Chaperoning the dance raised myriad memories. I wasn’t permitted to attend junior high school soirees. My frosh year in high school I nearly missed the first dance, Homecoming, because of an injury. A few days before the football game I was walking home and a gust of wind blew a dandelion pom into my eye. The pom still had its seed attached, which scraped my retina. It didn’t hurt a lot so my dad would not authorize a visit to the doctor. Overnight, my eye swelled up and became infected. Thankfully, the doctor was able to pry it open and prescribe an antibiotic topical treatment and it healed. I was lucky not to have permanent damage but I missed two days of school.
The other kids thought that I was silly since I wore sunglasses to the Homecoming game because the lights were too bright. One of my friends was convinced that my fashion inspired Corey Hart’s “Sunglasses at Night” song since he was visiting the area at that time. If so, he owes me some residuals! The dance was not impressive. The music was loud and I am not a fan of rock-n-roll. I was too shy to talk to the older kids. My friends and I huddled in a little clump and gossiped.
I attended other high school dances but never with a date. I wasn’t interested in most boys from my school. I had crushes on the ones who would never ask me out. One boy ardently perused me but I knew that he had hit his previous girlfriend and I told him no repeatedly. My brother-in-law finally stepped in and scared the boy off. I don’t know what he said but it was enough to keep the creep away. During dances I hung out with my friends and we were content. 4-H Junior Leader dances were much more enjoyable. We would hire a polka band and I would quickstep with kids from around the county. The teens from my school that would attend were already my friends so I felt comfortable to have fun.
During my Junior year, my classmates were in charge of decorations for the Prom. The theme was about time. I was in charge of painting a large clock. I was almost done when I had to depart to distribute the latest edition of the school newspaper. When I returned I was aghast to find that another student had painted monstrous lips and tongue on the clock to mimic a Rolling Stone’s album cover. It was impossible to fix and I didn’t have time to render a new clock. I became enraged. I tore it to shreds and yelled at the teacher who let the other student paint on my clock. I refused to attend prom with my friends because I was afraid that I’d punch out the asshole that had destroyed my hours of labor. I did take photos of the event for the yearbook but didn’t waste film on the idiot or his friends.
I attended my Senior Prom with a friend from another city. Scott and I had known each other during grade school, he moved, and we reconnected via 4-H. No chemistry so we were purely platonic. I had to reassure his girlfriend that there would never be any hanky-panky. It was a nice evening and I wore an old bridesmaid gown of my sister’s. I returned the following year to go with Tony. He and I were only friends and it was amusing to be viewed as “old.” A few years later he told me that he was gay, which really wasn’t a shock.
Dancing is pleasurable. During college I went out at least twice per week but rarely on the weekends. I became a regular at First Avenue and accustomed to have Prince stare down from the VIP section. I didn’t like the smoke and seldom drank alcohol. It’s hard to move when you are inebriated. I’m much more comfie with free form movement. I’m not good at anything that involves memorization and I despise being “led” around the floor. During the launch of “When Doves Cry” Prince came to the floor and actually said hello to me. I was shocked; he never came to the dance arena. He was going to say something else but the crowd recognized him and his huge bodyguards led him away. I will always wonder what he was going to utter.
It has been a long while since I danced the night away. I have to conserve energy to make it through the workweek and am usually exhausted on Fridays. I’m content to have dinner with friends and chat. At least the bars don’t permit smoking anymore. The loud music does tend to jar my body so I have earplugs with me. Sadly, I have turned into a fuddy-duddy after all.
Dance All Night
© Copyright 2013 Ima B. Musing: all rights reserved.
Monday, June 17, 2013
Friday, June 14, 2013
IMA'S BOOKWORM REVIEW: SUMMER READIN’ 2013
Summary of the crème du la crème from Ima’s Bookworm Review Volumes I – III. Pick up these books for the summer. Be aware that I am not drawn to books of blithe spirit but novels of substance. Alphabetized by author.
Must Read:
* Anshu by Juliet S. Kono
Dark, sorrowful and poetic. One of the best books that I have ever read!
Excellent Novels:
* Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen
* Plainsong by Kent Haruf
* Spiral by Paul McEuen
* Under Fishbone Clouds by Sam Meekings
Strongly Recommended:
* The Water Children by Anne Berry
* Bartender’s Tale by Ivan Doig
* Half Life by Roopa Farooki
* Unbroken by Laura Hillenbrand
* Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Hurston
* The Uninvited by Liz Jensen
* Oyster: History on the Half Shell by Mark Kurlansky (non-fiction)
* Life of Pi by Yann Martel
* More Tales of the City by Armistead Maupin
* The Cold Cold Ground by Adrain McKinty
* Black Mamba Boy by Natifa Mohamed
* Moon Maze Game by David Niven and Steven Barnes
* Driftless by David Rhodes
* Pirate Queen by Barbara Sjoholm
* A Cavalcade of Lesser Horrors by Peter Smith
* Objects of My Affection by Jill Somolinski
* Strindberg’s Star by Jan Walletin
* Zone One by Colson Whitehead
Fall into a story.
© Copyright 2013 Ima B. Musing: all rights reserved.
Must Read:
* Anshu by Juliet S. Kono
Dark, sorrowful and poetic. One of the best books that I have ever read!
