Mr. Whackadoodle or how I became a criminal

 

 

Okay, so the day started out like most days; I woke up semi-depressed and decided I wanted to stay in my room with my door shut and my iPad fired up…but No, the fam began chiming in “It’ll get you out of the house,” they said. “It’ll do you a world of good” they said. “Just look how sunny and balmy it is outside.” they said. “Let’s go to Redding!!!…” They cried. I was not easily persuaded, but I did need some supplies that Costco can only offer in the mass quantities that make you think you are getting a better deal than haggling with Omar in downtown Istanbul [or Constantinople, as I like to call it.]
So I blathered around for a while before agreeing, Anyhoo, Jamie, Jacob and I set out for “The Big City.” Bill stayed home to putter around the yard, because he is no fool and not easily talked in to crap.
I was almost out of the canyon. Almost dropping down out of the crack when I came upon, [*ominous music] an Oregonian driver. He had decided that he did, in fact, own the road. He was in the passing lane doing 60. We all formed a parade behind him. Some actually managed to squeeze between him and the endless procession of semis which took up the slow lane at maddeningly inconvenient intervals. This went on for about 10 miles, or 80 years in interstate time.
Finally there was a space he liked. He had been window shopping for so long, I was like “Eureka! Prom dress found!!!” Well he slipped over [no signal] and let everyone else by. I began to pass him and he sped up…I sped up too. He began to go faster and I could almost hear the maniacal laughter from inside his rolled up windows. We kept this up until I realized that he was truly a full-fledged whackadoodle!
Here’s what then happened; my buttons got pushed, my fight or flight kicked in and I said, “Oh nuh, uh!” So I decided this guy is dangerous and freaking nuts to boot…I was passing him!!! So I did. HA! When I saw him from a healthy distance in my rear-view, I slowed and so did he!!! Game over. BUT not really! Suddenly blue and red lights were flashing and I immediately began to shake, stifling whimpers as I pulled over. I realized the C.H.P had pulled over somebody else too….Hah! It was the Oregonian whackadoodle! I sat there in shock while the officer took forever to come and speak with me, They do that to help get your bowels moving.
So here are the facts: I have NEVER had a ticket and I am 53. The officer did allow me to explain what had happened. But he had already started writing my ticket so too-bad-so-sad. However; he wrote mine for 76 mph and Mr. Whackadoodle’s for 81!!!! At least it was something, it was a little bone thrown. His advice….’just drop back next time and let the crazies go’. Actually very good advice.
 I was so upset that when I drove away I could not stop crying the rest of the way to Redding. I should have let Jamie drive right then and there because; in a confusing dust-up by the Taco Bell I ran a red light!!! !*@#!!*%?@! So now I had reached epic portions of hysteria as I pictured ANOTHER ticket issued electronically with a photo of my big fat tear-stained face as I wove my way through the kindly people turning left. [I found out later that there is no traffic-cam there] Thank You Jesus!!!!
Needless to say, the thoughtful loosening of my bowels which the officer had begun was now complete. I sat in a stall in, you guessed it, the Costco ladies room as I heard the little Hispanic cleaning lady chirping outside about filling up all the T.P.holders….and then WHAM!!! She pushed through the lock and the door….and I just thought…sure…for once that old poem was true “Here I sit broken-hearted”
Maybe I needed a lesson in humility, maybe I had thoughtlessly laughed at someone else’s misfortune. Maybe I had stepped on a bug, who knows?…So the next day I stayed in bed all day with my iPad fired up, beauty  idea! Tonya Willman ©2014  

Feeling Kinda Bloggy

Well, hello there!
Thanks for stopping by and reading my latest blog post. I bet you thought I had either died, or been beamed up! The last post was around Easter 2013, so yeah, I’m a little behind on stuff.
I will tell you, I have changed the blog a bit. I took off all the extra pages of my favorite beautiful pictures, funny animals and cartoons because it’s all either on Face Book or Pinterest, or possibly Tumblr or Deviant Art. So I’m figuring many of you have seen it all before.
Plus, I am lazy and had not updated any of the pages and they were stale and dried out and crying out for nourishment. I made them go away….I decided to keep a couple things, but mostly just to blog, since well…it IS a blog.
So there have been lots of changes that are really just family changes and should not be shouted abroad [okay, I will shout this much; we have a new grandbaby coming in late June! Woot]. For a while I went into an even deeper mental hibernation that I just might be waking up from. And really, just ever so much that is simply called life. PLUS I recently had surgery. Stay tuned and I may reveal what kind of surgery in future blogs…are you intrigued? Well I am still female, white and old so it is nothing for prurient minds to ponder. Anyway, mia culpa on the lack of entries, I love your faces for hanging in there!
It’s winter time again and we still haven’t moved out of this canyon, which many of us refer to as ‘living in the crack’, which usually means snow. *Sigh, I always mean to move but I never get around to it….that’s a joke, if God gave us the okay I would be packing up faster than Congress heading out on vacation! But it is unusually dry here so far. Some rain but not the anxiety and migraine inducing snow and the heavy white drifts I loathe.
Why do I stay, you ask? Because Hubby can’t retire yet and where he goes, I go. Plus the lack of a little something I like to call ‘cash’. You have to be pretty flush to move, you know? And the only things connected to the word flush around here are the toilets.
So, as my neurons and synapses begin firing again I will be thinking of just tons of new blogging material. Check in and see once in a while. PLUS I love to rant! I know, I know, as a Christian I should not rant but two minutes in the Costco parking lot could produce and epic blog, you never know!
Also, I’d like to give a big shout out to our Troops!!! I wish you were all home and sitting in your recliners watching the game, I truly do... I also wish everybody at Costco was too. It would be SO much easier! Right?
Tonya Willman © 2014

