Veseventures

I've noticed something over the years: the numbers of hearing-impaired people. Now, don't get all politically-correct on me; I'm not talking about those who would be helped by hearing aids or who grew up signing. I mean those who choose not to hear. Example: Several weeks ago, I decided to have a yard sale. Simple enough. There were things in the house that really weren't needed, so I figured why not pick up a few bucks? Saturday morning, several of us dragged stuff out, put them on tables, and a couple of signs were posted on a busy road to point people toward the sale. At the last minute, I brought out three large framed photos, figuring someone just might buy them. I'd had the photos blown up and framed a year ago for a show that ended up canceled. (Long story, don't ask...) But I figured that maybe I could recoup at least the money I'd spent to frame 'em. A friend of mine stopped by around eleven and we yakked up a storm until around one. J...

It's been one of those Saturdays...I'd planned to have the house completely cleaned, and yet, at 4:44 p.m., I've managed to get some laundry and the dishes done. That's it. Oh, okay, I did go to the nearest CVS with one of my sons to buy a gallon of milk and some eggs, but other than that, I have gotten very little done. Yup, one of those Saturdays. But I have noticed something...the people I live with are a little, um, odd , shall we say. The fact that they are two of my four offspring, and that they swear that their quirkiness is genetic, having gotten it from you-know-who (and not their dad), might be a little telling. I have been known to ask, "Why am I the only normal person in this family?" only to hear laughter and refrains of, "Yeah, right!" So, this afternoon, after M. and I walked to CVS and back, he and his brother started talking about diphthongs, along the lines of, "You know what words sound weird?" Diphthong was one...

It's saturday, the last one in October. Not that the month necessarily matters. Saturdays are saturdays, and, as with other days/months or every other way to measure time, its own rhythms and rituals. "Rituals?" you might be thinking. "For a saturday ?" Yes. Think about it: if you have a weekday job, then weekends are for other things than working. My neighbor lives for yard work, which he has done for years, starting with Saturday mornings and not quitting until Sunday afternoon. Other men of a certain age, status or inclination, hit the golf course. Women might get the washer and dryer going for the big laundry of the week, garden, or other housekeeping or relaxation. (Believe me - housekeeping is not relaxtion, unless someone enjoys it.) Kids, freed from the restraints of school, might sleep in. But the punchline is that yes, there are rituals associated with different days. One of mine is an occasional bubble bath. (Okay, way too much info, right?...

Octobers are rough. Mind you, they weren't always that way. I mean, what's not to love? My birthday falls in October, as does Halloween, the air is finally cooling off, even here in Florida, the holidays are right around the corner, and the kids have finally settled into their school routines to start bickering about the homework. But then, there's the rest of it: six years ago today, Paul, the love of my life, died. There, I said it. Also, my step-mom died in October, too, two years after Paul. Phyllis and I used to kid over the phone that we must be doing something wrong, since we got along so well. Paul's death was the first in a string of deaths - the second, if you count Osha - and Phyllis was the last. Two years ago, I won a lawsuit against those responsible for Paul's death, and got enough money that should have been life-changing, and it was, for a while. Even last year, there was still enough money left to at least ease through an otherwise rough mo...

When it comes to pets, most people - at least, here in the U.S. - are in one of two camps: dog people or cat people. Yes, there are people who love and own other animals: horses, birds, fish, lizards and snakes...But narrow it down to cats and dogs, animal lovers tend to take sides. "I've always been a dog person," or "I'd much rather have cats than dogs; they're so much easier!" I've always thought of myself as a dog person. Sure, we had both types of pets while I was a kid. But dogs were so much more appealing, especially the larger breeds. Irish setters? Love 'em, all that longish red fur and exuberance. German Shepherds? Smart dogs, good protection. But cats? Too independent. What kind of pets do I have? Two cats, no dogs. We had a dog when my kids were young, a beautiful, ditzy Cocker Spaniel named Osha. No, not pronounced like the acronym for the Occupational Safety and Health Administration, but like the kids' clothing com...

I find it rather amusing that I'm starting another blog. Why would I do such a thing? I have several blogs that I can no longer access for several reasons. Two were on another blog site - one (my first blog ever) was titled "Walking the dog, walking myself," or something to that effect. It dealt with going out for my daily walk/run, half of which were with my old cocker spaniel, Osha, the other half, dogless. I tracked the weather, how long the walk/run went, etc. Unfortunately, I left it alone long enough after Osha died that I could no longer access the blog. Somewhere, I have a printed copy of it. The other blog on that same site was started - signed up for, email address, password - then never used. Sigh. I have several blogs here on blogger (blogspot): two deal with journalistic endeavors, one deals with the death of my husband, and several were started, then never written on, etc. Then, there are my e-portfolio and my business website, both on weebly (ht...