HAPPY NEW YEAR FROM THE SQUARE-9 ZONE.

Hi, okay so it’s 7:00 pm…..I have been teaching my hubby a card game called square-9. It was fun but we seemingly went into some sort of Square-9 time warp!!! I mean it was weird. I guess I thought I was a better teacher than I am, because it began to feel as if we were sitting  here for approximately three days.
 When we started the game, after supper, it was daylight. As the time warp went on and the hard chair numbed my behind—and my brain--- somehow I thought time had just mysteriously flown by; so without looking at the clock I went in and took my Ambien at, oh… around 5:45-6:00 p.m. As I sit here now I realize the ‘error of my mistake’.
  I am sleepy at 7:00 p.m. yet not truly tired enough to do anything about it except be as loopy as an outhouse rat….My brain fights Ambien the way a toddler fights an afternoon nap. You know how they whine and vibrate in place until all of the sudden you find them sound asleep leaning against a wall or draped over a kitchen chair… (I have photos of my children doing this) of course when they were toddlers. Not now, because that would be ridiculous.
   This is really a stream of consciousness blog piece, which considering the material we are working with----i.e. my consciousness---is a very scary thing.
   So my friend Kimmy mailed me a confectionery goodie plate all the way from Portland! It was truly like something out of a confectioner’s Shoppe (notice how I spelled that? Huh?) And she packed it like a pro…with an ice-pack and everything! Of course she has a hubcap business ---she is the hubcap QUEEN beyond compare---so she packs a mean shipping box!!! But this was sooooooooooooooooo much better than a hubcap!!! Truffles and fudge and toffee and thingies and stuff Veruca Salt would have a fit over!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHA! It’s all mine!!!!  Seriously I saved out a bit and froze the rest. I was gonna take plates around, but what with the Square-9 and all…I totally lost track of time.
So the fam can come around and pick out a little sumpin-sumpin on New Year’s Eve….
   Well, any hoodle we are coming up on the new year’s festivities people, so I may as well include that too!!! I think the Mayans or Aztecs or whoever were just messing with everybody….fear not! And if the end is near…Consider me your sandwich-board carrying, bell-ringer…get ready folks, JOHN 3:16…. Either way it is ALL good!  ♫Happy New Year 2012 ♫…
   Do you want a peaceful new year? Follow these guidelines;
*Avoid talking politics at all times.
*Pay no attention to who becomes the next president, it will make no difference.
*Do not read headlines…especially now that it has all become tabloid. For instance from the headlines; I knew what Lady GaGa was up to and who was tazering whom over electronics deals in Christmas lines, but I did not know that Kim Jong II, the despot of North Korea was dead for five days!
*When in traffic assume that EVERYONE is either out to get you, or is completely unaware that you exist and so is ready to merge straight through your vehicle as though you were in a parallel dimension---possibly the Square-9 zone---
*As tax time approaches try to pretend it is all Monopoly money and laugh merrily as the IRS flings the orange cards at you. Remember those? They were never good! Like; pay a $10.00 ugly tax or something…
* Finally remember that it is not necessarily a bad thing to take your sleep-aid too early if you can appreciate the ebbs and flows, AND always put a cushion on a hard chair that you plan to sit on for three days. Happy New Year Everybody!!! Tonya Willman ©2011
   

   

Eww! Tis The Season NOT To Share!

So as I am writing this, my little grandson Kyle has the stomach flu, or food poisoning, or too much holiday crud or the nasty gak or whatever it is. I feel so badly for him, poor little guy. I also feel so bad for my son Dennis who has full ‘puke patrol’ duties. I would come and help….really I would. I have not been asked to yet, but I would.
 I am planning my Howard Hughes sick room uniform as I write. I don’t have a sterile surgical gown, but I do have painter’s masks and a box of disposable gloves. Why the gloves, you ask? There are many excellent and perfectly normal reasons. For one; I don’t touch raw meat, so there! Do you KNOW how many germs that nasty crap has? *Sigh, I love my gloves, and trust me I will use them if needs be!!!! I am there for you boys!
But then again, I might only be asked to pick up 7-up and Saltines instead. That is a ‘can-do’ kind of job…Then of course, you never know about all those germs at the store. For instance, who snotted on the baskets? Whose fingers scratched what area before entering their PIN number for their debit card? Who will decide to come up and wetly sneeze all over you in line, or stand next to you in the Kleenex aisle and cough so violently they seem to be hacking up a lung?...What poor harassed mother has had to bring her slick child with her; dragging him up and down the aisles as he weeps piteously through rheumy eyes and sports the “green-elevens”, which his mother is too frazzled and distracted to wipe off. But really you’ll be fine, try not to think about it. Just put it right out of your mind….You’re welcome.
I confess; I use hand sanitizer as though it were magic. And, I truly believe that when I use the little wipes the stores are providing now for the cart handles I am warding off evil spirits. I grab several of them and go at the cart as though I was Leona Helmsley’s char-woman and she was standing over me supervising the job. Oh sure, other’s begin to stare. Some even slowly edge away…
 But I have seen it my friends! Others who have come in behind me and who had never thought to do it, go grab those little wipe thingies, and go at their own carts like a beaver on speed.
 So far I have not been able to get the trend going of keeping a fresh wipe under each hand on the cart as one shops…but trust me when I report that it can be done if you are vigilant enough. Otherwise they tend to slip off and fall to the floor. Well you can’t pick them up after that, for crying out loud!!! So now all you can do is discreetly drag them behind some sort of display with your shoe.
Perhaps I sound a ‘wee’ bit germ-a-phobic to you; perhaps you think my Christmas package is not wrapped too tightly…. Well I don’t care! It is the Christmas count down people! This is where hyper-vigilance pays off! This is where the boy in the bubble had the advantage. This is where we circle the wagons, except not too closely because… well, you just never know.---Tonya Willman ©2011

  

12 Days Of Christmas--Disgruntled Housewife-updated!

12 Days Of Christmas---disgruntled House Wife---UPDATED

On the First day of Christmas
The Hubster gave to me:
A beer-fridge; As Seen On TV.

On the second day of Christmas
The Hubster gave to me:
Two rubber gloves, and
A beer-fridge; As Seen On TV.

On the third day of Christmas
The Hubster gave to me:
Three drenched kids
Two rubber gloves, and
A beer-fridge; As Seen On TV.

On the fourth day of Christmas
The Hubster gave to me:
Four brawling nerds
Three drenched kids
Two rubber gloves, and
A beer-fridge; As Seen On TV.