Bloggity-blog-blog...

Dearest lovely friends…..
  This is a quick bloggity-blog to let you know that I have NOT abandoned 4 and 20 Sparrows. But, um, I simply lost my mind for a wee while and for a wisp of a moment; my will to live. You may smile and say….”That T. what a hoot she is…” well thank you, but it is still a true story. Depression bites, hard.
   Apparently all of my serotonin decided to leap from my brain and skitter away, possibly under the fridge, I don’t know. I rarely clean there. Don’t you hate that? Realizing it’s been like six months since you cleaned under it. So you muster up the courage and pull it out…oh dear Lord! It’s a special kind of dirt. It is evil, grimy fridge dirt…Oh, and look! There is that recipe you’ve been looking for, plus a bonus of a hairy tater-tot…so why would my serotonin want to go there?
      I am pretty sure it didn’t follow my eyebrows down to Cancun. The middle of both my brows disappeared, for real!--- I believe it was some type of tweezer protest--- I don’t know, but anyway, maybe the serotonin is way smarter without me and ran out into the garden and hid…just stayed there among the flowers and shrubs….lolling around and laughing with the wisteria.
    It is a certainty I wasn’t doing any laughing. Mostly I was weeping piteously and snotting on myself. I would vacillate between that; and angry outbursts because some driver cut me off, or my son hurt my feelings, or the dinner I made tasted like yak spit or when I looked in the mirror all I could see was that lovely combination of wrinkles and zits….
     I truly believed, at the time, my depression was spiritual. I kept stomping around and crying and scaring my family and begging Jesus to forgive me, and occasionally being mistaken for someone with Tourette’s Syndrome, until my mom and my sister said…”You must see the doctor”--- By the by: they had said this at least a dozen times before--- But finally after an outburst that would have impressed Alec Baldwin (as I sat sobbing and spent)…I listened.
    The doctor knew what to do. I had fought it, because I have to take so many meds anyway, and I certainly did not think it was going to help! It was supposed to take up to three weeks to work. By the end of week one I was feeling almost human. The Tourette’s immediately stopped! The crying jags began to subside. By week three I was back to my regular weird self, still with the fibro and the pain, but SO much better. I realized more than ever before that a person can take physical pain a hundred times easier when the mental pain subsides.
     Any hoo, I got me some shiny new serotonin! It is staying because the medicine says so. Apparently my brain soaked it up like a floppy camel at an oasis. Even that first week: what with the serotonin hypotenuse of the cortexial lingula being so depleted and all; and the synapsis just moping around firing randomly, not even caring if they hit a target. And really, at that point they were just phoning it in anyway.
    So, God-speed to the old serotonin, I just hope it knows to go south for the winter, it gets freaking cold and depressing here come December! But, truly I haven’t forgotten this blog. I think about it a lot. And just see! My brain and my fingers finally got together for this post.
    I do so love you all and hope you will still check in, because: ‘Every day in every way…I’m getting better and better.’ *eye twitch.
Tonya Willman © 2012  

