This is for @We_deny_everything. I am not a poet, but he is so down about Christmas ads that he misses politics. I am giving him both.

 

‘Twas the month post election

And all through the states

Not a voter was worried 

About poor Romney’s disgrace.

 

The shoppers were strolling 

Through the market with care

Imagine their shock

That drunken Romney was there!

 

“How are we today, friends?”

He said with a mumble

“The economy is in shambles”

He shouted, then stumbled.

 

Hair was disheveled

His clothing a mess

With a faint scent of urine

He wasn’t his best.

 

Atop of a counter

He suddenly climbed

Shouting warnings of doomsday

That weren’t far behind.

 

Security was called

The children all cried

When Mitt opened his trench coat

To show what was inside.

 

Tasers and handcuffs

A broken jug of rum

Was a warning to all politicians 

Of what could become.

 

Children, heed this tale

Of sorrow and shame

Don’t be a politician,

Just look at McCain. 

 

No offense to anybody! This post was inspired by the Onion.

http://www.theonion.com/articles/filthy-mitt-romney-delivers-campaign-speech-to-aud,30522/?ref=auto

I am nearly finished with my book, and gearing up to complete it. My lovely husband has been sending me articles and even bought me a book about publishing so I can be ready. I see authors here that have built a following and that is helping them launch their work. I think that is a great idea. In one portion of the book about publishing, they spoke about the importance of blogging. Their rules were loosely as follows:

1. Blog timely and consistently.

2. Blog about a general topic to build that base of following; ie: Recipes or Politics.

3. Blog clearly and efficiently with few errors as your posts will be a sample of your writing.

I break every rule. Sometimes I blog 3 times a week, sometimes 3 weeks passes without a post. Sometimes I blog about being a swinger, sometimes I blog about current events, sometimes I blog about zombies. I rarely edit, and find many errors when I review my past posts. In an effort to clean up my blog and start following the rules, I have decided to write more often, regardless of what else is happening in my life. The main problem is number 2 – I don’t have a set pattern. I have been trying to find something I like to post about more than others so I can stick to rule number 2, but have yet to pinpoint what my focus will be. Also, since my book is about death and redemption, I have decided not to make that my focus. It would depress me and anyone who reads me, so I will just have to hope that even though the topic is different than my posts that a couple of you will still read my book. I will also make a stronger resolve to clean up my errors, however, I am not going to remove my personal voice. I write articles for various organizations and use an impersonal voice but I don’t believe that belongs in my blog. 

My point, now where was my point here.. Oh right. I am struggling to find something to blog about now that I am taking it more seriously (starting today, that is). I can’t think of a single thing to blog about, so I sent out a note to some of my friends and co-workers asking them what was on their minds today – good and bad. Here is part of the list I received.

1. The cop that shot the dog without cause.

2. The 17 year old suspect being tried as an adult for dismembering Jessica Ridgeway.

3. The lack of funding and overwhelming caseloads of child welfare social workers and how protecting our children is not a priority.

4. The fact that some bitch in an Audi keeps parking in her spot and management won’t ticket or tow that car!

5. The 32 year old Florida man who choked to death on cockroaches and worms after winning a cockroach/worm eating contest.

6. Does anal sex really cause anal fissures or is it just constipation?

7. Will the legalization of marijuana discourage new companies from moving into CO?

Since I am struggling to find a focus to write about consistently, and you are my readers, I decided I would ask you, my friends, what you would like to read about from me. To be a better writer, I need to be a better blogger. I need your help to figure out how to do that.

I like to think of myself as a rebel. An outlaw. One bad.ass.girl. The truth is, though I may step outside of the box in some areas of my life, I am pretty darn boring in 99 percent of what I do. I go to work. I come home. I volunteer. I call my family. I clean. I bake. I walk the dog. What I like to think I am doing is this: I save the world. I travel the planet. I make unplanned drop ins at the families homes in between exotic travels and adventures. I eat in exotic new restaurants and sample new foods. I take my dog on ultra marathon races across mountains and deserts. I am too cool for school.

If it were early twentieth century, I would like to have been a Flapper. Flappers were a “new breed” of young Western women in the 1920s who wore short skirts, bobbed their hair, listened to jazz, and flaunted their disdain for what was then considered acceptable behavior. Flappers were seen as brash for wearing excessive makeup, drinking, treating sex in a casual manner, smoking, driving automobiles and otherwise flouting social and sexual norms. (Thank you Wikipedia)

]

F. Scott Fitzgerald described a Flapper as being lovely, expensive, and about 19. I think I missed the boat there. I can only imagine the excitement and scandal that it would create if I walked into a speakeasy on the arm of a mob boss… 

 

I would probably not have been a Gibson Girl, I suppose. Gibson Girls were the first real symbol of beauty for an American woman. They were used as models to sell merchandise that was fashionable and excessive. They were cool, independent, aloof and would never lower themselves to participate in anything classless, such as the Suffrage Movement. They went to college to obtain an adequate mate, and any man would fall prey to their beauty and prostrate themselves for a kind word or affectionate glance from a Gibson Girl.

 

 

Women gained the right to vote in 1920. So even with all the interesting and glamorous choices of what type of woman I wish I would have been in the roaring 20′s, I probably would have been sharing a cocktail with the Unsinkable Margaret Brown. I would be lamenting her loss as the first woman to run for public office, griping about cheating husbands and the state of affairs, and worrying about how this generation of women was going to continue her work. 

