday was football Sunday. Some of my fondest memories are of my daddy, and I am watching football on Sunday on our black and white television. The screen looked huge to me as I was only five or six. Although I didn’t understand much of the game, it was my time with daddy. Mom didn’t like the game.

We thought we were rich when my parents could afford a color television. Daddy and I could hardly wait for football season to begin. Not only was the game to be in living color but the new TV had a much larger screen. After all these years I have no idea just how large the screen might have been, maybe fifteen or maybe even nineteen inches. A far cry from the seventy-inch flat screen that now adorns my family room. I think of how much daddy would have enjoyed the game on that monster of a display.

Then I think, dad wouldn’t be watching the game at all. No just like me, he would have stopped and probably sooner. Although he has been gone for twenty-one years, I can still hear his astonishment of the shameful amount of money athletes were making back then.  There would be no words for the millions of dollars they are now paid. But that wouldn’t be the worst of it, and I’m glad he’s not here to witness what is going on these days.

I think of my father and all he survived. A great depression, working for the CCC to help his father support his siblings, World War II and giving up his dream of playing professional baseball because of family responsibilities. Dad played semi-pro baseball and even tried out for the pros. He would have been gone all the time, and they didn’t make enough money to support his growing family. Daddy never was able to finish high school much less be handed a four-year ride to college from his wealthy parents or a scholarship. No, he had to quit school in the ninth grade to work to help support the family.

Daddy believed and taught us it didn’t matter what color your skin was, if you wanted to make something of yourself, you picked yourself up, educated yourself, worked hard and got the job done. Nothing is free in this life, never look for a handout.

This kneeling during the National Athum is a freedom people have, but that doesn’t make it right. As an American, I have the freedom not to watch this disgraceful act. I hardly believe any of these athletes know oppression in any form. And instead of taking a knee, why not spend your time and money helping inner-city children get educated and show them what hard work can do when you live in the greatest country in the world?

Yes, I have a new life. A life where I do not watch football on Sunday or any other day. True I do not have season tickets, nor do I go to the games. It does feel strange after all these years. However, it doesn’t feel as horrible as watching people kneel during our anthem.

When the NFL puts a stop to this, when football Sunday afternoon is not a political statement from overpaid, spoiled, brats, that have no real clue to life the rest of us dig out with our bare hands, then maybe I will turn on my television again.  I say maybe because it might be too late to get the magic back. That magic of watching someone run ninety yards for a touchdown, or making that game winning field goal. The magic of memories made long ago that come back to life on Sunday afternoon.

Remember When


Do you remember when the first Lady set the trends for fashion? Do you remember it was Jackie Kennedy that set the trend for her famous pill box hats? Why every woman in the U.S. was saving money to purchase a new hat, just like Jackie’s. If we couldn’t afford a new store bought dress, we were buying material and making our own simple shift dresses.  I remember sporting white gloves to all formal events just like Jackie. And of course, there were the pearls. We all had to have pearls too.

If you remember those things, you also remember that even if you didn’t like Jackie’s style or the first family, you would have never said so in public. You would have never thought of belittling the first family over what sort of shoes Jackie was wearing. You would have never said a word about the cost of any thing Jackie wore. She came from money, she dressed with style, and I assure you Jackie never purchased anything cheap.

I long for those days. Now no matter what our first lady does or wears, the haters show their ugly heads. They can’t wait to slam the first family with their pettiness. People dying, their homes gone or ruined beyond repair, their belongings gone, and the media is worried about what kind of shoes our first lady is wearing. Jackie Kennedy could have shown up in a burlap bag and everyone would have wanted a burlap bad the next day. Now we just hear the hate. Hate for no reason.

No one said a word about Hillary Clinton’s $15,000 outfit that looked like the material used to make a Kirby vacuum cleaner’s bag. No one mentions that will all of Hillary’s money, all her outfits look alike other than the placement of pockets and buttons. Her tailor has one pattern and she picks out different materials.

There was a time in America when Americans felt joy for others that were successful. People enjoyed looking at a well-dressed lady or gentleman. There was no jealousy. Maybe a thought of one day I’ll have dress or suit like that. And we strived to do better.

Nowadays, people just find fault with others that are successful. Fault down to the shoes they wear.

Yes, I remember those other days and I wish we had those kinds of manors and respect back. Do you remember when?


Come Back Later, Ya’ll

Forty some years ago, or maybe it’s been fifty, however at this point it doesn’t matter when I watched college students and other their age protesting for different causes. I was about the same age only I was already working and supporting myself.  Even though I was already out on my own, paying my own bills, and proving to my parents how grown up I was, I knew nothing!  I hadn’t experienced enough of life to have a good opinion on anything. No one could have convinced me of that fact. I’m pretty sure long before I knew what I was talking about I was talking, and a lot! If you had told me how much my opinions would have changed after living a few years in the grown up world of jobs, careers (there is a difference), marriage, divorce, children, and just making it through it all alive, I would have argued with you. But isn’t that what people lacking real life experiences do?

For the past few weeks, I’ve been watching the news and seeing report after report of protests with protesters, many of which are young college kids. I say, kids, because this is just what they are. I would like to take a poll of these protesters to see how many of them have held a full-time job or even a part time job. How many of them are working their way through school? How many are depending on their parents to pay for college and all their living expenses? How many have ever lived on their own, being responsible for anything such as rent, utilities, car, insurance or even balancing a check book?  I would bet most have never had a checking account.

I don’t care about these kids opinions. I out grew that years ago when I realized just how stupid I was way back when. I thought I was all grown up and knew everything. So many surprises awaited me out in the real world away from the safety and comfort of my parents. I was one of the lucky ones too. My parents tried their best to teach me that it was a big, mean, world out there and no one was going to take care of me, that I had to do that myself.

I suppose it’s easy to get out in public and act a like a fool if you know mom and dad will post your bail. I was told if I ever got into that much trouble that I needed bail,  don’t call home. I would have to find a way to get myself out of that problem.  I’m a child of the 60s, of course, I pushed that do not cross the line more times than I should have, remember, I knew it all back then.

But what do I know? Maybe the parents of these protesters I see on the news are proud of their children? Which makes me wonder about them too. Do they believe they are doing their children right by supporting them until they are well into their twenties? Some even longer?  Are they proud of their children when they stand and spew ideas and opinions that have no basis in truth, according to our history as a country? I hear things spouted out of these protester’s mouths and wonder what history books have they been reading?

I would be willing to bet, the majority of the protesters have never been subjected to racism, have never seen racism, and have no idea what our civil war was indeed started over. I will not rant into a history lesson here.

As in all protests, I have never been able to understand how turning into a riot, destroying property, and becoming violent every proves anything right or wrong. In my opinion, it only shows who are acting like jackasses breaking the law.

In the mean time, college students and all those that tag along with this crowd, go home, study or do what ever it is you do, until you educate yourself, live some life and gain some life experience. Then come to us, and we will listen to your opinions.

In Defense of General Lee


By Edward C. Smith
Saturday, August 21, 1999
© Copyright 1999 The Washington Post Company

Let me begin on a personal note. I am a 56-year-old, third-generation, African American Washingtonian who is a graduate of the D.C. public schools and who happens also to be a great admirer of Robert E. Lee’s.

Today, Lee, who surrendered his troops to Gen. Ulysses S. Grant at Appomattox Court House 134 years ago, is under attack by people — black and white — who have incorrectly characterized him as a traitorous, slaveholding racist. He was recently besieged in Richmond by those opposed to having his portrait displayed prominently in a new park.

My first visit to Lee’s former home, now Arlington National Cemetery, came when I was 12 years old, and it had a profound and lasting effect on me. Since then I have visited the cemetery hundreds of times searching for grave sites and conducting study tours for the Smithsonian Institution and various other groups interested in learning more about Lee and his family as well as many others buried at Arlington.

Lee’s life story is in some ways the story of early America. He was born in 1807 to a loving mother, whom he adored. His relationship with his father, Henry “Light Horse Harry” Lee, (who was George Washington’s chief of staff during the Revolutionary War) was strained at best. Thus, as he matured in years, Lee adopted Washington (who had died in 1799) as a father figure and patterned his life after him. Two of Lee’s ancestors signed the Declaration of Independence, and his wife, Mary Custis, was George Washington’s foster great-granddaughter.