Excellent Novels:
* Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen
* Plainsong by Kent Haruf
* Spiral by Paul McEuen
* Under Fishbone Clouds by Sam Meekings
Strongly Recommended:
* The Water Children by Anne Berry
* Bartender’s Tale by Ivan Doig
* Half Life by Roopa Farooki
* Unbroken by Laura Hillenbrand
* Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Hurston
* The Uninvited by Liz Jensen
* Oyster: History on the Half Shell by Mark Kurlansky (non-fiction)
* Life of Pi by Yann Martel
* More Tales of the City by Armistead Maupin
* The Cold Cold Ground by Adrain McKinty
* Black Mamba Boy by Natifa Mohamed
* Moon Maze Game by David Niven and Steven Barnes
* Driftless by David Rhodes
* Pirate Queen by Barbara Sjoholm
* A Cavalcade of Lesser Horrors by Peter Smith
* Objects of My Affection by Jill Somolinski
* Strindberg’s Star by Jan Walletin
* Zone One by Colson Whitehead
Fall into a story.
© Copyright 2013 Ima B. Musing: all rights reserved.
Tuesday, June 11, 2013
REVIR IPPISSISSIM
Endless surfaces, no hue, only undulating sinuous ribbons of smooth, bubbly, or whirling texture. All water looks black at night. The river knows no time as it seeks the lowest level. The sunrise cruise departed at 4am to venture along the waterway. I’d traveled this route many times before but was struck by the quiet. The only noise was the loud hum and whirr of the engine as it churned the propellers.
Northern Spark 2013 festival focused on the downtown St. Paul area on Saturday – Sunday, June 8th-9th. The reveries began at sunset on Saturday but I was home sleeping. I had exhausted myself puttering in the garden and cleaning so I needed a snooze. The alarm clock rousted me at 2am and I drove down to the event. I managed to locate parking and walked over to Union Depot. There was a large presence of police officers so I felt safe being alone. Unfortunately, a lot of the activities had just finished but there were still some performances in the Depot itself. The Depot was hot in contract to the drizzly chill outside.
I sauntered to the lower train level of the depot to watch and listen to some performances. Long ago I ceased trying to intellectually examine art, especially during the wee hours of the morning. Art is about feeling. It is about emotional expression. Storytelling may or may not be involved. Logic may or may not be present. Its best to just feel the experience and not attempt to analyze what cannot be explained. It was difficult locating Lamperts Landing but I found it before the boat departed.
The Jonathan Paddleford was filled with mostly people in their 20s and 30s. A large number were drunk or high, and as a result several vomited overboard – gross. The first floor was a heated compartment with chairs and tables. The concession stand could not serve alcohol at that hour and quickly ran out of hot chocolate. The second level was unheated with a small dance floor and few chairs. I ended up sitting on the floor watching the water through the railing until we were underway. Works Progress Studio prepared a nice history booklet. Perhaps next time they will invite Native American and other storytellers to talk about the river on the second deck.
It was interesting to watch the currents and debris flow in the swift current. The river level is slightly above average due to the constant rain. My favorite section of the venture was after we went under the High Bridge and were near Lilydale Park. It was dark and silent, void of humans except for a couple groups who had bonfires near the river. I didn’t notice any animals and at least no stupid humans were attempting to navigate a small vessel at night. The lights of Minneapolis shone to the west as St. Paul glowed in the east but it was very still. The loudest noise were the repetitive metallic clank of the pistons and motor.
I really enjoyed standing up near the Pilot House. Passengers are rarely allowed up on this deck but it offered the best view of the river. The deck became less crowded as the drizzle transformed into a light rain. I forgot an umbrella but wore a heavy spring/fall jacket with a hood, and brought along earmuff, gloves, and a scarf. I knew that the river is always about ten degrees colder than the land due to evaporation. I gradually became wet enough that I had to seek the first deck but only after we had turned around to return to the dock.
About half the passengers were asleep or passed out on the first deck. After a trip to the bathroom I went to the bow of the boat to watch our approach to St. Paul. This is always my favorite location on a ship. The sky was beginning to lighten and some of the birds were singing their territorial song. More cars were moving about and a few yacht club residents were walking their dogs. We returned to the Landing at about 5:26am. I was cold, wet, and windswept but exhilarated by the ride. It would have been nice to be met by performers as we departed but the festival had come to an end. The Farmer’s Market wasn’t open so I went home and made breakfast. I quickly fell asleep on the couch with the cats.
www.northernspark.org reserve June 14th, 2014 on your calendar for the next festival.
Riverboat Dreams
© Copyright 2013 Ima B. Musing: all rights reserved.
Northern Spark 2013 festival focused on the downtown St. Paul area on Saturday – Sunday, June 8th-9th. The reveries began at sunset on Saturday but I was home sleeping. I had exhausted myself puttering in the garden and cleaning so I needed a snooze. The alarm clock rousted me at 2am and I drove down to the event. I managed to locate parking and walked over to Union Depot. There was a large presence of police officers so I felt safe being alone. Unfortunately, a lot of the activities had just finished but there were still some performances in the Depot itself. The Depot was hot in contract to the drizzly chill outside.
I sauntered to the lower train level of the depot to watch and listen to some performances. Long ago I ceased trying to intellectually examine art, especially during the wee hours of the morning. Art is about feeling. It is about emotional expression. Storytelling may or may not be involved. Logic may or may not be present. Its best to just feel the experience and not attempt to analyze what cannot be explained. It was difficult locating Lamperts Landing but I found it before the boat departed.
The Jonathan Paddleford was filled with mostly people in their 20s and 30s. A large number were drunk or high, and as a result several vomited overboard – gross. The first floor was a heated compartment with chairs and tables. The concession stand could not serve alcohol at that hour and quickly ran out of hot chocolate. The second level was unheated with a small dance floor and few chairs. I ended up sitting on the floor watching the water through the railing until we were underway. Works Progress Studio prepared a nice history booklet. Perhaps next time they will invite Native American and other storytellers to talk about the river on the second deck.
