The Ice Man

A change is gonna come has been used far too much, but I think I’ll use it one more time, it came the other night through a storm and a flurry of words convulsivly thrown up at me in what was supposed to be helpful insight.    I can tell you it was not what you would have expected in the way of helping.   Come again? What were you thinking?  He said.  How could you think you were helping her?  He said.

Answers were supposed to come in rapid fire like responses, but I wasn’t feeling much like responding.  I hadn’t the foggiest idea what I was even thinking, let alone answering some psycho babble.

After all the spewing had escaped I noticed spittle dripping on his chin and my eyes were red and non responsive, I cannot imagine how I survived such a blast of artic air and that was quite something considering  I wasn’t even standing in front of the ice machine.    This was over, the airwaves weren’t going to hurt me again in the way it had in the past.  Yes, there was pain initially and yes, some of what icicles penetrated my pump and hurt and dug way too deep, but not again.  I have been forgiven by the Almighty on high and I’ll forgive the iceman and in hopes of an ensuing flood of bergs I’ll be ready the next time and as God as my witness there will be a next time, I’ll be ready with the heat sources to stop the steady stream of icicles and such.

He reins with ice capped teeth blowing instructions and orders like darts being thrown across a room of beer happy patrons and he expects me to follow every word he says.  I’m gaining strength, I’m not listening to this senseless tirade.  I say.  I slowly, as slow, as thoughtful turn, can be, turn to the left and work my muscles out the door, and in the background it is snowing.

To be continued I’m sure.

 

 

Make up?

Where do you buy your makeup?   Department stores, drug stores, the lady next door?  Is it makeup to enhance the features you have or is it a coverup to hide behind?  Do you sit for hours or are you a spur of the moment makeup artist.    Or is it something altogether different.

Are you young and just need a touch up here and there, maybe needing it for an evening, maybe in the local play and stage makeup is what’s called for? Or have you reached the age of no return, you are beyond a baseball cap and some mascara.  When you pick up the mail  do you need the works from concealer to bronzing and eyeliner?
I am at the age where I believe the department stores that sell the mega dollar products of this and that can only do so much so I have decided on Home Depot. I can get all my shopping done for that evening look in one place .   I believe spackling is much more than coveirng up that unsightly hole that was mashed because you couldn’t see the nail head. No no no, it is a great concealer and the tools they sell are dual purpose if you think about it.  I can fill in and smooth out the bags under my eyes and fix the wall, now where else can you do that? Lancome which I used to dearly love, needs to get a clue and step up.   I can buy in bulk ,the gallon size preferably what I used to get in a teeny tiney little bottle. 

If you walk up and down the aisles looking for enhancements of all kinds not only are you benefiting from the intended itself but you are also getting excercise you  pay dearly for at the local spa.  And just maybe when you turn the corner the next person you bump into could be a future date.  Home Depot isn’t just for your needs in the home but also for your visual and physical well being.  That little orange and white card really can fill all your needs.

Take a trip

My dad was a truck driver with tires for feet and windows to his soul that could gaze out across the miles of cities or mountain roads, I was told he would never be able to sit behind a desk or even work in a factory, he did have the opportunity of being sent to optometry school but turned it down.  His blood wasn’t geared for the same scenery.     The open road was for him and he did it well and for over 25 years and never had an accident. 

 He was a hard working man always doing something and as for laziness it wasn’t in his vocabulary.  He had to  tinker with something, have a project even sewing on a button if it needed it.  Whatever needed done he did it.  He was from the old school of waste not want not and recycling wasn’t a new concept at all, he did it for survival and because it was the right thing to do.  Respect wasn’t a four letter word because if you didn’t you’d feel the  back of a hand and even the local law enforcement understood the difference.  He served his country and never talked about it, I lived my whole life without ever hearing about it, there were heros and there were men that knew a job needed to be done and without complaining they did it.

 

I loved my dad and have memories of times I wanted to share being a kid with him.    He was quite a character with a twinkle in his eye and ornery behind it so I decided to start a blog about him.

If you have the time please click on this link and walk through some of my life as bustersdaughter.               

http://bustersdaughter.wordpress.com

 

 

 

 

 

Next in line for Dead

I’m next in line for dead. All I have to do is look at my neck and my kids and I see what’s happening. My neck is now visually assaulting as the last chicken I saw squawking around the barnyard. Maybe it should be turkey, that’s much more rude in looks.
The kids aren’t kids any longer although they tend to act as such, the numbers don’t lie and the calenders really don’t either. What else is there? Let’s see, I’m fifty something and in twenty years..well you do the math, it isn’t as promising as it was when I was thirty and it was on the downside to scarey, but heck, I’m living scarey now. I want to be honest and real about this to myself, seems I always ignore the matter of fact and hopefully it’ll go away, but not so. This is inevitable. I realize there are ways around chicken neck, the advantage being plastic on the surgery table and in the wallet, but brass tacks tells me I have a clock and it ain’t lying. Nip, tuck, pull, yank ,diet, walk, and bottom line, Gods clock. So I suppose I could live until hell freezes over but that’s very doubtful. We don’t live as long as Moses and Sarah used to and we need to face facts when you’re kids start looking like you still remember you used to then it is time to hang up the glitter shorts and classic rock albums and oil the chair, if you like or rev up the subscription to AARP and get ready. You are on the downside, the downlow, the on your way out. Or, you are next in line for dead.