Lee was a top-of-the-class graduate of West Point, a Mexican War hero and superintendent of West Point. I can think of no family for which the Union meant as much as it did for his.

But it is important to remember that the 13 colonies that became 13 states reserved for themselves a tremendous amount of political autonomy. In pre-Civil War America, most citizens’ first loyalty went to their state and the local community in which they lived. Referring to the United States of America in the singular is a purely post-Civil War phenomenon.

All this should help explain why Lee declined command of the Union forces — by Abraham Lincoln — after the firing on Fort Sumter. After much agonizing, he resigned his commission in the Union army and became a Confederate commander, fighting in defense of Virginia, which at the outbreak of the war possessed the largest population of free blacks (more than 60,000) of any Southern state.

Lee never owned a single slave, because he felt that slavery was morally reprehensible. He even opposed secession. (His slaveholding was confined to the period when he managed the estate of his late father-in-law, who had willed eventual freedom for all of his slaves.)

Regarding the institution, it’s useful to remember that slavery was not abolished in the nation’s capital until April 1862, when the country was in the second year of the war. The final draft of the Emancipation Proclamation was not written until September 1862, to take effect the following Jan. 1, and it was intended to apply only to those slave states that had left the Union.

Lincoln’s preeminent ally, Frederick Douglass, was deeply disturbed by these limitations but determined that it was necessary to suppress his disappointment and “take what we can get now and go for the rest later.” The “rest” came after the war.

Martin Luther King Jr. was one of the few civil rights leaders who clearly understood that the era of the 1960s was a distant echo of the 1860s, and thus he read deeply into Civil War literature. He came to admire and respect Lee, and to this day, no member of his family, former associate or fellow activist that I know of has protested the fact that in Virginia Dr. King’s birthday — a federal holiday — is officially celebrated as “Robert E. Lee-Stonewall Jackson-Martin Luther King Day.”

Lee is memorialized with a statue in the U.S. Capitol and in stained glass in the Washington Cathedral.

It is indeed ironic that he has long been embraced by the city he fought against and yet has now encountered some degree of rejection in the city he fought for.

In any event, his most fitting memorial is in Lexington, Va.: a living institution where he spent his final five years. There the much-esteemed general metamorphosed into a teacher, becoming the president of small, debt-ridden Washington College, which now stands as the well-endowed Washington and Lee University.

It was in Lexington that he made a most poignant remark a few months before his death. “Before and during the War Between the States I was a Virginian,” he said. “After the war I became an American.”

I have been teaching college students for 30 years, and learned early in my career that the twin maladies of ignorance and misinformation are not incurable diseases. The antidote for them is simply to make a lifelong commitment to reading widely and deeply. I recommend it for anyone who would make judgment on figures from the past, including Robert E. Lee.

[Dr. Smith is co-director of the Civil War Institute at American University in Washington, D.C.]

A Little Common Sense Please


Agree or disagree, it doesn’t really matter to me. This is just my opinion, and I have the right to have one just like you.  Everyone seems to have their panties in a wad over President Trumps advised decision to no allow Transgenders into our Military.  Step back and take a breath.  I did not see anywhere, that his advisers or the President said anything about gays in the Military.  Being from a Military family, having children, husband, and friends serve, I can honestly say, none of the people I know could care less about anyone being Gay in the military. All they care about is the person next to them has their six.

As far as Transgenders go, it’s time to use some common sense.  Finding people with any common sense may prove to be unaccomplishable.  Here are a few problems when it comes to Transgenders being in the Military.

To achieve becoming another sex, it takes a lot of drugs. Not a one time deal, but drugs the rest of your life, each day, every day. Why should the Military be responsible for making sure these very expensive drugs are available to anyone serving, especially if they are in a combat situation. At times having the proper medical staff and medications in a combat zone becomes a problem just to take care of the wounded and ill serviceman and women.  If you have changed sexes and now you can’t get your daily drugs, guess what? Yep, you start turning back into the sex you were born.

All these now women, there were once men, complaining about how they fought for the right for me to hate them, is bull….  I don’t hate them. I have to be honest though. When you were fighting for my rights, many of you were strong, in great physical shape (as a man). Now you are a woman, and although you might still be in good physical shape, you have taken drugs, and the steps to lose that male muscle mass and I wonder if any of you could pass the physical test required to be in the job you once held. And what if you can’t get your needed drugs to keep your girly shape?

Same goes for women who are now men. If you can’t get your drugs, you will get your girly muscles back. Scientifically, women do not and will probably never have the muscle mass males have, hence the reasons they require less on tests for women who want to enter into a man’s job.

The money appropriated for the Military should be going to support our troops in all ways possible, for the well being of the majority. I think of all the wounded warriors that could use the money just one Transgender person requires for their upkeep and medical issues, and this is a no brainer for me.

I don’t care if you are Gay, Transgender, Straight, or what ever…this isn’t a call against what you are, it’s a call on for what Military money is used. You were a different sex when you were in the Military, and you have decided you want to be something else, then that’s on you, not the tax payers.

I support our troops. I believe they do not get enough care in many cases while deployed, or after they serve. The VA Administration is a shame in many cities and needs to be fixed NOW!  But I also feel it’s not up to the tax payers, the Military, or the Government to support anyone who wants to be a different sex.  Not saying you shouldn’t have health care, just that sex changes should not be covered as a benefit. That’s on you.

I would like to have a face lift, but you don’t see Medicare stepping up to help me out on that.  Not a benefit.

If all of you Hollywood folks feel that strongly about helping Transgenders, then get up off some of your millions and start paying for their transformation and medical upkeep. Then have a big steaming cup of shut the hell up.

Whatever You Think

rat s ass

After watching the news the other night, my husband and I had a long conversation regarding world events and things happening right here in our own country.  Some of you reading this will think I have gone off the deep end and have turned into a complete racist. Maybe I have. For fifty-two years I’ve been listening to the same ol bullshit. What this country needs is a big steaming cup of shut the hell up.

People out there still trying to play the poor me card. I grew up in a ghetto, or in the back woods of Appalachia, or my parents were immigrants and my favorite being, I’m a native American and life isn’t fare.  You telling me in the fifty-two years that I have been listening to this crap, no one in your family could make things better? In fifty-two years, no one could break the having several children by several men? In all that time, no one could educate themselves and find better jobs?  Stop with the poor me bullshit, and get your ass up and do better.

I have no empathy for those calling Black Lives Matter when most young black men are killed my young black men.  Doesn’t matter what color your skin is, there are always others worse off than you. Doesn’t matter where you live, you can always leave.  You my always have to start at the bottom of the job ladder but it’s up to you to climb that ladder.

Stop the crying and belly aching and do something with your life. No one said life was going to be easy or fair. You have problems? It’s not the rich guy down the street causing your problems. Truth be known, that rich guy probably owns some businesses and puts people to work. There’s a concept: work.  If it wasn’t hard at times, it would have been called play.

I have worked hard all my working days (since I was 14). I’ve held some pretty nasty jobs, some most people would have not done and gone hungry or stuck their hand out for welfare.  I’m not against helping people that need help. I am against helping people that are just to lazy to work to make their and their children’s life better. If that’s being a racist, then I guess I am one. I’m beyond the point of caring what people think I am or am not.

Stop blaming others or things for the crap you got yourself into. If you happen to be some of the very few that were handed a crappy life, it’s up to you to make it other wise. Stop depending on others to fix your life.  Has nothing to do with the color of your skin, the place you were born or where you live now. If you have the will, you can do better. In the mean time, have a big cup of that shut the hell up and carry on.

What Say You?


As you celebrate Independence Day, I wish everyone would give this some thought. For years I have heard Americans say, we should be more like Europe. They do this, or they do that. Health care is free. College is free. They let all aliens into their countries. Blah, blah, blah!

Listen up people; there is more than one reason people from all over the world are willing to give up everything they own to come to this country.  It’s not because everything is free! Although, there are many in this country believe everything should be free. Let me tell you; nothing is free. Not even freedom.

When other countries offer free things to their citizens, who do you think is paying for it all? The citizens are paying with up to 50% income taxes in some countries.  So you want to be like other countries? My suggestion is that you move there and leave the rest of us alone here in the good ol U.S.A.

