Archives For Fun

Getting in the Head

September 26, 2012 — Leave a comment

People are interesting, and since I was a little girl, I’ve been asking questions about why they do what they do. And what they do may be something as seemingly simple as picking up the garbage at my curb, as mysterious as writing music, or as complex as monitoring the development and delivery of a child. Thankfully, people have been gracious about answering my questions, and I hope it’s because they know I’m really interested in them and what they’re about. Yes, I know the guys who pick up the garbage, and I know my OB/Gyn. When I say know, I don’t mean we’re buddies but rather I’m alert to how they proceed and wonder about them as people enough to ask them questions.

I used to fight this urge to ask questions. It seemed inappropriate, but I’ve lived a few years since I first had the thought and have realized it’s all in how you ask. This is a place for me to ask, but I won’t be intrusive by asking questions whose answers are not for public consumption. Apart from that, I’m going to be candid with a vengeance. Given this goal, if you don’t understand something I’m saying, ask me a question! And I don’t care how you ask — on blog, email, Twitter, etc. It makes no difference to me. So don’t wonder. Ask!


Gravity Can Weigh You Down

September 23, 2012 — 4 Comments

For two and a half years I’ve written a humorous blog elsewhere and been somewhat successful at it. Now I want to get serious, but it doesn’t give me any pleasure. I kept asking myself why I had to make things so serious. The conventional wisdom seemed to be dictating to me that I couldn’t discuss a serious topic unless I respected the gravity of it, and of course that meant no funny business. I’m calling bullshit on that. And yes, I realize by saying bullshit that I’m probably precluding myself from featuring some people on this blog. Oh well.

I want to be real here, and the truth is I sometimes say bullshit and quite often think it. No, I don’t mean that I bullshit although I do that too. I mean I see a lot of bullshit out there, uh, in the world, and being so dour isn’t the way to combat it. Humor works best.

And humor is natural for me since it’s often heard at my house and always has been. It even occurs sometimes out of terrible situations. Just the other day Mr. Zee and I got into what I call a knock-down-drag-out argument. Oh, no one got physical, but our words were pummeling each other pretty well. We haven’t had one of these in a good long while. I guess we had one to make up for that lapse. Then when it reached such a pitch that I thought I would faint from the blood pounding in my head, we looked at each other and started laughing. That is far from the first time a serious argument has ended this way. I’m so glad, and before anyone thinks, “Ohmygod, her marriage is in trouble!” Wait. I really don’t care if you think my marriage is in trouble. We’ve made it 29 years, so I think we’re doing fine, and I can’t think of anyone else I would want to fight with, laugh with, and just generally adore. But enough of that. Back to my point.

When going through the pieces I had written for this place, too many of them bored me, and I couldn’t inflict that on you — well meaning as they were. You can thank me later for this kindness. In the meantime, I’ll be working on finding my serious voice.

© Photograph by Kitsen | Agency:


September 19, 2012 — Leave a comment

One of my favorite bloggers highlights something I’m taking as a watchword for this place. But I give fair warning I might stray over the line into weird a bit. A little weird never hurt anyone. Just gotta know when to quit.

© Photograph by Chrisharvey | Agency:


September 19, 2012 — 2 Comments

By the time you read this, I’ll be on my adventure. I have a destination, but it doesn’t matter how it turns out. Whatever happens, it’s going to be good because I’m going to learn about someone or something. That’s the part that turns me on.

When I was a little girl and got my first “big girl” bike, I took adventures several times a week and every day when possible. I was looking for something I hadn’t seen or heard. Mostly I was looking at and listening to people. I wanted to learn what made them happy. From the time I was very young, I was unhappy. By my fifth birthday, I remember praying to God that I could be three years old again. Three was a good year. It started with a chocolate cake with hot pink frosting and homemade ice cream, and everyone was smiling. Somewhere between that moment and five, things got messed up.

A few years later Ferdinand “Fred” Waldo Demara became my patron saint. I had a thing for him. I wanted to be him, and in some respects, the fascination has never gone away. So today, I’m giving myself permission to be Fred, and I think I might play a reporter. Not sure yet.

© Photograph by Rachel Zirkle