The definition of goofy stuff!

I really hate it when I can’t get my goofy brain to shut down long enough to get to sleep. Especially when it’s 2:00 a.m. and I’m “too pooped to pop.” Somebody used to say that when I was a kid. Can’t remember who. Pity. Maybe trying to remember who said it will make me sleepy.

Maybe not.

What is it that makes a brain think about goofy stuff when it should be winding down, shutting off, lights out, nobody home, go away, come back tomorrow? I don’t know but I learned a long time ago to just go with it and try to do something constructive til I get sleepy enough to actually, you know, sleep.

I usually read my book but I finished it this morning and I don’t really want to start another one because, if I do, I’ll get caught up in the story and stay awake even longer. And then I’ll be too pooped to get my patio cleaned up tomorrow. It’s a real mess and, well actually, it’s an embarrassing mess and I’m surprised one of the busybodies from the condo board hasn’t already sent me a letter telling me that I’m violating some sacrosanct rule from on high. Oh yeah, and that it’s also a disgrace to the community.

I put a bench on my carport a few years ago and got a letter because we’re not allowed to put anything on the carport except vehicles that are in operating condition. Also, I made a neat bird house plaque for my unit numbers once and got a letter telling me that it didn’t conform and that I had to take it down. Being the trouble-maker that I am, I walked around the complex and saw no less than 5 different kinds of unit numbers so I wrote back and let them know about that. They (the all-powerful condo board) sent a notice to all condo owners specifying the exact kind of numbers we were supposed to have. By the time they got around to doing that, though, I’d already taken my neat bird house numbers down and put the old numbers back up.  Funnily enough, my old numbers didn’t conform to the policy. What did I do? I let them puppies stay right where they were … and they are still there.

As a general rule, I’m okay with having rules. Rules are mostly good. They help stave off chaos. But, some rules are just made to be broken.

In fact, I think when I finish my patio clean-up tomorrow (or, I guess it’ll be today) I’ll put my bench on my carport — right up next to the fence that separates it from my patio. I might even put a plant on it and sit my rusted-tin cat sculpture right next to it!

Ya-a-a-wn …

I think I can go to sleep now.


PS: Goofy stuff — going outside at 2:00 am in your pyjamas when it’s 40 degrees to take a pic of your house numbers … and the cat.

z-z-z-z-z …

Button Pushers! (AKA: Sisters)

What is it about family that makes us push each others’ buttons?

Is it that we feel safe in the belief that no matter how or why we hurt each others’ feelings we’ll still be family — that old chestnut, blood is thicker than water?


Family is what anchors us. It’s the foundation for all other relationships. I recognize that not everyone has a loving supportive family and that can create unbridgeable distance between family members. But even in families where there is love and encouragement, there still may be contention and rivalry. (Sibling rivalry for example.)

Familial competition is such a waste of time and energy, not to mention emotion. It crates anguish, heartache, and bitterness that, for some, never ends. But what causes it?

Is it that parents aren’t always able to balance the needs of all their children all the time? And, unfortunately, don’t know how to help their children understand that they shouldn’t have to. That sometimes one child’s needs outweigh the needs of his or her siblings? What if it’s the same child who is perceived by the parents as being needy all the time? What about the children that are perceived by their parents as strong, self-sufficient, do they get the short end of the stick for being capable?

What causes one child to be a trouble maker and another to be everyone’s little darling? Is it something in our wiring or just the luck of the draw. What makes one child the caretaker and another the dictator? What makes one child meek and another a force to be reckoned with? Is it all tied to birth order? Is it in our genetic makeup or is it a conditioned response to our surroundings?

I’m not a psychologist or sociologist or any kind of oligist, except maybe a chocolatologist (is that in the dictionary!?!) so I know I don’t have all, or any, of the answers. Heck, I’m doing good this late on a Friday night to even be able to articulate a few questions. But I do know that families should be more understanding of one another than we are of other people. We should be more kind to each other than we are to other people.

We don’t have to blindly condone each others’ bad behavior but we should at least be as forgiving, if not more so, of our family members than we are of other people. We don’t have to like each other every minute of every day but we shouldn’t let a difference of opinion or a perceived lapse in judgment diminish our love for one another.

Family is irreplaceable. A friend can’t really be our sister or brother, our mother or father, our child or spouse. Friends are good to have for sure, but they come and go throughout our lives. Family is constant but it must be nurtured, protected, cherished, or it will be lost.

We’re family. When it comes right down to it, we’re all we have that is truly valuable.

5 Things I Love About Mad Men

Mad Men

What is it about the TV show Mad Men that made so many of us eagerly anticipate its return?

I don’t know why everyone else is happy that it’s finally back on the air but I know why I am, and here are a few of the reasons why . . .

  1. It’s back on the air — finally! (Sure took long enough.)
  2. Visually, it is stunning! The set decorators nailed the mid sixties — perfectly. (Trust me, I was there, I remember what it looked like.) Roger’s office is a classic!
  3. Betty Draper is nothing like June Cleaver! (No cleaning the house in a shirt dress and no pearls.)
  4. The lawnmower episode!
  5. Don Draper is nothing like Ward Cleaver! (He’s flawed to perfection.)

And now I have to wait a whole week to see it again!