Nice People

I have become a rather cynical (dare I say bitter) old bitch as I have gotten older. Pain, disappointment and betrayal will do that to you.  I see myself going down this unhappy, but most of the time amusing, road.  Then along comes a Nice Person.  Well dadgummit, you just ruined it, didn't you?  

I planted a letterbox in Hawaii a couple of years ago, in a very urban, busy, indoor location.  I didn't expect it to last long.  I had such a wonderful time that trip, I got to see my brother and his family for the first time in 10 years (they live in Germany)  I got to meet my very first great-niece and see my niece (her husband was stationed there) being a fantastic mother.  I went with my sister who I hadn't gone on a trip with in a million years, and we got along the WHOLE time.  Plus.... I was in Hawaii!  So, this box has a little bit of a special meaning to me.  I didn't expect it to be visited so much, to the point I was getting notes saying the log book was getting full.  My niece has since moved on to Georgia, so I couldn't ask her to help out.  I figured why not just ask a fellow boxer who lives in the city and who has found the box already.  I contacted Morgan Family Hunters introducing myself and asking if they would send me the box, then replace it when I send it back.  SMACK!   I ran right into a Nice Person.  Not only was she happy to help out, she told me what that box means to them.  Oh, the warm fuzzies peeked out of my bitter heart.  Quick as a flash she sent it to me with a lovely, lovely note and a package of chocolate covered macadamia nuts.  Don't get me wrong, the candy was a sweet touch, but the note was better.  It reminded me that Yes, Virginia, There is Such a Thing as Nice People.  Lookee, warm fuzzies exploding all over!  I'm almost finished with the box and I will send it back to her and it will once again be in place.  But no sweet treat I send back to her can compete with the gentle uplift she has given me...simply by being nice.

There are even fuzzies in my navel.

Condensed Milk

So maybe not condensed milk but here is my thought process:  over on FB I indulge in my fascination with words by periodically posting archaic/obscure/long/fun to say out loud words.  Since I haven't posted here recently, here is a condensed list of those words.  Feel free to use them in a sentence if you'd like:


ennui
soporific
trifecta
tympanometry
portmanteau
pinguecula
speculoos




This is my egress for today.

Cheers!

I created a cocktail out of the leftover alcohol  I found stashed in the house.  Its been so long since I've mixed a drink I have no sense of proportion.  So, it's written in my own vernacular, alter to suit your taste.


Gotelli Hammer*
¾ glass tangerine juice from Trader Joe's
1 huge splash of Absolut Citron
1 small drizzle of Orange Curacao
1 smaller drizzle of Kirschwasser


Raise a toast to absent neighbors.  Add more tangerine juice.   Ahhhhhh!








*You know... instead of a Screwdriver.

He Always Called Me "Doll"

On or about 1950, Mr. and Mrs. Gotelli decided to settle down and raise a family.  They picked a house in a new subdivision south of The City.  They ran their business, worked hard, raised a family and retired.  Life shuffled along as it does, neighbors moved in, moved out, passed away, had kids etc.  Mr. Gotelli was a bossy, nosy guy.  He had no problem telling anyone what's what, and he did so frequently.  Everyone knew him, he knew everyone.  He watched out for all the neighbors, told them when kids were throwing rocks at their cars, questioned the friends who would come by and feed pets while the neighbors were on vacation, alerted them when their back yard was on fire, wheeled in their garbage cans when they were too overwhelmed with caring for their wife who had cancer, yelled at them when they would park their to-many-cars so that driveways were blocked.  When Mrs. Gotelli died he told his neighbor that every morning he would go to the cemetery to visit her grave and yell at her for leaving him.  He doesn't have to do that anymore.  On Tuesday he will finally get to settle in next to her and neither one will be alone anymore.  The Mr. Gotelli shaped hole in the neighborhood is pretty big, about the same size as the one that's in my heart, but not as big as the one that is in my husband's. No more morning updates on the way out to work.  No more anything.  The S of GremLandS wants me to make a letterbox in his honor and plant it in the cemetery.  I will do it.  I can't think of anything at the moment that will do justice to the unofficial Mayor of our street.  But I will do it.

:-(

Hallelujah?

You know how when you are dreaming just before you wake up?  And the dream is SO significant, or insightful, or symbolic?  Almost a little too so?  Here is my story of this morning.  


:Start Dream State thinking:
All the activity associated with normal life are your standard notes of music and most people hear them as they are, the true sound of the note.  Some people are tone deaf and go through life completely out of sync and not knowing why things always seem to go wrong.  Somewhere in between are the people who, instead of hearing the true note, hear the harmony and these can range from hearing a third or fifth or an octave above, these are the lucky ones who are positive and motivated and uplifting.  Another type hears a full chord instead of just a single note.  Major chord being equated with a manic state, minor chord with a depressed one.  Now imagine that everyone's life wasn't like a book to read but a sheet of music to be played instead.  Now imagine a room full of people, everyone with a different instrument and playing their own sheet music.  At the same time.  Now, how in the world could we even stand to be there?  How soon before we'd run from the room with our ears ringing and eyes watering?  But also imagine how amazing it would be to find someone playing something that complemented yours.  
:End Dream State thinking:


I wake up thinking, ohmygosh, I'm BRILLIANT!  That is an amazing metaphor for life in general!  Where do these things come from?!?!  I'm a genius!  I also notice my alarm/radio is going off and I think, I better get up I've already hit the snooze button once.   Wait... hit the snooze button once...  Then I realize I have part of a song stuck in my head from when the alarm went off the first time.  The lyrics are rolling over and over and I can hear Jeff Buckley singing Hallelujah! perfectly in my head and it goes like this:


Well I heard there was a secret chord
That David played, and it pleased the Lord
But you don't really care for music, do ya?
Well it goes like this
The fourth, the fifth
The minor fall and the major lift
The baffled king composing Hallelujah 


Oh, I'm NOT brilliant.  I just incorporated the song on the radio into a light dream state.  Sigh.  Well, it was fun while it lasted.












If you hum a few bars, I can fake it.

As If One Isn't Enough

I'm not sure how many (IF any) people read this blog.  If I am to judge on the comments, there are two (Hi WomanToBlame, Hi Wendy!).  So in case you two, or anyone else who stumbles on this blog, NEED to read more junkandstuff, I just wanted to let you know......I've got another blog.  Yep, as if one isn't enough.  I'm trying my hand at a different kind of blog, it goes along with my etsy/ebay selling and is called Her Maj.  If you have any interest in vintage, antique, odd, old stuff come on over.  I do a lot of research on my item because I'm kind of a slave to that kind of thing.  I only use a portion of what I find out, and sometimes I learn cool stuff that I thought it would be nice to share...and it makes me feel like all that research didn't go to waste.  So, this blog will still be the same random rant and letterbox love and silly soliloquy  kitty box it has always been.  
Soooooooooo, that's about it.  Yeah, that's all I have to say right now....yup.  Uh, now what....   Sooooooooooooooooo, how was your Christmas?






Mine sucked, as usual.