On the fifth day of Christmas
The Hubster gave to me:
Fiiiiiive cold coffees,
Four brawling nerds
Three drenched kids
Two rubber gloves, and
A beer-fridge; As Seen On TV.

On the sixth day of Christmas
The Hubster gave to me:
Six sneezes spraying
Fiiiiiive cold coffees,
Four brawling nerds
Three drenched kids
Two rubber gloves, and
A beer-fridge; As Seen On TV.

On the seventh day of Christmas
The Hubster gave to me:
Seven tips for slimming
Six sneezes spraying
Fiiiiiive cold coffees,
Four brawling nerds
Three drenched kids
Two rubber gloves, and
A beer-fridge; As Seen On TV.

On the eighth day of Christmas
The Hubster gave to me:
 Eight mooks-a-mooching
 Seven tips for slimming
 Six sneezes spraying
 Fiiiiiive cold coffees,
 Four brawling nerds
 Three drenched kids
 Two rubber gloves, and
 A beer-fridge; As Seen On TV.

On the ninth day of Christmas
The Hubster gave to me:
Nine football passes
Eight mooks-a-mooching
Seven tips for slimming
Six sneezes spraying
Fiiiiive cold coffees,
Four brawling nerds
Three drenched kids
Two rubber gloves, and
A beer-fridge; As Seen On TV.

On the tenth day of Christmas
The Hubster gave to me:
Ten Fords-a-leaking
Nine football passes
Eight mooks-a-mooching
Seven tips for slimming
Six sneezes spraying
Fiiiiiive cold coffees,
Four brawling nerds
Three drenched kids
Two rubber gloves, and
A beer-fridge; As Seen On TV.

On the eleventh day of Christmas
The Hubster gave to me:
Eleven loads of laundry
Ten Fords-a-leaking
Nine football passes
Eight mooks-a-mooching
Seven tips for slimming
Six sneezes spraying
Fiiiiive cold coffees,
Four brawling nerds
Three drenched kids
Two rubber gloves, and
A beer-fridge; As Seen On TV.

On the twelfth day of Christmas
The Hubster gave to me:
Twelve Plumbers plumbing
Eleven loads of laundry
Ten Fords-a-leaking
Nine football passes
Eight mooks-a-mooching
Seven tips for slimming
Six sneezes spraying
Fiiiiive cold coffees,
Four brawling nerds
Three drenched kids
Two rubber gloves, and
A beer-fridge; As Seen On TV.

Disclaimer: this festive song in NO way reflects on the writer's own hubby. =)

Tonya Willman ©2011 –updated-

Dysfunctionally Dynamic

    

Greetings from my remodeled 4 and 20 blog. I know I said I was changing to another blog site, but here I am! ‘Why’ you ask? I knew you would. Because it was too freakin’ hard, that’s why! I tried Tumblr, but they expect you to know stuff, man! I had three people trying to help me; young, computer savvy people! Eventually they all wandered off and abandoned me.  
     One of them even has her own Tumblr blog! But she lives far, far away and was trying to help me by phone. Eventually I feel sure, if she could have reached through the wires, she would have beaten me to death with my own lap top-- and well she should have!
     So I came back to my familiar but dysfunctional relationship with blogspot. I kept working at it and trying; searching multiple templates and the new “Blogger user interface”-- until I longed to pluck my own eyeballs out and shove them in a drawer.
     Here is what I wanted: A multi-page blog site that is NOT all bunched up on one page. The old one was a crowded little page, baby! It took FOREVER to load, and had Waaaay too much going on. I wanted great graphics and to keep all my links and gadgets too.
     Whiner Alert: They took my gadgets! This new template is awesome; it is called “Dynamic”.  I can add as many pages as I want, but I lost my links, gadgets AND my Follower’s Window!---37 people just vanished as though I launched you all into the Bermuda Triangle. Poof! Nor can I post links to several of your great blogs…YET. Oh sure, “Dynamic” is fun and cool and lots roomier, but I WILL get my gadgets back! Oh I will…because I am Dynamic!
    But, stick with me. Explore all the pages, see what you think. Keep checking in, because I will be changing them up a lot, a.) For your amusement….and b.) Because I know how!  So leave me feedback so I will know I didn’t really shoot you into the ether. I think the only feedback place is on the Home page, on the latest post. But then who knows? Tonya Willman © 2011   
 

JUST TRIPPIN'

I crave the chance to experience new vistas, near and far. Exquisite architecture in European cities, and simple tree-lined vintage neighborhoods in different towns across America, all of them call to me.
But I live with the knowledge that, ironically, I am tethered to my little mountain house. There are several reasons for this. The first reason being that extensive traveling requires funds, which, at the present, I do not possess. The second being that dealing with a chronic autoimmune condition often causes the need to curl up like a boiled shrimp at any given moment, which would be awkward, on say, a bus tour of famous English cathedrals.
Thirdly, I have a completely cream-puff need to be back in my own bed each night. I cannot help it. It is a primal longing to be in my own space as I lay me down. I keep waiting for the invention of the equivalent of the Star Trek transporter, to beam me home each night…GO technology, Go Scotty!!!!
And finally, I don’t actually like to travel. That is, I like the part where you get there, but not the process of arriving…This, I feel sure, is due to my childhood. I was a piteous child who got motion-sick if I watched a car chase on the television. Our family took many trips to places like; Yellow Stone, Mt. Rushmore, The Grand Canyon, The Grand Tetons, The vast stretches of Texas and the golden plains of Kansas.
I staggered through it all in a Dramamine induced stupor. My parents would wake me up at important land marks and attractions; “The World’s Largest Ball of String”, “the Mystery Spot”, “Knotts Berry Farm”, where I would stare owlishly and wipe the sleep-drool off of my chin. Taking deep breaths I would try to take in everything; from the stunning national parks and geysers to the colorful ‘Indian’ offerings at roadside stands in the pink and purple mesas of New Mexico.
I hated the “getting there” my choices were puking or sleeping….I had to have been the most well behaved child EVER in the history of automotive travel….it is hard to pull any shenanigans when you’re nodding off over your cheese burger and fries…all of the restaurants and drive-ins just blurred together. Except for the time we stopped and I ordered a strawberry shake ‘to go’ I drank it while staring out the side window on the windy road and promptly through the exact amount back up into the ‘to go’ cup…..
So, my mother had to choose between barf bags or Dramamine. It was really a no-brainer, but now, I am what I am, it formed me and shaped me into the Veruca Salt of travel…”But I want to be there NOW…”
Though I long deeply to travel the British Isles, I believe I would be a raving loon by the time I disembarked from a trans-Atlantic flight.
And now, I also completely believe, with my whole heart, that there is not a country left in the world, including Canada, where Americans are not secretly hated and I would not be immediately kidnapped if the tour guide simply turned away to point out the strange and unusual restrooms.  Some places actually only provide you a hole in the floor, and signs illustrating proper squatting techniques!
So here I sit, in my prosaically familiar home with my own bleached bathroom, and my own bed to curl up on, dreaming of far away, exotic places. Tonya Willman © 2011