It was interesting to watch the currents and debris flow in the swift current. The river level is slightly above average due to the constant rain. My favorite section of the venture was after we went under the High Bridge and were near Lilydale Park. It was dark and silent, void of humans except for a couple groups who had bonfires near the river. I didn’t notice any animals and at least no stupid humans were attempting to navigate a small vessel at night. The lights of Minneapolis shone to the west as St. Paul glowed in the east but it was very still. The loudest noise were the repetitive metallic clank of the pistons and motor.
I really enjoyed standing up near the Pilot House. Passengers are rarely allowed up on this deck but it offered the best view of the river. The deck became less crowded as the drizzle transformed into a light rain. I forgot an umbrella but wore a heavy spring/fall jacket with a hood, and brought along earmuff, gloves, and a scarf. I knew that the river is always about ten degrees colder than the land due to evaporation. I gradually became wet enough that I had to seek the first deck but only after we had turned around to return to the dock.
About half the passengers were asleep or passed out on the first deck. After a trip to the bathroom I went to the bow of the boat to watch our approach to St. Paul. This is always my favorite location on a ship. The sky was beginning to lighten and some of the birds were singing their territorial song. More cars were moving about and a few yacht club residents were walking their dogs. We returned to the Landing at about 5:26am. I was cold, wet, and windswept but exhilarated by the ride. It would have been nice to be met by performers as we departed but the festival had come to an end. The Farmer’s Market wasn’t open so I went home and made breakfast. I quickly fell asleep on the couch with the cats.
www.northernspark.org reserve June 14th, 2014 on your calendar for the next festival.
Riverboat Dreams
© Copyright 2013 Ima B. Musing: all rights reserved.
Sunday, June 9, 2013
KIDS THESE DAYS
Screeching non-rhythmic mayhem best describes some types of currently popular music. The more things change the more they remain the same since I suppose adults have been saying that for years. I recently chaperoned a youth dance. It was an open event for junior and senior high students as well as home-schoolers. Fifty to one hundred youth were expected in view of the fact that only seventy-five participated last year but nearly two hundred passed through the event.
The clothing ranged from fancy to ridiculous. Kids wore formal gowns, suit-n-ties, costumes, and pajamas. Females seemed to either be wearing six-inch heels that made them stand on their toes or run around barefooted. The only rule was no nudity, which thankfully was not violated. Goth is rather overwrought but was trendy with part of the crowd. I presume that few schools would permit Goths to express their inner darkness. Steampunk is much more elegant. The oddest were Furries, the innocent kind, where kids wore their favorite animal costume. Note: adult Furries have secret hatches built into their costumes for anonymous groping. Eww.
The music was loud and the dancing odd. Kids enjoyed “storytelling” or fashionable performance art. The audience formed a circle around the performers who danced a spontaneous story while the other kids cheered. Practically every kid joined in a line dance, which was an updated version of a popular one that I attempted during high school. Oldie but goodie… egads, how did I become middle aged? I wish that I had their physical energy.
No drugs, alcohol or chemical substances were permitted. However, one group of older teens arrived drunk or high and were escorted out. Another pair of older teens brought along a flask, which was emptied and they were expelled for alcohol consumption. No fights marred the event. Some drama occurred but that is the emotional roller coaster of youth. The vast majority of young ones had fun, which was the goal of the evening.
The organizers of the event didn’t prepare very well. I wasn’t informed that chaperones needed a background check until the afternoon of the affair. I managed to get approved but it was rather jarring to learn of at the last moment. The committee needed to assign one or two people to take the lead in coordinating the decorations, food, and chaperones. Registration was organized and worked well but the rest of the night was rather chaotic. I was happy to arrive to my quiet home.
Boogie Woogie
© Copyright 2013 Ima B. Musing: all rights reserved.
The clothing ranged from fancy to ridiculous. Kids wore formal gowns, suit-n-ties, costumes, and pajamas. Females seemed to either be wearing six-inch heels that made them stand on their toes or run around barefooted. The only rule was no nudity, which thankfully was not violated. Goth is rather overwrought but was trendy with part of the crowd. I presume that few schools would permit Goths to express their inner darkness. Steampunk is much more elegant. The oddest were Furries, the innocent kind, where kids wore their favorite animal costume. Note: adult Furries have secret hatches built into their costumes for anonymous groping. Eww.
The music was loud and the dancing odd. Kids enjoyed “storytelling” or fashionable performance art. The audience formed a circle around the performers who danced a spontaneous story while the other kids cheered. Practically every kid joined in a line dance, which was an updated version of a popular one that I attempted during high school. Oldie but goodie… egads, how did I become middle aged? I wish that I had their physical energy.
No drugs, alcohol or chemical substances were permitted. However, one group of older teens arrived drunk or high and were escorted out. Another pair of older teens brought along a flask, which was emptied and they were expelled for alcohol consumption. No fights marred the event. Some drama occurred but that is the emotional roller coaster of youth. The vast majority of young ones had fun, which was the goal of the evening.
The organizers of the event didn’t prepare very well. I wasn’t informed that chaperones needed a background check until the afternoon of the affair. I managed to get approved but it was rather jarring to learn of at the last moment. The committee needed to assign one or two people to take the lead in coordinating the decorations, food, and chaperones. Registration was organized and worked well but the rest of the night was rather chaotic. I was happy to arrive to my quiet home.
Boogie Woogie
© Copyright 2013 Ima B. Musing: all rights reserved.
