Pfunksfoolosophy

I’m not old enough to remember those students being escorted into Central  High School in Little Rock, AR.  As a matter of fact, I wasn’t even a gleam in my daddy’s eye. But you know something? I owe those courageous nine students who walked through those doors to jeers, spitting and very palpable hate.
You see, I didn’t have to wonder if I was going to survive the night, let alone the next day. I didn’t grow up in a world that tried to deny me a better education based on my ancestry. They were so strong, so valiant in the face of immense pressure coming from them all sides. They had to achieve higher standards simply because they were black. My mother went to high school during the fifties. She was in Kansas during the Brown v. The Board of Ed. days. My grandfather had his doctorate. He was a minister and he instilled the value of a good education. He also told us as we grew up that we had to achieve great things because people thought less of us because of our ancestry. I thought he was nuts, but I did my best, excelling in my studies…never once thinking about what those 9 students in Little Rock did for me. Today, Little Rock’s Central High School is still segregated and the black students are lax in their studies. I see this a great deal. Why is it that in some black families, education is secondary to the creature comforts? Why can a kid of 17 tell you all about the goings on of Diddy, 50 cent and quote Tupac easier than they can recall one line of poetry by Langston Hughes or Nikki Giovanni?
I DO blame the parents. I DO blame our school systems. We used to have teachers who wanted to teach…to help form the minds of our future leaders. Where are they? They couldn’t have all retired.

It saddens me to think that we’re losing ground. I wish I could do something. I pray that I will have some divine wisdom work through me because I cherish our youth. Man, I remember what it was like to be a kid in high school–just wanting to explore the world with an open heart and an open mind. Now  it seems as though kids just want an X box and some cash for a blunt. I see  them hanging around my building. Some of them have jobs, some of them don’t, but it’s clear to me that they’ll not see much more of the world beyond Harlem’s  borders.

Let’s get it together, folks. You can blame the Man but so much. What are we made of in the end? Our minds, our intellectual freedom…our spiritual strength can’t be stripped from us without us allowing it to happen.

A fire’s been lit under my complacent arse.

It’s time to shape up. London bridge is falling down, man. I’m gonna go out and find me some engineers in the making.
We’re all given wings; it’s our choice to have them clipped or not.

I intend to soar.

It’s been a lovely day. So lovely in fact, that I took my sorry butt to the park. There were people laughing, people smiling…no man playing guitar, but there was a man selling ice cream. It was OVERPRICED! What happened to a pushup pop costing 75 cents? Two bucks? You should have seen the guy’s face when I said, ‘I’ll thank you to stop pulling my leg’–it was priceless. Needless to say, I didn’t buy a pushup pop from that purveyor of frozen treats. I went to Freddie’s place down the street from my apartment and paid a dollar. It was delightful.

On to other news: I think I’m nearly finished with my book. Please hold your applause. It’s going to rock the school. (I hope) Once it’s been edited and published you’ll all say you knew me when…right? Ah, shaddup…

You know, I started this weekend off feeling pretty snap crackly but it’s all groovy. Sometimes you’ve got to enter the silence in order to allow the words to flow. And sometimes it’s a really good idea to drink yourself to sleep. Either way, I’m sure the best is yet to come. How are you feeling guys? Talk it up out there.

My Mom was a bit of a decorator and she was handy around the house. She was always sewing something, building something…I admired her for that and I suppose I get my knack for do-it-yourself from her.
She used to make lamps for cryin’ outloud. How cool is my mom? Dude, she was a toolbelt diva before there was even a show.
Mom took pride in her decorating prowess. She could find the perfect accents for our home, right down to a  lampshade.
We had a family friend who owned an antique shop in town and they were forever discussing fabrics and textiles for the home.
I had a lampshade that was punched tin that I absolutely adored.
Mom made a lamp for me that I still own. It was a ceramic girl and the lamp came out of her head. Sounds wacky, but it was sooo groovy and it was my favorite colors…lavender and purple. Her skirt was like a blossom. Mom painted and fired and wired that bad boy.

The lampshade was just as well thought out. It was lacey and beautiful. Funny how as much of a tomboy as I was, I loved that delicate lamp.
It’s the one item from my childhood that I still have after all of these years.
It’s over 30 years old. I treasure it. Guess it’s my heirloom. Problem is I ain’t got no heirs to loom it.
Heh…that was funny.

All day long, I’ve been listening to tunes on Music Choice on my cable station.

When I first sat at the computer it was daylight. It was probably late morning. It’s after ten and I’ve not watched a thing on television. I’ve spoken with loved ones, I’ve done some minor shopping, been working on my book and the music has been absolutely splendid.