Yes, this country was built with open doors, allowing the masses to come and settle here. We were a growing nation.  Things have changed. If you haven’t noticed, we are fairly populated. We have our own problems we need to tend to before we continue to allow more people to come here and live.  A five-year stay on immigration should be ample time for us to fix our problems.  That is if we can get the jackasses in Washington D.C. to stop fighting each other and actually work.

I wouldn’t feel so strongly on this immigration stoppage if those coming here wanted what we have worked so hard to get. Instead, the masses come here and try to impose their lifestyles on us.  I don’t care what religion you are, or how you practice, but don’t move here and try to force your old ways of life on us.  You want that kind of life, then go back to where you came.  You can fight your way out of the mess your country is in just like we did.

So, as you are grilling that hamburger or hotdog, fishing for that big catch of the day, watching fireworks, remember we are all Americans. Stop with that ancestry crap. You are not African/American, or Mexican/American. If you were born on this soil, you are first, by all means, an American.  If you become a citizen, then be proud of the hard work you have done to become a citizen and be an American.  My suggestion is if you are so proud of your ancestry that you place that country before America, then move to that country. This country was built on the blood, sweat, tears, and bodies of people that believed this place would be a better place to live.  How about we stop trying to tear it down, making it like other countries,  and start acting like Americans.  Peoples not afraid to work hard, get their hands dirty, and earn their way through life.

Freedom comes with a price. Sometimes that price is just a matter of thinking differently, or how Americans once believed.  What say you?



Lessons from the Past

Granted I raised my child in the dark ages as she will be forty something this year.  And no I’m not senile just sparing her the reality of her and my ages since she will probably read this.  I am not so out of touch that I did not know about child proofing your homes. However, I did not realize it has become a billion dollar business. After seeing an advertisement this morning for such products, I decided to investigate. I’m actually sorry I looked. It tells me just how lazy and preoccupied parents are these days.

Special cupboard locks, drawer locks, refrigerator locks, bookcase locks, oven locks on the doors and knobs, corner bumper guards, tub guards and bumpers, and the list goes on and on.  You must be kidding me.

This is only telling me parents are too busy to pay attention to what their child is doing. Put down the damn cell phone, turn off the TV, and watch what your child is doing!  When I raised my daughter, I had child proofing. It was called verbal commands and a swat on the butt if the verbal command was ignored. Now there’s an old fashion concept. News flash: she turned out to be a responsible adult, had had a great career, and is now living the good life. She never poisoned herself, and I never moved the cleaning supplies from under the kitchen sink.  She was always within sight no matter where I was in the house.

Yes, she fell and hit her cheek on the corner of the coffee table. Yes, she had a black eye. She also fell playing in the backyard, hit her forehead on the back steps and had two black eyes from that fall. She was allowed in two cupboards which held the pots and pans. It didn’t take but a few “no touch” and a couple of swats on the butt for her to learn which cupboards she was allowed to open.  It only took one time of trying to eat the bar of bath soap for her to know that wasn’t a good idea.

Yes, I trained my baby from the time she first started to crawl until she left home for the things that would cause her pain, both physical and mentally. When she was a baby, I trained myself to always have an eye on her, as to where she was and what she was doing.  In my day, this was called parenting.

Oh, but you say you are a working parent, and you are tired when you get home. It’s easier to have everything childproofed so you can sit down and relax. Guess you should have thought about that before you had a child.

Stop protecting your children from every possible thing that might hurt them (physically and mentally), get off the social media, put down your cell phone unless it’s necessary to make a phone call, spend time with your child, and share the learning experiences of life.  In a few years, you will be proud of both yourself and the child you raised.

Here’s the Deal


This whole insurance deal is a pain, you got it, in the arse! The Healthcare Act is one of the biggest scams ever imposed on the American public, IMO. I just don’t understand how the majority of Americans think paying premiums to have health insurance relates to coverage.


We have been on the Healthcare Act merry-go-round for several years now and we still do not have coverage. There is only one provider in Georgia and the three plans have deductibles from three to eight thousands dollars a year but none of them cover the things we visit the doctor for the majority of the time.  Again we would have health insurance but nothing covered. We would get the privilege to pay premiums once a month. How lucky can people be?

I’m a firm believer that if our politicians had to depend on the Health Care Act, this crap would be fixed in a matter of months. There would be no fighting between parties. On the other hand, the majority of the people in Congress are millionaires, they can afford any type of health care they want.  What do they know about needing an MRI and not having the funds?  An eight thousand dollar deductible is a weekend outing for many of these people. They have no clue. In the meantime, Americans that have worked hard all their lives suffer.

And that my friends is the real deal on our health care in America.

From Tears to Hatred


In fifty-four years we have gone from devastation and tears over the assignation of our President to laughing at the portrayal of our President being killed in a play. What Happed?

The generations that walked the halls of my school on that day in history when our President was gunned down are the same people that have raised the citizens that are now protesting, threatening the President and his family, and laughing at horrendous comments made about the President and his family. If they didn’t raise them, it’s their grandchildren spreading hate and discontent. And I’m not sure over what?

Let me say that I was raised in a divided house. My father was a dye in the wool Democrat, and my mom was a Republican. Many conversations were held around the dinner table as to why one or the other should change their vote. No angry words were ever spoken. No name calling.  Just a comment now and then about their vote canceling each other’s.

Where is the universal respect for the office of the Presidency? Why is it now accepted to hate and bash? I understand people not agreeing with things the President does or wishes to do, but wishing him dead; I don’t understand at all.

What happened to our children and grandchildren that they have shunned manners and common respect for other humans? Mothers and fathers proud that their children are protesting, burning, fighting the police, threatening the President, belittling the First Lady, and verbally attacking their children. I just can’t bring myself to believe that my generation raised their children to behave like this even though I see it with my own eyes. What does one say to their child when they see their grandchild acting in this way, I often wonder.

I can only surmise this sort of behavior is a product of being entitled. Which is another problem I see with our country.

When in the Course of human events it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature’s God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.

It doesn’t matter what you believe, in a creator, or nature, we have rights, not entitlements. We can pursuit happiness. This does not mean one is guaranteed to obtain happiness. If your pursuit of happiness brings harm and pain to others, then you should be stopped.

All the things I hear and read people saying about others, I wonder if they would say the same things in person in a one on one conversation.  Bravery and being a jackass seems to thrive in large crowds or on the internet.

Where have all the Adults Gone?

I’ve been thinking for a very long time of what has happened to the country where I grew up.  Not only what happened but when things started to change. I would like to think it didn’t start with my generation since I’m an offspring of the Greatest Generation. The majority of my generation were taught how to become an adult, and we reaped what we sowed.  We were prepared to take responsibility for our actions. We stood up and admitted when we had done wrong, like it or not. We may have tried once or twice of lying about our actions, but the punishment for lying was worse than the penalty for the actions we had done.

I knew better than to tell my parents it was someone else’s fault I did something stupid. I had to fess up as to why my report card wasn’t what it should be. We didn’t lie to the police when we were pulled over. It was no one’s fault that I was speeding except mine.

More so, as an adult, we took on more responsibility for our actions. It’s part of becoming an adult. What a sorry state our nation is in when it’s acceptable for adults to blame others for their stupidity. As a full grown, mature adult, shouldn’t there be a little part of your brain that says, “if you do or say this, there just might be a chance of repercussions?”  If the authorities showed up, well we knew we really screwed up. It wasn’t anyone’s fault but ours.


I have been watching this whole debacle of Kathy Griffin. I do not feel sorry for her. I don’t care about her or what happens to her. What I do care about is the message she is sending. The same message people have been sending out for a long time now. This message of freedom of speech no matter what is said and who it hurts. The message of no matter how serious one’s actions are, one can always blame someone else. The message of turning things around, so the guilty one is now the victim.  The message of other’s did this, so it’s alright that I did it too.


Being an adult also means stopping to think about your actions before you do something.  Knowing if you think something might be a bad idea, then it probably is. An adult stands up and acknowledges when they have done something wrong, offensive, against most standards of right and wrong, or just plain stupid. They don’t go crying like a little girl and start blaming others.