HOW COME

How come now that I am 51 and ‘substantial’ all of these magnificently cute shoes come out? If I were to try to wear them now, people would stop and look upon me piteously, and my feet would scream in pain, and possibly blood would run… while all the time the shoes would chuckle in an *evol manner as the blisters formed!
How come now that I am old enough to realize that you should NOT pluck your eyebrows into surprised half-moons, the middles have angrily given up and moved away? I am fairly sure they are somewhere in the Bahamas sipping a cool drink, a place I will never be able to afford to go, while I fake it; and draw them in every day, while mourning their loss.
How come when we were children, in health class, we were told to brush our teeth and gums with vigor? “♫ Up like a rocket, down like a plane, back-and-forth like a choo-choo train. ♫♪”  NOW my dentist tells me that the reason I have a place on my gums that is receding to the point of seeing root and possibly brain…is BECAUSE I brushed too hard as a child and adult!!!! I say everyone with receding gum lines should form a class action suit against the ADA…And possibly Mrs. Finch, who was WAY too enthusiastic about it all, really who knows what those little plaque dying tablets we chewed, actually did to us, besides the gross-out factor!
How come nature has decided, in a cruel joke, to shower me with “fine-line” wrinkles AND blemishes???? Seriously? I have to deal with sun-damaged, spotty wrinkled skin….AND zits???? Well sure…that makes sense.
How come People-----no haters please---think that epidermal-art …aka tattoos will somehow make their thunder-thigh, calves like bronto-tri-tips and/or ‘cankles’ look even better??? I ask this based on the latest e-mail forward installment I received of ‘Wal-Mart People, Summer Princesses’ (I have the whole collection) Most popular tats: Something large and unseemly, usually circling their whole leg. Or another possible favorite; their NASCAR driver’s number vibrantly displayed on their ankle OR even the top of their foot!
Also, how come some women think it is okay to go out in public without pants, or use a bra for a top? Why aren’t THEY arrested for indecent exposure?
How come I secretly fear that every time I go to a Wal-Mart now, I am somehow going to find myself in one of these emails? Is something loose and flapping? What if I do not realize I have TP stuck to my shoe, or someone catches me bending over to reach something on a lower shelf? I find myself darting through Wal-Mart like a Navy Seal on maneuvers….just get in and out as fast as possible and watch for snipers….AKA people with camera phones aimed at me.
How come a bleach blonde girl in a sports car, while simultaneously eating AND texting in Redding traffic, can lay on her horn and scream at me, using rude hand gestures… (I gotta say, she was an excellent multi-tasker) while I am in my own lane following traffic rules…and all I can do is honk back ineffectually while my daughter says, “Mom, Mom…don’t…I don’t like the look of that guy with her.”…Really? I don’t FREAKING care! I laid on my horn some more just because ‘boyfriend’ was scary, and based on the ‘wife-beater’ tank top, probably had pants baggy enough to house three other boyfriends and a crazy weekend party to go with it!!!!
….but fortunately then our paths diverged and I turned off onto another street, while they blew through a light, like a streak of white lightning! Still…NO cop---EVER---when you need one, BUT; Barney Fifes lurking about everywhere when you don’t! Dear Barney, go arrest the freaky, pants-less Wal-Mart women!
How come technology scares, while simultaneously luring me? It is like a siren’s song. And, it is bad. Because;
A.) I do NOT have the money for the gadgets I crave.
B.) I have absolutely no idea why I crave them; I just do….and
C.) They are for the young, who are now born with texting capabilities and can tweet before they can teethe…..
My “how-Coming” is definitely set on ‘Random’…but sometimes it is the only thing that helps me make any kind of sense of my day…I wonder How come?
Tonya Willman ©2012

MY SUPER POWERS!

Okay, through intense introspection I have finally realized my True Super-Powers. I almost didn’t record this for history out of sheer modesty alone. But, I MUST be true to myself. Otherwise, how will I ever win my TIGHTS OF JUSTICE?

1.   I am a highly skilled procrastinator; to the point of, say, receiving and extremely anticipated book, and then mentally not being able to read it for weeks and weeks.

2.   I am a card-carrying flake. Everything I do is flaky. Others now simply marvel and exclaim; “THERE SHE GOES AGAIN!”

3.   I absolutely never finish what I start unless it is dessert. Big endeavors or tiny projects can be randomly abandoned... I am actually learning to stop apologizing for my behavior, because really, what is the point?

4.   I am an over-thinker to the point of lunacy; including driving all those around me, who have to listen to my bouts of angst, INSANE as well.

5.   I have the attention span of a distracted toddler. Once-upon-a-time I could stay consistently and boldly on-task. It all eludes me now...

6.   Though I am acutely aware that it is a ridiculous notion, my brain firmly believes that any harsh judgments I have will instantly bring bad things upon my life in direct proportion to the amount of said ‘harshness’.

7.   Ironically, after naming super-powers #4 and #6, I now know  that I have highly developed ‘bright-lights’ on my brain. (REALLY)--Though doctors believe these are detrimental—my keen senses tell me that they are what give me my NEWLY DEVELOPED ABILITY to impulsively and randomly not give a tiny-rat’s-heiny. Now, to just focus this power for good, on things that REALLY MATTER, and not things like whether or not the Jehovah’s Witnesses are coming.

8.    My super-‘vagueness’-skills allow me to constantly do things I will regret, because I always forget ‘in the moment’ how miserable they will make me later. For example; I NEVER remember that I can no longer properly digest lettuce, therefore I ALWAYS order the salad.

