I'm A Patsy - Gotta Problem With That?

Tuesday, May 29, 2007


Cindy, Cindy, Cindy . . .

Cindy recently sent me this picture on the right that someone had taken of her. She’s wearing what could be a negligee, a vintage dress or a ball gown. I don’t know which and I didn’t ask. But I love the picture. As I was looking at her, I was reminded of how she always loved dressing up when she was a child. She’d put on my old things, my new things, anything she could get her hands on. Sometimes she looked great and sometimes really odd! Once she even put on a dress I had worn to a high school dance. I looked crappy in it, but I think Cindy looked better even though it was about two feet too long. She loved dressing up and her friends would occasionally play dress-up with her. She liked the fluffy boas . . . actually she liked anything fluffy.

The more I looked at this picture, the more I was reminded of an outfit she wore a long time ago. So I immediately began going through old photo albums and finally found that certain one. In the photo on the left, Cindy is standing with Randy, her doctor buddy (not really a doctor – they just played doctor with my old needles I used for an allergy). She apparently coaxed him into some sort of outfit. The other two boys, Todd and Troy, were also neighbors but didn’t join in the fun. I think they moved away and maybe became porn stars later on. But the dress Cindy has on looks very much like the one on the right. I have no idea where this dress came from, but I can’t get over the striking resemblance to the other one. There’s a container of clothes in front where I’m sure there were many other outfits just waiting to be worn. Cindy is wearing a wig and looks so happy and pleased with herself. That might be a wig Teri, Cindy and I bought one day at Monkey Wards, as we called it, when we went wild in the wig department. It had plenty of use throughout the years and brought many smiles to my daughters’ faces. Cindy is posing without the wig in the recent picture. I don’t think she’s worn it lately.

Saturday, May 26, 2007

Alberto, how could you forget the commencement speech?

The other day I read in the paper that a federal judge sentenced Joya Williams to eight years in prison for conspiring to steal trade secrets from Coca Cola for the purpose of selling them to rival PepsiCo. The judge said, “This is the kind of offense that cannot be tolerated in our society.” And just like that, it was done.

I got to thinking . . . why couldn’t that judge look into the doings of Alberto Gonzales? I googled Alberto to find out the latest and what came up was a graduation speech given by Coleen Rowley, an ex FBI employee who was a whistle blower regarding the inept goings on in that department. She was demoted and eventually found herself on the cover of “Time” magazine as one of three women of the year in 2002 – all whistle blowers. Her speech was given at the commencement address in Iowa City at the U of Iowa Law School on May 12. Her speech was excellent and very inspiring . . . probably not the kind of speech they were expecting. They were actually expecting Alberto Gonzales but he apparently couldn’t recall that appointment. I admire Coleen so much for what she did and what she said in her speech.

George Bush spoke in the Rose Garden this week, and when questioned about the Gonzales business, he made these two statements, among many: “If there’s wrongdoing, it will be taken care of,” and “Yes, I’ve got confidence in Al Gonzales doing the job.” I wonder when he will decide if there has been any wrongdoing. I wonder about him . . . does he watch tv at night and what does he watch? We know he doesn’t read. What goes on in his little brain? Well, during his speech in the Rose Garden, a bird flew over and pooped on his sleeve. And that’s just about what I thought of his speech or any of his speeches.

I’ll bet if we could get the judge that sentenced the Coca Cola thief to work on the Gonzales case, we’d get something done in no time. After all, isn’t what goes on in our Justice Department just as important as what goes on with Coca Cola? And shouldn’t it get the same treatment, or possibly preferential treatment?

Tuesday, May 22, 2007


Potatoes and Tomatoes

When I was a little girl on the farm, I helped my dad plant potatoes every year in our vegetable garden. That was always a fun time for my dad and me. Our dog usually sat on my dad’s feet while we were working, but he wasn’t around in this picture. Daddy would dig the hole and I’d drop in the little potato pieces that would make new ones. I don’t know why this was so special, but it was. We grew many other vegetables, but I remember the potatoes and my dad.

Now I am growing tomatoes in my house by my window in the computer room. I’ve mentioned this before in my blog and how excited I was that they were actually growing. Well, they are now over five feet tall with many yellow blooms! They grew taller than the metal cones I put around them, so I added bamboo stakes with the twister tape between the stakes for the plants to rest on. They are now taller than the bamboo stakes, so I don’t know what I’ll do. They are supposed to grow 15 feet tall – I may have to cut a hole in my ceiling! My upstairs neighbors wouldn’t approve, but that’s the least of my worries. I have spray that I use to set the blooms so they will keep on growing. It’s sort of like something my dad used to use – something he called “stop drop.” He sprayed it on his fruit trees to make sure the blossoms set. But mine is not as toxic as what he used as I don’t have to be completely covered like a Hazmat person the way he was. I am also performing artificial insemination with the blossoms all the time. I don’t know if it’s necessary, but you can never be too sure. Each time I say “Was it good for you?” Of course I don’t get an answer – I just still say it.

