Each other. This is the first thing popping into my mind after reading the question.
I know it’s a silly answer, but there happen to be very many people I’m sure you have come across saying to you, “ I don’t know what you mean. Or I don’t know what you’re talking about. Actually I have heard some people say, you’re making no sense at all. I never understand you.
Yet, you have no trouble talking to anyone else. So, when you ask what’s something most people don’t understand, my answer is each other.
My mother taught us about other girls; how they look and dress to attract men, with makeup and tight clothing.
I do not paint my face, not because I don’t know how, mainly because I as a child, promised my mother I wouldn’t. As for tight clothes, I like breathing.
My mother had seven girls, when we were children, she asked us to promise her we would not wear makeup. She went on to tell us, if a man does grab us; grab hold of his dick and rip it off. 😶
However…she wore red lipstick?
My mother was always very pretty; so pretty men would advance us kids and ask us, what is your sister’s age and, if we would tell them our sister’s name, and ask her if she would go talk to them. <<<>>>Oh bother. Men.
We would laugh, “she is our mom.” Off we would scamper to tell her. She would blush, making her more beautiful.
The older I became she told me; only whores wear red. 🫣 but she wore red lipstick? I of course, always wondered about that. Hmm. She only wore lipstick, when she went out with her girlfriends.
To this day I cannot administer this makeup to my face. I do not know how; I look like a floozie. 😎 I guess it takes practice.
One day much older, I decided to dress all in red; yes, shoes as well. the face paint wasn’t going to be a problem, lol; not knowing how to wear the stuff. I looked like a street girl, just not standing on the corner. I laughed at myself in the mirror, most certainly looking like my mother’s rendition of a whore. ( nasty word ) shit, I feel bad typing it, I don’t ever use the word, there are a lot of words I do not use. 🤷♀️
Well, I drove myself to my mother’s home; my best straight face. That was hard. I knew what I looked like and what she thought of RED.
When I entered her home she was not in the area where she usually was, so I took my time to unpack my stuff and maintain my composure; get the giddiness out of the way, acting normal. 😮💨 waiting to shock her.
I figured my mom heard me ruffling around and came to see who was in her home. Me. So, when I figured she was close enough behind me I turned; hey mom. (Don’t laugh, don’t laugh) I kept telling my brain. (Wait, see what she says. 😏 That’s it stay straight faced.)
She said NOTHING!!
WHAT? 🤨 . . .Mom.
She knew me better than my own self. 😒 the scenario was not what I expected. As she said nothing, I said, “mom don’t you care how I’m dressed? I’m wearing all red?”
“I see that.” Was all she said. So, I said. 🤔, “but you said only whores wear Red? I did all this for nothing?”
Her response… “No, you look very pretty, you should be a model.” 😵💫 But I saw her smirk as she turned from me. “Mom, I thought you were going to be shocked or something there like that.” Nope, she played it more cool than me. I guess mother knows best, in the end, I probably should have went on to be a model. More money than factory work.Whatever, I washed my face, kept the clothes on; not bringing a change with me.
She laughed later. 🤣 I heard her.
I love my tales about Mother.
TryingNone
I don’t need makeup. I have always seen my good friend in makeup. That is how I met her. The day I saw her without makeup on, was so very confusing to the eyes. lol.
Can it be the lose coins in your pocket? People call lose change in their pockets change. Why. Why are the coins in your pocket or purse called change? Or; would you like your change sir? Or; don’t forget your change.
I give you my twenty dollar bill to pay for my sixteen dollar shirt in exchange for the shirt and what change is left from the bill.
We don’t get two dollar or one dollar bills any more; they changed that, by taking the paper money away creating coins worth a two and one dollar bill. But then they changed the paper money all together, giving us plastic; it melts in the blazing heat of the sun, should you leave your plastic money on the dash of the inside of your car, truck. This is not fair change; money that melts. But, either way . . .paper money burns
But what about the residue? Bahahaha . . .Residue you may ask? Where does this residue come into play? Well, I do not know myself, because I do not snort stuff up my nose with the use of rolled up bill money. Is there a change in how the powder flows up through the plastic rather paper? Does the powder coat the paper bills and not the plastic? Could this be the reason for the change; paper to plastic? Just a thought as I type about change and what it may mean to some people? And don’t ask why this came to me, it just came. <<<>>>This is a CHANGE IN MY THOUGHT PATTERNS.