I see generations of people that have no clue just how to act and live like honest, decent, adults. No golden rule at Kathy Griffin’s home. Time to stand up and take your up and comings for your actions. Oh boo hoo, the Secret Service called you. And?


On the other hand, maybe she’s onto something. Maybe it’s President Trump’s fault I’m overweight?



A Calling or a Seed Planted

road trip 05 2017

Of all the places I have lived and all the places I thought I wanted to live, I find myself wanting to pinch myself these days, to make sure this isn’t a dream. This is really real.

In 1955 my family took a vacation to the Great Smokey Mountains. Although I was a  mere five years old, I still remember so many things about that trip. Including my first viewing of a black bear and being scared to death. He didn’t look friendly like Smokey the Bear. I had my photo taken with a real  Native American.

Skip forward twenty-four years and I find myself living in Alabama and spending days off from work in Tennessee and Georgia. I had my photo taken by the very same cannon on top of Lookout Mountain in Chattanooga, Tennessee all those years ago.

Time marches on, as someone once said. The years passed by, along with a husband or two, until I met a man that allowed me to feed my wanderlust. He understood when I said let’s move to Virginia. Never said a word when I said, “I’m moving us to Montana.” And when the time came for us to move to Arizona to take care of his mother, I was all in.

Then came the time when we needed to make a plan on where we wanted to retire. The plan had been to move back to Montana. Both of us truly love Montana in all her grandeur. We left family and friends behind when we left, yet something was holding us back from making the decision to return.

Maybe it was a calling from our past or a seed that had been planted a long time ago. Whatever it was, the Southeast kept calling our names. One day, we made the decision to head east and take a look around our old stomping grounds.  Even though it was the dead of winter and we was caught in the middle of an ice and snow storm, we made it. After spending a week in a cabin in the north Georgia mountains, we started wondering why we had ever left. We left Georgia after making an offer on a house and making plans on selling our house in Arizona.

After all the miles and years on this gal, I finally feel at peace with myself.  There is a  calmness within me that I’m not sure I have ever felt. A peaceful, thankful, and joyful presence from within.  If I believed in reincarnation I would argue that I was a mountain man in my former life.

I will not sit and wonder why I didn’t move here years ago. I believe if I had, I might not appreciate this place. I would not have found the peace I have found. My wish would be that everyone, everywhere, could somehow experience what I have found, sometime during their life.


What day is this?


“Honey, someone just tried to open the room door.”

“What time does maid service start here?”

“I don’t know.”

“What time is it?”

Looking at my phone in disbelief, “Holy Crap, it’s 10:10!  That can’t be right!”

My husband never sets his alarm because I’m always up before the sun.

“Are you feeling ok? You never sleep this long.”

“Crap, check out is at 11. Get up! Get up!”

And so started our Friday on the third full day of moving.  I didn’t know we could move that fast. The dogs thought the motel was on fire and our tails.  Brush our teeth, run some water over my head and face, dried my hair, threw yesterday’s clothes on, loaded up our bags and dogs and was on the road before 11 by minutes.

I fell asleep last night watching TV. I woke up at ten, turned the TV off and it was lights out for me.  Only to wake up sometime after midnight and without the ability to fall back asleep. I have no idea what time I was able to fall back asleep but apparently, when I did, I fell into a deep sleep.  I woke up once and I thought it was real early as no one was stirring.  Hell, everyone in the motel was already gone!

We did make it to our Friday destination and not much later than we thought, even with fighting a strong wind from Amarillo Tx to Shawnee, OK. The wind is really sweeping down the plains!


Life is too Short


I’m not offended, I’m sad. I believe everyone is entitled to their own opinion, I certainly have many of my own. I express them all the time. What is making me so sad these days is the constant barrage of hateful, mean, and depressing statements; most politically motivated.

So your, our ours, or the person you thought should be President didn’t get the job. We are halfway through March. Aren’t you getting a little tired of bitching all the time? I can’t see how this doesn’t affect your personal life. I can’t perceive the bitching and complaints only come out while you are on Facebook or Twitter. All of this hate and unhappiness is and will affect your health, mental and physically. Isn’t life too short for this kind of behavior or thinking?

The main reason all of this is making me sad is the knowing most of the hateful things are being posted to social media by people I consider loving and caring people. How can you claim to have love in your heart and daily send hateful, disparaging, and ugly thoughts out into the cyber world? Is their release, so they don’t take all of this out on their friends and family? We get it. You don’t like who the President is. I can name a lot of people I didn’t like as President, but I lived with it and moved on.

I have learned to just hide the posts from my Facebook and Twitter, but it still makes me sad. This country is more divided than it has ever been in my lifetime and it seems to get worse by the day.

We live in a time when we have one of the most wonderful tools for education and living a better life at our fingertips.  We don’t seem to be far enough advanced as humans to use the internet for good.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t live in a glass house. I’ll be one of the first ones to post a funny joke or photo on just about every subject. I’m as far from PC as a person can get. Some would say, your jokes are hateful to me. They are not intended to be.

I suppose what is making me so sad, is that people I know and care about are so full of hate and discontent at our age. Live is too short for this stuff.


Please Press One!


The ability to disconnect my phone during a conversation might be the only reason I stay out of prison. If I ever meet the person who invented the computerized phone answering systems, it just might be the very reason I’m locked away.

Someone, please explain to me why we are giving computers all pertinent information regarding the reason we are calling, then when a real live person comes online, I’ll be damn, if we don’t have to give it all over again. To make matters worse, I just pressed one to have the computer speak to me in English, now I’m talking with a person I can barely understand. Granted I’m not a world traveler, but I am bilingual. I speak Yankee and Southern. What kind of English most customer service reps are speaking I have no clue. They also know their English sucks because they keep apologizing when they get the info wrong, or I don’t understand what they are saying.

This morning I gave my insurance info to the computer. I was transferred to a customer service representative when she asked me the same information and a few extra questions. She then realized I needed to speak to another department. She verified all my information again so the proper department representative would already have my info.

The call is transferred, and ‘Sue,’ with a very thick accent, starts verifying all the information again. This takes twice as long as it should because either she can’t understand me or she can’t type. Finally, after several attempts, she has my information and cheerfully asks how she can help me. The conversation goes downhill rapidly.

Twenty minutes later, Sue finally understands what I need. She advises me that I should call my doctor’s office since the updated prescriptions are not on file. I thank her and disconnect before she can ask if I would like to take a short survey on my experience with the phone call.

Luck is with me today, as I have a doctor’s appointment and may address this problem in person, saving me from calling his office and dealing with another, please listen to all options for our menu has changed, computerized message. I’ll let the doctor deal with whoever was supposed to call in the refills for my meds and failed to do their job. I’m not going to prison today.

Instead of a day without women, may I suggest a day without automated phone answering services?

Celebrate the day, Skip the March


For International Women’s Day 2017, we’re asking you to #BeBoldForChange
Call on the masses or call on yourself to help forge a better working world
– a more inclusive, gender equal world.


A Day Without Women.

On International Women’s Day, March 8th, women, and our allies will act together for equity, justice and the human rights of women and all gender-oppressed people, through a one-day demonstration of economic solidarity.


I grew up in the 50’s and 60’s. Many women went to college to find a good husband because we still all wanted the little house, a white picket fence, a husband with a good job, and 2.5 children. Many women learned a vocation to support their husbands while they went to college. I’m not saying this was wrong or right.

I learned from an early age women had to be strong willed to make it in the working world. We fought our way to the top. We defended ourselves, or our work ethics, or our work drive. After all, it was a man’s world.

I honestly can’t understand what all the crying and fussing is about in 2017 if you are an American. Women have more opportunity in this country than anywhere. If you cannot stand up for yourself, make your voice known, demand respect, and demand the pay you are worth, then you need to buck up buttercup. Life is not easy.

For all the women out there that want to be equal to men, take on male jobs, have at it. You deserve equal pay but only if you can do the job equally. Can’t ask to be a firefighter or Army Ranger, then have the qualifications lowered so you can pass the test. Like it or not, there are jobs in this world that women are not physically able to perform like a male due to muscle and body structure.