I mean, TRAFFIC is playing now. There have been some low points, don’t get me wrong. There was a double shot of the Rolling Stones that  made me put the t.v. on mute. You guys know  that I don’t dig them. I’ve  tried to, but I just can’t. Another  thing that I loved about my dead husband, as I refer to him, is that he really tried to get me to dig them. He wasn’t a major fan, but he could appreciate songs like ‘Funeral for the  Devil’ and ‘Brown Sugar’ (for obvious reasons, I suppose). He was much more open minded. Maybe that’s why those two songs played. Hmm. Is he looking down on me now and sending me a message? Bubba, if you are…send me the winning lottery numbers for next week.

Promise  I’ll do something positive with it. Today has been splendid. It really has. Loads  of laughter, not much in the way of a maudlin display…a pal talked me into buying a cocktail for myself. I’m going to toast him at our favorite time tomorrow. We missed dusk today.

It’s getting better and better…it truly is, my friends. I feel grateful for my friends and for my life. I’m happy that I have a creative outlet, such as it is. My friends have made me laugh and my mom called and we sort of cheered one another up a bit.

So, rock out, if you can. Goodness knows that I am.

Back when I was growing up on New England I lived for the fall and the winter. In the summertime my mom would set up elaborate cooling systems in our home, but dad never wanted to get central air. Mom wanted it, we wanted it but Dad grew up on a farm and saw little use in wasting money on something as silly as central air conditioning. So, yeah…I generally welcomed the cooler weather. That is until it actually came around. See, Daddy had this ‘thing’ about us even looking at the thermostat. We had a fireplace in the family room. He felt that it would be enough to supplement the heating system.
He was wrong. To my mind, that fireplace was ornamental. I could be wrong, but there are no warm memories coming from that hearth. Dad had our thermostat set to ‘just below freezing’.
At one point, I had ice crystals forming on the INSIDE of my window.
I couldn’t understand it. We were living in the lap of luxury but my father was the heat miser.
Really, the guy had a paranoia about the thermostat.
Mom would turn it up to toast the house up before he got home and then scurry around about a half an hour before he arrived at our door. He would always smile as he looked at the temperature and say, ‘See? It’s working like a charm. Any of you cold?’ He never waited for the answer. We would bundle up in sweaters. I think I learned to knit just so I could have something warm on my lap.
I really wish there had been ventless garage heaters of some worth back then. I would have stayed out there in comfort when I was helping my brother work on his Camaro.

Instead, we all went to sleep in what my friend Magoo calls ‘the cocoon of terror’. You know, you wrap yourself up in your bedding like a mummy. We call it cocooning.

Yeah, a groovy space heater would have helped us all out, but then again…I am virtually impervious to cold now.

Today is my former fiance’s birthday. He would have been close to fifty. Yikes, I can’t imagine him as an older adult. He was such a big Labrador Retreiver of a guy. Funny, goofy, warm, intelligent and talented…I miss him every day.

See, we met when we were both attending college. He was my first real love. Here’s how we met:

I was a little sister at a fraternity (the Animal House on campus) and one of the brothers told me to ‘watch out for these two guys’ and he pointed at two very tall, very muscular guys who were in the process of terrorizing a tiny little slip of a girl in tight Jordache jeans(it was the 80s) and too much makeup. She was also wearing the “Feather Marie” (feather adorned roach clip), which made me laugh. When I saw the genuine fear cross her face, I bounded over to them and slapped them both on their rock hard arms and said, ‘Leave her alone or else!’ I had no clear idea what my ‘or else’ was going to be, but I was steamed.

At the time, I was wearing my grandpa’s Tufnut overalls and an Army fatigue hat which was covered with badges, buttons and goodness knows what all. I looked sorta like a combination of a punk rock Minnie Pearl and Grace Jones, I guess. Anyway, my man looked down at me, laughed and said, ‘Really? What’s in your bag of tricks, Felix?’

It was love at first sight. He referenced Felix the cat. I looked into those blue eyes and I swear I could see forever. It was strange. I remember the song that was playing. It was “Take the Money and Run” by Steve Miller. Not particularly significant to either of us, but I remember it anyway. So, I smiled up at him and told him that I knew the Master Cylinder and it was as if we’d known one another forever. The girl ran away like she was on fire. Paul, my man’s best friend told me later that I had shown tremendous courage, since both he and Bob, let’s call him were laying for a fight. It would have been impossible for me to keep them from creating a train wreck. They were both well over six foot and well muscled. What did we talk about that night?
The Who, politics, my hat, hockey, everything but how hard my heart was beating. I didn’t know that he had a girlfriend and he didn’t know that I’d really never had a boyfriend. He invited me back to his place some thirty minutes away. Like a sap, I went. He could have been a nutjob. Fortunately he wasn’t. We sat up listening to music and watching cartoons. I fell asleep with my head in his lap. We were seldom apart. He called me one day to tell me that he didn’t want to be friends anymore.
My heart sank to my ankles. I was speechless. Then he asked me out on a ‘proper’ date.
We went to A&W for hotdogs and rootbeer. Both of us spiked ours with vodka.
Paul was waiting for us at the apartment and again, we stayed up listening to music and talking, talking, talking…and laughing. A LOT.

