I had thought to take very exciting photos of my messy desk, but really it is a combination of not as bad as usual but still pretty horrendous and maybe not that exciting anyhow.  So instead I give you some of the more interesting (to me) things that lurk about.

A high school friend sent me this worry doll when I was going through a particularly ugly time.  She said you hang it up and thwack the sh out of it when you're angry.  Well, I can't look at it without smiling, because I think it's a funny little thing.  Ignore the other stuff under him.

And I love to say that I have a sword on my desk.  I do.  It was a gift for helping backstage last year with a most hilarious show.  It makes me smile.

Things I was thinking about today include Tigger and unintended consequences and questions.  I haven't decided yet if the book I'm reading has ruined Winnie the Pooh for me or is helping me understand something.  Regarding questions.  They have to be asked to get answers.  Isn't that odd?  But I really do think the way some people ask questions or who is asking makes a difference to whether the question will be answered and how.  When I write it out in words that way, it seems completely obvious.  I would like to know the secret code to success.

Anyhow. When I was looking for the sword picture, I ran across this funny picture of our big, stupid boy cat.  I like to call this one catbird.  His name is Trouble.  He may look innocent- he is not.  Incidentally, Trouble is not on my desk.  Occasionally, I get into trouble when I'm at my desk, but that is something entirely different.

I'm recovering from a wild weekend of debauchery.  I made a bazillion jars of pickles and did the peach thing too (apparently peach syrup instead of preserves, I'm having an issue this year.)  Maybe tomorrow will involve something crazy like scrubbing floors or washing the car.  If I can't find something more exciting to talk about, I'll lie. 

What we have here is a random collection of "what the heck is she going on about now?"  Welcome.  Please take a seat.

It happened first thing this morning. I had enough time to pick up the college newspaper.  I should have immediately turned to the sudoku, but instead I read the first line in an article on the cover.  That line says:  "Jerry Sandusky is distraught over the NCAA penalties issued to Penn State's football program".  Just wait, there's more.. "for the school's handling of his child sexual abuse scandal".  Still there's more... "and maintains his innocence as he awaits sentencing."  I had to read that sentence in pieces because truly it required commentary.  On the one hand, if Sandusky is distraught, I almost think the NCAA might have done the right thing.  On the other hand, am I really the only person on the planet who is thinking who in the hell cares how he feels about that.  What that freaking nutjob thinks or feels about anything is of no consequence to me.  Unless he's going to come out finally and say he's "sorry."  Then there's the whole use of "scandal".  Um, you were proven guilty.  I think his part of the situation is no longer scandal.  And scandal doesn't begin to cover what he did to Penn State. (Yes, the real victims are those kids and they will get nothing from Sandusky and apparently Penn State is handing out cash settlements, so yay, I guess.)

However, I saw this gem on Facebook today.

And seriously, I may throw up.  I'm not even sure why I think this is tripe or offensive or whatever it is that bugs me about it.  I just think it's in very poor taste.  Truly I think a quiet season in Happy Valley would have been a better move.  Maybe it's that this makes it seem like football is the most important thing at Penn State, which I thought we were trying to prove otherwise.  Besides, this kind of fancy, schmancy poster seems to indicated that our ticket prices aren't going to go down any time soon.  And I was sorta hoping to go to my 2nd ever Penn State game. Guess not.  Considering that we seem to be assholes, I guess that's ok too.

Speaking of, the other headline on the front page of the college newspaper was "NCAA may alter rules".  This appears to have nothing to do with the Penn State sanctions (which is I'm sure what we were supposed to think it had to do with.)  In this article is a quote by some high up dude in the NCAA explaining why the NCAA is going to get tougher on athletes' behavior.  Maybe you won't read this the way I did.  He said, "Coaches come to me and say, 'I feel like a chump. I'm trying to do things the right way and I have peers who laugh at me because I don't play the game and bend the rules they way they do.' "  Seriously?  The NCAA is making the rules tougher so that the coaches who follow rules don't look stupid in conversation with their peers who don't follow rules?  Hello?  Enforce the existing rules.  Hire coaches who have integrity in the first place.  Make college sports be about sportsmanship instead of the perks.  THIS is what JoePa was known for in this town (whether or not it was true for his entire coaching career.  I do think it was truer 20-30 years ago.)  Isn't there some point when we have to encourage common decency and honesty in the first place rather than punish the cheaters who get caught?

And now I'm reading a book.  You know one of those written things with a front cover and a back cover and some interesting and entertaining words in between.  And it made me laugh.  So I shall share a little bit with you about Eeyore.  I love Eeyore.  He's my kind of dude.  Anyhow. 

Also today I saw this gem.  I also adore Maxine.  She's my kind of old lady.

