Wednesday, August 14, 2013


Abbie and Zac  are getting ready to move.
Their house has been a project for months.
This weekend it is finally time to move the boxes.
There has been many hours of dry walling, painting, and cleaning.
We are in the final stretch.
I swear we would think okay, the painting is done.
We would go home and return to see someone had gone crazy
with painter's caulk and we needed to touch up once again.
The floors have been the same story.
Clean them.
Come back to find paint splatters on the wood.
Assume the position of hands and knees, then scrub.
The work has led to many conversations.
Most are truly ridiculous.
Yesterday Abbie and I were painting the back porch.
We were discussing how people use the wrong words.
She said she cringes when she hears people say
"for all intensive purposes" instead of "intents and purposes".
I said mine is the confusion with taut and taunt and
people incorrectly using loose and lose.
Taut means tight.
Taunt means to tease.
You lose weight so your pants are loose.
Then we both admitted we do it.
We use the wrong words.
But we both said that we are dumber.
Trust me, she is not even dumb.
She is young and she is a doctor.
I am neither.
Dumber happens.
Use it or lose it?
Nah, I think it is aging that does it.
I also think it is all the texting and emailing.
When I stopped hand writing, I got sloppy.
Oh yeah, and of course I believe Dead Estrogen is the main culprit.
Abbie said that after having Cliff, she is more apt to mix up words.
She told me she read that each time a woman gives birth,
her intelligence diminishes.
I said, "Man, that  Duggar woman must be a complete idiot by now."
(FYI Michelle Duggar is on the TLC show
19 kids and Counting. They are all biological children.
I suspect her brain is not all that has suffered.)
However, the truth is
 I don't really care about your spelling, your punctuation, or your grammar.
If you say "she hasn't any shoes",
or "she doesn't have shoes";
or "she ain't got no shoes"
I can't care.
What I care about is if she is shoe-less,
that you are concerned about that fact.
I don't really worry about our use of the English language.
I care about the condition of our hearts.
You can say it any way you want.
Just say it with love.
Put down those imaginary red pens
and go help someone who needs it.
Give a smile, a hug, or a dollar or two.
Be kind.
Love one another.
It madders matters.

Thursday, August 1, 2013

Well, Julie asked...

I always have blog plans.
Something happens and I think "I'm blogging that!"
I even sometimes write it in my head in the night while trying to sleep,
or while know times when you don't need to pay attention.  duh.
Then life happens or TV shows made before HD come on.
 I am a sucker for that.
But my funny pal Julie asked a question on my last blog post and I cannot ignore her,
or just take time to personally email her back a response.
Mainly because she asked it with a compliment and I want that to be a requirement from now on.
Her question was
p.s. Why do you hate being in pictures?
Now, this is how you ask a question readers...
and please don't question her sobriety.
I am sure she was of sound mind.
So, Julie, I chose to answer you my dear, sweet, gorgeous friend here on the blog.
Put down the margarita pitcher and read on...
When I was a kid I went to a country school
that was so small that the classes were combined.
First and second grade together,
third and fourth etc.
This is where I went until Jr. High
and then I went to the big town, population 4995.
At the country school we had 9 in my class.
4 boys and 5 girls...
one of who was Jackie, my twin and favorite sidekick.
Every year we would pick out our favorite outfit, usually matching,
and show up for picture day with freshly chopped bangs
or a bangin' new Toni home perm.
Weeks later the pix would arrive.
It was like Christmas only with just school picture packets and no gifts.
Everyone would open the envelopes and show all their cute smiles.
I would hunker over mine to the same scenario every. damn. year.
One eye closed with an idiot's grin.
No joke.
We would take them home to rave reviews of Jackie's.
Mom would cut up Jackie's package into individual pictures
so she could participate in the friends' picture swap the next day.
Mine would get re-packaged and the form filled out
 RETAKES for Janie/Quasimodo Adkins.
The following week a magician would show up and I would get mine taken again.
None of the other 8 in my class had a problem with cameras.
I was the only one who "seizured" at a camera flash.
Weeks later after all the hullabaloo had fizzled,
my new photos would arrive from the poor sap who got assigned to the second go-round.
No one had pictures left  to exchange.
 No one even remembered that I hadn't been involved in the first exchange.
I know you are is Janie so well adjusted?
Sadly, I haven't honed my photo-sitting skills.
I still throw my head back so I have multiple necks and chins.
I work up a gong-y eye and I usually show every filling I have.
Just ask my kids.
That hateful Sea World took my picture
while I was descending from a death dive on one of their dangerous rides.
The picture was typical of my posing.
My kids still laugh about that danged picture.
 They say I look like a
dead Asian man.
Well, hello Beautiful.
 So my lovely Julie, this is where my disdain of photography
starts and ends.
It is getting better in this age of digital.
If I can control it, the truly ugly are deleted.
Only the false and beautiful are presented by me.
The one on this blog header was taken by my 7 year old grand daughter, Aubrie.
It is in no way typical.
It will probably remain here until another freak incident occurs
and I end up looking like I am sane and un-dead.