First, let me start off by saying how completely overwhelmed I was by the response to my last post. That's probably why I haven't posted since, how do you follow that up? I really appreciate all your comments and encouragement. It was very surprising and wonderful to me.
my grandpa's 86 today!!! and I am 23 (6 days shy of 24) years the better for having him in my life. YAY!!!
I almost cried at work today thinking about how lucky I am. Isn't that kinda pathetic? The only thing stopping me is the possibility of having to explain tears with "It's my Grandpa's birthday!!"
Anyways... I'm hoping this year to go to our local fair with him. It's a TRADITION!
Every year since I can remember he and my great-aunt would take my cousin and I to ride the rides, walk around the booths, and see all the animals. It was always the BEST and a day I'd look forward to ALL YEAR! As I got older he would take my sister and I, and we'd each get to bring a friend. It was the coolest. Now we take grandpa!
Today, I've been reflecting on what a vivid life my grandpa's had. He was born in Tennessee and moved to Ohio with his family when he was young. It couldn't have been the easiest childhood, his father was a real mean piece of work. His saving grace must have been his mother, because he turned out to be a great man!
When he was a young man, he joined the CCC (Civilian Conservation Corps - part of FDRs "New Deal") and traveled west to work in the great outdoors. Most of the money he made there (a whole $30 a month) would be sent home to help his family. I can tell he has fond memories He always loves to tell me about his time there, out on the West Coast, all around the U.S. really, an opportunity not otherwise available to a poor boy from Akron in the late 30s.
When WWII broke out, he joined the U.S. Army where he worked on airplanes as a mechanic. To this day, he hates flying in planes... he says because of how flimsy those machines seemed to him. I'm not really sure he's ever been on a commercial flight. While my grandma was out seeing the world (Egypt, Israel, China), he was perfectly content to stay back at the homestead in Ohio.
After his stint in the Army (I think), he began working maintenance at a booming company called Goodyear (perhaps you've heard of it?). He met my grandma at a squaredance (so I was told...) and the rest of that is history I don't know. Moved from house in Akron, to another house in (far more) rural midwest community, having 3 children... you know that old thing.
86 years, and still kickin'!
Show us love.
This is one of my favorite pics. It is of my grandpa & I a couple years back. My grandpa is one of my favorite people, he truly brings so much joy to my life. Ours is a "love" story that goes wwwwaaaayyy back, let me tell you about it.
I was born a preemie. 2 months early and my mom said i looked like a skinny chicken baby. I was jaundiced, thin, and tiny. When my mom asked grandpa if he'd like to hold me he said "NO!" and looked frightened at the prospect of breaking my tiny little self.
Grandpa retired two days after I was born and when my mom finally went back to work (after I had become chunky chubster baby) he would come over each day to watch me. I obviously don't remember this early in life, but Grandpa was obviously my bestest even then. Mom still blames him for my affinity with sleeping in. She says he'd lay on the floor under my crib and wait until I woke up to start each day. He'd dance me to sleep to country songs. In the church nursery, I'd be fine cooing bye-bye to mom or dad, but grandpa knew to avoid peeping in and starting the waterworks.
My grandparents lived next door, so this convenient set-up continued into my childhood. Grandpa would come over to watch me each day and we'd do puzzles or play with my stuffed animals, hide-and-go-seek, take me on bike rides in a little baby seat he strapped on the back of his bike. I remember all these things and especially the game we'd play each day as he left when I'd run to lock the door and jump on his feet, trying to keep him from leaving.
As I got older I'd go over there more often too. They got cable & I'd watch Nick or the Disney Channel, eat dinner with grandma and grandpa, watch boxing matches with him, and play that game where you connect the dots trying to make the most boxes. He'd be waiting in the driveway in his van to take me and my lil' sis out to eat after school. We were spoiled rotten with the candy, little debbie's, and sipping on soda pops in no short supply at their house.
My grandpa was always kind of forgetful, but after my grandma died, things got worse. He was diagnosed with dementia. Hearing the word is one thing, experiencing its effects is another.
The first time I had to recognize that something was really really wrong, I was in my first year of college. I was only 20 minutes away from home but living in the dorms. I was home at least once a week, more often twice or all weekend and, of course, everytime i am home, it's my mission to see grandpa.