My meds today include a good dose of dont-give-a-rip, a tall glass of iced tea, and the aforementioned book. And probably a nap.

I was not put on this earth to dot i's and cross t's. Or rhyme and count syllables.  Or make sense, for that matter. 

Spawn got her hair whacked off.  I'm making this a big deal and it really isn't.  I'm shocked though.  Because a week or so ago, I suggested I trim her ends and she flipped out on me.  And the child has had an ever-present ponytail for years.  Daily.  If I had her hair, it wouldn't be in the same blasted ponytail all the time.  Of course I don't.  And now she doesn't either.  She's happy with it and she said she was going to send me a picture.  (She's at grandma's.)  And I said her camera didn't take pictures.  Silence.  She said because she doesn't have a camera.  Then wondered what kind of camera wouldn't take pictures.  We decided a block of wood or a brick.  In any case, I meant her phone doesn't take pictures.  Ha.  I miss that girl.  Some days she's more mature than I am. 

Days like today.  Because I am done.  Done in. Done for. Done with. Overdone maybe even.  Unfortunately the world doesn't agree with my assessment, because it says that I'm not done.  So I must pretend a little while longer.  And write some more utter hoo hoo.  Speaking of which.

Diatelle:  found it HERE

a complicated little sucker with syllable counts 1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 8, 10, 12, 10, 8, 6, 4, 3, 2, 1 and rhyming pattern abbcbccaccbcbba.  Taxed my little brain, I can assure you.  I'm attempting some different kinds of poems. 

sun
orb bright
supple light
in blue sky clear
allows hope to ignite
each ray a beacon for me here
nature's ever beautiful chandelier
the promise of forever with each day begun
and joyous summer blazes I revere
gently brush skin with kisses near
soft colors mark your flight
then disappear
from my sight
twilight
done

That was some kind of wild dream. 

It started with an acquaintance's husband moonlighting as a caterer in a fancy, overpriced restaurant  in a mall. One of those places hiding from the masses behind a tent.  Maybe it was a country club.  Although why I'd be at a country club, I really couldn't say. (Why I'd be at a mall is another question, but less bizarre.)  He's a big shot to begin with, so why he was catering was beyond already.

Then I'm in her home which is not her home, trying to get from one room to where we needed to be, but there's all kinds of stuff in the way and I had to go through a certain way to get there.  Well, the way I had to go was worth the price of admission.  What a room.  Does anyone else dream of fully decorating spas?  This thing was fabulous.  Huge, first of all.  All in levels, with stone-ish floors and the most amazing aqua paint on some of the walls.  One wall had these rectangular water features, that water came out of at different times.  There were 5 of those, I think.  In case that means anything.  And stones all about.  Irregular stones- with some color variations but mostly grays- on some of the walls and at the edges of the walkways.  And then this huge window.  Probably sliding glass but so enormous.  Out the window was a deck.  Which overlooked a pool.  It was like you could dive off the deck into the pool.  (But I remember thinking that I'd have to check the depth of the pool.  As if I was going to dive off anyhow.)  I could have stayed in this room forever. 

Instead I had to go where I was supposed to be.  In another room I don't remember at all.  I sat down with my friend and her little itty bitty dog and we were talking about the dog clothes I was going to make for the pooch.  Which is also ridiculous because her dog is big and she sews too.  And while we're sitting there, her husband starts totally freaking out on their "son" (they have two daughters) screaming.  Just obscenely out of control.  And we ignore it.  Completely.  Because this acquaintance is British.

I'm sitting here, flabbergasted.  What the heck was that about? 

And now we analyze.  I'm thinking about her because our primary interactions from the last year and a half have been my reading her facebook updates on where she's been.  Which is all over the place.  One of the big problems with our friendship from the beginning was how she could go wherever she wanted and I couldn't. So part of it is jealousy. We used to stitch together, which was really nice.  I don't have a stitching buddy anymore.  I couldn't even do the needlework club last year because of freaking class.  So part of the dream is about not having time to spend with her (or time for doing the things I like to do.)  The screaming moonlighting caterer is another issue.  Right.  I do not think her husband is doing any of these things.  I wonder though if I've connected her to someone she reminds me of.  Someone I told something to that I shouldn't have- that I never told this dream friend.  Something that has everything to do with why we're not friends anymore.  A secret. Don't you know.  And I'm not going to tell her.  But could she be a friend again if I had time?  If I took time.  Don't know.

More importantly.  Where is that room?  How did I dream about a place I don't know?  How is it so perfect for me?  I actually do that a lot.  I dream about buildings I don't know.  And I'm often navigating through them in odd ways.  Scaffolds and circular tower stairs and lots of fancy decks and patios.  And often a backyard of epic wonderfulness.

My subconscious is quite a trip.