For all the women that were able to take today off from work, well good for you. On the other hand, did you think about your fellow sister and how your absence from work affected her? Did your absence cause some women to lose a day of work because their place of employment shut down? Did someone have to stay home and take care of their children since the school where you teach closed?  Nothing says sisterhood like causing problems for other women.

I have the right to say these things as I was a hard working, single mother. There were times when missing a day of work would cause me to be late paying an electric bill.

Are there still problems in our great country concerning women? You betcha. Do we need to address these problems? Sure. Should we support each other? Of course.

If you have the means and opportunity to help other women, here in America, or any place else on this earth, then, by all means, do so.  Do whatever you can, when you can but don’t hurt others in doing so.

If you teach your children, both male and female on how to treat others, including co-workers, neighbors, and other professions you have taken the first steps in solving many of our problems.


I’m a Great Liar!


It was once hangovers from too much good cheer the night before. It was once staying up all night or too late. It was once from working way too hard and long the day and night before. My how things change. It was once a good night (or day’s) sleep fixed all. Not so much nowadays.

Yes, I’m talking about this growing older crap.  Deep down inside I do know my limits. I do know when I should stop. I know when I should take a break and rest for a bit. The problem is, I don’t listen to myself. I keep on going when my hips hurt, my back is screaming out for me to stop, and I know my hands are going to retaliate later. Is it pride or just plain stubbornness?  Why can’t I just admit that I’m not forty still? Or even fifty. Why will this not compute in my pea brain?

Just empty one more shelf, I tell myself. Just pack one more box, I say. Move one more hand truckload of boxes. You’ll be okay after, after a good nights sleep, I tell myself. I’m such a liar!

When did I become such a liar? Was it when I was fifty or after I turned sixty? Why do I believe my own lies? Do I need therapy? Maybe I’m not alone in the liar’s club. Maybe it happens to all of us that have the privilege of living to our senior years?   We are growing old and have become great liars.

Come the morning, the truth is revealed. As I lie in bed, I wish I could roll over without my hips screaming and my lower back crying out. I try to grab the quilt only to have my fingers refuse to close. Someone surely hit my fingers with a hammer while I was sleeping. I check my knuckles expecting them to be as large as ping pong balls. How can something that looks so normal hurt so badly?

Get up and get moving I tell myself. A body in motion stays in motion, I tell myself. You have work to do today. You just overworked a bit yesterday, I lie to myself.

The truth is, I only worked half as much as I did just a few years ago.  Somedays, the truth just hurts too much. It hurts more than my sore joints. So I will keep on paying no attention to my limits. I will keep on lying to myself since I’m getting so good at it. Growing older is hard enough. Telling the truth on the matter should not be mandatory.

Now that I have had two cups of coffee and three Tylenol, I’m off to get some things done on this fine day. Life is good, and that’s no lie!


When the Lid Pops Off


2008, it wasn’t all that long ago, and yet most days it feels like a lifetime. Whether it’s from my upbringing, or from something deep within my genes, it’s taken me years to not look at the past. How can one go forward if they are looking at the past? A lesson I learned in 2008.

I suppose there was always a tiny bit of fear somewhere deep in my subconscious, but I kept it buried. I refused to let that fear bubble to the top. The first mammogram after my mastectomy was probably the hardest. From there, with each year a more confident, stronger, cancer survivor grew within me. Thinking cancer could show it’s ugly head again was something that I stuffed into a small box, closed the lid, and refused to open. That kind of thinking could only bring ruin.

I know this from experience. Years ago, my mother had one of her kidneys removed, and the doctors told her she probably would live ten more years. I watched my mother give up, as in her mind she thought why to bother with my life ticking away. Twenty years after she just couldn’t get it through her head they were wrong. She kept waiting for the hammer to drop. Mom lived thirty years afterward, and her death had nothing to do with her missing kidney. Life lesson learned. Tomorrow is not promised. Make the most of every day.

With each passing year, the yearly mammogram became just a routine exam, just like it was before 2008. With a roll of the eyes, “It’s that time of the year again. Got to get the boob squashed.”

This year was just like every other year. “Oh boy, time to get the book squashed.” Off I go. No big deal. I look at the films just like I always do because I have seen what cancer tumors look like in my breasts. Nothing solid white staring back at me, I smile. The technician tells me I will hear back from them after the doctor reads the films. I happily leave thinking, “See ya next year.”

The next day I receive a message stating the “your breast imaging shows the need for further evaluation.”

It’s true that time can stand still. One can feel their stomach turning. One’s breath really does catch. I read the words again. I regain my composure. I fall back on my old saying, “don’t worry until it’s time to worry.” Or so I tell myself.  I tell myself this could be anything. I looked at the films. I pull my copy of the mammogram out of the medical file folder at my desk, push the disc into my computer, and look again. I see nothing but who am I to think I can read the image? I know nothing.

It’s then I realize, the lid had popped off the small box and fear of cancer returning was bouncing around in my head.  I hear my husband walking down the hallway. I must get these thoughts back into the box and get the lid back on and quickly.  Just as I stuff the last, ‘what if’ back into the box and get the lid on, Kev steps into my office. After a quick kiss and a good morning greeting, I explain to him I need to go back for further imaging. I can read the concern on his face with just a quick glance.

We talk about the situation several times over then next two days but always leaving the subject on a positive note. I know no other way to deal with cancer.  Even as I walk into the imaging place two days later, I still have the lid back on the box, and I keep telling myself it’s nothing, and even if it is, I can beat the big C again.

As positive as one can be, the relief can hardly be measured when the doctor looks at you and tells you everything is fine, that it’s just a small cyst. No Cancer.

I understand now the difference between cancer survivors. There are those that deal with cancer coming back by constantly thinking that it might. Making plans just in case.  There others like myself that deal with cancer coming back by not dwelling on the subject. Whatever will be will be.

Whatever works for you, is the best thing for you. Likewise for myself.

As for me, the box is stuffed away, and hopefully, it will not be pulled back out, and the lid pops off.  I have places to go and people to meet.




First Impressions

new glasses My parents always tried to impress upon me the importance of first impressions.  As a child, I did my best to mind my Ps and Qs and adhere to my parent’s instructions. Then I grew into a teen, who like most young adults, I started to believe I knew more than my out of touch with the real world parents.

I often wonder how people perceived me, depending on the outfit I was wearing. I thought I was stylish when I walked into a job interview with my mini skirt and knee high boots. Being stylish didn’t land that office job, but it sure got me hired on as a barmaid at the local tavern. That’s alright too, as that job taught me a lot about life at a very early age.

Humans, no matter how they try, will always have first impressions regarding other humans. It’s just the animals that we are. Our first impressions regarding other humans stem from our life experiences, the media, and things others have told us. Does that make it right, or does that make us racist? No, it makes us the imperfect humans we all are.

If my doorbell rings and I look outside to see a man in a suit standing there that I do not know. My first impression is that he’s well dressed, clean, and looks business like. I will open the door but with caution even though I do not know what he wants.

Put that same man in dirty, unkempt clothes. Have him unshaven, looking like he needs a bath, and my first impression is going to change to where I might just talk through the door or not even answer.

Either man or both men could be honest, hard working men or a person wishing to do something wrong. How do I know or decide?

In this same scenario, what would you do? Should I let them inside my home, talk to them, and then decide if I am safe to let them into my home? Might be a little late for me if they wish to do me harm. Am I a racist for not letting the second man into my home?

This same scenario applies to out country and borders, IMO. Letting people into our country that we do not know anything about, we only have first impressions. The suspension of traveling to the U.S. is no more than that first impression. We are looking out our door and seeing people we do not know. Our first impression is they look like honest people, they look like refugees, they look like the tired and oppressed, but are they? Is our first impression correct?

Maybe, just maybe we should keep the door closed for a bit, until we can decide who is really standing at our front door, waiting to come into our home.

From what I have seen, most of the protesters are college students, which I assume are either living at home with their parents, living on campus, or like most students, struggling to just pay rent in a one bedroom flat. What gives them the right to demand I open the door to someone I do not know? Put your beliefs where your mouth and protest signs are and take in a refugee that is already in this country. Or start supporting a homeless American. Open your door, not mine.







New Adventure


The doctors tried to tell me it was only bronchitis, but I’m sure I had the plague. Days of sleeping in my chair or in my bed, coughing until my body felt like I had been beaten, I am now on the road to recovery.  I am very happy to be recovering. However, the knowledge that I am now almost two weeks behind on everything is making me crazy.