9.   I can convert a 4 ounce candy bar into 2 pounds of fat, faster than a speeding bullet.

10.          Clutter is my nemesis yet I live in fear of throwing away something that could be important, even after I boldly trash it.

11.         Even though I am working on development of super-power #7 for ‘good’, I have the amazing capability to completely and utterly SWEAT THE SMALL STUFF at a moment’s notice.

12.         With my trusty mental-shield, I have no recollection of becoming middle-aged, yet the date and the mirror confirm this on a daily basis. Where did it go, and how did I waste it???

13.         I am beginning to embrace my inner-curmudgeon, which celebrates the ideals of NOT giving the neighborhood kids their ball back and having an overwhelming desire to pop children’s birthday balloons with my cake fork.

14.         I have attained a level of forgetfulness that causes total over-organization in order to function in my SUPER-FOG, for example; I can single-handedly check and recheck over fifty times that the flat-iron has, in fact, been  unplugged. And I am only able to lock my car doors IF I am physically clutching my car keys. I have actually taken to using the mighty ‘CLIP OF JUSTICE’ to attach them to my purse in order to step away from the ‘BEE-MOBILE’.

15.         Finally; I can leap to conclusions in a single bound, causing enormous amounts of remorse and mortification later.
This is MY super-power list!  Tonya Willman © 2012…you go
get your own!

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
   

   

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   
 

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   

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     
    

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

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

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

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       

HELLO!

Hello! Even though my brain synapsis and individual grey-matter cells have all been in mutiny, I did promise you that a humorous blog post was on its way. I keep waiting for the humor fairies to come sprinkle my mind with some dust…well actually you can probably obtain that illegally, but here I digress.
Four out of the last five posts have been Uber-Serious…I just feel as though my brain is now the consistency of the snowy-slush that sits in great, giant, sloppy piles everywhere…
BUT---the sun is shining---Oh blessed rays! EXCEPT----*bitter irony* I had to close the blinds because I was getting a searing snow-blind headache! But it’s okay, because bare, green ground is showing….
Hello Spring!!! I see you. I know you are peeping at me from around March’s corner! Oh yes! I cannot see, but I can ‘feel’ the tender green shoots working their way up inside the snow drifts, banks, and berms. I can ‘smell’ the colors that are coming; every beautiful shade of green, pinks, creams, purples, scarlets, yellows...endless possibilities. Craving this coming Spring is like thirsting for water, or craving air!!! My very cells are impatient. They crave gentle breezes, and delicious earthy smells, and vast spaces….
Hello spaciousness. The birds in my little nest are nested elsewhere (except for the youngest…he nests and nests and I am so very much at peace with that!) Yes, all the bees in the hive are starting their own hives again! Oh, my I am bold to even think it, let alone say it! BUT----I have been putting my little house back together, piece by piece. What a stupendous thing! I walk around in the spaciousness and the peace. I pray out loud with praise, thanksgiving and laughter…..
Hello laughter! I have been getting waves of weirdness from Facebook, and they fascinate me. It seem, of late; I have had to keep taking certain stands on certain issues. Guess what, gentle reader? I got my first Facebook “unfriending”----for Jesus! It was awesome! I just spoke the truth in love, and did indeed love this lady. She said I was a “Sweetheart” but she knew I wouldn’t be able to let certain things go…well, she was uncannily correct. Truly, I am very careful to pick my battles. The only thing that really matters---for me---is to stand for my Jesus in an honoring and loving way. She didn’t want to hear that He is the Only Way ( if you can imagine)…so….she ‘unfriended’ me. Me---the ‘Sweetheart’. Ha-ha! It was classic! This calls for a toast….
Hello, green tea. I would like to introduce myself. I am a fan of yours---in theory. I do LOVE tea…but have somehow let the soda & diet soda whim-whams take me over. Like a ‘pod-person’ only way more effervescent! Soda, you are my bubbly, delicious ‘habit’…green tea…let us be friends. I am such a ‘sipper’ always and ever needing to sip on something! Green tea…..it sounds so Zen…will I suddenly be ‘at one’ with all things? *Snort, no I predict I will be peeing more frequently, probably every hour-on-the-hour. Still, it makes me want to paint some bamboo…PLUS my kidneys will like me better, and maybe I will think more clearly…
Hello brain cells…I know that you just simply cannot be as slushy /sloppy as you seem. I promised my friends a blog post….dear, dear brain cells, dance and sing and strike up the ‘synapsis’ band! Well, at least shuffle your little brain-cell ‘feet’…No? Okay then, just try to look busy! There may not be many of you left, and you may even be using little tiny brain-cell ‘walkers’ and ‘rascals’ but still commence the dance!....
Hello dusty-rusty blog thoughts! The inside of my head may resemble a rest-home ‘rave’ on a Friday night…but I feel those little cells and synapsis! They are firing up! I might even be able to find my car-keys---at will… Hello!