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By Betty Eilerman on July 21, 2017 This is a "down to earth", real remembrance of how it was to grow up in a complex family, ...

Thursday, September 21, 2017

A Jambled Rumble

I'm a lefty in a right-handed world. It's fun at times, confusing otherwise.

I get Kate Bush mixed up with Kate  Wolf. I call a certain brand of corn  chip "Sandinista"

Luckily, I'm not too politically buff  or wonky, as I'd get the 2 Roosevelts confused, although I could never make that mistake with the Bushs, one of  whom may be related to Kate.

C.S. Lewis is not the author of Alice In Wonderland, nor is the Mississippi river the "Big Muddy"  although the jury is still out on that argument. Depends on how much stock you put into  Yahoo answers (answer: not much.)

My husband's face turns bright red when I confuse Ambrose Bierce with Stephen Ambrose, who, fortunately is deceased now. In fact, they are both dead I've been informed.

In school,  no one else I knew wrote their sixes backwards. The letter "C" gave me Hell too.

We won't even talk about the preference of scissor-makers for right-handed people. It's a conspiracy I tell you!

In my job as groomer, my sharpening guy will not even touch left-handed scissors saying "they don't lay right on the stone."  Well then lay them left ...  I've learned to use the right-handed ones fine but inside I'm steaming, groveling to the right-handed majority like a peasant is not my style.

And to make matters worse, I've read that lefties use the right side of the brain, in addition they say we "only use about 15% of our brain's capacity" so, I'm using less than one quarter?
How about 2 dimes and a nickel?

Going into high gear now, you ready?
You ain't seen nothing yet Yeti.
Yet I was the lover of
 English ...
 at the Gymkhana. Jim's Kana was held in the rink at summer camp called Camp Kennolyn, named after the owner's 2 kids, Kenneth and Carolyn. Snazzy huh?

Each morning, wee kiddies in our cabins would hear Cat Stevens played from the loudspeakers. I was 12 going on 13 or 21 depending on my mood.

Deep in the Santa Cruz Mountains, I'll never sing On Top Of Old Smokey again as long as I live.  No meatballs in my spaghetti either thank you.

I wasn't good at anything the camp offered; the guitar strings hurt my fingertips, the clay pot broke, my horse almost slid down the embankment.

Then I made my Real Bad Mistake ...
standing in the infirmary hallway door for the pledge of allegiance, I said something like "why do we do this, its just a cloth with colors on it." the kid next to me nodded to show he heard but the office workers on the other side of the wall heard me too and I was duly punished.

I should've let that horse backstep off the trail, we'd of been happier in and up the creek.

Brought again to Mr. Brautigan, one of the world's greatest penmen. Saddled with alcoholism and depression, pure genius flowed from his mind until he kissed that bullet and ended the pain. I don't have the guts Richard, I can't do it, at least not yet.
Wanna bet?
No I don't. Besides, I don't have a gun.

And I want to stick around for the end of this clown show in politics.

Luckily, everything changes eventually except the dust in the museums whose sole job is to keep the past frozen in

A longtime friendship has just ended  today between myself and a Deadhead over politics. We are both entrenched in the trenches and refuse to budge. He called me a "socialist" ... as if that was an insult. 
Sad, confused, but like Jerry Garcia, I let  what happens happen most of the time.
 A second civil war says Rush Limburger. Damn right, and not too soon either. Might as well face the music ... or the gun.
Bloody Rock, Eel River area, Mendocino Nat'L Forest, California


Do you have any?

Only a dime and two nickels.


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