*~*~*~*JOY*~*~*~*

This speaks to me. It is the simplicity of living life with joy. I have been asking the Lord to help me understand and feel more joy in my life again, even amidst illness. It seems like I have forgotten it somewhere inside, So, He sent me this. A friend shared it on Facebook and I felt as though it came with a bow, and a gift-tag from God....Enjoy! Tonya ~*~*~*~*~*~

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TILLY

I am having an 'ugly' day today...I hate that, but what can a girl do? I will be 51 Wednesday the 28th...and time marches on, right across your face.
Yesterday as I was walking my dog I ran into a ‘fracquaintance’ ----this is defined as ‘friend’ you are not terribly close to, but you’re better acquainted with than, say, your dental hygienist--- She caught up with me and we walked together for a ways.  All was lovely until almost the very end where, just before we parted company, she told me that initially she had mistaken me for another lady we both know (actually, another fracquaintance) apparently upon first glance she thought I was--- and here we will pick a random name out of a hat for anonymity purposes---‘Tilly’. But then, whew! She knew I was NOT ‘Tilly’ because ‘Tilly’ doesn’t... have a little dog!
Really? In my wildest dreams I NEVER thought I would be mistaken for ‘Tilly’---who is perfectly nice---but it has confirmed the fact that I have now attained that ‘matronly' look that I have so long sought after.
First of all; ‘Tilly’ is 10 years older than me and has happily let herself go gray. I just spent WAY too much money on my getting my roots done, highlights and a ‘styling’ as a present to myself for my birthday! Also, I thought I was far less round than ‘Tilly’. I mean, I know I am not svelte, I might not be even merely plump, but having lost around 30 pounds in the last while, I apparently have deluded my mind into a false self-image.
Last year, when I hit the big five-oh, I took it hard. Some of you may remember my melt down from receiving my first AARP letter. I think they sedated me, it was all a blur. But then one of my sweet friends---Thank you James---helped me get a better perspective. He cajoled me through it, made me laugh, and said “We are faaaabulous Dahling!” It worked! So it never occurred to me that fifty-one would be any kind of a bother. But thanks to my fracquaintance, every time I look in the mirror now, all I see is ‘TILLY’…
I had actually come to believe that I was one of those who are choosing to age ‘gracefully’. By that I mean that my funds do not go beyond affording anything more than smearing some sort of Oil of Olay type product on myself morning and night. Or as my dad calls it “Oil of Old Leg”….Well, Frack That! I am changing my hair style or something!!! Maybe I’ll save up for that dowager’s hump removal I’ve had my eye on.
Is this what happens to those middle-aged bald guys who would sell a kidney for a corvette? Oh the bitter irony! How many times have I seen them in their shiny convertibles with their equally shiny heads and shouted; “Mid-life crisis!” or “Man-o-pause!” then merrily went on my way? But, never again shiny bald man! Because somebody was your ‘Tilly’ too, weren’t they? At some point every one of you wanted to weep openly and say, ‘George’? You mistook me for ‘George’?
I remember a quote from the movie ‘Fried Green Tomatoes’ when Evelyn Couch says, “I’m too young to be old, and I’m too old to be young.” You and me both honey. I suppose once I get past this stage I can relax. Right? Right older people? Oh Lord, do NOT tell me that it gets pointed out at the senior-center that you have more liver spots than your fracquaintance in the knitting club, or that you used to be better looking before you got your dentures and, for heaven’s sake, stop making them clack together while you eat!
Oh, okay, I see the hand writing on the wall. I now understand why I’ve experienced random senior citizens that I do not know announcing to me, in the frozen foods section, that they can touch their toes and walk five miles, and then whisper coyly that they are often mistaken for their own daughters. Vanity, thy name is human frailty, unless, of course, it is Tilly….or George.
 Tonya Willman ©2011   

The Machine

All the new Facebook changes have irritated a lot of people, including moi. There have been poems, odes, commentaries and even threats written about them. But do you think that bothers young Mr. Zuckerberg one bit? Pardon me while I wipe away the soda that I just spewed from my nose.
Really Facebook, Net Flix, Yahoo, Google and the myriad of other mega internet  giants that are thrusting change upon us, whether we like it or not, and with no options, are just monolithic barometers of the times we live in.
They seem to be modeling their ‘service’ premise on the government’s longtime policies. These policies are clear; we are peons who cannot possibly know what is best for us. We will have change, and we will like it!
My mind boggles at the complete ‘out-of-touch’ state that politicians, the entertainment industry, the rich and big business exist in. Actually I could have just condensed that statement down to one entity and saved space couldn’t I?
The millionaires are crying foul over the threat of having to pay their fair share, citing the premise that it takes away their ability to create more jobs. I see a LOT of yachts and mansions and fancy cars and ridiculous amounts of money spent on everything from shoes and watches to ‘pre-school graduation parties’ for their children (extra ponies please….and throw in Circque du Soleil), but I do not see a lot of new jobs. These people do not live down here with the rest of us. But, they control the press and the news and the toys and the programs and the fashion and the technology. Oh yes my little robots, we are manipulated at every turn.
Of late I have had many opportunities to go to and from the rescue mission and homeless shelter. I see pitifully poor people. I see the homeless and the disenfranchised lives. I see people who sleep on the floor and are grateful for whatever food is available that day in the soup line. BUT I also see several of them walking around with cell phones which I cannot afford!?!?!?! You cannot swing a dead cat without hitting someone with a cellphone and a gallery of tattoos….I am not judging here, merely stating facts.
Oh listen, I do Facebook, and have my Yahoo account. I deal with Google for this blog. And every once in a while I go mad and believe the hype over some new thing, causing myself to pay good money for something I absolutely do not need. But what I am feeling like, is that we live in the machine…we are all shaped and manipulated by the big money that we will never see.
I think that the only way we could completely avoid this would be to totally live off the grid. But, this is not going to happen for 99.9% of us because we are not survivalists nor are we Ted Kaczynski.  I have just been feeling very ‘pawn-like’ in the last couple of days. But, on the brighter side, I also realize I do not have to accept it. There are many ways to control my little corner and feel at peace. It’s just that I look at what the world is becoming, and though I know it is inevitable, in fact it is prophecy…it makes me sad for our children and theirs too.
I was in the store yesterday and saw a boy of about eight years old following his mother around while she shopped. He had his cell phone to his ear and was railing at someone about how they could not possibly advance to a certain level until they had earned enough points to buy some sort of mega death weaponry. The mother was just happy as a clam, there almost seemed to be a bit of smugness about her amused smile as he trailed after her ranting into his phone, which once again, I could not possibly afford….but I digress, and this is NOT about phone envy, this is about a haunting sadness at how the world seems to have lost what little bit of innocence it had left.
Somehow I want to blame; Snookie, Lady GaGa, Dancing with the Stars, US domestic policy and GoogleFlixSpaceNetYahooTubeBookYouTwitFace...Tonya Willman ©2011