WHAT IS CHANGE? How about this . . .We change our minds. We change our clothes. We change the curtains hanging there after a period of time for something different. Change is anything different.
So, change is two different things, coin left over from a money bill and . . .doing anything different.
Boredom; it comes in many forms, having nothing to do, no place to go, or watching someone else watch sports on television.
What bores me? I will tell you what bores me.
I can get as bored as hell starting to freeze on a hot summer day, while stuck somewhere with people wasting precious moments, when we could be anywhere else dancing or singing or playing hopscotch, while they are stuck in the past arguing about some silly thing they did as kids.
Holy God. Please get me out of here before I blow this popsicle stand!
But you know how it goes. Until they all agree on the one same story, I must sit and wait until every dog tooth is pulled, or I stand with a resounding voice and call, “Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”
What does it take to be a good leader? I will tell you what it takes to be a good leader. A good leader is a leader who will lead by example.
A leader who will tell you, “I will stand by you.” And this Leader actually does. Now that is a good leader, one to maintain rules and regulations following by example. Out with the OLD and in with the NEW according to the times of course, we are 2026 and our leaders are not for the people anymore. They are for each other.
Oh but wait a minute…They need to keep each other happy at all cost! We don’t want war.
I wonder can a good leader do both, keep each other happy and its people?
Hmm. This is not a good question for me. Leaders should be super strict. None of this leniency allowing lawbreakers and idiocy.
If you could un-invent something, what would it be?
Of all inventions and there have been very many, some of them very good some of them very bad…Well, here’s another bad one, one that should be uninvented just as fast as hitting the ground, when you slip unable to catch yourself and you go down, boom .
AI. Artificial intelligence.
Get it? Artificial-unreal-fabricated-made up-not yours!
Sure it’s intelligent information but it still is not yours.
Look how many mistakes Autocorrect makes in one minute of you texting, as it is trying to take over your thinking?
No. Nope AI can be manipulated and dangerous for our society.
Somebody, had the bright idea to create an intelligence, for children who now don’t have to think anymore-so people don’t have to think for themselves, what is that gonna be like in about five years? Where nobody is thinking for themselves, a computer telling them what to think what to say what to do.
It is extremely important for humanity to Think For Yourselves!
At the time I was 19 could’ve been 18 we went on a road trip from Kitchener Ontario to Kingston Mosport500. That was a long time ago.
My boyfriend and I left on a motorcycle his brother and wife went in a Camaro with the top down. We all had a great ride as for us, it rained pretty hard; the Camaro put its top up , at least the traffic was fine, everything was fine until a bee flew down my shirt. It’s not fine anymore. We parked the motorcycle I got off and started stripping, carefully not to get stung, and when I looked up, there was an old man so full of joy standing in the window with such a happy jolly face staring down at me, I had no time to be ashamed or embarrassed-petrified of being stung.
Now arriving at Mosport it was dark, we were wet, the car people were fine, and it was really late at night, we pitched the tent, we slept, yes in our wet clothes and woke to roaring sounds of the ring ding dinging of roaring motorcycles.
I work first and went out I was shocked but the scenery was too comical I had to giggle and laugh and I had to wake everybody up to come outside just to see where we pitched our tents.
Right in the middle of the practice field! We had to move of course. So we re-pitched the tent we made a campfire they put me in charge of the food. while we were doing our best to dry off.
Beans anyone? Yes, that’s what we brought, a can of beans loaf of bread whatever else but for breakfast everybody would like the beans on toast that the two men were British, beans on toast it was.
Now, don’t ask me how I did it, because I don’t know, but I cooked the beans, I toasted eight slices of bread, put the bread on plates. Now everybody had their plate, of beans toast and a spoon. Now everybody was so happy and I don’t know what happened next? But somehow, I dropped my plate of beans and it went in her long blonde hair, it went all over her husband’s clothes & someone on his face, it went into my man’s clothes and his long hair. . .Oh my, and I had ONE bean on my boot. I did my best not to laugh as she had herself bent over scraping beans out of her hair and tossing it to the ground and he was swiping off his self and pulling it out of his hair so was my man, and I was just standing there picking one bean off my boot.
It was a very good thing Mosport put on a great show so great even a news reporter was knocked out of a tree from a runaway bike that went up the tree knocking the guy and his camera out. Yup, it was a great time, and one I will never forget.
