One of my latest readers is a popular blogger who writes under the title Musings of a mad woman. She has children, a dog and a cat. The picture above is how I imagine her. I rad a few of her amusing little blogs.One was about failing at meditation in which nearly everything that could go wrong does. She thinks maybe she should masturbate, bu then the dog and then the cat want to play. Finally a nurse comes to save her from torture. It’s time for motherhood.
These are all familiar scenes and I’m certain many well meaning people have fallen into one or perhaps all of these traps. It’s not actually clear whether people were actually intended to mediate. What do we do? Empty our minds of thoughts about that project we’re supposed to be doing at school and work? Maybe we’re living fantasy lives that are far more interesting and varied than our real lives? Perhaps our fantasy lives should meditate on why our real selves aren’t as interesting as they should be.
I wouldn’t be surprised. But the mad woman has thousands of readers so maybe I should write about meditation and become more popular. Or maybe I will get a dog to take for walks and lose some weight.
My readers lead such glamorous lives.Two Satanists and one mad woman. Who knows what I will find this weekend?
America, where are our Girl Scout cookies? It has been about 4 weeks since Liz and I ordered from the young woman who brought her children with her to charm their way into our hearts. We were instantly smitten. We wanted, no needed, our fix of Thin Mints for the year. It would be a few weeks before we would be savoring their goodness.
Girl Scouts are one of the traditions of late winter and early spring you can count on. Like the basketball playoffs, football player drafts, flowers and buds on the trees. Girl Scout cookies help us to regain the pounds we foolishly claimed we were going shed during those new years resolutions we made under the influence of some intoxicants.
We have heard that people in our community have been receiving their cookies. And to make matters worse, some little cherubic girl scouts were at the grocery store plying their wares. No orders for you little tots. We have sworn our allegiance and our bellies to those three urchins who disappeared into the darkness.But perhaps, if our order has not arrived by next week we will cheat on our little friends. We will buy those store displayed cookies and spend the day indulging ourselves until we are too full to go for our Sunday afternoon stroll.
One of the oddest parts of the quality improvement exercise I attended today was something called Catapult. Each table received a package with pencils, scotch tape, paper clips, a spoon and several life savers. We were given 30 minutes to create a small catapult that would be able to fling a life saver into the air. Our table had several people including me, who didn’t know what we were doing. The project was designed to encourage teamwork and creativity and the ability to try out an idea, modify it and try it again. Within 5 minutes, the people in the tables on both sides of us had flung lifesavers at us in what seemed like a shooting war.
The winning team flung their lifesavers 20 feet. Not to be outdone, on our third catapult model, we managed to fling ours about 5 inches. Obviously our several masters degrees were wasted. We even watched a video of an 8 year old making a catapult and flinging his lifesaver 10 feet. If you need recovery, come to me. If you need a catapult, go get the kid.
I decided to turn off the television and hear what Milwaukee Public Radio had to offer. There was a segment featuring Allison Dunne whose father did the “You Damned Kid” comics in the Shepherd Express. I found this rather terrifying. When the former kids are now grown up and married and sitting in the state legislature, what’s left? The daughter of the old comic is going to be the co-emcee of the Bremen Cafe Comedy Monday night show. She may be leaving Milwaukee for a warmer non-snow climate later this year that offers possibilities for her to comedy full time.
Well, this could become a great opportunity for me. I am going to post links to this woman’s great comedy and perhaps my faithful readers will write in and tell me how wonderful or perhaps indifferent their experience of Allison Dunne was.
When I checked my site stats for the year I found that people from 60 countries have been reading my blog. Either that or the CIA has been keeping a lot of tabs on me. The top countries in terms of views are
No surprises, there, mostly English speaking countries. Except for a few of my relatives who were in ESL classes. My nosy little companion will probably want to check and see why I am getting all these views from India and Singapore. Hah hah.
There is a recovery based network in Canada peerworks that exchanges views once in while. And I have seen some blogs from the UK that interested me. It’s good to know that Americans don’t dominate the market for poor taste the way we did right after the Vietnam War. So if you’re reading me and wondering how the hell you arrived at this site, it’s all perfectly natural, kind of like a colonoscopy.
When you attend a conference or seminar like this week’s Milwaukee mental health summit you will always find plenty of doo dads. The mental health summit featured a battle to the bags. Bell Therapy gave away a tiny bag barely big enough for a sandwich. Managed Health Systems had a big purple bag suitable for books. One cheap company gave away a bag so flimsy it ripped before I was able to put anything in it. The winner of the bags contest was was Community Care with a big bright orange and black bag I used to carry all the other bags home.
There were plenty of the usual pens and note pads. Those might be useful. But what was the thinking at I-Care which distributed bandages. Will you be bleeding after you see what their services don’t cover? I’d be wary. Bell Therapy, not content with the aforementioned bags, also distributed bandages. I’d rather have a good case manager, if there was a choice.
The most puzzling doo dad was a kind of Harry Potter wand from Rogers Hospital. It was brightly colored and fairly ubiquitous as people tried to figure out what to do with them. You certainly would not give them to consumers, as they potentially be used as weapons. Imagine people smacking themselves or others with those goofy things. I gave one to our Executive Director. It’s not the most puzzling thing I’ve ever done but it’s high up on the list.
Not to be outdone by the doodad people were the agencies like Disability Rights Wisconsin gleefully destroying the ozone by distributing endless brochures. About as helpful as endless bread sticks at Olive Garden with almost as much flavor.See you at the next conference, doo dad collectors.
The most difficult thing is planning ahead because that takes a certain mentality. I am one of those let’s live in the moment types of people. Don’t fill my head with a lot of facts regarding some future event because my memory is slow fragile and limited. It seems that I deliberately avoid learning new information. I consider information things that I can really use. They’re not just random facts disconnected from anything. You should know this because someday you will have children. Stop right there, I didn’t have any and I am well past the age when one would be having them.
Here are some friends. That, too can be complicated because I often push people away. For one thing they want to learn about you. I met with two of Lizzy’s friends yesterday and apparently they wanted to meet me after they learned I had taken time off recently to comfort her. I decided I needed to be there. After meeting her friends we talked about going to see their cabin. However the story of the cabin sounded like something out of a Stephen King novel. I had suggested that we look at finding somewhere to go for the summer to spend a few days away from Milwaukee.
This could be the place or it may be my final resting spot. If you hear of a black man found in the north woods of Wisconsin, that will be me. These two women are fanatic readers and their pictures are of them holding books. All I know is, that the nearest major city to them is Green Bay and they drive around in some vehicle with well over 100,000 miles. I gave Lizzy information about where to find the car note in case she needs to find it. So fatalistic.
I keep seeing people run by my window and I am planning. Planning on friendship, furniture, bad cell phone reception out in the woods, being encountered by white men hunting for deer who mistake me for Barack Obama. Will we be able to find food or will we be foraging? There aren’t a lot of people in this place they call the UP, Upper Peninsula. I will pack a survival kit. I should have taken pictures of the women (without books) in case the police need evidence later on. I’m sure things will be fine. I will send a tracking signal to my family just in case, though. This may be why it’s hard to plan things.