I have not posted in a long while. When I created this "blog", I decided immediately that I would not write anything unless I felt compelled to write. In a free thinking, cathartic, stream of conscious thought, idea.
Something happened today that prompted me to put my thoughts out into cyber space.
Casey Anthony. Not Guilty. As judged in court. By that of her peers. PERIOD.
While I do not know the ins and outs of the case, and honestly do not care, I do care that the public wants to bash and criticize the American Justice system.
What I believe personally will have no impact on the outcome of this trial, nor will it bring back that pretty little baby.
Is Casey Anthony guilty? Was OJ Simpson? That's not for me to decide. The court of public opinion and the 3-ring circus that is the Media seems to rule these days. Reporters should report the news. Not create more melodrama. I can't watch news programs for that reason.
I believe in the United States Justice System, and I do believe in honest lawyers that are hard working. HONEST.
In retrospect, Back to the Future II had some sense to it: "The justice system works swiftly, now that they've abolished all Lawyers."
Case in point.
Cheers,
LMS
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Birthdays and Centerfolds
My husband's birthday is tomorrow. He'll be 37. For his 40th birthday I have Fantasy Baseball Camp with the Boston Red Sox planned for him and his twin brother. Or a week at Spring Training. So excited! I want to go, too.
But back to the present. I haven't purchased a gift as of yet. He didn't ask for anything, nor does he really need anything right now. I was going to get him a Wii, an iPad, or triplets on a trapeze. All seemed superfulous at this point. We hardly use the Original Nintendo/Super Nintendo, we both have fully functional computers, and he never has time to fuck me stupid, let alone the triplets I might supply.
I had the greatest idea to be a Playboy Centerfold. Now I've come up with the most scathingly brilliant idea of making a faux volume! Dated on his birthday, with articles and jokes written by friends, advertisments that are all inside jokes And even those annoying little postcard "subscription" papers that fall out of a magazine.
Not sure where this is all leading, but now I have to figure out a new plan. I have to come up with something fantastic, for my equally fantastic soulmate. He deserves the Moon. I'm always more prepared than this. It's not fair to him. I'll sleep on it. I have all day tomorrow to come up with something.
Until then, I have birthday candles and Playboy Centerfolds to dream about.
Cheers.
LMS
But back to the present. I haven't purchased a gift as of yet. He didn't ask for anything, nor does he really need anything right now. I was going to get him a Wii, an iPad, or triplets on a trapeze. All seemed superfulous at this point. We hardly use the Original Nintendo/Super Nintendo, we both have fully functional computers, and he never has time to fuck me stupid, let alone the triplets I might supply.
I had the greatest idea to be a Playboy Centerfold. Now I've come up with the most scathingly brilliant idea of making a faux volume! Dated on his birthday, with articles and jokes written by friends, advertisments that are all inside jokes And even those annoying little postcard "subscription" papers that fall out of a magazine.
Not sure where this is all leading, but now I have to figure out a new plan. I have to come up with something fantastic, for my equally fantastic soulmate. He deserves the Moon. I'm always more prepared than this. It's not fair to him. I'll sleep on it. I have all day tomorrow to come up with something.
Until then, I have birthday candles and Playboy Centerfolds to dream about.
Cheers.
LMS
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Wine, weed, and whining.
I have been flying on civilian airplanes since I was 18 months old. All shapes, sizes, models. Fixed wing, prop. You name it. When I was around 8 years old, Mumah and I went to visit my Grandparents in Florida. On the way home, there was a terrible storm that the pilot tried to avoid, but did not succeed. It was an awful flight, and I never forgot it.
I absolutely LOVE to travel. I love driving anywhere and everywhere. "Push the pedal down, watch the world around fly by us". I've been to California, Canada, the Bahamas, and everywhere in between. I'm the dog with it's head out the window wanting to see and experience everything the world has to offer. I adore the Travel Channel and want to be the female version of Anthony Bourdain. He's my hero, and in my honest opinion, the second coming of Dr. Hunter S. Thompson himself.
After that particular flight, I've always had trepidation about flying. But I always enjoy the excitment of getting on an airplane. I actually love to fly, but the whole fear of not being in control rattles my brain.