Anyways I got a call from my mom that grandpa had kind of freaked out, accusing her of stuff all angry and irritated. I was worried, so I drove home as soon as I could. When I got over there, I went straight to grandpa's. I was kind of scared after what they had told me but I knocked on the door anyways. When he opened up he gave me a big hug and started crying. It was one of the saddest moments in my life. I'd never seen my grandpa cry before. He said he was sorry for yelling at them, he didn't know what was wrong. All I could do was try to comfort him and stay with him as long as I could. When I went to leave he started crying again and said how much he missed me when I was away. This just broke my heart, I felt so terrible, and all I could do was hug him, tell him it would be alright that I would visit as often as I could, and drive back to the school.
Over the years things have kind of leveled out. It still hurts because he's not the grandpa I used to know. He's the same man, but more like a child. My biggest fear is that I will come home one day and my grandpa won't recognize me anymore. I hope he'll recognize my name "Amanda Jane" after the mother he loved so dearly. Maybe he'll recognize my knock or maybe I'll just have to be content to be some nice lady that really likes to visit him a lot.
When I think about it, it's strange, this role reversal. I've become that "adult" who comes over to care for him and spend time with him. I'm the one putting the country music on that I know he enjoys so much. I'm the one who doesn't want to leave but has to and I'm the one he doesn't like to see leave at the end of the day. I worry constantly about his health and happiness.
Did you ever hear that quote from Winnie the Pooh "If you live to be a hundred, I want to live to be a hundred minus one day, so I never have to live without you." That's how I feel towards grandpa. That is love.
I know it's been ages since I posted here, but today seemed the right time to make a comeback.
Californians: Today's our big moment. Let's make it happen.
my cat zilla is dead. i found out yesterday upon arriving home. my mom said there was "sad news." seeing the dog was alive, i braced myself to hear my cat midnight had died. after all, midnight is nearing something like 15, is skinny as a post, and suspected of having a thyroid problem. luckily midnight is a magical sorcerer trapped in a cat's body, but this is zilla's story.
the story of a death untimely was subscribed now to zilla. this was confusing and i almost didn't believe her because at this point zilla would be barely 3 and was as chubby and happy a cat as could possible be imagined. oh, life is cruel to the young.
it was around 3 years ago that a little orange striped kitten was seen mewling outside our back door. this stupid little bundle of cuddly cuteness had us at "meow" and fortune seemed to smile on zilla.
one thing you have to understand is my family's history with adorable orange cats.
the first orange kitten i got was called "red". he came with a black and white kitten i called "frisky". "frisky" was my favorite name for any small animal that moved.
one day my dad was cleaning his motorcycle in the garage. i was playing somewhere nearby. apparently so was red. my dad moved the motorcycle back to roll it out of the garage. somewhere in this process he squashed red.
i am sure my dad felt super awful about this, he doesn't fuss over animals or anything, but he also isn't sadistically evil to kittens and/or the 4 year olds who love them. previous discussions of the incident cite him as "thinking that stupid cat would move" as it saw a huge tire coming its way. no dice.
anyways my dad picked the poor thing up, and checked it's tiny little body for signs of life as i stood there watching him holding it. i then asked if we were going to take red to the vet and he had to tell me it was too late. i don't remember if i cried. i do remember we buried red in a cool spot by a tire or something back in the area near my grandpas garden. this was my first funeral.
my uncle remembers asking me about the kitten and me looking at him, smiling, and uttering the cryptic, "red is dead". soon after, frisky ran away fed-up with having no companion (and no doubt skeptical of the former's fate). four more kittens (a gray and another frisky, a patches and whatever my sister named hers) came and went as well, running away how wild kittens will.
midnight became the only cat of mine to stick around. i was in 4th grade when i got him and he has always been super awesome. to illustrate he would walk me to the bus everyday and cuddle with me. this was extra killer in winter when my hands were cold, and also it's nice to have company while you wait for the bus. also, he put up with my crying on him numerous times. it seemed only evil black cats were suitable for mandy.
then we got barrett and torti from the neighbors. barrett was orange and adorable. torti was tortoise-shell speckled and meaner than lucifer. torti was my sister's. few weeks later, barrett is dead on the road. torti still thrives on pure cat hate.
you can see why i was wary when another impossibly cute orange kitten appeared on the doorstep.
the cause of death of zilla is a mystery that also seems too nice to be true. apparently, the neighbor lady found him outside her patio door sunday morning. he was laying down, paws under his chin, stiff as a board. i still suspect he must have been in an altercation with some vehicle (motorcycle --> car ---> ufo?) due to the pattern of his predecessors.