Bits and Pieces

I love pearls of wisdom...kernels of truth are good too. Seeds of faith are lovely. I even love drops of Jupiter...I have collected a whole bottle!...but I try hard to avoid webs of lies and roots of bitterness. Also...unless they are the edible kind one would do well to avoid all nuts, fruits and flakes...*evol granola...~~Tonya © 2011

I Can Hear it...Can You?

    Grab your snorkel, swim fins and barbecue fork. Get in all of the outdoor time that you can. The school bells are a-clangin’ and August is winding down like a hot, tired old bag lady seeking a bench and some shade.      
     I am ever-so curious to learn how summer sped by so fast. It seems to me that there must be some mystical time warp that is causing the space-time continuum to mess with our heads.
     I cannot seem to convince my flower blooms that they are rushing through the process. “Take your time my little dears…” I whisper, but they do not listen, as the faded petals gently drift to the ground.
     And, how did I already wear through a pair of flip-flops?  The left one is cranky, and the top part will randomly wrench itself free from the bottom hole, causing me to stumble around like your uncle Fred who’s been lurking about the beverage table way too long during the family reunion, and all the while, an*evol, flappy chuckle echoes in the background.
   There also appears to be some depressed leaves bent on falling green and EARLY!  This happens every few years. They seem to decide it is just not worth the effort of waiting until autumn or turning a beautiful golden red. They let go before their time as though suicidal and out on the ledge. Surely there must be someone with the job title of ‘foliage negotiator’ out there somewhere.
     I am well aware that one cannot hold on to a season. The tighter you clutch it to yourself the faster it unravels. A fistful of sand would stay longer. And really it is not that I mind the coming fall. It is quite lovely, so do not feel that you have to convince me. It is only that I know that once fall commences, then winter is only just around the corner.
   Winter and I are not friends. I wish it were so, but I cannot help it. You see,    I absolutely know that there will be a snowy, dark and dreary day in the future that I will mourn my broken, flapping flip-flop and even the humiliation of staggering around in the hot sun, shod only with one shoe and a tangled mess writhing its way up my left ankle, for all the world to see.
    I think that is why I refuse to toss these shoes, and why I just keep shoving the round plug back through the worn and weary hole in the flip-flop bottom. It’s my flip-flop, and I reserve the right to lunge about, flailing my arms all I want to!!! Of course I am a sucker for a summer close-out sale and there is bound to be a new pair with my name on them out there somewhere. If I listen very close, I can already hear the chuckle…. Tonya Willman ©2011     
    

"And, isn't sanity really just a one-trick pony anyway? I mean all you get is one trick, rational thinking, but when you're good and crazy, oooh, hooo, hooo, the sky is the limit." ~~~The Tick
*******************
My new motto....

Ginger Stein...Ready to Debut

My son, Dennis Willman, creates art that is an amazing combination of fine art and zombie-whacking, cutting edge Comic-Renaissance Art. How do you make a comic book series about a zombie hunter; cool, creepy, fun, beyond scary, Gorey and artistically gorgeous? How do you make a six foot tall living-dead protagonist incredibly captivating, sarcastic, beautiful and insane, fresh and completely believable?
How, as the reader, do you find yourself becoming extremely fond of a severed head side-kick?
How does it all work? I don't know, but it does....
 The mind and artistic skills of Dennis Willman somehow make zombie hunting new and weirdly fresh as well as completely hysterically horrifying...
Some gore a mother just should not see, of course!!! But the colors, form and trademark style of his incredible talent is all something you just cannot pull your eyes away from.
*Coming soon: The official Ginger Stein website is due out any day. ---more info as soon as I get it---
*Issue #1 will debut at the ~Rock and Shock~ Comic-Con in MA. this October.
Get ready, fall in love with Ginger, and if you are not a comic fan, the mugs and T-Shirts are coming...then you can have the gorgeousness without the gore.
Tonya Willman © 2011
 

Enquiring Aliens want to know....