This brings me to the topic at hand: An impromptu trip to Amsterdam.
I'm excited, in a holy-crap-I'm-going-abroad-for-the-first-time-in-my-life kind of way. Amsterdam would not have been my first choice of European cities to visit. France, London, Rome. YES. Amsterdam has this haze (yes, puns a go-go) of strange press for it's tolerance of marajuana use. I'm not even interested in the weed, space cakes, mushrooms, or any other drug laden edible that can be thrown at me. I am interested in the food, the canals, the beautiful architecture, and the culture. Mostly, how Europeans exist and live.
I'm terrified to get on an airplane for that long, over the "Pond", and to another Continent. This should be a time of great excitment. But my brain cannot shut off about the "what ifs". I know, very deep down in my soul, that it is not my destiny to be ended in an airplane crash. But I will always worry, as a dog worries a bone.
In order to be forward thinking, embrace the chance of a lifetime, and just stop worrying about what is out of my control, I should drink some wine, smoke some weed, and quit whining about the "what ifs", and be grateful for a once in a lifetime experience.
Cheers.
LMS
I absolutely LOVE to travel. I love driving anywhere and everywhere. "Push the pedal down, watch the world around fly by us". I've been to California, Canada, the Bahamas, and everywhere in between. I'm the dog with it's head out the window wanting to see and experience everything the world has to offer. I adore the Travel Channel and want to be the female version of Anthony Bourdain. He's my hero, and in my honest opinion, the second coming of Dr. Hunter S. Thompson himself.
After that particular flight, I've always had trepidation about flying. But I always enjoy the excitment of getting on an airplane. I actually love to fly, but the whole fear of not being in control rattles my brain.
This brings me to the topic at hand: An impromptu trip to Amsterdam.
I'm excited, in a holy-crap-I'm-going-abroad-for-the-first-time-in-my-life kind of way. Amsterdam would not have been my first choice of European cities to visit. France, London, Rome. YES. Amsterdam has this haze (yes, puns a go-go) of strange press for it's tolerance of marajuana use. I'm not even interested in the weed, space cakes, mushrooms, or any other drug laden edible that can be thrown at me. I am interested in the food, the canals, the beautiful architecture, and the culture. Mostly, how Europeans exist and live.
I'm terrified to get on an airplane for that long, over the "Pond", and to another Continent. This should be a time of great excitment. But my brain cannot shut off about the "what ifs". I know, very deep down in my soul, that it is not my destiny to be ended in an airplane crash. But I will always worry, as a dog worries a bone.
In order to be forward thinking, embrace the chance of a lifetime, and just stop worrying about what is out of my control, I should drink some wine, smoke some weed, and quit whining about the "what ifs", and be grateful for a once in a lifetime experience.
Cheers.
LMS
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Friday, February 4, 2011
Pavlova and Turtles.
I keep thinking about it. Keep wondering and making myself a maniac about it. Why do we have to get old? There are breeds of turtles that can live over 300 years. But humans, if we're lucky, crank out 60 really good years. Because honestly when you think about it, we don't start "living" and appreciating life until MAYBE high school/college. Then the years at the end of our lives are not so great, depending upon the genes you get dealt. Shitting your pants, memory loss, broken bones, etc.
So, starting at age (insert your "start age" here) what kind of life have you had? Will you have? Now this does not apply to everyone, OBVIOUSLY. I have a Great Aunt at age 98. My Father is going to be 75 this year and is in great shape. Save the cancer. Twice. Broken hip, dislocated shoulder, screw driver up the nose, catching his nuts on a flagpole cleat while trying to catch the flag before it hit the ground, both knees replaced, and light one kidney. And now potentially an issue with his bladder. Other than that, he is on point! Sharp. Funny. Quick. And one of the most brilliant you will ever encounter. Not only by his intelligence, but a human soul. An artist. A great beacon if you will.
Whilst on Staten Island today, driving along Richmond Avenue, my mom pointed out that the snow had this sheen to it. That nothing could get through it but a jack hammer from all the snow/ice/melt/refreeze. I told her it reminded me of meringue. A Pavlova dessert, all glossy and pretty with fruit. The snow did have the perfect sheen to it though. Maybe humans could be preserved, or at least live a little longer, and make like a turtle.