Friday, June 7, 2013
IMA’S BOOKWORM REVIEW, VOLUME III OVERVIEW
The tomes are ranked by my preference and alphabetized by creator. Don’t bother reading anything at 2.5 or below, though I admire the author’s ambition to be published. If you’d like to review the novel’s extended comments, though brief and to the point, please search back for earlier entries of Volume III. Feel free to peruse the preceding Volumes I & II, too. Watch for a summer reading list. I’m already working on Volume IV entries.
BOOKWORM RATINGS:
FIVE WORMS = Perfection
FOUR AND A HALF WORMS = Excellent
Sadly, no books meet this criterion in Volume III. Authors and publishers are cordially invited to mail me books to review.
FOUR WORMS = Very Good
Bartender’s Tale by Ivan Doig
The Uninvited by Liz Jensen
The Cold Cold Ground by Adrain McKinty
Objects of My Affection by Jill Somolinski
THREE AND A HALF WORMS = Good
Dark Currents by Jacqueline Carey
XO by Jeffery Deaver
The Woman Who Died A Lot by Jasper Fforde
Mercury Falls by Robert Krose
Tiger Moon by Antonia Michaelis
The Risk Agent by Ridley Pearson
The City of Devi by Manil Suri
Devine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood by Rebecca Wells
THREE WORMS = Fair, but readable
An Autumn War, and The Price of Spring by Daniel Abraham (two separate books)
Chinese Whiskers by Pallavi Aiyar
Nine Lives by Dan Baum
Music of Ghosts by Sallie Bissell
As Sweet As Honey by Indira Ganesan
Cats Behaving Badly by Celia Haddon (non-fiction)
The Bones of the Old Ones by Howard Andrew Jones
Murder Most Austen by Tracy Kiely
The Death Relic by Chris Kuzneski
Beautiful Sacrifice by Elizabeth Lowell
Breaking Dawn by Stephenie Meyer
Margaret from Maine by Joseph Monninger
Twin Cities Haunted Handbook by Jeff Morris, Garett Merk, and Dain Charbonneau
Popular Music from Vittala by Mikel Niemi
The Shape of Desire by Sharon Shinn
Wisdom of the Shire by Noble Smith
Data, A Love Story by Amy Webb (non-fiction)
The Darling Dahlias and the Confederate Rose by Susan Wittig Albert
Star Wars: Scoundrels by Timothy Zahn
TWO AND A HALF WORMS = So-So
The Turtle-Girl from East PukaPuka by Cole Alpaugh
The People of Tomorrow are Not Afraid by Shani Boianjiu
The Legend of Broken by Caleb Carr
The Map of Lost Memories by Kim Fay
The Illicit Happiness of Other People by Manu Joseph
The Wanting by Michael Lavigne
Crow Lake by Mary Lawson
Eclipse by Stephenie Meyer
The Casual Vacancy by J.K. Rowling
Death on a Pale Horse by Donald Thomas
TWO WORMS = Oh-Oh
Enchanting Lily by Anjali Banerjee
The Bad Miss Bennet by Jean Burnett
The Lady of Secrets by Susan Carroll
My Last Empress by Da Chen
The Wurst is Yet to Come by Mary Daheim
The Wrong Man by David Ellis
Dream of the Celt by Mario Vargas Llosa
Twilight, and New Moon by Stephenie Meyer (two separate books)
Nick & Jake by Jonathan and Tad Richards
ONE/ZERO WORM = No-No or Avoid
The Rise of Ransom City by Felix Gilman
Lenin’s Kises by Yan Lianke
Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov
Silent House by Orhan Pamluk
The Forgetting Tree by Tatjana Soli
Read Every Day!
© Copyright 2013 Ima B. Musing: all rights reserved.
BOOKWORM RATINGS:
FIVE WORMS = Perfection
FOUR AND A HALF WORMS = Excellent
Sadly, no books meet this criterion in Volume III. Authors and publishers are cordially invited to mail me books to review.
FOUR WORMS = Very Good
Bartender’s Tale by Ivan Doig
The Uninvited by Liz Jensen
The Cold Cold Ground by Adrain McKinty
Objects of My Affection by Jill Somolinski
THREE AND A HALF WORMS = Good
Dark Currents by Jacqueline Carey
XO by Jeffery Deaver
The Woman Who Died A Lot by Jasper Fforde
Mercury Falls by Robert Krose
Tiger Moon by Antonia Michaelis
The Risk Agent by Ridley Pearson
The City of Devi by Manil Suri
Devine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood by Rebecca Wells
THREE WORMS = Fair, but readable
An Autumn War, and The Price of Spring by Daniel Abraham (two separate books)
Chinese Whiskers by Pallavi Aiyar
Nine Lives by Dan Baum
Music of Ghosts by Sallie Bissell
As Sweet As Honey by Indira Ganesan
Cats Behaving Badly by Celia Haddon (non-fiction)
The Bones of the Old Ones by Howard Andrew Jones
Murder Most Austen by Tracy Kiely
The Death Relic by Chris Kuzneski
Beautiful Sacrifice by Elizabeth Lowell
Breaking Dawn by Stephenie Meyer
Margaret from Maine by Joseph Monninger
Twin Cities Haunted Handbook by Jeff Morris, Garett Merk, and Dain Charbonneau
Popular Music from Vittala by Mikel Niemi
The Shape of Desire by Sharon Shinn
Wisdom of the Shire by Noble Smith
Data, A Love Story by Amy Webb (non-fiction)
The Darling Dahlias and the Confederate Rose by Susan Wittig Albert
Star Wars: Scoundrels by Timothy Zahn
TWO AND A HALF WORMS = So-So
The Turtle-Girl from East PukaPuka by Cole Alpaugh
The People of Tomorrow are Not Afraid by Shani Boianjiu
The Legend of Broken by Caleb Carr
The Map of Lost Memories by Kim Fay
The Illicit Happiness of Other People by Manu Joseph
The Wanting by Michael Lavigne
Crow Lake by Mary Lawson
Eclipse by Stephenie Meyer
The Casual Vacancy by J.K. Rowling
Death on a Pale Horse by Donald Thomas
TWO WORMS = Oh-Oh
Enchanting Lily by Anjali Banerjee
The Bad Miss Bennet by Jean Burnett
The Lady of Secrets by Susan Carroll
My Last Empress by Da Chen
The Wurst is Yet to Come by Mary Daheim
The Wrong Man by David Ellis
Dream of the Celt by Mario Vargas Llosa
Twilight, and New Moon by Stephenie Meyer (two separate books)
Nick & Jake by Jonathan and Tad Richards
ONE/ZERO WORM = No-No or Avoid
The Rise of Ransom City by Felix Gilman
Lenin’s Kises by Yan Lianke
Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov
Silent House by Orhan Pamluk
The Forgetting Tree by Tatjana Soli
Read Every Day!