But of course there are two more incidents on two other road trips with the same people but that’s another story.
Do you have a favorite place you have visited? Where is it?
It was that time of year where I first learn about Halloween. I lived in CHIPMAN New Brunswick, at the time, and my guess would be that I must have been four-years of age.
It just so happened I was with my mother when my older sister came running in calling out, “the costumes are in, the costumes are in. Can I go to Mary Marsden’s and pick out a Halloween mask? Please mommy, please?”
Well now, I do not know what masks are, however, I do know what Mary Marsden’s is. The only General Store in town. She had lots of things in her store and often gave me a candy of some sorts.
Now here’s her, begging to go pick out a mask, and I pleaded out, “mommy can I go to?”
Instantly she yelled, “no. You can’t go with me! I’m going by myself. Mommy can I go and see if there is a mask that I like, please mommy?”
I did ask again and my mother did look down at me, where I was jumping up and down like a crazy baby kangaroo, pleading to go along to see what this mask thing was for a Halloween thing coming soon?
“No you can’t come with me. You can’t. You are too little. I’m going by myself. Mother no.”
Well, the crazy jumping baby kangaroo got the best of things, where mother finally spoke.
“You can go look at the masks and see which one you would like to have, if you take Connie. But. You have to hold her hand.”
Well now, if her eyes could have squinted any tighter they would have been closed. But she begrudgingly said, “okay,” where mother repeated once again, “don’t you dare let go of her hand.” —“I won’t.” —“Promise?” —“I promise.”
So off we went. All the way to the store. Up the short road which was more or less a stones throw for a big person, but for us, probably a minute before reaching the big road that came from our left, and out from under a high railroad track up in the sky that came across the Great Lake.
She held my hand all the way to the road, across the road to Marsden’s, where she let go running up the greying wooden dusty steps and inside. Wham! The big screen door slammed shut.
Yes she left me out on the step. Then once I was in, 🤩! WOW, I loved it in there. And there was Marry, standing behind her counter watching down at me, and me looking way up at her. “What’s a mask? Where did Penny go?”
The store was filled with long stretching racks of plastic holding something on hangers, something I have never seen before, taking up practically the whole store? I couldn’t see Penny if I wanted to, and I wanted to.
Miss Marry pointed as she spoke, “Penny is over there, looking at costumes for Halloween. A mask is something hiding your face when you put the costume on to go trick or treating.”
What ever Marry said, blew over my head like a wind storm. At this point of my little life, I have never heard of this Halloween. So, I found Penny asking, where upon she told me to look by myself, and she was going over there, and off she went, leaving me once again. Only this time, inside the store, standing in the middle of a line of these costumes hanging in plastic bags on hangers.
What next, came as a confused surprise as I pushed apart between the hangers only to witness a very scary up-side down face staring at me, and another, and another and another, until being alerted to Penny’s voice yelling out in great admiration, “I found one! I’m going to tell mommy!” Then the hammer of that big old door slammed shut.
Awe! My heart jumped realizing she left me alone in the store with strangers!!! I went and pushed that old door opened and stepped out on to the platform. She was already across the big road. “Penny. Mommy said you have to hold my hand,”
Well now, she did look, I saw her look both ways and heard her yell, “RUN!”
Well I ran down those steps as fast as speedy Gonzalez, and out to the road.
I heard a massive BAM! Haven’t a clue what that was. But I can tell you it was quiet and dark. As the matter of fact, it was the most blackest of black there could ever be.
“Where am I. And how come I can’t see?” {This is a whole different story. A God thing happened.} But two and one half months later, my mother and her sister came to bring me home from the hospital.
Upon their, arrival, my aunt had bought me one bottle of orange crush and one Oh Henry chocolate bar. My eyes were bigger than my head at having a whole bottle of pop for myself.
Long story I know. But we are soon getting to the Bridge out of nowhere. okay, now I am home with a chocolate bar and a whole bottle of pop, where I only ever got half, a bottle or glass. I can not, tell you the excitement running through me having one whole bottle of pop, orange crush at that, for myself.
But when I got into the house all these kids came running out of nowhere at me asking for a bite of the bar, and a sip of my pop! Within seconds the bar was gone and me not even having a lick. As for the bottle of pop? There was only one sip left, 😲!
Well I took off running like nothing else matters, out the front door and Bam!!!
Well, while I lay in the hospital all that time they finished building the bridge. Nobody, thought to tell me about it.
