I really don't understand the American Idol tryouts and the airing of these tryouts. They are demeaning, self-serving to the "hosts/judges" and just downright awful. Not-withstanding that 'Simon Cruel' has enough money, does he have to perpetuate the people he and the other 'judges' makes laughing-stock out of? And get that new female off the show.....talk about a sad concept of a 'judge'.
There is even a "Rewind" American Idol aired late-night where you can make fun of the contestant AGAIN.
My suggestion is for them to sift through all those contestants privately- non taped, only show those winners, and then on to the contest.
Save us hours and hours of mindless, boring, shabby tabloid viewings of those hapless people trying and thinking they are good.
My second request is that while briefly in the bedroom where hubby was watching, they had one girl singing one of Karen Carpenter's lovely songs. She however, hacked it up in the 'rap manner of singing' with the singing of all the notes available in the musical scale in trying to find the one note that Karen Carpenter sang so beautifully.
Arrrrrgggghhh.
A POX on all the American Idol people!
OR, maybe it is because I have a quality discerning ear, and know good music when I hear it, and Baby, American Idol Isn't It!
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Friday, January 23, 2009
Comments
Yesterday was enough to make me want to crawl into a hole and not want to come back out.
How can another person's view of me want to make me just hide from humanity?
I have done nothing wrong.
Nothing a decent, caring person has reason to hide.
It is amazing how this other person's view of me is so slanted. But then I have to consider the mental state of that other person.
On another level, I find it interesting that there are no comments shared on any of these posts.
Hmmm.
Perhaps I should just close the public view and keep it for my own private self.
Obviously having a bad day here.This has nothing to do with the comments that people would share with me, just some 'rambling'.
How can another person's view of me want to make me just hide from humanity?
I have done nothing wrong.
Nothing a decent, caring person has reason to hide.
It is amazing how this other person's view of me is so slanted. But then I have to consider the mental state of that other person.
On another level, I find it interesting that there are no comments shared on any of these posts.
Hmmm.
Perhaps I should just close the public view and keep it for my own private self.
Obviously having a bad day here.This has nothing to do with the comments that people would share with me, just some 'rambling'.
Monday, January 19, 2009
When did I get old?
When did I get old?
I find myself making noises when I move.
Grunting when I bend over, and making a whooshing sound when I reach for something. There are other sounds, but these two are the most prevalent.
These are sounds that old people make.
I am not old.
Why, in my mind I am still that sassy 35 year old, moving with the grace of a dancer and with the speed of light and just as bright.
Thirty five year olds do not grunt and whoosh.
When did this happen?
I find myself making noises when I move.
Grunting when I bend over, and making a whooshing sound when I reach for something. There are other sounds, but these two are the most prevalent.
These are sounds that old people make.
I am not old.
Why, in my mind I am still that sassy 35 year old, moving with the grace of a dancer and with the speed of light and just as bright.
Thirty five year olds do not grunt and whoosh.
When did this happen?
Walking in the snow
I was walking to the Foreston convenience store yesterday. I was at the auction house, and decided to walk the block and a half.
No one was out and about, Sundays being a slow traffic zone in Foreston. It was after mass, and all the mass go-ers had already driven off, and everyone else was in their homes settling down to breakfast.
As I walked back to the auction house, I was reminded of the winter night I spent with Lynn Sullivan at her house around 42nd and Fremont North in Minneapolis. My Mother had allowed me to go on a 'sleep-over' at Lynn's house. I was attending Patrick Henry, so it was during early high school years.
I don't remember the downstairs, but Lynn's bedroom was on the second floor at the front of this huge, square brick house on Fremont Avenue. Her bedroom was 'half' of the upstairs. It was marvelous.
It was when I was trying to find what they call now a 'forever-friend'. As with most sleep-overs, neither one of us could settle down and sleep. So we ended up sitting on the window seat looking out her front windows onto Fremont Avenue. Fremont Avenue is a bus route straight to downtown Minneapolis, that enviable 50's 'Mall of America' shopping district.
It was snowing, the street lights were on and the whole world outside her window was bathed in a comforting golden light. No one was about, with the exception of an occasional car and bus, and we were the only kids to view this beautiful, quiet snowy night from that great vantage point of a second story window. Her house was also 'up' from the street level, their lawn included a 5-7 foot bank of grass, so it was quite a height with the ground height and the two story house.
There were no night plows in the late 50's. Everyone semed to have had a day job in the city works department. They got up very early to move the snow around, but I rather like the idea of men manning those plows during the night as we sleep, as we have them now. Maybe I am wrong. Maybe there are no night shifts to move the snow. It doesn't matter, as I have this beautiful memory of Lynn and I in the cocoon of a heavy snowfall outside her window. I don't remember her Mom or Dad, I do remember she had a brother, and that is where this memory ends.
Just that 'after midnight' coziness of two early teen-aged girls whispering in a sleep-quieted house, exchanging giggles, dreams, talking about our communal friends, our hopes and wishes for our futures.