when i saw him he was in a box, not quite big enough, and he looked HUGE. i mean, this cat was a garfield-esque lasagna-eating chubster. it looked like he could easily be carved into a distasteful replica of a coon-skin cap for a man with a really big head. this all didn't change the fact that i wanted to cry.
next time, i think i'll keep the kitten's best interests in mind and give those little ginger-haired devils to another nice home.
i think it's pretty apparent there's a curse.
this post is about some blogs i've enjoyed immensely that you may want to also enjoy. lord knows they are infinitely better than my blog though you should read mine anyways:
Marmaduke Explained
sample:
Marmaduke destroyed his owner-family's mailbox (and
probably a number of other things) during his afternoon walk with his
owner-man. Owner-Man makes light of the mailbox situation to his wife,
yet another example of how the bulk of their communication is a numb,
disconnected and empty series of weak jokes and ironic understatements
deployed in order to distance themselves from the horror and futility
of spending their lives as the prisoner-slaves of their powerful,
self-serving ogre of a dog.
comment:
seems the author of this one is taking a break. that is sad but there are plenty of interpreted marmaduke cartoons for pleasurable purposes. the author also has a blog where he will draw anything on 3x5 cards. i plan to shamelessly pilfer this idea and do something similar. BEWARE!
sample: (poignant reaction to Heath Ledger's death)
Another Dancing Monkey Bites the Dust…
Give
me a fucking break. There is not a single solitary celebrity on this
planet that would give me more than a pause should they keel over
dead…and that includes the ones I've actually met in person. In fact,
should I catch you whining and carrying on after the untimely death of
some random dancing monkey on the television, this is how you can
expect our conversation to go:
Grieving Fan: Oh man! I remember exactly where I was the second I found out Heath Ledger died…
V: Fag.
comment:
this blog is harsh, brutally honest, and hilarious.
Sample:
Before He Was Boo-Buried
We all know Boo Berry as the lovable spokesghost for General Mills' Boo Berry cereal. But since he is a ghost, I can't help but think about the fact that he's dead. Or more specifically, he is the ghost of a dead man.
This raises a very curious question: Who was the man that died to become the ghost of Boo Berry? No one would argue that he's lived a rich after-life as a corporate shill, but who was he before that? And for that matter, how did he die? Slipping on a blueberry and breaking his spine? Getting crushed by a blueberry truck? Emphysema?
This puzzle was likely to be a mystery forever... UNTIL NOW.
Using the latest in forensic technologies (My friend Mark and a pencil), Thesneeze.com is proud to present a shocking, never-before-seen image of Boo Berry as he may have looked BEFORE he died.
BooBerry is dead. LONG LIVE BOOBERRY!
My comment:
Tell
me that is not one of the funniest things you've ever seen. tell me!
this blog is both whimsical and funny. i recommend going to the right
side bar and checking out the "best ofs" and the "steve, don't eat
thats" then you will be as hooked as i was. mwah ha ha
Unless it is the one below.
What work of art (film, book, record, whatever) changed your life?
Submitted by bodhibound.
i learned important lessons from these two movies.
1) it is a folly to define yourself with money or work
2) it is okay to use your imagination. in fact it is spectacular
recently viewed 2 movies i enjoyed very much.
the first was O Lucky Man which is a british flick starring the main droogie who played Alex in A Clockwork Orange. it was just released on dvd at the end of october, take advantage of our good fortune. it's about a young man trying to be a "success" in the most capitalistic sense. he starts off as a coffee salesman but this quickly becomes redundant as he has all sorts of adventures, mishaps, makes acquaintanceships etc.
he gets a gold suit, that's pretty cool huh? alan price and band sing a bunch of catchy tunes interspersed through the film. also there is a pig man. explosions. lots of naked ladies (eh?). bums who are out for blood. genocidal intent. housecleaning suicidal mummies. as you can see, somewhere in this 3 hours of quirky delights there's something for everyone. the only thing missing: nadsat.
does this not look like fun?!!
the second movie wuz The Science of Sleep which i only didn't rent before because of its unfortunate looking cover. don't be fooled, this movie is awesome. it's about a dude who "lives" mostly in imagination so there are many visual treats. he is trying to get the girl, but stuff gets in the way as stuff is wont to do in these movies. mostly it is just surreal and delicious.
for god's sake don't watch the lil' movies in the special features about the cats. i have never been so freaked out by kitties or people who really like kitties.
if you don't think this looks like a really cool way to spend an afternoon
and
if you couldn't see yourself rocking out to this band
and
you can't imagining relating to this......
then.....
don't watch this movie (or ever talk to me again).
