Happy Chanukah

Growing up boheman Baptist, lol...I never knew much about the Jewish faith, perhaps because we had no exposure to such living in a tiny rural community, but I had a girlfriend who dragged me to her Penticostal 'holy roller' church which I must say was quite rowdy compared to the Baptist scene. Just like most religions there are levels of faith, some aspects of Jewish fundamentalism I feel would be hard to follow considering the times we live in; however, some would argue that organized religion as a whole is bunch of malarkey and most are just cults. I was never one to judge those who practice any faith and as an adult I don't know what I believe anymore.

I have come to learn that there is a custom associated with the lighting of the Menorah.  What's a menorah, you say? Yeah, that's what I said the first time I was introduced to the word.  Supposedly the menorah must be kindled in a way that it can be seen outside, by the largest number of passers-by. This means at your doorstep, in your big picture window, etc., in other words, be proud of your faith!  When we kindle Chanukah lights, we help each other remember God's miracles and kindnesses; the same could be said with various faiths.

It's not enough to illuminate one's own home with the lighting of a Menorah and warmth of Torah (Holy Book for Jews) or for Baptists a "nativity scene" based from the Bible (King James Version) and the lighting of a Christmas tree, or whatever your particular religion dictates, but it is also necessary to illuminate the neighborhood and community at large with love and kindness.  Whether you are Jewish or not, and I'm not, all the good vibrations of the season should surely will rub off!

Besides, I love the idea of 8 days of merriment with such traditions as lighting the menorah, blessings, exchanging gifts and enjoying treats cooked in grease?! Yeah, I love potato pancakes!

Is it Wednesday? It tis...it tis...

A Department of Highways employee stopped at a farm and talked with an old farmer.

He told the farmer, 'I need to inspect your farm for a possible new road.'

The old farmer said, 'Okay, but don't go in that field.'

The Highways employee said, 'I have the authority of the State of Minnesota to go where I want. See this card? I am allowed to go wherever I wish on farm land.'

So the old farmer went about his chores. Later, he heard loud screams and saw the Department of Highways employee running for the fence and close behind was the farmer's prize bull. The bull was madder than a nest full of hornets and the bull was gaining on the employee at every step.

The old farmer called out, "Show him your card, smartass!" yeah smartass!



ready for another?

Meet Margaret and Charles, who have been married for 35 years.

Charles was always a cowboy buff and wanted a pair of authentic cowboy boots. Seeing some on sale one day, he buys them, wears them home, walking proudly.

He walks into the house and says to his wife, "Notice anything different about me?"

Margaret looks him over, "Nope."

Frustrated Charles storms off into the bathroom, undresses, and walks back into the room completely naked except for the boots.

Again, he asks, a little louder this time, "Notice anything different NOW?"

Margaret looks up and says, "Charles, what's different? It's hanging down today, it was hanging down yesterday, it'll be hanging down again tomorrow.

Furious, Charles yells, "AND DO YOU KNOW WHY IT IS HANGING DOWN, MARGARET?"

"Nope". She replies.

"IT'S HANGING DOWN BECAUSE IT'S LOOKING AT MY NEW BOOTS!!!!!"

To which Margaret replies, "YA SHOULDA BOUGHT A HAT!"

The First Snow...

Mind you, it is just a dusting of snow but so reminenscent of the season, like many seasons before. 

Growing up with 5 other siblings there was never a dull moment in the house.  Winter would get bad, everybody stuck inside, that is, until the snowfall.  Back then it seemed to me that when it snowed, it snowed tons and tons, and we couldn't get dressed fast enough to get out the door! With hardwood floors my mother would dread that mess when we came back in. 

We would stay out roaming the landscape for the best ride, which was in an adjoining house "addition called Eastwood."  There was the biggest steep hill, actually they were a pair, with no traffic except for the people who lived there, which wasn't many, and every kid in the neighborhood would drag out their scoops and sleighs ready for locomotion!

The hills were perfect and there was plenty of landing space, and lots of room for other kids; if you didn't ride the paved road, you could ride either hill as and there were absolutely no fences anywhere!  What made it worthwhile was having the coolest ride.  Our neighbor "Crick" was a truck driver, and he gave us kids a couple of big tire innertubes to sleigh with, and man those things would fly!  We would stay outside until we got soppy wet and on the verge of frostbite too! run back home and change, stand over our big floor furance, and after a while slip back into some dry clothes and back out we'd go!  Ah, the joys of winter wonderland!

I was always fascinated by snow and icicles.  Snow falling to me was one of the most beautiful and purest of sights, how it landscapes everything; how every snowflake is supposed to have its own unique shape.  I love its undisturbed state.  We had plenty of birds, red Cardinals, that stood out against the white, and animal tracks would emerge as we lived near a wooded area.  Funny I don't remember too many ice storms growing up, but I loved how the icicles formed on cliffs and houses, and I always have this winter memory of being fascinated with the ice patterns on the schoolbus windows that looked like ferns, such an intricate pattern; I always thought so wonderfully odd.  Of course we were told never to eat icicles or go to the creek and get out on the ice, or swing from that grapevine cliff, but we did anyway! and we ate plenty of snow cream, too!