© Copyright 2013 Ima B. Musing: all rights reserved.
Wednesday, June 5, 2013
DRUNKEN FOOL
“It is so cool and clean and takes all the grossness away,” a friend of mine slobbered as he leaned over the toilet seat to vomit. He had consumed a considerable amount of alcohol at a party. I was mollified by the sound and smell since it made me gag. His body wanted to expel as much as it could before he poisoned himself from the liquor. Ah, the stupid things we humans do to ourselves.
My parents strictly forbad alcohol. It was the devil’s tool. The only exception was a flask of blackberry brandy kept on the highest shelf of the cabinet. Its only purpose was when a person was very ill and needed to sleep. No one paid heed that it dehydrated the sick person, too. I didn’t like the smell or the taste of it and Nyquil made me choke. My mother is severely allergic to alcohol. The fumes of rubbing alcohol make her swoon and she gets drunk just sitting in a bar inhaling the vapors. I’m not allergic but I may have a slight reaction to the substance.
During high school I would venture to parties and the cheapest beer would be available. Legal age was 19 and our alcohol-provider would purchase something hideous brewed in New Ulm, MN. I’d grab a can and take a swig. It took a lot of acting not to make a face at the awful flavor. I’d then discreetly excuse myself to the bathroom to dump out the horrible brew and fill the can with water. I quickly gained the reputation for being able to drink a lot. Ha-ha-ha I was stone cold sober at every soiree. I watched the antics of the drunken participants, which were rather embarrassing. .
Many inebriated teens would confess their secrets to me. At one party, a big wrestler threw his arm around me and whispered in my ear that he always stole 20 dollars from his sister’s paycheck. She never knew but he figured that I was drunk and could ease his soul in my ear. I watched people do stupid stuff, fall down, and get sick. Gross, crude, and disgusting. If the driver of my entourage became buzzed or drunk, I’d drive everyone home, drop off the car at the driver’s house, and either walk home or get a ride from their parents. If the idiots who confessed their sordid affairs to me bothered me at school I would discreetly mention their secret and they would back off. I never used their mutterings as blackmail but Dave never figured out how I knew that he padded his pockets. I did tell his sister about direct deposit at the bank, though.
It wasn’t until college that I learned that alcohol didn’t have to taste awful. The legal age was raised to 21. I was introduced to a cheap sweet wine and it made me feel fine. I would have one or two glasses and it was enough for a good buzz. When I moved up to the Cities someone made me a Fuzzy Naval. The vodka and orange juice combination became my favorite. Unfortunately, one chilly night I consumed enough to start seeing double. I ran to the bathroom and vomited orange slime. Yuck. I drank water and sought sleep in the coatroom. An hour later my friends freaked out because they assumed that I had wandered out into the cold. As they collected their coats they found me sleeping underneath.
I’ve only been dim-witted enough to drink myself into oblivion a few times. The first two times I really didn’t understand the sensation but the third time was enough, I made a total fool of myself. No more thank you very much. I get myself to a buzz and switch to water. It isn’t safe to drive after two drinks so my friends and I take turns being the sober driver. Most bars will provide free pop or juice to the driver, if you inform the waitron or manager. Its much better than a DWI, causing an accident which harms others, or death. No buzz is worth that much pain. When I was 16, a drunken motorist killed my friend’s brother. The family of my friend never recovered from his completely preventable death.
Sober drivers rule!
© Copyright 2013 Ima B. Musing: all rights reserved.
My parents strictly forbad alcohol. It was the devil’s tool. The only exception was a flask of blackberry brandy kept on the highest shelf of the cabinet. Its only purpose was when a person was very ill and needed to sleep. No one paid heed that it dehydrated the sick person, too. I didn’t like the smell or the taste of it and Nyquil made me choke. My mother is severely allergic to alcohol. The fumes of rubbing alcohol make her swoon and she gets drunk just sitting in a bar inhaling the vapors. I’m not allergic but I may have a slight reaction to the substance.
During high school I would venture to parties and the cheapest beer would be available. Legal age was 19 and our alcohol-provider would purchase something hideous brewed in New Ulm, MN. I’d grab a can and take a swig. It took a lot of acting not to make a face at the awful flavor. I’d then discreetly excuse myself to the bathroom to dump out the horrible brew and fill the can with water. I quickly gained the reputation for being able to drink a lot. Ha-ha-ha I was stone cold sober at every soiree. I watched the antics of the drunken participants, which were rather embarrassing. .