Main-stream television news stinks.
The talking heads that deliver it make me want to shudder all the more.
And then what is even worse than that?
The typical stories reported about the latest weeknight antics of
the hottest no-talent-pop-tart as though they were reporting on
actual peace talks in the Middle East.
How did main stream media become The National Enquirer?
*****
I do not give a tiny-rats-heiny about
frolicsome stories like; which reality star cheated on what other fame trollop.
And why in the world would I care who is gay or straight,
or entering or leaving weekly Rehab?
while the reporter, who is earnestly reporting these vacuous stories
gazes gravely into the camera as though
reporting about Lady Ga-Ga’s meat-dress is
somehow on par with sharing with us a possible cure for cancer,
the ultimate fate of the Social Security System, or
even, say, a fireman saving a kitten from a tree…
*****
So, I decided to get my news online instead.
I figured I could pick and choose
in a manner that would actually contribute to my mental health.
But sadly, I think it’s too late, I seem to have been taken over by the Aliens
that the National Enquirer always said were coming.
*****
They force me to read useless drivel that I care nothing about.
I think my being let loose to roam online is worse than news networks…
Oh sure, I may have rid myself of the sickeningly
earnest-faced television reporter,
but now I must read copy that I feel sure was written whilst the writer was
simultaneously performing the vital task of either; playing with his I-Pad,
or trimming his toenails, and possibly even all three at once!
*****
The Aliens also force me to click on the articles about;
“which starlet wore their identical outfits better.”
I don’t know why I do this…I truly do not care, and yet I am compelled.
It’s like a car wreck….I gotta look…
even though I am old now and do not know
who over 90% of them are…
Yet, shamefully, I actually find myself taking the time to earnestly critique
their accessories in making my final judgment,
 as though world peace hung in the balance!
*****
It HAS to be the Enquiring Aliens…because if it is not, then what?
I could make the Wall Street Journal my home page
 if I even just cared a leetle bit more.
Of course once one decides to get their news from
 an agency called ‘Yahoo’ it is pretty much saying;
“I just don’t have the will to care anymore, and I like it….”
*****
Just a few short years ago; Googling, Yahooing or
admitting that you seriously received “hotmail”
would have made you look the fool you are.
Now, if you cannot juggle all three simultaneously on your
 IPad, IPhone or Smart Phone, whilst tweeting and texting,
then you just do not deserve to know what is possibly in-store for
 the new season of The Bachelor, or what Snookie is up to!
God help me, I know who Snookie is.
Don’t judge me! I do not watch the show, but she is everywhere, from the Jersey Shores to the Gulf Stream waters…
little stocky, furry uggs, daisy duke shorts wearing, and tan-in-a-can blazing like a bright beacon to the vacuousness that is creeping over everything  we think, do or read.
*****
The National Enquirer Aliens have taken over. We walk about with invisible,
temporal face-huggers stuck to our frontal lobes,
they ride us happily as they lap up their primary food source,
which is:
complete ignorance of the intricacies of world-issues and global,social chaos.
It is deliciousness to them. They are cultural vampires,
bleeding us dry of the will to care about the budget or if global warming
is real, or just some colossal joke.
And do these Aliens get dessert?
Oh yes! That happens when we believe everything
that the mainstream ‘media’ feeds us. Yummy!
Fat, happy, happy Aliens….
*****
Oh well, I read where when all else fails, there is always tofu and Sudoku…
In their own way, they’re each supposed to keep the Alzheimer’s away.
May be they chase the National Enquirer Aliens away too!
Sounds like a plan, as long as we remember that;
living longer, or even just being able to easily
locate our keys does not necessarily mean living smarter.
But then again, Enquiring minds want to know… Tonya Willman ©2011

SAILING...

So I am behind on my blog….I need to be writing something sparklingly witty. I need to be telling you of my wonderful trip I just took, how it changed my life…..
Well it did change my life…but not how I thought. Have you ever had something happen that seems preposterously unreal? Have you just never in a million years thought that a thing was possible, so much so that it never even entered your mind that it ever really could happen? Well I did. I have heard of people losing friendships who just say, very matter-of-factly; “Yeah we’re just not friends any more, that is done, that is over.” Wow…well, that just doesn’t happen in my life….. Except that; now it does.
Well, so then----in case you are a novice and have never had this happen---- you go through a grieving process. I think it is really similar to what happens with death…Of course I don’t mean your own death…I am not worried about that, and am definitely sure that because of my Savior Jesus, it is going to be EPIC!
No, here I am referring to the loss of family or a friend…you know the Kubler-Ross stages…I used to have them memorized and now they elude me, but I remember that in the grieving, is first; shock and denial, then anger, then sadness and finally acceptance. PLUS---right at the same time--- I also had two other people that I love and trust hurt me in rapid succession…..I was thinking “Are ya kiddin’ me???” I mean seriously! Sometimes Satan is just WAAAAY too obvious. Of course though I could actually kind of see the humor in it, it did not make the pain any less. It was all like some big colossal cosmic joke/nightmare and the punch-line really hurt!…AND---just to paint a really big picture for you--- I got either stomach flu or food poisoning to boot. Huh…..I mean it just truly makes you say, “Huh…”
Anyway…so I have been going through all of those grieving stages. It is just beyond weird. I wandered aimlessly for a bit, blathering my bewilderedness and grief to anyone who would listen. I did not know what to do with someone telling me; “I am done with you.”
How does that even work? I am still baffled. Then folks…I was angry. Oh I will leave it at that. Just spit -nails angry. And lots of prayer, SO much prayer.
Then I went to church this Sunday and they were taking communion. I thought OH NO! You know, you cannot be carrying ANYTHING against anyone in your heart when you take communion. It is a VERY serious matter. The Bible tells us that people can actually become sick and can even die from taking communion with anything between them and God. Oh serious scariness!!!!!  I felt like I had come to a cross-road. I mean I felt like I had been letting things go, ‘working’ on forgiveness, but here is what God said to my heart; there is NO ‘working’ on it, there is only releasing. He reminded me, “Look at everything I have forgiven you, you MUST be willing to do the same.” So the love of Christ compels me. I took communion and now it has become my moment by moment reminder of the deliberate decision I made to forgive. He will take care of the rest.
But still I am left with the empty space that was a friendship. The space that was taken up with what I felt sure was love and understanding in the most difficult of circumstances…..
So here is the fathomless love of Christ: He fills up the void. He gives grace to untie---on your own side---the ties that moored you to that person for so long. He gives you a desire to pray for them every day and wish them the best, but to be okay with their absence. He gives you the wind to fill up your sails and set sail. It is a miracle. How does that even happen? Eventually you begin to feel the peace that surpasses all understanding stealing up, around and over you. He gives you your emotional sea-legs again. What is the destination? Who knows? Did you ever really know that anyway? No. You just thought you would always be sailing with the same crew.
So, life looks different now, but I wish those who have let me go nothing but love, peace and blessings. I cannot fix their hurts; I truly did not know that I caused them in the first place. I am not saying that to diminish their feelings. It makes me so sad that they feel the things that they do, and they will feel what they feel. But I cannot walk around in any of that any more. So like so many other people; “I had a friendship and it is gone.” Now I am beginning to understand the matter-of-factness that comes along with a statement like that. But I also know the secret; that empty space can only be filled up with the love of the one who will always stick closer than a brother. Yeah, so I used to have this one friendship, but I don’t now….. I am sailing. Tonya Willman © 2011

Places Calling...