I woke in the doctor’s car wrapped in a pink blanket in my mother’s arms.
After that I haven’t a clue. But because of that bridge out of nowhere, people would say, “there goes that little Taylor girl gets hit by car everyday.” Of course, I’d get mad, squint, and say, “not every day!”
The picture on my post, is the bridge, in NewBrunswick where I love to visit. My home town CHIPMAN. Only I ever got to go back for a funeral and then to visit my cousins. Everything was gone but that bridge. 😂
Yes, joint pain in your hands not your favourite Acapulco gold marijuana stuff? But for all I know it may help as well.
But I have rheumatoid arthritis, actually they diagnosed me with that in my late teens. However, that I am running into my seventies, my pain generally overwhelms me with the dampness. For sure it’s a weather condition.
I tell people I’m allergic to the cold when they ask are you allergic to anything, yes the cold they giggle, thinking I’m being funny, it’s not funny-the cold super hurts-hurts my skin, hurts my bones!
One could say I’m allergic to the cold and dampness because it hurts like hell.
So here’s my story.
I was always taking some form of Gluten Sulphate, then getting tired of taking pills I quit for many years and taking the pain.
But then comes a day when the pills are necessary and you take them whether you like them or not. But then I started to take just recently, vitamin D a drop a day and I did this for quite a while still taking magnesium and glucosamine sulphate, with no pain at all, yay!
So I stopped taking the magnesium and glucosamine sulphate believing all I needed were the drops 😁. Yippee, pill free for a month!
UNTIL 😳🫣😭😭😭 out of the blue-my hands hurt like someone smashed them using a hammer. It was extremely painful just to make a fist. The ring finger on my right hand would not bend without the feeling of bursting. On the left hand it was my pointer finger screaming at me.
So I went from Yippee, yay, to OUCHWHY? within a month or two? Can’t remember. But I started back taking the pills😩
So that my vitamin D drops emptied, I started too take a teaspoon of cod liver oil and my magnesium and my glutamine sulphate and drink more water for about six weeks before the pain subsided.
I can at least make a fist, with a tiny bit of pain in my ring finger my left pointer, still feels a little swollen——we won’t do that again !! rheumatoid arthritis is nothing to play around with. I guess I have to take all that stuff forever, the pain is too intense now without taking the stuff. Hey I saw a movie once called “The stuff.” Was it with young Scott Bloom.
Need to sleep.
JOINT EASE
I take two everyday, and my pain has dwindled to clear ish. lol.
Another story by me. I’m sure the cover will be different. But should you wonder to close to a certain cemetery…Hmm, you will need your flask at hand. some curses are to be taken seriously, not to be invaded just for pure speculation putting the world at risk.
We all have a story and there is no “I” in we, and I have a story too, and you can read it in this book. When you want something you can’t have, stay back or die.
Oh bother, what kind of a question is that? dogs or Cats? You have to be an animal liker.
I do like animals but I like them where they are, although there is a dog here, she is part pit-bull. The other part is of something rather mild. No one knows what. She is a good dog, though she is not mine and will only listen if I carry a treat or just say the word. Treat?
I did have a cat once, but it was forced upon me, where I grew into loving it as a tiny kitten growing into a cat. A funny cat. She was hilarious and I do believe she knew it.
Sad to say Lucy the grey and white kitten had to live somewhere else when she became a cat. Someone living here became seriously allergic to her-the cat in her.
Right now this dog living here is great for protecting this place and the children in it. This is a good thing. As for cats, they tend to scratch up the furniture 🤨 not good. Even though they had a wonderful layered scratch thingamajig, it was not good enough for her. Say goodbye to the leather.
Hello to my great full respected readers. I am always pleased when you enjoy my silly thoughts. Thank-you.
I know it has been a while that I have blogged, but I have been quite busy, trying to edit a book I have written in 1996, with all these children my daughter kept having, lol. There is no time!
Now that these children are the ages of 15, 12, 9 and 6, all soon, starting this month until September they all will be one year up. 🥳
Oh bother, that with the mother losing her head and off to find it and their father incarcerated, the full responsibility is still mine and great full they are in school allowing me to edit this one story out of several, at last.
Now, need I remind you my brain is not functioning as the term normal on any scale of degrees. Meaning I started out dumb and continued in that fashion until I had my own children forcing me to be the best possible teacher allowing them to grow in a safe environment and make them to be five times smarter than I could ever be.