I’m having a lot of fun with the tomatoes, and when I sit here at my computer they’re within a couple feet of me. I feel like I’m in a jungle. I love it! The only thing that would make it better would be if my dad could be here and enjoy it with me. I think he’d get a big kick out of it and I would love it. I miss him.

Thursday, May 17, 2007

Last month I watched “Summer of Love,” a documentary of the happenings in San Francisco during the summer of 1967. Thousands of young people from all over the country flocked to the city, mainly to Golden Gate Park and Hashbury which was the intersection of Haight and Ashbury. These young people had been deeply affected by the death of JFK and by the Vietnam War . . . or maybe it was because there were drugs such as marijuana and LSD available that summer. So they flocked to the city – some because of their feelings about what was going on in the country and others who just wanted a good time with some drugs. There were free soup lines, a free store, sleeping in the park and free love. Timothy Leary made the following phrase famous: “Turn on, tune in, drop out.” He made it up while taking a shower after someone told him he needed a snappy saying to publicize the benefits of LSD. So that summer the young people apparently had a ball and really messed up that part of the city and probably themselves. And then they left.

Now, 40 years later, an article in “Time” magazine by John Cloud says that new research on psychedelic drugs shows promise for their therapeutic use. Harvard is conducting research into therapeutic uses of psychedelics – Ecstasy – right now. This is the first time this has gone on since they fired Timothy Leary in 1963. Studies are showing benefits from the use of psychedelics in treating mental illness. Researchers have found antidepressant effects after the use of ketamine(Special K), reductions in core OCD symptoms after the use of the chemical psilocybin found in psychedelic mushrooms. And the Beckley Foundation, a British trust, is going to be doing the first human studies of LSD since the 1970s. This all may be well and good, but many people worry that it could precipitate a new round of recreational use. Time will tell.

My only brush with the “Dark Side” came one afternoon a while back when I was at some friends’ house. They were going to smoke some marijuana, and since I had never tried it, I thought, “Why not?” So I tried it and ended up on the toilet where I then fell over into the empty bathtub . . . twice! When I finally recovered, I asked my friends if that was a common occurrence in instances such as mine. I don’t think they answered. Needless to say, that was the last time I saw those friends and the last time I ever visited the “Dark Side.”

Tuesday, May 15, 2007


Nobody told me rehab would be like this!

When I was young, my dad was a Crag Rat which is a mountain climbing
organization in Hood River. He climbed every mountain in the Pacific Northwest and Mt. Hood many times. The group climbed for fun and also participated in many rescues on different mountains, saving many lives.

Now I can see climbing to help save a life . . . but for fun? I don’t think so! No one looks too happy in this picture. They are all bent over, heads down and just plodding along like prisoners of war on a forced march across the Alps. I think this is something that could be incorporated into a rehab curriculum.

My dad wanted me to climb with him, but I couldn’t as I have acrophobia and arachnophobia – both of which are not good to have. If I step on the second rung of a ladder I get dizzy, and if I look down I feel as if I might fall into the abyss. And if there’s a spider on the ladder, that’s it. Now I can see climbing a mountain if there’s a prize waiting at the top. How about cocktails, hot tub and a good steak dinner? That would be very nice. But there aren’t even any toilets on top of the mountains . . . what if you have to go . . . where do you go? And do you put it in a baggie like you do with your dog and bring it down the mountain to a garbage can? Or do you leave it there where it’s found years later by a crew from National Geographic who thinks they just discovered some yeti poop? And what if global warming kicks in with a vengeance and the mountain melts while you’re on top? You’d end up floating down the mountain and no doubt drowning before reaching the bottom. Those are all things to consider before attempting a mountain climb. I know it certainly stops me from ever climbing anything higher than the second rung.

Thursday, May 10, 2007

When I sat down to breakfast Sunday morning with my Parade magazine as I usually do, I found an article that was quite disturbing. The title was “How to make your home sell faster.” The more I read, the more depressed I became. For instance: The first item was “Scrub till it sparkles!” You’re apparently supposed to vacuum under the bed, behind the couch, wash all the windows inside and out, scour ceiling fans and polish doorknobs. Well, it’s hard vacuuming under the bed, so why do it? And behind the couch – my couch is too heavy to move away from the wall so I don’t vacuum there. The only thing behind the couch is my spider trap – a long piece of yellow paper with sticky stuff on it that hasn’t caught one spider in three years. I stuck my finger in it one time by accident, and almost ended up in it for good. And washing windows inside and out? I live in a condo and someone else washes the outside. I wash the inside when summer comes and the light shines on all the grime on the windows. After I wash them, they always have streaks, so I do it again which just moves the streaks around and around. I guess I’ll not try to sell my condo in the summer when light comes in. My new motto is “A dark house is a happy house.”

Another item was: “Clobber the clutter!” You’re supposed to get rid of anything personal such as wedding pictures, kid’s trophies, college banners and other collectibles. If you don’t have storage someplace out of sight, rent a storage space somewhere. Like I could afford to rent a storage space – I can barely pay my condo fee that seems to keep going up. And that’s another thing – why do condo fees go up and never go down? And why would anyone even buy a condo, knowing there would be a fee that grows faster than your kids do? The purpose of the storage space is to put nearly everything you own in it to make your house look as if you weren’t even living there so that potential buyers would feel at home, just as if it were their home. That whole idea seems a little freaky to me. Are you supposed to live like that forever until you sell the house, or do you move everything back after “open house?” What if someone wants to see it at an inopportune time – do you take everything out again and hurry to find another storage space?