Many inebriated teens would confess their secrets to me. At one party, a big wrestler threw his arm around me and whispered in my ear that he always stole 20 dollars from his sister’s paycheck. She never knew but he figured that I was drunk and could ease his soul in my ear. I watched people do stupid stuff, fall down, and get sick. Gross, crude, and disgusting. If the driver of my entourage became buzzed or drunk, I’d drive everyone home, drop off the car at the driver’s house, and either walk home or get a ride from their parents. If the idiots who confessed their sordid affairs to me bothered me at school I would discreetly mention their secret and they would back off. I never used their mutterings as blackmail but Dave never figured out how I knew that he padded his pockets. I did tell his sister about direct deposit at the bank, though.
It wasn’t until college that I learned that alcohol didn’t have to taste awful. The legal age was raised to 21. I was introduced to a cheap sweet wine and it made me feel fine. I would have one or two glasses and it was enough for a good buzz. When I moved up to the Cities someone made me a Fuzzy Naval. The vodka and orange juice combination became my favorite. Unfortunately, one chilly night I consumed enough to start seeing double. I ran to the bathroom and vomited orange slime. Yuck. I drank water and sought sleep in the coatroom. An hour later my friends freaked out because they assumed that I had wandered out into the cold. As they collected their coats they found me sleeping underneath.
I’ve only been dim-witted enough to drink myself into oblivion a few times. The first two times I really didn’t understand the sensation but the third time was enough, I made a total fool of myself. No more thank you very much. I get myself to a buzz and switch to water. It isn’t safe to drive after two drinks so my friends and I take turns being the sober driver. Most bars will provide free pop or juice to the driver, if you inform the waitron or manager. Its much better than a DWI, causing an accident which harms others, or death. No buzz is worth that much pain. When I was 16, a drunken motorist killed my friend’s brother. The family of my friend never recovered from his completely preventable death.
Sober drivers rule!
© Copyright 2013 Ima B. Musing: all rights reserved.
Monday, June 3, 2013
GREEN IS GOOD
Vivid verdant green makes the grass glow as is rises upward after a springtime thunderstorm with lightening. Mmm, the smell of damp ionized air. The odd orange tinge to the sunshine makes the green even more intense. After an extra long winter, spring is extra sweet.
It can be a bit tricky to start seedlings inside but I have learned to be fairly successful. Sometimes I still lose some to either over or under-watering but the vast majority survive. It is a lot cheaper to raise plants from seed rather than purchase them at a store. Another method to save funds is to reuse potting soil, however, it must be baked to destroy the nasty microbes, which may kill the fragile seedlings. I baked several pans of soil and had to throw open the doors because the oven now spews evil carbon monoxide.
During February I started peppers and tomatoes. During March I propagated broccoli and eggplants. During April herbs were sprouted. Last year the entire vegetable garden was planted before the first of May. This year, we had snow and frost well into May. I began prepping the bed but delayed planting until I knew the precious plants would not perish in the chill.
Many of the tomatoes became rather “leggy” which means long stems with few leaves because I couldn’t plant them until Memorial Day weekend. The soil still felt cool so I doubt if the plants will grow very much when their “feet” are chilly. We have had a lot of rainy or cloudy days so that is also delaying the growth.
The vegetable garden will feed me later this summer. I don’t have money to buy items at the grocery store. The food shelf offers some fruits and veggies but most of them are damaged in some way or starting to rot. If I grow extra produce, I drop it off at the food shelf. Puttering in the garden is relaxing. I like to watch plants grow, though I could do without the weeds. I even enjoy listening to the oscillating hum of lawn mowers as they prune grass. It is tedious to cut my own lawn, which is why ¾ of the land is either perennials or veggies. Too bad we can’t have grazing animals in town to trim the grass…
Dig In!
© Copyright 2013 Ima B. Musing: all rights reserved
It can be a bit tricky to start seedlings inside but I have learned to be fairly successful. Sometimes I still lose some to either over or under-watering but the vast majority survive. It is a lot cheaper to raise plants from seed rather than purchase them at a store. Another method to save funds is to reuse potting soil, however, it must be baked to destroy the nasty microbes, which may kill the fragile seedlings. I baked several pans of soil and had to throw open the doors because the oven now spews evil carbon monoxide.
During February I started peppers and tomatoes. During March I propagated broccoli and eggplants. During April herbs were sprouted. Last year the entire vegetable garden was planted before the first of May. This year, we had snow and frost well into May. I began prepping the bed but delayed planting until I knew the precious plants would not perish in the chill.
Many of the tomatoes became rather “leggy” which means long stems with few leaves because I couldn’t plant them until Memorial Day weekend. The soil still felt cool so I doubt if the plants will grow very much when their “feet” are chilly. We have had a lot of rainy or cloudy days so that is also delaying the growth.
The vegetable garden will feed me later this summer. I don’t have money to buy items at the grocery store. The food shelf offers some fruits and veggies but most of them are damaged in some way or starting to rot. If I grow extra produce, I drop it off at the food shelf. Puttering in the garden is relaxing. I like to watch plants grow, though I could do without the weeds. I even enjoy listening to the oscillating hum of lawn mowers as they prune grass. It is tedious to cut my own lawn, which is why ¾ of the land is either perennials or veggies. Too bad we can’t have grazing animals in town to trim the grass…
Dig In!
© Copyright 2013 Ima B. Musing: all rights reserved
Friday, May 31, 2013
IMA’S BOOKWORM REVIEW, VOLUME III, ISSUE 10
Saddened by the lack of characters of normal appearance. I’d like to read about the exploits of an average looking person who is a bit overweight with aches and pains but still manages to have an adventure.