I am ready for our new adventure to begin. Looking back on my life, I should say we are ready to continue the adventure.  I suppose my love for the mountains began some sixty-one years ago. The very first vacation I remember taking with my parents. We visited the Great Smokey Mountains and followed the Blue Ridge roads in search of Smokey the Bear. At the age of five, I didn’t really understand that the black bears we saw along the side of the road were nothing like the cartoon character I that I loved. I was a junior forest firefighter, after all. The bears left me crying in fear, hiding the backseat of my family’s 1954 Chevy. The second sighting went much better. I believe that trip was indeed the beginning of my love of the area.

During the twenty-three years, I lived in Alabama, I spent many weekends and vacations in this area. An area always dear to my heart.

Having been sixteen years since we visited the Southeast, we decided to start the new year off with a vacation to northern Georgia. True, not the prettiest time of the year to visit the glorious Smokey Mountains, nature treated us with a beautiful snowfall. Although the trees were bare of leaves, the snow sticking to every little branch and twig, leaving ice along the creek banks, it also released the fresh aroma of the pine trees. It was that very first morning of our trip that we realized how much we missed the mountains, creeks, and lakes.

Our half-hearted idea of going on vacation and taking a look around for a home became a mission. With a happy heart, full of hope and excitement, my idea of living in the mountains is becoming a reality. How blessed I feel that I am being given the opportunity again to do something I had always dreamed about. I once wanted to live in a warmer climate, which happened. I wanted to live in Virginia, Montana, and in Arizona. Now, I’m given a chance to live in the mountains.

A new adventure, new stories, new photos. Life is good.



Show some Kindness


As another year ends and many of us look forward to the start of the new year, while scrolling through Facebook this morning, I was deeply saddened.  While most of the posts were filled with humor, satire, hope, and a tiny bit of wisdom, so many were filled with just the opposite.

Not so long ago, a billionaire was rubbing elbows with the elite of both coasts. Attending parties, weddings, political functions and countless appearances on celebrity’s television shows. All was good in the nation. Donate to our causes, invite us to your parties, bring your fame to our parties and we’ll all live happily ever after.

My how things have changed. Now the billionaire is the President-elect, and those very same people have turned him into the scourge of the earth. Boycotting, ridiculing, blaming, threatening statements, and doing their best to ruin the inauguration.  I get it, they don’t  like that their candidate didn’t win. There was a time in our country it was an honor to be invited to an inauguration even if your candidate didn’t win. Yesterday I heard a has been celebrity hoping 2016 also takes the President-elect along with all the others that died so far this year. I wasn’t surprised something so hateful came out of Hollywood. I was ashamed.

The fact that so many Americans follow along with the elite of Hollywood making them the heroes of the day saddens me even more. Actors are just people with jobs like the rest of us. They are no smarter because they are famous, or rich, and have the opportunity to broadcast their opinions. Many of them have no better education than most of us.

Another thing that saddens me is the fact that our politicians are upset that their despicable, underhanded, hateful emails were hacked and made public. They are not upset over the content.  Other Americans feel the same way. Are there any scruples left in our country?

I’m embarrassed for those that acting like spoiled cry babies over this election. I’m embarrassed for those that are asking for a day of mourning on Inauguration Day.  For all of those entertainers that have turned down the invitation, do you really think the rest of us Americans really give a damn if you show up or not? You would think when you didn’t move to another country after the election didn’t go your way, you have gotten the hint. We did offer to help you pack. But you’re still here trying to impose your beliefs on the rest of us through the liberal media.

As 2016 ends, maybe it’s a good idea to give up all of the dispair over what may or may not happen in the future.

Let 2016 end and begin 2017 with a better attitude. Stop wishing bad things to happen to people. Wish for good things for everyone. Let 2017 be the year we all show more kindness. Stop hiding behind social media to spread hate.


My Trophy Please!


I’ve been silent lately, which I assume there are many of you out there are probably thankful. However, today, just when I thought people would let this Trump thing go, I turn on the news to hear that now Dems are planning to impeach the new President.  My first response was really? But then I thought, why does this surprise me?

We have raised several generations of people that can not accept losing at anything. Everyone gets a trophy, if just for showing up. No one gets spanked or punished for breaking the rules. Lying is allowed. Cheating is accepted. Children are allowed to run amuck in public. Colleges hand out degrees in basket weaving, have courses on television shows and belittle tradesmen. Several colleges enable the student to pick the degree they want, and it’s accredited.

I saw just last night they are giving college courses on how to do laundry and cleaning. WTF? People actually send their children off into the world without the basic knowledge to keep clean? What in the hell have people been teaching their children? If they can’t do laundry, you must consider the idea they can’t cook, balance a checkbook, pay bills, or clean a floor. God forbid they should try and change a flat tire or check the oil in a car.

When I see these things, I really do want to choke the hell out of the people responsible for these problems.

For all the people that are still crying and moaning over the election, someone, please give them a trophy for showing up at the voting booths. If they didn’t vote, provide them with a trophy for showing up at the rallies and riots.

Maybe we should promise a trophy if they will just shut up and get on with life. Start worrying about kids going into the world without the skills to take care of themselves. Start worrying about Americans being out of work and being homeless.

Oh, and someone please send me my trophy.  I’m sure I have done something to deserve one.


Before the election, I was feeling relieved that soon all of the election bullshit would be over. What the hell was I thinking? I should have known better. Elections are just like a sports game. The winners are happy, and the losers are whining, bitching, and moaning about all the reasons that their team lost. Of course, if they had won the shoe would be on the other foot.

Here we are, almost three weeks out from the election and people are still whining, bitching and moaning about everything. The losers are sad, sick, and upset that their candidate didn’t win. So much they find it necessary to protest, riot, stay out of school or work. They still have time to bombard the internet and television programs with hateful posts and comments about the President Elect and his family.

The winners are being just as offensive with their gloating and still making remarks about the losers.

Enough is enough! The election is over. No need for all this crap. Time to move on and let things take their course. Stop hating and stop gloating.

My mother was absolutely correct when she would say, “Enough is Enough!” I thought I understood that when I had my own children but this past election proves it more right than ever.

For all of you that are saying this or that is going to happen, knock it off. No one knows the future, after all, the polls and the media said Hillary would be our next President.

Three weeks is plenty of time to get your acts together and start acting like intelligent adults.  11001815_394213234087890_5804838735717305824_n


National Juke Box Day


This one magical machine brings back more memories than just about anything else from my adolescence. More powerful than the memory of the first car I drove, my first kiss, or the first time I experienced a broken heart. This machine holds thousands of wonderful memories of laughter and happiness. It also holds a few tears.

A woman can never forget the first time a boy flirted with her. Roy Orbison was playing in the background.

The memory of running down the big hill from where our high school sat to grab a cherry coke and an order of french fries for lunch, while the jukebox played our favorite songs will stay with me forever.

The jukebox that played at the mini golf place where my girlfriends and I would dance the evening away.

I wonder how many times I have stood in front of this machine, pondering which song I would pick next. Memories of picking just the right tune causing people to jump up and start dancing. Memories of singing along with the song and laughing when we got the words wrong.

I want to thank Seeburg, Wurlitzer, and all those that came before you for these wonderful music making machines. Your inventions have given generations beautiful memories.





Where Did She Go?

sinus headache

Did you ever feel like your head was going to explode or your eyes pop out of your skull? This is how I’m feeling on this third day of what I’m sure might be the plague.

First of all, I’m not one to get ill often. Usually, I feel as if I might be coming down with something and the next day I will feel fine. I have always just pushed through feeling bad or not up to snuff. That’s how I was raised. If I stayed home from school, by God, I stayed in bed. No TV and no up and about the house. Mom made sure staying home sick was worse than going to school.

I carried this ethic ( if you choose to call this madness an ethic) into my working years. If I got up and didn’t feel well, I just sucked it up and went on my way. There have been more than two times in my life I finally gave in and went to the doctor’s from work, to be told I had pneumonia. Not the smartest thing I have ever done, but on the other hand, not the dumbest thing either. That’s another story to be told, one day.