Cheers.
LMS
So, starting at age (insert your "start age" here) what kind of life have you had? Will you have? Now this does not apply to everyone, OBVIOUSLY. I have a Great Aunt at age 98. My Father is going to be 75 this year and is in great shape. Save the cancer. Twice. Broken hip, dislocated shoulder, screw driver up the nose, catching his nuts on a flagpole cleat while trying to catch the flag before it hit the ground, both knees replaced, and light one kidney. And now potentially an issue with his bladder. Other than that, he is on point! Sharp. Funny. Quick. And one of the most brilliant you will ever encounter. Not only by his intelligence, but a human soul. An artist. A great beacon if you will.
Whilst on Staten Island today, driving along Richmond Avenue, my mom pointed out that the snow had this sheen to it. That nothing could get through it but a jack hammer from all the snow/ice/melt/refreeze. I told her it reminded me of meringue. A Pavlova dessert, all glossy and pretty with fruit. The snow did have the perfect sheen to it though. Maybe humans could be preserved, or at least live a little longer, and make like a turtle.
Cheers.
LMS
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Liquid Draino.
How ironic that sleep is an illusive thought lately. Like a thread that will not mate with the needle. I really don't know what is going on. Usually I sleep too much. But it was pointed it out to me today, that I may be experiencing a "mid-life crisis". At age 35, I sincerely hope 70 is not my end.
I openly cried at a painting I keep over the sofa in the living room. Stared at it. Stared at it until I thought it might become a chalk drawing from Mary Poppins, and I could jump in and be part of it. Live it. Smell it. Taste it. Breathe it in and never exhale. Forever have it be part of me. For I know this painting well. To the point of visualizing every detail about the inside of the house, from squeaking floor boards to how the morning sun peaks through the windows, to a vineyard that has yet to be harvested, and hot air balloons that are so fresh on their morning journey, they've yet to crest the mountains they seek to rise above. My heart aches for that one moment visualized. I wait. But my patience is thin.
Orphanage and schooling.
I want to finish school. I want a culinary degree, but do not want to take courses that have no use in my discipline. I do not require Biology, Algerbra, or the Mating Habits of Dung Beetles in Africa. I need Culinary Mathematics, Business Management, and how to properly make the "Mother Sauces". Tools for a great Chef. Oh, and a proper omellette. I seriously SUCK a fat one when it comes to omellettes. Sometimes I'm genius. Most times, not so much. Room temperature butter and eggs. OBVIOUSLY. The wrist and flipping that fucking pan so the mess ends up IN the pan and not on my stove top? FAIL. EPIC FAIL. A work in perpetual progress.
I seem to have a deep belief that I need to be an orphan before I can truly visualize my dreams. Not Daddy, but Mumah holds me. Binds me. I've said it before: she is an enabler, but only if it suits HER wants. What about setting your children free and letting them fly on their own? Not enabling them to create bad habits and behavior. Not having them be forever dependent upon you, that they cannot survive on their own. Holding them in your space until you no longer need them, want them, have use for them. I obviously still have unresolved issues. Some thoughts go too deep.
I had an epiphany this evening. Children. Several reasons why we procreate. Foremost, to love them, teach them, family line, etc.. But I also see now it's because THROUGH children, parents can be young again. See themselves in their children, in genes yes, but more so in getting another chance. For themselves. To live forever. But what if you had kids for the wrong reason? What if you had them because you're supposed to have them? And never loved them. Never wanted them in the first place, and put all your pain, hurt, and misery on an unsuspecting, perfect vessel? Wanting all the wonderful things for them, after a fashion and when it was convenient for you, only to have them turn out damaged, hurt, and completely fucked in the head anyway.
Parents, friends, and family reading this, do not attack me. I had an epiphany today, and it made all the sense in the world. A fear of getting old, a fear of death, and a fear of having no worth in this life. I know this is not a new idea, and I know that it's taken me all these years to figure it out, but I feel enlightened. Am I responsible in thought alone to HAVE a child? I don't think so.
But there may be time for me just yet. And I mean that on many, MANY levels.