Music of Ghosts by Sallie Bissell Three Worms
Victim should never be described on the back flap of a book, it ruined the first chapter. Murder mystery featuring a Native American woman! Subtle stereotypes besmirched a solid storyline.
The Bones of the Old Ones by Howard Andrew Jones Three Worms
Segment of an ongoing series. Entertaining with chase scenes that would translate well in a movie. Nice to encounter a positive portrayal of Muslim heroes, though the females are routinely chided. Good humor though the conclusion was hasty.
Star Wars: Scoundrels by Timothy Zahn Three Worms
Reads like a screenplay and sanctioned by Lucasfilm. Fills in part of Han Solo’s life between movies IV and V. Complicated storyline and a lot of action. A few wee logic issues but mostly salient. There is a lot of literature for Star War fans available.
The People of Tomorrow are Not Afraid by Shani Boianjiu Two and a Half Worms
Droning adolescence is irritating. Narrative flips from one character to another’s without much ado. Some glimmers of greatness are drowned by the incessant narcissism of the characters.
The Wanting by Michael Lavigne Two and a Half Worms
Disorienting to jump from one character to the next with only a small symbol above their section to denote the change. It would have been much more effective to have Amir visit myriad people affected by his action. The ending was too abrupt.
Read On!
© Copyright 2013 Ima B. Musing: all rights reserved.
IMA’S BOOKWORM REVIEW, VOLUME III OVERVIEW
A few books have been adjusted from their original rating to be in better alignment. Don’t bother reading anything at 2.5 or below.
© Copyright 2013 Ima B. Musing: all rights reserved.
Music of Ghosts by Sallie Bissell Three Worms
Victim should never be described on the back flap of a book, it ruined the first chapter. Murder mystery featuring a Native American woman! Subtle stereotypes besmirched a solid storyline.
The Bones of the Old Ones by Howard Andrew Jones Three Worms
Segment of an ongoing series. Entertaining with chase scenes that would translate well in a movie. Nice to encounter a positive portrayal of Muslim heroes, though the females are routinely chided. Good humor though the conclusion was hasty.
Star Wars: Scoundrels by Timothy Zahn Three Worms
Reads like a screenplay and sanctioned by Lucasfilm. Fills in part of Han Solo’s life between movies IV and V. Complicated storyline and a lot of action. A few wee logic issues but mostly salient. There is a lot of literature for Star War fans available.
The People of Tomorrow are Not Afraid by Shani Boianjiu Two and a Half Worms
Droning adolescence is irritating. Narrative flips from one character to another’s without much ado. Some glimmers of greatness are drowned by the incessant narcissism of the characters.
The Wanting by Michael Lavigne Two and a Half Worms
Disorienting to jump from one character to the next with only a small symbol above their section to denote the change. It would have been much more effective to have Amir visit myriad people affected by his action. The ending was too abrupt.
Read On!
© Copyright 2013 Ima B. Musing: all rights reserved.
IMA’S BOOKWORM REVIEW, VOLUME III OVERVIEW
A few books have been adjusted from their original rating to be in better alignment. Don’t bother reading anything at 2.5 or below.
© Copyright 2013 Ima B. Musing: all rights reserved.
Tuesday, May 28, 2013
FOR THE CHILDREN
The wounds run deep with horrific consequences in the Native American Indian community, regardless of where the descendent resides. Fear and pain cause negative behavior resulting in deplorable statistics. At one time, we were 100% of the continent’s population but oppression began as soon as the first settler declared the land as theirs.
The resulting systematic genocidal effort significantly shrunk the Native American population. The Indian Residential Boarding School System wrought some of the deepest and continuing tragedies. Armando Gutierrez G., a powerful artist, challenged me to explore the issue further. I had been stating that some members of the Native American community are dealing with “Suppressed Sorrow” but it may be a more intensive “Paralyzing Pain/Fear” due to the generational trauma. Extreme stress may render a person helpless, they are not able to think clearly or make good decisions.
Everyone reacts to trauma differently, it is important not to over-generalize. Not every Native American was directly affected by the Indian Residential Boarding School System. Not every Native American cares about it. However, a significant number of Native Americans are trying to live with the aftereffects of the trauma. Sadly, the pain and fear will continue to burden future generations unless we boldly expose the truth and seek reconciliation for ourselves. Everyone is cordially invited to join our petition on Facebook. We welcome all supporters to establish this effort throughout the United States of America. It’s for the children.
PETITION:
Truth and Reconciliation Commission of the USA will be established to contribute to truth, healing and reconciliation between Native American Indian Nations and the United States of America.
Please join our Facebook page at:
https://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/Petition-to-establish-a-Truth-and-Reconciliation-Commission-of-the-USA/127454177426801
Mr. Guiterrez’s website is AgutierrezG.com He is interested in learning about Clan Mothers.
Save the Children!
© Copyright 2013 Ima B. Musing: all rights reserved.
The resulting systematic genocidal effort significantly shrunk the Native American population. The Indian Residential Boarding School System wrought some of the deepest and continuing tragedies. Armando Gutierrez G., a powerful artist, challenged me to explore the issue further. I had been stating that some members of the Native American community are dealing with “Suppressed Sorrow” but it may be a more intensive “Paralyzing Pain/Fear” due to the generational trauma. Extreme stress may render a person helpless, they are not able to think clearly or make good decisions.
