Dreaming

I have read that some people think that life is but a dream. My life consists of what I dream. My world consists of what I dream. Which would mean that I'm dreaming you are reading this. Or maybe not because very few people read this blog. (Maybe I should have a giveaway or better dreams? maybe it doesn't matter, because I still am dreaming I'm writing this). Oh well. So if this "dream = life" theory were true, that what I dream is real and that really no one else exists, and I dream all events that happen to or concern me, would I ever dream anything bad? Would I dream I am sitting at work writing this or would I dream I am sitting by the ocean writing this? What if I am sitting by the ocean writing this and having a bad dream that I'm at work? Yikes. This could get very complicated.
This is the kind of thing I think about when I don't want to think about real life. Whatever that is.
What do you think (wait a minute while I dream your response)?

I don't have a question, yet, or a complaint, yet, but I did want to post a photo of my dearly departed Beetle.
RIP car.

Eight things I don't like

1) Setting a baby, especially one in a diaper only, on a food counter. Granted, it's a fast food counter, but still.
2) Drivers that pull out in front of me at the speed of light and then come to a stop.
3) Tomatoes (I give them to my turtles, they love a nice red tomato!).
4) Being poor (anyone know a rich old man with a British accent who's available?).
5) Cups of my iced tea spilling in my car.
6) The very, very HOT weather we've been having.
7) Going a day without washing my hair.
8) Slugs.

Picture this....

There's a blog you follow or just find yourself checking out from time to time, okay? Do you ever wonder what that blogger looks like?
I am usually caught up in the art or the words and maybe, maybe sometimes, have an impression of the blogger, but don't actually stop to wonder if the person is a certain age, or has a Mohawk, or always dresses in pink, I just don't. It doesn't really matter to me, so why wonder?
Jazz will probably know why this is on my mind. She posted some lovely photos from her vacation, and included a couple of her & Mr. Jazz. I hope I wasn't rude, but I left a comment that she looked normal. I didn't mean that in a rude way, and didn't have a picture in my mind of what she might look like (I can't imagine why that would matter, and it didn't to me). I think I was thinking edgy, tough but pretty, maybe a cigarette hanging out of the side of her mouth (just kidding). I have no idea why I expected anything at all.
So, the question is: do you "picture" bloggers that haven't/don't post photos of themselves?

Where I live = who I am?

I live in a small town along the Western shore of the Chesapeake Bay (population about 2,000). Every morning, or any time, I walk to the end of my driveway, I can turn to my left, and there she is, just a few blocks away, the might Bay. The town has a post office, a (wonderful) candy store, a coffee/bakery shop, a few antique stores, an art co-op, a couple of places to eat, and a few other businesses. I don't always lock my doors (I also have two good-sized dogs) and last winter when Maryland got hit with 2' of snow, my neighbors helped me shovel out the driveway. It's not heaven, but it'll do.
I love living where I do, but I suspect I like as much (or maybe more) saying where I live.
So my question is: how much does where we live define us? Or does it at all?
Let me know what you think, ok?
Happy days!

F*** you, you piece of S#@t!!!

Yeah, that was me before I taught myself to drive one car at a time. I had the loudest, most used horn, and my middle finger was on alert as soon as I started the car (even before I left the driveway, you never know). One of my favorite driving skills was to slam on the brakes if someone was tailgating, wow, that was fun. What else, let's see, dirty looks were the least of my repertoire, and screaming ugly words was an art for me.
One day I had an Oprah light bulb moment: nobody really did anything differently. I had no control over other drivers. I was all in a rage & my blood pressure was up, and okay, maybe I got a few reactions, but mostly other people still drove like morons (never me, I am a good driver!).
So I changed, became a mellow zen-like driver. Cut me off, no problem. Drive 20 mile under the speed limit, yeah, I'll tag along or pass when it's safe. Ride on my bumper, here, let me pull over so you can pass me.
Strange but true.
I sometimes, just for the memories, toot my horn, and once or twice I've raised my middle finger in a friendly salute. Generally, me & my beetle just toodle along nice as can be.
What about you? What kind of a driver would you say/write that you are?
Happy days.

Next question:

What is sadder than a blog without comments?
Not much.
I'll have to come up with a question that you can't refuse.
I'm thinking.......

FACEBOOK

What about Facebook?
Are you on or not?
Why? or Why not?
I'm on because I have younger co-workers who live by it and so I wanted to see what it was about.
I still don't know.
Happy days.

Tipping

Whenever I am with others and have bad service at a restaurant, I get into this tussle with some people: do you or don't tip something even if the service stinks (with or without any apology or explanation from the server)?
Tipwise, how do you handle bad service?