Here I am, into the third day of what I’m diagnosing a sinus infection or maybe a head cold, and I’m wimping out. I’m trying to convince myself it’s because I’m retired, and there is no need to suck it up, get dressed and get my butt to work. Could retirement of four years turn me into a wimp? Where did my suck it up go?

The first night of coughing, sneezing and blowing my nose I was searching every drawer and cupboard for any OTC drugs we might have. I was telling my husband my eyes were going to pop out of my skull if I didn’t get some relief. I was praying I would never need to swallow again as my throat had been set on fire. My nose looked like Rudolph’s, and there were no tissues with lotion in the house.

What has happened to me? When I was twenty, I would have been at the local bar drowning the germs with beer. Why even when I was fifty, I would have still pushed on and kept my regular schedule.  Today, it’s almost noon; I’m still in my PJs, and I’m tired from sitting at my computer and typing.

For the piece of mind, I’m just going to say, that strong, push through anything woman is still inside of me, but she has decided during retirement there is no need for extra ordinary actions during a cold or sinus infection. I have nowhere to be. I have no time card to punch. I have no one else to answer to except myself. And, if I don’t feel like getting dressed I can stay in my PJs the whole day.

I have not turned into a whiny little crybaby. I’ve  just elected not to release superwoman at this time. At my age, I’ll save her for something more important.

Now will someone please bring me some hot tea and some tissues with lotion in them?


Disappointed Brats Running Amuck

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Yesterday I posted this opinion on Facebook:

Now we have to hear how in the hell could you not vote for Hills or how in the hell did you vote for Trump? Come on people, give it a rest. The election is over. Let’s live in peace for the next few months. At least give the new President a chance before you start in on him. We all gave Obama a chance. Apparently by what happened many Americans wanted a change. It’s time to work together as a nation, all lives matter, get Americans back to work, stand strong in the world, and be the nation we once were. For those of you too young to remember maybe some history lesson would do some good. There was a time when in the not so long ago, Americans were moral and lawful and didn’t need the Federal Government telling us how to live every aspect of our lives. We worked hard, played hard; not everyone got a trophy, or a raise and minimum wage jobs were not career choices. Americans were proud to be a tradesman and didn’t feel less of a citizen because they didn’t have a college education. People didn’t feel entitled to anything, and they worked to get ahead. There have always been corrupt individuals in government, but they were not the majority, and people didn’t disregard them as politics as usual. There was a time in this country when people weren’t offended by just about everything and everybody. There was a time in this country when parents parented their children and didn’t leave it to teachers and police.

We just might do better going forward if we learn from our past.


I will say that I had many people agreeing with me, but wow there were a lot of unhappy people with my thoughts. I have reread my post several times trying to figure as to why this upset folks, not that it matters, yet still I wonder.

Are the people that got upset the parents or grandparents of the people protesting in the streets yesterday? If so, I have some opinions on that. To all those people responsible for raising spoiled, immature, brats that pitch a fit if they don’t get their way, shame on you! Yesterday’s protests are what you get when you teach your children that they deserve a trophy for just showing up. Protests and violence are what happen when you don’t teach your children how to lose. Yesterday’s behavior is what happens when you give your child everything their little heart’s desire and never say no.

I say to the protesters, grow up! Educate yourselves, get a job and go to work on changing the next election if you are so unhappy. It really is very simple. If you don’t like the job you have,  keep working and keep looking. Keep trying until you find a good job. In the real adult world, you might need to work two jobs to earn enough money to live until you land a well-paying job. In the real adult world, you will not always get what you want, when you want it, and be happy with the outcome when things happen.

In the real adult world, as a mature adult, you must learn to suck it up buttercup. Stop being a mambee pambee sissy pants and start acting like an adult. If you need hot chocolate or a therapy dog every time you are disappointed in life, you might as well crawl back into your mom’s womb. This world is too harsh for sissies like you. And forget about growing old because old age is one of the hardest things you will face, not for sissies.

People are talking about how they are fearful because Trump was elected.  What you should be afraid of is the future that will be in the hands of spoiled brats who think they know everything and will stomp their feet and pitch a fit if they don’t get their way.

I did my job as a parent. I raised my children to deal with disappointment. They knew they couldn’t win at everything. They were praised for good behavior and was not spared from punishment for bad behavior. They are mature adults, have educated themselves, held good jobs, and have been responsible for their lives since they graduated high school.  I’m not bragging on my parentings skills; I’m just looking at people running amuck in the streets yesterday and just voicing my opinion on why this behavior is happening.


Can’t Make This Crap Up

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I grew up in a time of stay at home moms and soap operas. Like many women of the times, I was hooked on the daily stories. My mother would fill me in on the happenings when I would get home from school. Later, I had friends that watched the same stories and we would keep each other up on the happenings. What a wonderful time we lived in when VCRs came about and we could record our favorite shows and catch up with them after work.

Life and busy times took over and Soap Operas fell by the wayside. Old favorites went off the air. New programs became popular. I refused to become addicted again and never tuned in again.

Sadly, I need to report I’m addicted to another show. It’s called the Election of 2016! Yes, I’m hooked. I can’t seem to read or watch enough of this crap. I try not to turn on the 24/7 news channels. I try not to watch the morning, noon and evening news. I try not to investigate reports on the internet. Like I just said, ‘I try.’

The reason I say I try is that I miserably fail. I’m a junkie. One can not make this crap up. It’s all beyond anyone’s imagination. I consider myself a fairly good author of two thrilling mystery books, and I could never come up with the crap I’m watching on the news these days.

The twists and turns, the lies and deceit, the money trail, the accusations, the number of bodies, throwing in a few foreign countries for some spice, some sex, drugs, and alcohol, and there you have it, America’s Election 2016.

I find myself tuning in every few minutes to see what has happened. There are a few new television programs which the storyline pertains to politics and the writers of these programs fail at coming close to the real thing. Why would I ever watch these shows?

I’m addicted to the “BREAKING NEWS” banner on the TV screen.  Speaking of which, I haven’t seen the morning news yet and it’s almost nine in the morning. Gotta run……..

Just Me Wondering


I am totally shocked that there seems to be no one asking Hillary a few important questions. I starting to think I’m the only woman in American other than Hillary that has been married to a cheating man. No one wants to ask the hard questions but I will. I earned the right.

I know what it’s like trying to carry on with daily routines while wondering if your husband will come home after work, or show up in the wee hours of the morning. I know how the doubt creeps into your mind when he calls and says he’s working late. Or he must stay out of town another night. I know what it’s like showing up for work the morning after he didn’t come home the night before. I know how hard it is to keep one’s mind on the work projects when thinking he’s at it again, even after he promised it would never happen again.  Does anyone think it’s any different between Hillary and Bill?

Forget about the emails, the FBI investigations, the scandals, the lies, the neglect of duties, or anything else attached to Hillary. Think about having Bill Clinton as first Mister, or whatever they are going to call him. He still is a  lying, womanizing, cheater. Not hearsay, but self-admitted by Bill truly and he paid several women large amounts of money to settle out of court. Who’s going to be watching Bill? The Secret Service? That’s a joke. They were watching him while Bill was having sex with a twenty-something-year-old aid in the Oval Office. Do you think Hillary isn’t going to be thinking of these things?

Makes me wonder while she’s in an important meeting with heads of State, or with her Cabinet, if her mind will be wondering where Bill is and what he’s doing instead of them having her full attention.

Maybe Hillary is over all of that, doesn’t care what Bill is doing, and it’s all about being President. I still am wondering.

It’s been Fun!


While sitting on my patio this morning, I started thinking how things have changed. Growing up in the 1950s and living this long, I would have never imagined:

I would marry more than once.

Would have hitchhiked.

Driven an 18 wheeler.

I would travel around the country playing pool to earn money.

Would have danced for a living.

Would become an area supervisor for a company.

Would have become a general manager for two companies.

Would have written three books.

Would have lived to retirement.

See a President assassinated.

Live through several war times.

Watched men walk on the moon.

See cars cost more than the house where I grew up.

See cars cost more than the first house I owned.

Live through several surgeries and one stroke.

Survive breast cancer.

Have a tattoo, much less more than one or six.

Watch friends die.

Watch my parents die.