Years ago, I was in a band called Hamotam and I had an enormous beard like Sam Beam and a homemade mohawk. Our motto was never the same song twice, and we essentially would all take the stage with no set plan, and start jamming on various instruments none of knew how to play led by semi-maniacal front man, mr. matthew rampage. Real time improvisation. Non-musicians making music. It was all very puzzling, and ended badly in a cocaine and methamphetamine-fueled cycle of self-destruction that sent two of the founding members off packing, homeward bound to live with parents. Harper and I had skipped out long before that. We didn't like to snort things up our nose, and the madness was just too much. There was talk of touring Europe, for example, a preposterous notion. Of becoming famous, and playing at The Greek, even more ludicrous. The "music" wasn't even bad, it was utterly unlistenable. An assault on your ears and senses. Completely horrifying. It was the kind of premise only someone mired a deep in dark black hole of addiction could possibly entertain. At some point, the actors forgot they were engaging in a joke, in guerilla theater of sorts, and began to actually believe that it was a band. That what we were making was music.It was grotesque, and I felt betrayed by my friends. I began to hate them and their antics. Although I had left already, the madness still followed. There were angry phone calls. Threats. I owned hamotam.org, our domain, and when one of the principals discovered this, he threatened to sue me. He left obscene comments all over my blog. By this point it was just he and one other guy, and I couldn't be bothered anymore. Cocaine, it's a hell of a drug. Methamphetamine too.
Not long afterwards, we left for Asia. The fellas all went their separate ways, and each in his own time got his head straight. One remains one of my best friends whom I see all the time. Another is still a close, close friend, although we rarely talk. The third, well, things happen. Sometimes you say things you can't take back. When I came home again, after six months abroad, I was, quite honestly, glad they were gone. Glad it was over. Glad everyone, finally, seemed to have their shit together. And I didn't miss it. At all.
But now, I look back on that period. We were all blogging and writing and making music and art. Hanging out constantly in a tight-knight circle of friends. And, despite the drama and the madness, I miss it. I miss that creative rush. That buzz.
And every once in a while, I get hit right in the forehead with a reminder. A couple of weeks ago, one of my friends sent me this file. A relic from that era. It's our frontman, rampage, who after some voice talent failed to show, was pressed into the service of pitching Crazy Glow. I smiled when I saw it, and dropped it into iTunes, then promptly forgot about it.
And then yesterday morning, while I was working, it came on in the shufffle. And I thought of Hamotam, and Matthew and Jeff and Ezra and Harper and me. Onstage at the Hotel Utah. In front of a crowd at the Cafe International. Playing astride the Mckinley Statue in the panhandle. Playing in the sun in Golden Gate Park. At parties and on street corners.
It was madness, it was madness, it was madness. And, oh, how I miss it so.
Did you shop for great deals on Black Friday or Cyber Monday? Or did you observe Buy Nothing Day?
I observed "Buy Nothing Day", I didn't have the money to spend this week! I don't really mind these big shopping days, it's always great to get a "deal". I just hope people watch out for how good the deal is vs. what is just the hype. "Spend spend spend" they say, "and more each year!".
The holidays aren't about the most expensive present, they are about expressing love and goodwill to our fellow man. It's nice to give and receive gifts, it's just important to keep in mind what really matters during this time: to celebrate family & friendship, not consumerism.
1. If you had to go back in time and give advice to the first humans that walked the Earth, what would you tell them?
I wouldn't tell them anything. That might change the course of history!
2. If you could have one part of your body massaged every day, which would you choose?
My back, i love having my back rubbed
3. Are there any smells that make you feel instantly nostalgic? If so, what are they?
bread baking.... mmm...
or the smell of makeup my grandma used to wear, i always recognize it and it always reminds me of her.
4. If the choice for the legal age of consent in your country was up to you, which age would you deem appropriate?
18 because I think consent takes a certain level of maturity, cognizance and reflection that often escapes younger people. Older adults should not be allowed to take advantage of this.
5. If you could have known one of your current friends as a child, who would you pick?
I would pick Joe, my boyfriend. I wish we had just passed by in the ball pit at McDonalds or skated with one another in a roller rink when we were younger, so I could have met little him. How fun would that have been?!!
these are from Monday's a Bitch, thanks!
My Groups
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Vox Tri Club Updated: Oct 2, 2009
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101 Things In 1001 Days Updated: May 15, 2009
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pink floyd testament Updated: Dec 16, 2008
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