Anyway, I can't believe its afternoon already! Where did the day go?!

Friday! finally...

Wow, what a long work week, after last holiday weekend and having four days off.  I did not think Friday was ever gonna come.

Wednesday felt like Friday to me!

I need some holiday feel-good punch, and I got a good recipe over here at

The Lounge.

Gonna have to stock up on my supplies tomorrow.

Its so nice to have my car back and running...so far so good anyway!

It's Wednesday already!

How much love would a woodchuck love, if a woodchuck was in love?!

They said it couldn't be done, some said it shouldn't be done. This may just may break the cute meter...eh, bloggers?

This photo belongs to 4Durt, and is just one picture from a series called  the Chip Story, to see more of his work, click here.

Remembering When...

Childhood is over way too fast, isn't it? This holiday season is bringing home to me those childhood memories with my mother, and my own relationship with my daughters; the youngest on the verge of adulthood in age, still a child in many ways.

When we share ~ that is poetry in the prose of life. ~ Sigmund Freud.

This year is the first year I have put up a Christmas tree since my mother died suddenly a few years back. My dad passed away in 1997. I have been orphaned pretty much for a few years now. All my sisters live away; I miss them, and I hope to visit them more often now that a financial obligation will finally be over and I will have more money available for perhaps traveling.

All my years of growing up with 2 brothers and 3 other sisters, we never failed to have Thanksgiving or Christmas despite the hardship it often was financially. Mom was a stay-at-home mother, a full time job with 6 rugrats, and my dad the sole breadwinner.  Mom was the one who did all the technical stuff of putting together the bicycles, wiring lamps, putting the sprocket chain on the bicycle or fixing the brakes on it, and whatever else needed done; she was the chief mechanic and bottle washer.  Dad would just get toasty or lay out on the weekends binging with his buddies after working all week; not that he was a bad father per se, just had a substance abuse problem. 

I realized when I got to be an adult just how much my mother really did for us. She was a seamstress sewing us awesome clothes, nobody else had, one of a kind yet trendy, however she suffered physical and emotional abuse in her own personal life at those who professed to love her. I admire my mother's strength through her adversity growing up and then by the hand of my own father who was an alcoholic and abusive toward her at times.  I had a friend tell me just recently that she thought I was the strongest person she has ever known, I didn't know what to say except I felt humbled, and told her she should have met my mother and my father, both of whom raised me bohemian, but I turned out okay.

This year, I pulled out the box of ornaments my mother had lovingly packed away that she had fully expected would be there for her when Christmas rolled back around, but instead she was called back home suddenly, which was a devastating loss for all of us, and her collection of ornaments and decorations were given to me months afterward.  She had nothing of any great material value, neither did my father, but each of them left me with values and strength.  I often wonder if my girls could say that about me.  Time will tell. 

Each year my mother's tree was stunning. She worked for hours and hours on it. She never had a prelit tree but you wouldn't know it. Every branch was beautifully lit and decorated with all her keepsake ornaments. It has taken me three years after her death to be able to open that crate of ornaments and this year "her little Rosebud" (her great granddaughter, my granddaughter Isabella Rose) and I decorated a tree in her honor.  The time was right and it felt good. This year I might be low in money due to having to pay off a financial burden, I'm no stranger to poor, but I feel rich in spirit and thankful, and of course I have the most beautiful tree ever thanks to my mother!

the dance...

Later, alone, I reflect back on how beautiful you had been in the moment, my lover;

how the passion had shone in your eyes,

how you had moved with the grace of clouds arcing across the morning sky,

how my heart had almost burst with adoration when your lips shaped my name.

But lost inside everything,

every thought given to our race for the ultimate pleasure, 
both giving and receiving,

all I knew was that you were mine, and that I was yours,

both owner and owned in that sweet, stolen, 
sinful act of lust and desire and yes, love;

we could not give our bodies this fully if we were not touching each other that completely, 
as well – 
but yes, so lost, so suffused with your taste across my tongue,

your skin fully pressed to mine,

the keen of your voice in my ear 
as we moved 
closer 
and 
closer ...

Music has been removed.

Want a little more groovier funk? click here. 

Have a great Friday night, bloggers!

Cheers, Bloggers!

I am celebrating the return of my long lost car today FINALLY! as well as some closure to a nagging legal issue regarding my evil assed ex, and I have the documentation to prove it! Yes, for days, I will be celebrating my small victories and you might not see me for awhile cause I'll be out driving along in my automobile! I don't remember this video, but he looks young! They said this video is from 60s show 1963 or 64 on Belgium RTBF TV show named Face au Public.

Yep, me be thankful this Thanksgiving for the small victories! ha! and for good blog buddies who stop by and are encouraging, make me smile, and listen to my rants and such nonsense!

and why did the turkey not cross the road?

cause he was chicken!

bock bock! gobble-gobble!

Bottoms up!