On a day like today, the world is in suspended animation. The seasons won’t separate into recognizable pieces. There are Farris wheels that stay suspended in time too. With some illnesses a person forgets what it was like to feel good. Maybe I could remember if the heat of the flu-ish burning would give me a moment. This headache is like a spatula scraping it all out from the inside, dull but thorough. The fresh winter-cold June air feels like a caress.
On such a day the rain and the sun take turns playing through the atmosphere. Today is too wet to be dry and too dry to be wet. Let’s meet in the garden. The foliage is thick and lush and it has begun to believe it is an arctic/tropical hybrid. It is undoubtedly schizophrenic now, and is just trying to do the best that it can. Great waves of lush growth combine with piteous, shivering tomato plants that clearly wonder why.
Within this piece of life I am at loose ends. I believe I am coming down with a virulent case of ADHD. I roam inside and out. For no apparent reason; one of the potting shelves gets a cleaning but not the rest. All of the cardboard flotsam from soft drink companies and clothes soap magnates gets thrown into the big outside garbage, but I may as well name the daddy-long-legs. Selective tidiness
I look up the symptoms of a certain disease, for no reason other than I read the word at the doctor’s office, and now it is stuck in my head. I sure hope I do not get it, it is not nice. I will know if I do though, as I will lose control of either my bladder or bowels, or possibly both. Some diseases are helpful that way. They are so clear cut.
Residing in this speck of time feels like walking in high heels through clay. Stiletto holes in the world and in my brain. The remedy would be to just slip off the shoes…would it feel happy like a child playing in the mud or completely uncomfortable like when girly-girls don’t want to get dirty?
Here is my bubble, my piece of time and space. It feels wasted and yet I can do no more. My brain seems to have rejected all the familiar things I do in the empty spaces. It chooses not to read or paint or play. A book at this moment would be fruitless. All the watercolors in the world swirling and blending would be just a kaleidoscope.  Possibly pushing through this moment will lead to another world. In that world I will be able to step up and do responsible, productive things. But pushing through this moment is like pushing through a tough membrane. My body is so tired and my mind agrees.
This is a meandering, disjointed day among the wet roses and the sidewalk cracks and struggling earthworms. Things I have never known call to me, which is weird. How can that happen if I have never known them? Maybe they know me….. Old kitchens with chipped enamel counters and wooden rolling pins, cobbled streets with graceful twisting trees and thick stone bridges that give passage over wide, gently flowing currents; postcards with elegant sepia words and valises and steamer ships and fat spring birds with powder blue heads, that come to you and sit in your palm.
Possibly the fatigue in my mind and my spirit will actually let me pass through to the places that call to me most strongly. What if this disjointed place of loose-ends is really a kind of portal? What if I could step through and the Farris wheel would begin to turn? All the places that are stuck would move freely and all of the suspended fragments would filter down into clarity, a zero-attention-span, flu-fog portal if you will.
On a day like today, choosing to believe that what the enemy means for evil, God means for good, I could sit at the top of the Ferris wheel, still and quiet and waiting. And all of the places that I do not know, but which call to me like old familiar friends, would move within the moment and reveal a place of discovery and grace. Tonya Willman ©2011

To Ponder....

Everything Jesus did for us was to heal us; spiritually, physically, emotionally and mentally. He will be the only one in Heaven with scars. ~~~~Tonya Willman

RANDOM RANT...I didn't even see it coming myself...

Dear Blogspot and Google.....you have been annoying all night.Asking me to sign in over 20 times, and then type in what I think I see on the weird twisty word you have put on the screen as code to protect us from the evil spider-bots...Something refused to let me in my own door...to my own blog...MINE! So I tried ten things all at once...every piteous pc trick I know...Okay, so one worked, but since I have zero patience to do them one by one, it just became like blindly throwing all of the darts at once...
Still I am in now boys...and I plan to NEVER sign out!!!!! *evol laugh.
 But, was it really you, or something else that crept into my computer? Some sort of mal-ware disguised as a harmless piece of fluff on say, Jennifer Anniston's new "do"...not that I cared, but I HAD to go look...
Anyway, something was amiss, something ran amok. Cyber-gremlins skulking and lurking and refusing to let me sign in....over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over......see! I just had to give the whole internet a big shove cuz it was stuck...
You may have come to realize that this is not a well thought out post. This has all the depth of a barely filled teaspoon. But still these things must be said because it is the little annoyances that really make you want to leap inside your computer screen and swim around until you get to Bill Gates cyber-house, ring his cyber-doorbell and run like the wind!!! And also that little Mark Zimmerman dude who has become much like the Emperor in Star Wars, controlling the Galactic---Face Book---empire, only in baggy hobbit pants, $800.00 sneakers and a Rolex...Boy, I see you playing with us, like so many puppets on a string. The power has went straight to your pointy little head...and what was up with all the spammer/hackers getting through last week? Somebody must have NOT been minding the store while possibly playing Mortal Combat 3, or Grand Theft Auto...So what? they just stuck all of FB on auto-pilot? The cyber version of leaving the phone off the hook?....we were NOT amused.
Also, shame on Harold Camping, you Big Nim-Wad, False-Prophet Dork! Thanks for making something as awesomely anticipated for the believer, as the Rapture of the Church into a laughing stock for the whole world.,,,,And now you have the gall to say that you are perplexed???? Are you equally perplexed about what to do with all of the funds your followers liquidated and turned over to you????   89, Harold...you are 89!!! For shame!!! And NOW you are setting it up for a repeat in October...oh the humanity.
Okay, so the newly renamed 'Discovery Fit and Health Channel---now owned by Oprah, I think....since signals coming from as far away as Mars basically are-----is advertising that Wednesday nights are going to be all about sex...sex, sex, sex.....weird, scary, kinky, dangerous,.....AND the ad asks "Do we want help with it in our lives?" They promise 'no pillow unturned'...AND I shiznit you not, they are calling it---ready?---Hump-Day----get it? Wednesday...sex...hump day???? I think we should all immediately go puke into USPS leak-proof shipping containers and mail them directly to the Discovery Channel offices. Be sure to ask about the extra charges to get your precious cargo there by WEDNESDAY!!! When they ask if we are mailing anything dangerous or explosive, we can just simply say..."Not anymore.... Just list it as commentary."
Also---no haters please---Dear Mr. Obama....please remove your nose from Israels business and borders. I am sure Mexico would love to have a chat with you about California and Texas....
Whew, well I just feel worlds better...didn't even write this out in 'Word' first....a rant is not a tidy thing is it? A rant is like the brain's version of a great need to release the pressure. Nobody says it is pretty, and it pretty much clears the room...but sometimes it is just oh-so-needful...Tonya Willman copyright 2011

Moving the Hand Of God.