I remember that experience with great fondness. Lynn and I never really connected as that 'Best Friends Forever', but we enjoyed a wonderful, after midnight view of a quiet, snowy city street.
Sunday's walk in the snow was just as fulfilling, even though the walk was solitary. There were big, fat, lazy snowflakes drifting down, and the quiet was marvelously comforting. I found myself walking slower to enjoy this quiet, 'private' time.
When the shop was going, just as we were going in to bed around 2 or 3 in the morning, Bobby and I would often walk out to the middle of the road, before 'people' moved into our quiet, isolated neighborhood. On winter nights, we could faintly hear the traffic on hwy 169. It was a quiet cocoon. An occasional farm dog bark, but rarely anything else. On foggy nights, the cotton-wrapped night was even more special.
It is one of the memories I had to log.
"Memories lost are memories not written down."
Once in a while I will be in a situation that will dredge up a long-forgotten memory that I had truly forgotten.
Yesterday's softly falling snow brought up this one. I hope you enjoyed my word-pictures as much as I have in bringing it up to 'write it down'.
No one was out and about, Sundays being a slow traffic zone in Foreston. It was after mass, and all the mass go-ers had already driven off, and everyone else was in their homes settling down to breakfast.
As I walked back to the auction house, I was reminded of the winter night I spent with Lynn Sullivan at her house around 42nd and Fremont North in Minneapolis. My Mother had allowed me to go on a 'sleep-over' at Lynn's house. I was attending Patrick Henry, so it was during early high school years.
I don't remember the downstairs, but Lynn's bedroom was on the second floor at the front of this huge, square brick house on Fremont Avenue. Her bedroom was 'half' of the upstairs. It was marvelous.
It was when I was trying to find what they call now a 'forever-friend'. As with most sleep-overs, neither one of us could settle down and sleep. So we ended up sitting on the window seat looking out her front windows onto Fremont Avenue. Fremont Avenue is a bus route straight to downtown Minneapolis, that enviable 50's 'Mall of America' shopping district.
It was snowing, the street lights were on and the whole world outside her window was bathed in a comforting golden light. No one was about, with the exception of an occasional car and bus, and we were the only kids to view this beautiful, quiet snowy night from that great vantage point of a second story window. Her house was also 'up' from the street level, their lawn included a 5-7 foot bank of grass, so it was quite a height with the ground height and the two story house.
There were no night plows in the late 50's. Everyone semed to have had a day job in the city works department. They got up very early to move the snow around, but I rather like the idea of men manning those plows during the night as we sleep, as we have them now. Maybe I am wrong. Maybe there are no night shifts to move the snow. It doesn't matter, as I have this beautiful memory of Lynn and I in the cocoon of a heavy snowfall outside her window. I don't remember her Mom or Dad, I do remember she had a brother, and that is where this memory ends.
Just that 'after midnight' coziness of two early teen-aged girls whispering in a sleep-quieted house, exchanging giggles, dreams, talking about our communal friends, our hopes and wishes for our futures.
I remember that experience with great fondness. Lynn and I never really connected as that 'Best Friends Forever', but we enjoyed a wonderful, after midnight view of a quiet, snowy city street.
Sunday's walk in the snow was just as fulfilling, even though the walk was solitary. There were big, fat, lazy snowflakes drifting down, and the quiet was marvelously comforting. I found myself walking slower to enjoy this quiet, 'private' time.
When the shop was going, just as we were going in to bed around 2 or 3 in the morning, Bobby and I would often walk out to the middle of the road, before 'people' moved into our quiet, isolated neighborhood. On winter nights, we could faintly hear the traffic on hwy 169. It was a quiet cocoon. An occasional farm dog bark, but rarely anything else. On foggy nights, the cotton-wrapped night was even more special.
It is one of the memories I had to log.
"Memories lost are memories not written down."
Once in a while I will be in a situation that will dredge up a long-forgotten memory that I had truly forgotten.
Yesterday's softly falling snow brought up this one. I hope you enjoyed my word-pictures as much as I have in bringing it up to 'write it down'.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
The second time I heard Angels
Hanging clothes outside in the backyard lets me 'see' many things.
I hear wonderful things also.
One early morning, I could hear them before I saw them.
Those great 'V's' of Canadian Geese. I could hear them 'talking and singing' to each other one morning. I swiveled until I could spot them. I had a hard time in that and they were getting close. I could hear them coming from the east.
And then they were here.
Right above me.
The reason I couldn't see them was that they were just barely above the tree tops, 50 feet high at the most. As they came to the trees on the top of our hill, they quieted. But I could see them so clearly. Closer than I ever had before.
As they passed over my head, they were no longer 'talking', just flyng.
I heard the swish of their pin feathers on their wings as they flew over.
It is a marvelous thing to hear Canadian Geese fly over you.
You will never forget the sound of Angel's wings.
It will warm your soul for years to come.
I hear wonderful things also.
One early morning, I could hear them before I saw them.
