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My Profile
Gift from Hil Part 2 - 2014-12-30
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4:22 p.m. - 2012-12-19
Today the sun shines- literally and figuratively. After a string of the damnedest gloomy days it's good to see the sun. The past two weeks of persistent grey and patchy rain went far in changing our minds about living in Scotland. Mick's never lived Away. He had a couple very brief stints in Irvine, CA bunking with relatives and trying the So-Cal lifestyle, but otherwise he's been here. I think it was on our first date we happily nodded in agreement that retiring to Florida was our idea of Hell. Not that we don't understand the appeal for the snowbirds and retirees. Shirtsleeves year 'round and NO shoveling EVER. Sounds good to the winter-weary, but Mick and I both loathe hot weather. We'd happily wear jackets every day if we could. MIL's learned to bring a sweater when she visits. Our place is always a nice comfy 65 degrees, even in August. Not crazy about snow though. The slop, the hassle, the nasty driving. Ick. But cool? Even chilly? Yup. That's for us. However a constant chill seems to come with overcast skies and months and months without sunshine. So the search goes on for that mythical place for snow-loathing but cold weather loving also solar-powered Mick and LA goes on. As for my sunshiny mood- a good night's sleep, a spree of 'Thin Man' movies on TCM, finally getting my D-land account renewed, and finding out that Eddie Izzard is coming to the Bardavon just in time to be a birthday gift...well, YAY! To see one of my favorite comedians up close and in person? Wowzers. These days Eddie is sporting a beard and man-drag and I have this dopey Prince Valiant hair (ie: Worf seasons 3-5 on STNG), but Eddie Izzard is ever and always my celebrity doppelganger anyhow. When we shared a hairstyle and make-up scheme the resemblance was uncanny. Besides, Eddie's rambling, backtracking, interrupting himself way of going on is eerily like my own. Less so in print, I tend to filter out the grossest of the sidebars and offshoots just for clarity's sake, but anyone who's spoken with me for any length of time has heard firsthand the boing-boing-boing way I go on. Conversational ADD. I usually grasshopper around through recipes, social commentary, historical trivia, complaints, fashion advice, rambling anecdotes, incredibly nosy personal questions, wacky riffing, a spiel on the fall of communism, the uselessness of religion, why Ford is my favorite domestic car manufacturer, sobs, giggles, and back again to recipes all before I take a breath. I've been told this is fascinating, amusing and annoying as all hell. Usually at one time by the same person. "LA, you're adorable, and goddamn you make me laugh, but would you please put a sock in it for 30 seconds? My brain hurts. Thanks." According to Mick and Steph I'm actually at my funniest when I'm not intending to be funny. Not in a "Isn't she cute with her malapropos and slaughtered grammar?" sort of way, but more that when I get torqued about something I use a lot of analogy and metaphor and how I describe things comes out sideways yet weirdly dead on. Like my crush Eddie, I too am an evil herbivore. So, re-upping at D-land. Yes, I handed Andrew an electronic wad of cash. You're stuck with me for another year. Not really. It's not like I bust into your houses with a fire extinguisher and demand that you read my blog right now or I'll foam you. I swear I will! Coming here is strictly voluntary. Which, of course, has always made the trolls and bitter critics such a mystery to me. Dudes! Reading the Sage blog is NOT compulsory! No penalty for going, "Gads, I hate that twat! She's full of shit and wears dumb clothes to boot. I am NOT going to read her blog ever, ever again! So there! Nyah." Good on ya if that's how you feel. Wie Gesund. Have a fabulous life...elsewhere. No prob with me. Buh-bye. Seriously. I hate liver. Ergo I do not eat liver. I dislike synthetic fabrics, they give me the shivering willies. Hey, how cool! I can wear cotton instead! I believe in freedom of thought and choice, yet I also believe any morally decent country has an obligation to protect and provide for all its citizens, even the non-Christians and/or brown/gay/female people, and the mentally ill, the confused, the poor, the lazy, and the stupid ones. So I vote Democrat almost exclusively. Not one of those choices I make means one single person, not even my husband, has to make those same choices. So if you choose to read my thoughts here then do it with the understanding that I hold no one to the same standard I choose for myself. If you think or vote a different way, fine. If you wear slippery synthetic fabrics, okay. If you're a vegan or a man or a non-American or spend every Wednesday and Sunday handling snakes and speaking tongues, whatever, okay? We're cool on my end. So if you think I'm full of shit or a crappy mother or a hypocrite or a fool, okay. But don't dun me with your ugly view of me here in this space. Come to my house and punch me in my nose if you must, but for pity's sake leave my blog alone. Because coming here is YOUR choice. You voluntarily read what's on my mind and thus you have agreed to read the words on the screen and come away amused or enlightened or just mildly entertained during your break at work. What this doesn't net you is the right to be a douche. I am not here because I am paid. I do not tout my work here and hock you to buy. I sponsor no ads. You get in for free and I bear the cost of continuing to speak my piece here. So be decent or be gone. The day you have to pay admission to read or fork over cash to subscribe or even when you have to put up with click-through sidebar adverts is when the equation changes and you gain the right to demand more than what is freely offered. The quid pro quo changes and you become entitled to value for your buck. Even if you extract your end of the deal with ugly insults and taunts I wouldn't complain. I've been in sales most of my life. The other golden rule- he who has the gold makes the rules- applies to commercial transactions. However, this place is NOT a commercial one. This is my place. The LA who only belongs to LA and comes here in the spirit of good friends well-met. This is the 21st century version of the conversation over coffee at a kitchen table. It's where everybody sits around in their comfy clothes, nibbling on sour cream cake. It's where we giggle and snort and sometimes cry because life got too hard all of a sudden. Is it mostly MY side of the conversation? Well, duh! LA's Kickass Diary Page. This doesn't mean I don't care about the thoughts and stories left in the comments. That's the best part. That's the give-back, the other end of the convo. And I am glad to hear from friends. Why in 2012, almost 2013, any of this should need to be explained again is dopey. But here we are 30,000 years after the rise of the Cro-Magnon and we still have to explain why murder is wrong, so I'm not holding out for any big epiphanies and forward movement with the humans. For the most part we're too dumb to pour piss out of a boot. I understand that despite the careful, overly wordy warnings and pleas that I'll still get jerks who'll gleefully leave hate bombs in my comments. But I try anyway. All part of that hippy-ish, morally obligated to care for and help thing I can't seem to get rid of no matter how hard I try.
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