Even though I’m nearly six feet tall, he made me feel like I was a porcelain doll…he made me feel girly and delicate. That’s no mean feat. He got that I wasn’t fully aware of what was happening and he understood that I wasn’t about to jump into bed with him. (How things have changed in that regard)

Well, we fell in love so easily and so comfortably that it seemed logical that we become engaged a couple of months later. I even showed my ring to his ex. She wasn’t angry. He was that kind of guy. A better standup kinda guy you’d be hardpressed to find.

There’s a line in ‘A Bronx Tale’ when Chazz Palmintieri tells ‘C’  that you only get a couple great ones in your life. He had gotten his early–I feel the same way.

‘Bob’ died of a cerebral aneurysm before we could get married. Yikes, right? That’s life.

It’s for the living.

So, today I’m gonna listen to Van Morrison (one of our songs was ‘Crazy Love’), our band The Who, read some Burns and watch ‘Slap Shot’, our favorite movie.

If you ever watch hockey, say a prayer for the Rangers. He loved ‘em.

I’m so new to the blogging world that my shoes are squeaking but my pal Angie gave me some info on a site called ‘Smorty’ that seems worth my time.
Advertisers contact you with paid opportunities and you blog about ‘em. Simple.
Even I can appreciate that.
As you know, I’ve been working my way up to being a paid blogger just to see if it’s worth my while…at least for laundry money, right? Well, this seems like my favorite kinda thing…you know…a win/win sitch.
Imagine getting paid to blog..I’m already gonna be bloggin’ so why not?
So you KNOW I’m gonna get paid to blog and SOON, kids.
They’ve managed to marry the world of advertising with blogging.
For me…this is superb. The advertisers contact you and you can decide if you want to post something about their product or services. I wish Breyer’s Ice Cream would contact me and offer me some samples.
That would be splendid.

Make Lemon Squares!

Who needs lemonade? If you’re feeling down, a baked confection is exactly what you need!
Well, I’m not gonna give you the recipe…not yet. Too many of you are trying to lose weight so I’m gonna give you a recipe for another sweet that won’t exactly kill ya.

 The watermelon shake

 1 cup cubed watermelon (you can use the seeds, it won’t kill ya)

1/2 cup ice

1/4 cup of simple syrup (if needed)

Place all ingredients in a blender and whirr it up until it’s a lovely smoothie.

Add the simple syrup a tablespoon at a time until it’s sweet enough for ya.

Garnish with fresh mint.

If you are feeling particularly frisky…add some vodka.

Ahem….good stuff.

Refreshing and good for you.

I’ve got friends who have a place in Hawaii and I was thinking that it would be pretty groovy
to have something cool to take down there as a gift for them since they’re so very groovy to me. THEN I checked out something that piqued my curiosity.
beach bicycles.

Yep, those cool bikes that are inexpensive but sturdy. I’m old enough to remember them from my childhood. One speed deals with a coasting break. They had really boss thick balloon tires and I wanted one so badly, but instead I got a hand-me-down from my brother. The seat fell off of my first bike. I can’t talk about it now. Another feature of the beach cruiser is the comfy wide seat. After riding Peugeuot racing bikes for a number of years and having NO meat on my butt, this comes as a relief. You know, they just look so cool and retro, that I really think my pal would enjoy it.

They come in cool colors and many of them are $88. Can’t go wrong. The best thing is that I could have the bike shipped to them at their place in Hawaii and then they’d have a way to get around their island. WIth the balloon tires, I wouldn’t have to worry that I bought them a gift that was a pain in the keester on more than one level.
They make ‘chopper’ style bikes that would be perfect for the males in the family, although I’m not sure how they would feel about havin’ ape hangers on a bicycle since they’re not tall folks.
You know, I can picture my friend’s husband tricking it out with cool fenders, a rack and for her, a basket. It would also be a great way for her to get some exercise. She’s a photographer and it would be perfect for her. No need to drive around when you can get much closer to nature on a bike, right?

I would love to have one myself but Summer is over and I’m not about to ride around NYC on a ‘chopper’ bicycle.
Maybe next year.

Get a load of this:

Someone is suing the Almighty.

Check it out here:  http://www.forbes.com/feeds/ap/2007/09/20/ap4141746.html

Kids, I’ve got absolutely nothing.

Nada.

Bupkes.

Since Yom Kippur starts tomorrow, I would really be careful.

Atonement, indeed.