Would learn to whitewater canoe and kayak and love both.

Would have lived in seven states for longer than a year or twenty.

No, I would have never imagined any of these things and yet here I sit having experienced all of these things and so much more. Each and every experience has helped make me who I am today.

Being honest with myself, I know I’m looking at the part of my life. It might only be a day, a year, or thirty years. Does it make me sad? No, it makes me wonder how many more new experiences I can cram into what time I have left.

Someone once told me I never stay in one spot very long, like that was a bad thing. I don’t even sit in the same chair very long at my house. Too much to see and do in this life, people to meet and places to go.

It was pretty much expected in the 1950s; I would marry, have 2-4 children, more than likely be a stay at home mom, or have a woman’s job (secretary, banking, maybe a nurse). I would live in the same area I grew up in, and spend Sundays with the family and Grandparents.

Somewhere along the line things just didn’t work out like that for me. That’s okay, it’s been fun.






Retirement Learning

new glasses

I realized yesterday, or maybe the day before yesterday, I have learned a great deal about life and myself since I retired four years ago. Not necessarily in this order but I have learned:

I’ve spent my whole adult life cleaning house. Let it go a for a couple of days, and it’s as if I haven’t cleaned in months. To what end, I ask myself? With each passing year of retirement, I spend less time cleaning. The dirt will be here when I’m dead.  Screw cleaning.

I had a closet full of clothes and kept wearing the same ones over and over again. If I haven’t worn it in the past six months, I don’t need it. Good Will received some really nice things. Less really is more.

I stopped saving things for special occasions. In retirement, every day is a special occasion.

My parents always said not to put off till tomorrow what you can do today. Screw that. I put off things for weeks because I don’t really care if I do it today. What gets done today, yay! What doesn’t, oh well.

I’m on time for airline flights, doctor and dentist appointments and maybe a few other appointments. The rest of life can wait on me for a change. I spent over fifty years being early. Enough of that bull.

I never pass up a chance to not cook.

I don’t make excuses for not attending some function. I just say I don’t want to go.

If I curse in public, I don’t apologize, because I’ve earned the right. I have seen enough of this world to cuss if I want. Don’t like it walk away!

You let your child act like a screaming monkey in a restaurant, get ready to hear from me. Don’t even think about talking back because I’ll put your bad parenting in place too.

I leave the house with no makeup and my hair not fixed to meet the queen.  I don’t wear pajamas or sweats pants out and about, but I’ll go in clothes I wear to work in the yard. I still look better than most people at Wal-Mart.

Now you think I’m a grumpy old woman, but I’m not. I’m very happy and am enjoying my retirement. I wish I had learned these things before retirement.

Enjoy life, spend more time having fun than working. Don’t worry about trying to impress everyone. They really could care less. If people are talking about you, they are giving someone else a break.

Stop being so damn serious all the time. None of us are going to get out of this life alive.

Enjoy your life because you might not live long enough to enjoy retirement or to learn these things.






Fast Train to Crazy Town


Just when I think the last train to crazy town has left the station, another faster train arrives, allowing more people to board and leave the station.  Holy Crap! What has happened to common sense, law abiding citizens, truth, and living by the golden rule?

I’m a firm believer that one does not need to be a particular religion to be a good person or for that matter religious at all. I do believe in the golden rule of treating others as I wish to be treated.

I’m far from perfect, and of course, there have been many times in my life I have failed at following this one rule. Over the years I know I have gotten better and I fail much less.  I try not to throw any stones.

I can say,  when I have failed, the first thing out of my mouth isn’t a lie in the hopes I can cover up my actions. I have never perjured myself before Congress, for that matter, I have never been called before Congress. No matter, I would not lie to them. I would not get on TV and boldly lie regarding something I have done, then to only change my story when all the evidence is against me.

Of course, I say things in the privacy of my home, to my family and friends that I would word differently in public, but I would not change the meaning.

I have always felt the common people were a little dumb for believing anything a politician says or promises. I have lived too many years, have seen too many broken promises, and things remain the same for the most part.

We have gone past the dumb stage of believing what any politician has to say, we have boarded a high-speed train to crazy town. Our government is corrupt to the core. Taking a quote from the old western movies I grew up watching: “White man speaks with forked tongue.”

I say we are crazy for believing anything, anyone who works in Washington DC has to say. Regardless of any good intentions, it won’t take them long to fall into the corruption and forget about why they are in office.

As for me, I’m leaving the station. I’m not boarding the fast train to crazy town.  Stick me with a fork; I’m done.  Don’t send me a post card wishing I was there with you.  Enjoy your trip.





new glasses

I’m finding today’s newest video of Donald Trump talking trash a true testament of how short are the memories of liberal media and liberals in general. Hillary tweeting his comments are horrific shows her true hypocritical self.

Let’s be honest here. It’s true not all men talk this way with other men, but many do. Locker room BS.  If this offends you, don’t talk this way or listen to people talking this way. Now, that’s an easy fix.

The truth of the matter; just because Donald Trump said these things, doesn’t confirm he did these things. Even if he did, what does this have to do with him being President?

Seems not to very long ago, we had a President that wasn’t talking about having sex or grabbing women; he WAS having sex and grabbing women, while he was married to Hillary. He was doing this in the White House on our tax payers money. He then lied about it, finally telling the truth when the evidence was so overwhelming he had to come clean.  (Because the blue dress had not been cleaned.)

What did the media and followers of the Clintons have to say? They stood by Bill, said it was his personal business and he kept his job as President. Now all of a sudden they are outraged over something that was said privately?

Is Trump saying he was going to grab a woman by her private parts worse than Clinton sticking a cigar into a woman’s private parts? Would seem to me the actual act of doing something like Bill did is worse than talking about doing something. How soon the media, Clinton followers, and Hillary forgets these things.  Hillary not only didn’t think Bill was too disgusting to be President but did everything she could to help him keep his job and to destroy the women who had sex with Bill.

The Press and the liberals again showing their double standards when it comes to the Clintons.  Her emails that were released today says it all. She tells Wall Street and her comrades one thing and the general public another.

Hillary is the real horrific deal in this election, not Donald Trump. The Clinton Lemmings will never see the true Hillary.

In My Opinion

Old, is not a Bad Thing


Simply stated ‘OLD’ means having lived for a long time; no longer young. Simple yes? Not so much.

I have several friends that react every time I say something about being old as if I have an STD. One friend refuses to say the word old and asks, “How many years” a person might be. Old is not a dirty word. Why is it cute to ask a toddler how old they are but at some age, it becomes an insult?

Getting older is something I never really thought about, and I’m surprised I have lived this long. With that statement, one might think I’m well into my eighties or even nineties. Surprise, I’m working on the second half of my sixty-sixth year.

True, there was a time when I thought being twenty-one was cool because one could legally drink, but thirty was pushing the coolness factor. Forty and fifty-year-olds were our parents and grandparents. Here I am, looking down the back side of my sixties. What happened?

Let me tell you.  School, traveling, husbands, children, jobs, unemployment, broken hearts, happiness, joy, sadness, food, moving, and adventures most people would never give a second thought. I would have never been able to do all the things I have done if I hadn’t reached the ‘Old’ status. Old is not a bad thing!

I think about all the people I have known in my life who are no longer living and I bet they all wish they were older. I’m not saying I do not consider my mortality from time to time. My goodness, I am human, but I do not dwell on the fact that I’m going to die one day.

When I say I’m old, don’t take it as an insult. If you know me, think of all the memories we have made together. Remember all the times we have laughed or cried together. Think of all the new memories we might make together.  If you don’t know me, stop and wonder of all the things I have seen and done over the years. The decades I have witnessed. The history I saw being made and the history I made. Old is not a bad thing unless it’s dairy products! So far I’m not green and moldy. I might be wrinkled, gray, heavier than I once was, slower than I ever was, repeat myself, or forget things, but I’m still here. Growing older every day, and taking advantage of each day. Tomorrow is not promised no matter your age.

The very best part of being old, is I say and do what I damn well, please. Some people look at me with that, “look at that old lady,” look, and I just laugh. I think to myself, “If you’re lucky you will live to be my age.”

If I’m lucky, I’ll keep on surprising myself with more age, more adventures, more love and more laughing.