     We cannot please God without faith (Hebrews 11:6). So when we pray; we ask and we believe. Well, we say we believe, but how do our words and our heart line up? However much they do, this is the measure of our faith.
     Do we pray with a thankful heart, and believe, but then contradict ourselves by going around expressing things such as; “But what if?” and “Nothing’s happening” or “This situation is never going to change.” If we do this; how is that faith? How does it please God?  Why do we wonder when nothing changes? The Bible tells me that words are powerful things. They carry the seeds of life and death. The first chapter of the book of John tells us that Jesus is The Word. He is Logos. He spoke the world into being. If Christians are to be imitators of our Lord, we come to realize the power that words hold in our lives and the lives of those to whom we speak them.  Proverbs 23: says that, “As a man thinks in his heart, so he is.” What we think, we speak. Jesus taught us a great deal about faith, He said astonishing things such as, “I tell you the truth, you can say to this mountain, 'May you be lifted up and thrown into the sea,' and it will happen. But you must really believe it will happen and have no doubt in your heart.” Mark 11:23---This is deeply profound, and possibly well over my head. I have often wondered why exactly I would pray for a mountain to be thrown into the ocean..... But I am thinking that He made a hugely amazing statement to prove an astounding point. The combination of speaking out our faith and prayer moves the hand of God.
So why do we pray? Many reasons come to mind, but one vital reason is that God want us to trust Him and lay astonishing requests before Him. He wants to do mighty things for us. The first chapter of James tells us to ask, and God, who gives liberally, will give us all that we ask. But we must not doubt. We must not ask ‘double-minded’ or we cannot expect anything. He tells us that a double-minded person is unstable in all of their ways. I know that feeling. I have spent many an unstable day just agonizing back and forth on simply things that should have been laid at the feet of Christ and left there.
    Here is the thing I have been realizing. When you pray, either you believe that God is answering, or don’t bother to pray. Otherwise it is a useless exercise and you may as well just be reading of a laundry list of your own, and other’s miseries. Engaging in prayer with God is about expectation. Expectation that first; He always hears, and then secondly that He always answers. Even if the answer is no, or if it is not what we anticipated or wanted, He always answers. There must be a trust that He is taking care of it, or else why do we come? Why do we take the time? It becomes all form and no content.
So when I have finished praying and asking for something, and after I have said ‘amen’, then my words (and attitude) to those around me, and the silent resolve of my heart and mind must be, “Yes”. It must be settled and done. Jesus tells us to keep coming and asking. But, I think that it must be with a sense of praise, thankfulness and expectation for answers that I have not yet beheld, but are never-the-less there and simply, in this moment, in the realm of the unseen. Tonya Willman, © 2011 

~MOMENTS~

Within the busyness of this world, which of us fully lives in appreciation of this particular moment, I mean this exact sixty-seconds. We are human, with bills to pay and jobs to work at and oh-so-important things to get done. There are a million distractions that invite us not to pay attention to, or show up for our own lives. This time in which we live clearly seems to be the age of living vicariously through others. It occurs to me that this is a very human condition, but also very sad.
Gratitude, contentment and appreciation for those people God has chosen to surround us with is divine illumination. Sometimes we only get it in flashes with the rest of the time taken up with stumbling in the shadows of existing,and the blurriness of life daily lived.
Who among us can always be mindful that life can change forever with the next breath, the next heart beat. Things change and no matter how we wish them back, they cannot come. Change is inevitable, we know this, so why are we always so blind-sided when it comes? Wouldn't it be amazing if we each knew the exact moment that our lives had reached their happiest milestones? But, like missing an exit on the freeway, we often do not realize it until we are miles past. Sorrow and regret do not alter it, but I am trying to remember that slowing down and at least trying to read the signs does help...Tonya Willman *copyright 2011

THINGS I WONDER ABOUT...

Here’s what I wonder…

*Why did they name them Hover-Rounds and Rascals? What elderly person wants to be known as the one who ‘hovers around’ in their little motorized seat? “Where’s grandma?”, “Oh, she’s just ‘hovering around.’---- Also, who thought the name “Rascal” was cute? Seriously, this gives the senior citizen, who is basically just trying to maneuver through his or her day without activating the Medic-Alert system, all the grace and dignity of a toddler in its Johnny-Jump-Up.

*How come, when I go to the Home Town Buffet; get all my own utensils and food, fetch my own drink and have to set my unsightly leavings on the edge of the table, as though begging for a garbage pick-up, do I feel horribly guilty if I do not leave a tip?

*How come, in this age of trumped up, hyper-excessive self-esteem; in which everyone under the age of thirty actually believes that they are either the next American Idol (when in fact they sing like two cats trapped in a sack) or ---even if they are extremely white--- somehow believe they are Eminem-ish, Puff-Diddy-P-Daddy-Def Jam-gangsta-large-pants cool AND anticipate their very own reality show at any moment---BUT--- also subconsciously realize that they have been thoroughly duped by the collective psycho-babble drivel and then desperately listen to every commercial that tells them that they are ‘Without’? Wouldn’t it stand to reason that if people really did have true ‘self-esteem’, commercials telling them how piteous they are without the ‘latest and coolest’ clothes-shoes-thingys-gizmos would have virtually no effect?

*Why---along the same line of reasoning---do they never use a woman over thirty-five for wrinkle cream commercials? You know why you look so good honey? BECAUSE YOU ARE NOT OLD!!! And yet WHY have I bought ten different brands of it myself, hoping each time for a dramatically different result? And, why do I fall for phrases like ‘serum’ and ‘hydrolic-revitalizers’? And, do you think Madison Avenue stinks on ice? (Discuss amongst yourselves.)

*How come, when you arrive early to the empty theater for a movie---in order to claim your favorite spot---does someone (with the whole theater to choose from) without fail owlishly make a bee-line to either sit right next to you or directly in front of, or behind you? This person will inevitably commence crunching, slurping and-or-speaking loudly into their cell phone before their double-wide butt has even fully lowered into their seat. Also if you did not choose to watch ‘Saw IV-Chain Saw-Slasher-Demon-Texas-Massacre’---and perhaps even if you did---they will often have two toddlers and a surly six-year-old in-tow. If they are behind you they will kick your seat. If they are beside you they will crumple their candy wrappers and whine, sneeze and cough on you repeatedly (and those are just the adults) and if---Lord help you---they are in front of you, each child will turn to stare at you, through all of the previews and half of the movie, with either large doleful eyes or a hostile, suspicious glare plus the bonus runny nose. Isn’t little Madison-Phineas-Caitlyn-Harlow-Isabella-Brody adorable? Feel free to make menacing gestures.