Of course living in my shoes from day one, born in an outhouse in the winter, and given away at four months, kidnapped at 16-18 months, then from an orphanage by the age of three only to be molested from the age of three to seven. Then from the age of ten to fifteen beat where I ran away to the children’s aid Society. That was a bad place to live until my father fought getting me out at the age of 17 1/2 and never looked back.
I can tell you the only thing I cared about was not getting a lick en and what was for supper? Meaning, school meant absolutely nothing to me, I thought it was a punishment? So what I learned was people are extremely cruel, mean, bullies and only care about themselves. So I trusted nobody! And practiced for twelve years lol, to be the best spy ever. Didn’t help much.
By the time I was 15, I was raped, attacked, driven to the bush, <<<>>> I laugh at that now, then, it was scary as big spiders falling on you, scary as lightning hammering down right in front of you, scary as falling off a boat into shark laced waters. I’m just happy to be alive.
My first day starting a job at a hospital I was attacked being held up off the floor by a mad man, I took the wrong door. 🤓 I got the day off.
But all in all I have Heroed several times without a second thought, and always prevented with the triumph of God by my side or in my body strength and purpose.
On the serious side of things. I’ve been run over by horse and buggy run down three times before my mother stopped it, hit my car twice and here I am today. I believe I died once, and I know I spoke to the Lord-he spoke to me. I guess my mission is to raise these children.
Oh wait a minute . . . are you supposed to die when your mission in life is over or something there like that, if that’s the case I don’t want that mission I don’t wanna know my mission my mission better still be confusing and somewhere still out there.
I started writing stories when my children were in school, and me rotten at spelling and grammar and pronunciation and punctuation and a whole whack of things. 😌 the difference between (is and was). Oh bother. Present and past. But when typing my mind has no time for perfection, as I see in my mind as I tell…is, is happening now.
Anyways.
My first edition-PHOBIA THE AFTERMATH
It did all start with the black floater in my left eye causing me to always slapping out at NOTHING! Then I started wondering how to rid of it, and my mind went berserk, all by itself.
Do you lose track of time? I do, when I do certain things. I can guarantee hours, several hours have passed, like a trick is being played on me with something messing with the clocks. But no. The time reading on every clock in the house read the same with exceptions of a minute or two faster.
How is this possible that time slips away without a tiny hand tapping on my shoulder, “you-who, time to pee, or time to eat or time to give it a rest. It’s time to start supper or catch the bus. Hello?
But it all depends on the activities keeping me in this trance of time loop. Where there is nothing concerning time. What time? Time for what? Forget the time. I’m having a good time or I would spend no time.
Oh boy changing a room around has no bearings for time. Before I, know it, It’s getting dark out and I am close to finishing? When all along it did not seem that long a time. But in the end the whole room is washed and clean and changed. I got all the time in the world. Lol
Then the most silliest thing ever. Getting ready to leave the house for an event. I kill time. I cause time. I exploite time. Then I have to find time to straighten up the clutter I just created looking for the correct clothing just to walk out the door. There is no time left . . .RUN! “You missed the bus again.”
I can’t say cooking and dishes and tidying up, I’m fast at that. Possibably an expert by now, starting at the age of nine, no time wasted at all.
Okay, The master activitity killing any time given me is typing.
As you type as I type, time is not a factor or a reality. As the matter of fact it is the last thing on my mine or not at all. Before I know it, it is bedtime. LOL. Not all the time. But pretty darn close ot it.
AS YOU TYPE, do you lose your mind and all time? I do.
By now I am sure you guys know I am not the brightest candle in the room by my stories, answers or all that you read by me.
As of yet I Thought, everything I have done, doing my best launching my story, Phobia The Aftermath, while it tells me, “in 72 hours, blah blah blah.” Then the 72 hours pass and I still hear nothing, prompting me to tackle the process once more and still nothing!!!
I can not tell you how many times I swore, “I did it!” Or how many times I posted my story is out. lol. Yeah me and my big mouth.
Well finally I had @JamesHardiment come and tell me what exactly is the problem? Turns out the paper colour I chose was not available.
Well it is now. James fixed everything and now in this coming future I will be extremely grateful and excited and waiting to buy a copy.
So this 72 hours into the future will be fantastic for me. I can’t wait.
BACK2THEDOGHOUSE 