Another item: “Pay attention to details.” This means fixing leaky faucets, buying fresh towels and patching the hole in the wall where someone stuck his fist through it one night after partying too much. I haven’t purchased new towels for years and don’t plan to now. Also, the toilet lids should be down and no wastebaskets in sight. No wastebaskets? Soft music should be playing on all the radios in the house – all on the same station. Should it be soft rock, elevator music, the Carpenters, LL Cool J – how would you go about appealing to everyone that might look through your house? And the best one is to alphabetize your spice jars and line up all your shoes in your closet. My spice jars are in a rather high cupboard and have never been alphabetized. I’m lucky to be able to reach any of them. Are prospective buyers going to be checking your spices – won’t they have their own? If you actually followed all these suggestions, you could possibly become so enamored with such a perfect home that you might be tempted to buy it yourself . . . even though you already own it! This is just too confusing. I must go lie down and rest . . . maybe watch a little “Seinfeld” or “Law & Order.”

Tuesday, May 08, 2007


Every year about this time, I start thinking about the rose show that’s always held during Rose Festival time. When I was a wife and mother, we moved into a home on a cul-de-sac just like Wisteria Lane on “Desperate Housewives.” We had parties at the drop of a hat and celebrated every holiday many times, but I was never aware of any sleeping around as they do on Wisteria Lane. But I was always busy with the many rose bushes I had planted in front of our house, so what would I know? The roses required much time and care to grow beautiful ones for exhibition which I did. I had to prune them all the time and spray them with horrible insecticides that I’m sure are no longer in use . . . at least they shouldn’t be. I sprayed once a week early in the morning before anyone was out of bed, and I’d make sure all the windows were closed. I had my special “spraying” clothes which were just old jeans and a t-shirt, and when I was through with the spraying, I’d put the clothes in the wash and take a shower. It was quite a process, but I did it for a few years.

I decided to start entering the rose show contest which was held in the Lloyd Center. People would come from all over with their roses and arrange them in the vases so they might win prizes. I’d keep roses in the refrigerator days ahead of time so the buds would come out at just the right time. It was a very nerve-wracking few weeks. I’m sure it was hard on my family, especially when they went to the fridge to grab something to eat and found buckets of roses! But the day would finally come for the show, and I’d be up at the crack of dawn, whatever that means . . . I guess it means just really damn early! I’d put all the buckets in the car and head to the exhibit area. It was a thrill setting my roses up and then leaving and wondering if I’d win anything. I’d go back later to check on everything. That was the really exciting part, walking around all the tables, searching for my roses and seeing if I had a ribbon on any of them.

I won quite a few ribbons during the years I entered, and one year even a trophy which was very exciting for me. I think the above pictures were taken the year I won the trophy. In one picture, Teri is standing by me at a table with the roses in the background. I assume I had won a trophy that year or I wouldn’t have consented to have a picture taken of me. I hide from cameras. In the other picture is Cindy holding what I thought must have been a sign for my trophy. I was thinking how sweet it was of her to pose with it. I had to get a magnifying glass to read it, and what it said was “Hershey’s Kisses.” I have no idea where it came from, but she looks extremely happy! Who cared about the trophy?

Thursday, May 03, 2007


This goose could use a good chemical peel!

I live by a river where many geese gather at certain times. I love to see them, but it’s hard picking your way through all their poop. For several years, there was a huge white goose with them who challenged you if you came too close to him. He wasn’t like the other geese. He was very big and very mean. I couldn’t resist, so one day I took my camera and some goose food which was probably what I had for lunch – geese eat anything – and went down to where the geese were gathered. I lay down on the dirt path and waited. The big white goose came up and stood over me, pecking at our lunch in my hands. I don’t know what people thought as they walked by, but they sure steered clear of me. I didn’t really care as I got a great picture. I also escaped without being pecked to death or pooped on. I took this picture while I was lying there on my back!

Another time I went out to feed some squirrels in the same park, hoping to get a good photo. They were quite tame and came running up to eat the walnuts right out of my hand. I became bored quite soon, which I do frequently, as they were chewing too slowly and had ceased to hold my interest. So one of them, probably taking offense at my inattention, bit the tip of my finger and hung on. I screamed obscenities and tried to shake him off. That took a while after which I raced home and called my doctor. The nurse said to come right in for a tetanus shot. As I walked into his office, the nurse announced to the doctor as he walked by, “Patsy was attacked by a squirrel!” He rolled his eyes, shook his head and kept on walking. That was certainly not the kind of reaction I expected from the man who had seen me naked many times and checked all my orifices for God knows what. He could have at least thrown his arms around me to comfort me. But then I guess the HMO doctrine doesn’t allow time for that. When I was a little girl, we had a doctor who would come from town clear out to the country to administer to us. I don’t believe HMOs had a strangle hold then, but I’m sure they were working on it.