*Why is it appropriate to label larger sizes for women PLUS or QUEEN-SIZED or my favorite, FULL-FIGURED, but it is NOT appropriate to use these same terms for men’s apparel? You will never hear it said, “Well, George just cannot pull that look off, he is a KING-SIZE.” Or “Earl is a great guy with a wonderful personality, and such a handsome face, too bad he is so…FULL-FIGURED.” The closest they come is when they label the fat-little-boy’s section “husky”…oh but it’s okay, he’s “husky.” Just look at that future football player. If we bigger girls must endure the euphemisms, why not; ‘STATUESQUE’ or ‘ZAFTIG’ or possibly even the ‘REUBENESQUE’ section? Oh wait…how about a big old sign that just says ‘DANGEROUS CURVES AHEAD’?---Come on people, class it up! Tonya Willman ©2011

Resurrection

He died for my redemption.
He arose for my eternity.
He lives that I might too.
Time without end, Amen.

*********************
There was no room at the Inn,
but ever-so much in the tomb.
Once again spaciously empty,
and ready to receive
one whom it could hold.
The angels said, “He is not here,
come see where He lay….”

*********************

Jesus, Mighty King
Prince of Peace
Conqueror
All Mighty God
Alpha and Omega
My Friend
I cannot wait to behold
Your Face
My Lord.
***********
Tonya Willman © 2011

The Hidden Chrysalis

This is my requiem to lovely and felicitous Spring Time!!! Elegy to the buds budding, leaves leafing and great golden rays of sunshine! Oh, how I have longed for you….. Winter may be beautiful, but she is icy and unreasonable. She does not embrace even those who love her. She is queenly, but distant.
Today I smelled the beautifully rich aroma of delicately new green and growing things. Such a fragrance, who can duplicate it? The most enchanting of man-made perfumes and oils are a pale imitation.
Here is a beauteous gift from the Father; to sway on a swing in a grassy spot, to turn your face towards the sun with closed eyes and to breathe deeply.----To silently sit with the life stirring and awakening all around you is a profound and gracious thing.
I was reminded today about how a butterfly becomes a butterfly…so beautiful. Thank You Lord, for the hidden chrysalis. I lift my heart in thanks to the Architect of the Universe, to the Great Artist of Spring Time, the Word spoken to the world. What an awesome and mysterious Creator You are!                  Tonya Willman ©2011   

ACS

     My poor, fuzzy little brain. It is becoming increasingly ill-equipped to deal with the hard stuff, and I am not referring to 80-proof! For instance, recently we had to deal with banking matters that were WAY more complicated than my basic deposit/withdrawal abilities are used to. As we plunged deeper into the FDIC twilight-zone, I started to flounder. While trying to find misplaced and errant papers I began to stop mid-process, turn a slow circle, and ask myself; “Now, what did I come in here for?”
     Recently, I have been telling my friends and family that I am taking on more and more *Aunt Clara*-type tendencies. {If you do not know who Aunt Clara was, were you born under a rock? No? Ahh, then you must be under fifty years of age. Egads! Seriously, a bit of research on the show ‘Bewitched” from the 1960’s will enlighten you.}  Anyway, I have given this tragic affliction a name; ACS or ‘Aunt-Clara-Syndrome.’
     Besides collecting door knobs and wrestling with complete sentences, I find that the more complicated the task---as in any of the afore-mentioned basic financial transaction skills---the more befuddled I become. You may scoff, but I used to be a maniac of a multi-tasker! Now I consider breathing, blinking, involuntary kidney function, etc.…AND attempting whatever duty that is actually at hand brilliant “multi-tasking”.
   ACS will eventually require me to wear a skewed hat and also carry a carpet-bag for the door knobs. No worries there, however I am concerned about the bulky little wool-knit blend suits. Still it is inevitable and I have resigned myself to such facts as; my hair is beginning to seek out---unbidden---the same ‘spun-sugar’ texture as hers, my intense interest in door knobs is becoming a possible 12-Step-addiction, AND making giant messes when trying to be helpful is becoming the norm.
    Here’s an interesting fact: When a newly opened box of Reynold’s Wrap leaps from your hands and flies out before you like a bright shiny runway carpet, how fast it unfurls is in direct proportion to how desperately you clutch and grab at it. If you are tragically afflicted with ACS it doesn’t merely ‘unfurl’ no, it skitters off, laughing manically. Trying to keep it all off of the floor to avoid the dog hair is like waltzing with an octopus or possibly disentangling yourself from the fishing-net on an ocean-going trawler. Not that I have actually done either…but I bet Aunt Clara has!
   Another thing that you may not know ---and I could have gone another fifty years without finding this out---is that trying to smoothly roll it all back up again is like trying to get the toothpaste back in the tube or unsweeten the tea. It doesn’t work too well, yeah…not so much. It actually increases to about ten times its own girth around the tube. [Note to physics teachers: you might want to look into this.] This colossally useless roll is now sitting in my kitchen--sans box; in all of its shiny, naked crinkliness. It may be hairy but you just don’t throw good foil away!
   I share this cautionary tale with you only to emphasize how vital it is that you immediately become highly nervous and fearful that, you too, may develop this unfortunate syndrome. Please do NOT mistake ACS for mere early-onset senility, oh if it were only that clear-cut. Below are the top three symptoms an ACS sufferer might pass through…or not.
1.) The Phoebe Buffay Blurt –It may begin subtly, but eventually the brain disengages from the mouth. You actually stop possessing an inner monologue, loudly announcing opinions, whilst in public, that best remain private. You divulge secrets to the whole room which friends had entrusted you with years ago…but alas you forgot that part. You did not forget however; what your friend did after the Peter Frampton concert in the parking lot! Thirty-five years later you feel the need to share the merriment with her grown children. She is NOT amused, they are, but she is NOT…
2.) The Rose Nylund Blather--With this symptom you may find yourself nattering incessantly about subjects that no one else even remotely cares about, such as ‘Uncle Fingerbinger and his 60 pound rutabaga.’ Or as Rose put it; “My mother always used to say: ‘The older you get, the better you get, unless you're a banana.’
3.) The Aunt Clara Waffle—Now in full-blown ACS; you may find yourself in Wal-Mart, dithering over two seemingly identical packages of solid-color curtains, anxiously clutching them, and trying to decide between them because----get ready----one is tab-top and one is standard! In this stage of ACS you will stay there in piteous indecision until your sister insists that you just “pick a freakin’ pair.”---True story.
    Though there is no known cure for ACS---not even a stinking telethon, or a dollar of federal research funds---the best form of treatment is to….um…whaddaya-call-it??? Embrace it! Once you give up trying to be functional you just feel so much better! People begin to accept you, you begin to accept you. It’s nice. Just don’t expect anybody to go curtain shopping with you. Tonya Willman ©2011