y cnt u spel rite?

What is that garble? I see letters. Oh, there's another one! They probably mean something. I must be too old to have that level of cool.
I haven't the patience to decode the popular way of writing. Is it really faster to eliminate vowels, when you've spent your educational years learning how to use them? I assumed it was laziness on the author's part, but it takes such effort to translate the symbols, that maybe it is indicative of a higher intellegence that can come up with that stuff. Or maybe its just shorthand, that class in junior high I never took. Really wish I had taken typing though, but at the time everyone else was in that class and I was a closet rebel.
Sure, I scre]](that was my kitten) I screw up a lot, but when I know it, I phone my neighbor to get the correct spelling. Thats not lazy is it? Dictionary, Spellcheck, Neighbor, its all the same. And for the many words I misspell unknowingly, I gamble that either it will go unnoticed, or the reader is cool enough to figure it out.

Fear Of Flying On A Bus

Ok, so I'm one of the Five. The last, in fact, in nearly every respect (including respect itself) but nonetheless, I need to be there. Where? A town in Western Pennsylvania called New Castle.
And why? Oddly it seems simple enough- thats where Mother bought the burial plot, years ago before the fuzziness of Alzheimers grasped her. Thats where Dad is buried, in full form, and thats where number One (of us five) intends to take Mom's ashen remains.
It would appear from the advanced purchase that those were her intentions. The irony is, that while it looks as though they are being complied with, the facts of time, with their elements of mental disease and geographical displacement have circumvented the cornerstone of those final wishes. She's not in Pennsylvania anymore, and she's been cremated.
How is it that things can't just be easy?
So, duty calls, but the money tree has not bloomed. I do feel awkwardly fortunate that Number One is willing to pay my transport fare. She'd like me to fly...on an airplane...in the sky.
Frankly, I'd much rather go by train, but it costs more than flying? What? No shit. Renting a car for the roundtrip looks like a good deal intil you factor in present gas prices. Forget it.
So, do Greyhounds still smell of tobacco cologne and vomit?

Watched Pot

A watched pot never boils... How come its the same for the ten most recently published blogs?

MUTHA-HOOD

Motherhood...
When it comes to doing laundry, the only difference between my 20 year old son's clothes and my 47 year old husband's clothes is that the kid's smells like cologne and there's money in the pockets. The later is void of both.

interruption

All consciousness was inverted, excavating in the chasm of my personal lexicon when the opaque feild vanished with a question at my elbow. "So what else can I put peanutbutter on?"
Motherhood in a nutshell.

I bought myself a chanile bedspread for Mother's Day. I use the term "bought" loosely, as I haven't actually paid for it yet. Anyway, I've wanted one ever since I was a little girl. Mom had twin pink ones (I think they were pink, its been so long ago) on my bed and that of my big sister. I really irritated her. I couldn't go to sleep until she came up to bed too. She's still tense with me- maybe its just her. I don't mind so much the idea that it was my annoying, little sister behavior that turned her into such a bitch. Funny the circle that one makes.

But the bedspreads were nice and fuzzy and they always smelled good. So I ordered one from a catalog and now I can justify my impulsivity on a memory. Another circle.

This will be my first Mother's Day without one. She died just before Christmas. And I can't remember her smell. I was cleaning a woman's house the other day with Murphy's Oil Soap, which was momentarily familiar. No, that wasn't Mom's scent, just what she used on those hardwood floors . So I guess she did smell like that, at least when we lived on Birch Avenue.

Come Sunday, I'll thank my kids as I pull the wrapper off the chanile bundle. Most likely it will smell like plastic. Within a week, no doubt it will have some peanutbutter on it.

The Neighborhood Molester

Good for you Gov. Bush. The mandatory 25 years sentence for molesters of children under the age of 12 is a step in the right direction.

Too bad the two kids down the block don't live in Florida. Pitty that the medical evidence of long term abuse and the eyewitness testimony of the older brother aren't enough here to put their daddy away. Simply unfortunate that the brothers, both under the age of six will be subjected to court-ordered visits with their abuser- again.

And isn't it just dumb luck that the attorney for the boys was found dead in her car last week, pills in her system and a fume-producing heater by her side.

Damn shame this is only Arizona.

Its not like those babies will grow up to choose victims of their own, right?
Naw, what's the worst that can happen?

Arizona doesn't mind the neighborhood molester.