 

The moral of my story is this: Wherever you go, there you are.

 

Why is nay saying the popular thing to do lately? It seems like all we do is nay say, Snopes, doubt, disbelieve and scorn those who do. It is almost as if our culture views intelligence as the skeptics, the doubters, the negative nancies rather than those with hope, curiosity and an open mind. 

When I see something in my email or on facebook, if I am interested enough to consider it the first thing I do is look at Snopes  to see if it has already been reported by somebody. When someone tells me a fantastic tale, my first instinct is to doubt. When I see a report of Bigfoot, Loch Ness, you name it – I am sure there is some sort of deception behind it so I don’t allow the possibility to enter my head.

I am not a religious person, I am not even sure I am a spiritual person. But I see those with true faith (not the judgmental, critical, or blind to facts faith, the real kind that you can see in someone’s eyes) as holding something magic that I wish I had. 

Here is my Christmas tale. As most of you know, my daughter lost her three year fight with cancer on January second, immediately after the holidays. I had a very difficult year coping with that loss. Having no faith to rely on, despite the many people who said things like, “She’s in a better place” or “God brought her home”, I didn’t believe what they believed. Also, since I didn’t believe in much of anything, it felt like she was just gone, vanished, poof. I was heartsick and alone in a way only a grieving mother can be. The first Christmas without her, we returned to our isolated lake cabin where we spent the last year with Amber. The kids had walkie talkies for Christmas and left me alone with her grandmother to go ice fishing with their dad. Now, when I say isolated, I mean isolated. We were 30 miles to the nearest farm (or other residential dwelling), 75 miles from the nearest town (of 350) and the only people at the lake. There are three cabins at the lake, but since we had to plow our way in and the snow was still falling, there is no chance anyone else made it to their cabin. As my mother in law helped me go through old boxes of things deciding what to donate and what to keep, the walkie talkie downstairs kept buzzing. 
Grandma, can you read me? Over and out. Grandma, I want a cookie (giggling), do you read me? Yoo Hoo, mom, where are you? (more giggling). Wiping away my tears I told Vicky (my mother in law) that we had better go tend the walkie talkie. When we got downstairs she picked up the toy and went very pale. There were no batteries in either walkie talkie, and they were both on the counter. As she stumbled over the words trying to tell me this, the walkie talkie went off in her hand again. Haha, I tricked you! (That was Amber’s favorite game). That is also the last time that walkie talkie ever went off. I held that toy (and still keep it near my bed today) and wouldn’t let anyone put batteries in it, hoping that magic would happen again and I could hear my mischievous daughter’s giggle again. I never did. The real magic, though, is that I now believe. I don’t know what I believe, or in who or how. In fact, I am skeptical that anyone truly knows, but I shed my inner doubter and know that there is something else. 

So, this Christmas, let the nay sayer rest. Look for miracles, marvels, or other magic in the world. Be open to the unbelievable stories, unlikely discoveries, and fantastic ideas of other people. If you don’t shout at the top of your lungs “I DO believe in fairies”, then Tinkerbell may cease to exist. And really, isn’t life more exciting with an element of mystery and magic anyway?

Zombies are coming with the end of the Mayan calendar – that’s undoubtedly a fact. (Well, maybe  ) If Christmas rolls around and the world has disappointed you by not ending with a horde of zombies, relax. You can make your own.

First things first, you need to find a person to zombify. I suggest an employer, ex-boyfriend, mean teacher – somebody you have a beef with. After the first zombie or two you successfully create, you can begin marketing your zombie making skills and offer your services to your friends and family. You are bound to be a popular person with your new skills. 

Next, you need to make your zombie powder. Zombie powder has a primary active ingredient of TTX, or Tetrodotoxin, a powerful neurotoxin found in puffer fish. Slip it into your targets drink or food, and they will become very ill. Their heart will stop and their breathing will end, but they will remain conscious and paralyzed. They can remain suspended in a near death state for days with no detectable metabolic activity. A doctor will sign off on their death certificate, and you can bury the poor sap. Imagine hearing, seeing and knowing what is happening without being able to cry out – now that will teach that ex to trade you in for a better model!

After your victim is buried, you can return later to dig them up. They will need to be given another powder containing atropine and scopolamine. These are toxic and hallucinogenic compounds from the plants Datura metel and Datura stramonium (both known as the ‘zombie cucumber’). This powder, when administered, puts the victim into a permanent state of delirium and disorientation in which they experience delusions and hallucinations. This powder is best administered through the skin, rather than ingestion. 

The new zombies have severe amnesia, poor motor control, and extreme hallucinations. Simply put – they move slowly, barely speak, and are effective slaves. Tah Dah! You have your very own zombie to do your chores, follow you around, and terrify your enemies!

In Haiti, this form of zombification has been practiced for many years as punishment against their worst offenders. It has even been credited with large disasters in Haiti, such as the sinking of a large ferry in 1997. In 1985, biologist Wade Davis traveled to Haiti to find the scientific cause of the VooDoo curse, and from that wrote a book titled, “The Serpent and the Rainbow”. 

Who knew there was a “Make Your Own Zombie” manual out for 30 years and have not made good use of it yet? If your end of the world disaster plans fall through this year, I encourage you to make the best of it with your own horde of zombies. No need to wait around for zombies to come to you, go out there and make them yourselves!