Everyone reacts to trauma differently, it is important not to over-generalize. Not every Native American was directly affected by the Indian Residential Boarding School System. Not every Native American cares about it. However, a significant number of Native Americans are trying to live with the aftereffects of the trauma. Sadly, the pain and fear will continue to burden future generations unless we boldly expose the truth and seek reconciliation for ourselves. Everyone is cordially invited to join our petition on Facebook. We welcome all supporters to establish this effort throughout the United States of America. It’s for the children.
PETITION:
Truth and Reconciliation Commission of the USA will be established to contribute to truth, healing and reconciliation between Native American Indian Nations and the United States of America.
Please join our Facebook page at:
https://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/Petition-to-establish-a-Truth-and-Reconciliation-Commission-of-the-USA/127454177426801
Mr. Guiterrez’s website is AgutierrezG.com He is interested in learning about Clan Mothers.
Save the Children!
© Copyright 2013 Ima B. Musing: all rights reserved.
Saturday, May 25, 2013
NAUGHTY & NICE
Part one was posted on May 22nd, 2013.
Our house is over a century old and a bit drafty. I have to place plastic over the windows to keep out some of the chill. As a result, the cat’s favorite program “Nature Out the Window” is muffled for the season. When it warms, I remove the plastic and switch out the storm windows for screens. The felines are delighted to watch, smell, and listen to all that is in their range. I know that their senses are much more acute than a human’s and it makes them blissful.
Minnesota experienced an extended winter and a painful seesaw of weather as spring struggled with the jet stream. I had removed the plastic but snow ensued so the window had to remain closed. Tilly went to the window and plaintively cried as she scratched at it. I felt sorry for her but wasn’t about to let the frigid air into the house. I had turned off the furnace and can’t afford to turn it back on. Her wee walnut sized brain just couldn’t figure out why the delights of the window were not at her disposal. Aww, such a poor maligned thing.
I rotate the toys to keep her occupied. Otherwise Tilly will find other ways to fill her time. She has discovered that she likes to jump from the dining room table to the top of the china cabinets. Because she is short she sometimes misses and goes crashing onto the floor below. It is quite a disturbing sound. I can’t move either piece of furniture so I have to block off the top of the cabinet with a box to keep Tilly from the top of the cabinet. Not attractive.
Tilly has mastered the art of woebegone. She will cry at a specific pitch that makes me go on alert. Scientists actually spent money to determine that cats vocalize at the same pitch that human infants do, that is how felines manipulate us with their supposed tears. She will moan for treats, whine for attention, cry for who the hell knows why. Pavlov’s Dog has nothing on me; she has trained me to respond to her needs. Woof – woof.
When I reach into the drawer to withdraw the manual can opener, she will rush in and asks, “Now?” Tilly is absolutely certain that every can is tuna or some type of treat for her. Her excited meowing brings in Zozo who joins the harassment. I rarely give them a taste but sometimes I will show them the can and they are often repulsed by the contents. It’s funny to see their face express disgust, especially anything with vinegar. Their pooh smells of vinegar so they probably think that I’m eating crap. One day I was puttering in the kitchen and I swear that Tilly waltzed in and said, “For me?” I guess that I have spent too much time with felines when I actually start to understand their language. Perhaps I shall procure a canine when funding permits…
This is sweet Zozo.
Cat Lady Lives Here.
© Copyright 2013 Ima B. Musing: all rights reserved.
Our house is over a century old and a bit drafty. I have to place plastic over the windows to keep out some of the chill. As a result, the cat’s favorite program “Nature Out the Window” is muffled for the season. When it warms, I remove the plastic and switch out the storm windows for screens. The felines are delighted to watch, smell, and listen to all that is in their range. I know that their senses are much more acute than a human’s and it makes them blissful.
Minnesota experienced an extended winter and a painful seesaw of weather as spring struggled with the jet stream. I had removed the plastic but snow ensued so the window had to remain closed. Tilly went to the window and plaintively cried as she scratched at it. I felt sorry for her but wasn’t about to let the frigid air into the house. I had turned off the furnace and can’t afford to turn it back on. Her wee walnut sized brain just couldn’t figure out why the delights of the window were not at her disposal. Aww, such a poor maligned thing.
I rotate the toys to keep her occupied. Otherwise Tilly will find other ways to fill her time. She has discovered that she likes to jump from the dining room table to the top of the china cabinets. Because she is short she sometimes misses and goes crashing onto the floor below. It is quite a disturbing sound. I can’t move either piece of furniture so I have to block off the top of the cabinet with a box to keep Tilly from the top of the cabinet. Not attractive.
Tilly has mastered the art of woebegone. She will cry at a specific pitch that makes me go on alert. Scientists actually spent money to determine that cats vocalize at the same pitch that human infants do, that is how felines manipulate us with their supposed tears. She will moan for treats, whine for attention, cry for who the hell knows why. Pavlov’s Dog has nothing on me; she has trained me to respond to her needs. Woof – woof.
When I reach into the drawer to withdraw the manual can opener, she will rush in and asks, “Now?” Tilly is absolutely certain that every can is tuna or some type of treat for her. Her excited meowing brings in Zozo who joins the harassment. I rarely give them a taste but sometimes I will show them the can and they are often repulsed by the contents. It’s funny to see their face express disgust, especially anything with vinegar. Their pooh smells of vinegar so they probably think that I’m eating crap. One day I was puttering in the kitchen and I swear that Tilly waltzed in and said, “For me?” I guess that I have spent too much time with felines when I actually start to understand their language. Perhaps I shall procure a canine when funding permits…
This is sweet Zozo.
Cat Lady Lives Here.
© Copyright 2013 Ima B. Musing: all rights reserved.
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