Those great 'V's' of Canadian Geese. I could hear them 'talking and singing' to each other one morning. I swiveled until I could spot them. I had a hard time in that and they were getting close. I could hear them coming from the east.
And then they were here.
Right above me.
The reason I couldn't see them was that they were just barely above the tree tops, 50 feet high at the most. As they came to the trees on the top of our hill, they quieted. But I could see them so clearly. Closer than I ever had before.
As they passed over my head, they were no longer 'talking', just flyng.
I heard the swish of their pin feathers on their wings as they flew over.
It is a marvelous thing to hear Canadian Geese fly over you.
You will never forget the sound of Angel's wings.
It will warm your soul for years to come.
Have you ever heard Angels?
I have.
Twice.
The first was years ago when we were on the flyway for Monarch butterflies.
I was hanging clothes outside on the lines and saw this incredible sight of these beautiful 'beings' swarming the yard and hanging from the trees ringing the yard. It was amazing seeing them fly to the branches, and effortlessly 'snuggle' between those that had come to rest first.
I know that Monarchs need to find somewhere to rest when the evening temperatures cool, and it was incredible to see these beautiful orange and black 'beings' on my tree branches, ALL over the back yard.
I stayed outside for a long time watching them quiver as they settled in for the night.
The next morning, I watched them slowly warm as the temperatures increased. They were all quivering to wakefulness, or maybe they don't sleep, but just rest. That is something we just don't know.
Then it happened. The temperature reached that necessary point.
As ONE, they all left the branches of the shrubs and trees.
That is when I heard the Angel's wings.
It is a soft sound, almost not even there, but it is.
Almost like a swishing of a silk material, but so very, very soft.
And then they were gone.
Their journey to Mexico one day closer.
I was so grateful to our Lord for that experience.
You never, ever 'hear' one Monarch fly, but in the thousands, you are given a gift and my heart swelled with the beauty of it.
I have.
Twice.
The first was years ago when we were on the flyway for Monarch butterflies.
I was hanging clothes outside on the lines and saw this incredible sight of these beautiful 'beings' swarming the yard and hanging from the trees ringing the yard. It was amazing seeing them fly to the branches, and effortlessly 'snuggle' between those that had come to rest first.
I know that Monarchs need to find somewhere to rest when the evening temperatures cool, and it was incredible to see these beautiful orange and black 'beings' on my tree branches, ALL over the back yard.
I stayed outside for a long time watching them quiver as they settled in for the night.
The next morning, I watched them slowly warm as the temperatures increased. They were all quivering to wakefulness, or maybe they don't sleep, but just rest. That is something we just don't know.
Then it happened. The temperature reached that necessary point.
As ONE, they all left the branches of the shrubs and trees.
That is when I heard the Angel's wings.
It is a soft sound, almost not even there, but it is.
Almost like a swishing of a silk material, but so very, very soft.
And then they were gone.
Their journey to Mexico one day closer.
I was so grateful to our Lord for that experience.
You never, ever 'hear' one Monarch fly, but in the thousands, you are given a gift and my heart swelled with the beauty of it.
Driving or not in snow
Well I don't know what is going on with the roads, but with the snow coming down this year, the roads are 'slipperier' than I ever remember.
I didn't attempt the drive down to the cities today, cancelled both appointments. One in Clearwater, the other New Brighton.
Just the drive to the Milaca outskirts was enough to tell me it wasn't a good idea. I just didn't want to add to the congestion and waste time in slow moving traffic. When Bobby came home and said that there were people in spin-outs everywhere, I knew I had made a good decision. His main comment was that people just don't know how to enter or exit a roadway. I agree, and have had to be behind someone that actually stopped on the bottom of an entry to the freeway. Just stopped to look and see what the traffic was. Now that's cautious. Meanwhile, the rest of us behind him are braking suddenly at this abnormal driving behaviour.
People can be soooo interesting.
The rest of my day was uneventful. Grocery shopping, stamp buying, then home to do laundry. Am almost caught up. I do love that little apartment-sized washing machine. Well, want to bring up another post subject, so will end this one. Huggs to all..
I didn't attempt the drive down to the cities today, cancelled both appointments. One in Clearwater, the other New Brighton.
Just the drive to the Milaca outskirts was enough to tell me it wasn't a good idea. I just didn't want to add to the congestion and waste time in slow moving traffic. When Bobby came home and said that there were people in spin-outs everywhere, I knew I had made a good decision. His main comment was that people just don't know how to enter or exit a roadway. I agree, and have had to be behind someone that actually stopped on the bottom of an entry to the freeway. Just stopped to look and see what the traffic was. Now that's cautious. Meanwhile, the rest of us behind him are braking suddenly at this abnormal driving behaviour.
People can be soooo interesting.
The rest of my day was uneventful. Grocery shopping, stamp buying, then home to do laundry. Am almost caught up. I do love that little apartment-sized washing machine. Well, want to bring up another post subject, so will end this one. Huggs to all..
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