I openly cried at a painting I keep over the sofa in the living room. Stared at it. Stared at it until I thought it might become a chalk drawing from Mary Poppins, and I could jump in and be part of it. Live it. Smell it. Taste it. Breathe it in and never exhale. Forever have it be part of me. For I know this painting well. To the point of visualizing every detail about the inside of the house, from squeaking floor boards to how the morning sun peaks through the windows, to a vineyard that has yet to be harvested, and hot air balloons that are so fresh on their morning journey, they've yet to crest the mountains they seek to rise above. My heart aches for that one moment visualized. I wait. But my patience is thin.
Orphanage and schooling.
I want to finish school. I want a culinary degree, but do not want to take courses that have no use in my discipline. I do not require Biology, Algerbra, or the Mating Habits of Dung Beetles in Africa. I need Culinary Mathematics, Business Management, and how to properly make the "Mother Sauces". Tools for a great Chef. Oh, and a proper omellette. I seriously SUCK a fat one when it comes to omellettes. Sometimes I'm genius. Most times, not so much. Room temperature butter and eggs. OBVIOUSLY. The wrist and flipping that fucking pan so the mess ends up IN the pan and not on my stove top? FAIL. EPIC FAIL. A work in perpetual progress.
I seem to have a deep belief that I need to be an orphan before I can truly visualize my dreams. Not Daddy, but Mumah holds me. Binds me. I've said it before: she is an enabler, but only if it suits HER wants. What about setting your children free and letting them fly on their own? Not enabling them to create bad habits and behavior. Not having them be forever dependent upon you, that they cannot survive on their own. Holding them in your space until you no longer need them, want them, have use for them. I obviously still have unresolved issues. Some thoughts go too deep.
I had an epiphany this evening. Children. Several reasons why we procreate. Foremost, to love them, teach them, family line, etc.. But I also see now it's because THROUGH children, parents can be young again. See themselves in their children, in genes yes, but more so in getting another chance. For themselves. To live forever. But what if you had kids for the wrong reason? What if you had them because you're supposed to have them? And never loved them. Never wanted them in the first place, and put all your pain, hurt, and misery on an unsuspecting, perfect vessel? Wanting all the wonderful things for them, after a fashion and when it was convenient for you, only to have them turn out damaged, hurt, and completely fucked in the head anyway.
Parents, friends, and family reading this, do not attack me. I had an epiphany today, and it made all the sense in the world. A fear of getting old, a fear of death, and a fear of having no worth in this life. I know this is not a new idea, and I know that it's taken me all these years to figure it out, but I feel enlightened. Am I responsible in thought alone to HAVE a child? I don't think so.
But there may be time for me just yet. And I mean that on many, MANY levels.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Atomic Weapons Testing.
Okay, so my penance for being so eager for vitamin D and sunshine has left me a bit itchy and pink.
And for all the perverts reading this, I WENT TANNING THIS MORNING.
But I must say, this new place makes my old place look completely pedestrian. The old place went out of business last May, and I still had 7, that's SEVEN sessions to use. Not happy.
BUT, as a "Beach Bum", I can choose my basting settings, music, fan speed, and the beds even spritz cold water on your face every 30 seconds! Much like the produce section at your local supermarket. I guess tanning has evolved. I actually got very excited when touring the facility and the machines that would render me "Native looking and sexy", as I like to put it.
Now if I just didn't feel so puffy, and look as if I fell asleep ground zero at an atomic weapons testing facility.
Cheers.
LMS
And for all the perverts reading this, I WENT TANNING THIS MORNING.
But I must say, this new place makes my old place look completely pedestrian. The old place went out of business last May, and I still had 7, that's SEVEN sessions to use. Not happy.
BUT, as a "Beach Bum", I can choose my basting settings, music, fan speed, and the beds even spritz cold water on your face every 30 seconds! Much like the produce section at your local supermarket. I guess tanning has evolved. I actually got very excited when touring the facility and the machines that would render me "Native looking and sexy", as I like to put it.
Now if I just didn't feel so puffy, and look as if I fell asleep ground zero at an atomic weapons testing facility.
Cheers.
LMS
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