Roadkill stories

I was going to put a picture of real roadkilled animal, but thought that might be too gross and the blog would smell bad. So I just put up this warning sign instead.
It's not a local (to me) sign, there are no camels crossing streets in North Beach, Maryland. The days when I might have thought I saw a camel crossing the street are long gone.
So the question, that's what I should write now.
The questions is: why, when everyone who knows me even slightly, knows I love animals, why do these same people feel the need to tell me about the dog they saw get hit by a car this morning? or the turtle, especially near & dear to my heart? or the squirrel?
Second question, does this happen to you?
Third question, how do you handle it?
Happy days,
Joanie

Me and Fuzz-Marie in color color and color.

What color would you be if you could be any color?

I got this here.

I have fallen, I may be a silly goose and a w____!

Well, I've been thinking about my posting (below), and about a very funny, laugh-out-loud comment that my favorite artist Mimilove left for me under the "50 things" posting (below the below posting). Hmmm, it was funny, but was there a sting to it? Could be or maybe not. In any case, I went to my favorite artist's blog to visit and while there, I left a sincere comment and a comment where I tested the whorish waters. I still don't like this way of expressing extreme liking of/addiction to/fondness for something, but different strokes for different folks.

I may have been a bit judgemental and/or ranting about terms individuals choose to use, and I apologize.

The good news is: I had fun and I learned to perhaps re-read before posting.

Thank every single one of you who post a comment.

The interaction of us is one of my favorite things about blogging.

p.s. the picture of the goose above is not me, but one of a pair of geese (that I call Mattie & Henry) who just became parents of 5 goslings yesterday.

I am not any kind of a whore.

(photo from Break.com)

Well, got your attention?

I've noticed that here and there - now and then - to this one and that one, bloggers and/or commentors are saying things like: yeah, I'm a thrift shop whore, or a new shoe whore, or a blog whore, etc. Why? Why would seemingly intelligent women ever call themselves any kind of a whore? On purpose. Any ideas?

p.s. I am not a prude, nor am I stranger to cussing, and I am not a feminist. I just think...well, you tell me what you think about this.

CAN YOU DO THIS?

No, not that. You may feel like a floating cloud sometimes, but even I know that you can't be one. (Can you?) Keep reading.
No whining for Jazz in this posting! Note: I just started reading the Haphazard Life blog, so there may be whining in other postings, okay? This is not a problem for me, I just don't want the responsibility. So anyway, can you list 50, yes 50, things that give you some kind of happiness? HIT wants to know! Maybe I'll try too.
If you do list on your blog, let me know please. And thank you.

50 things (sorry to the people listed, I know that you're not things) that have given (or still give) me some level of happiness:
1. my son
2. my grandchildren
3. my sister, Jeanie
4. my dogs, Fuzz-Marie & Chopper Chan
5. my cat, Savvy (sometimes, some level)
6. unsweetened iced tea
7. oops, my turtle, Plop (especially when she chases down crickets)
8. a tank full of gas (this make my car happy also)
9. books
10. naps
11. Sharpies
12. pizza
13. Christmas trees at night
14. geese flying
15. music
16. a new box of 64 Crayolas
17. new socks
18. this guy for many (almost 15) wonderful years


19. my 14 year old Amaryllis bloomed for the 1st time this year (thanks, Jazz, for reminding me of plants)
20. keeping, year after year, a Simple Abundance Gratitude Journal
21. warm showers
22. my birthday (9/22)
23. chili, on the 2nd day
24. sweet smellin' soft jammies
25. old photos
26. some co-workers
27. hearing the peepers at night
28. marigolds
29. curtains blowing in the breeze
30. the National Gallery of Art
31. daydreams
32. thunderstorms
33. smell of honeysuckles in the Summer
34. blogs
35. embroidering
36. lightning bugs
37. children giggling
38. hearing the kids call me "Nanny"!
39. fabric stores
40. coming home
41. headaches leaving
42. watching clouds go by
43. memories of my childhood
44. making art
45. pretty underwear
46. homemade chocolate chip cookies
47. the funny papers
48. re-reading favorite books
49. baby smells
50. Grandma Utz potato chips
Ta da!

here a blog, there a blog, everywhere a blog, blog

Hmm, an easy question today, it is Monday after all.
Say a guy is holding a gun to your head, and he says: "tell me your very favorite blog, and if you tell me more than one, I'll pull the trigger."
I don't have a gun, yet, and wouldn't hold it to your head if I did, but will ask nicely: please tell me your one & only favorite blog.
Maybe it was too scary with the fella with the gun stuff. Although brave Leanne did respond! Thank you much.
So let's say you just want to share a blog that is your favorite, and maybe there's a second blog you love a lot.
Any easier to answer now?
Maybe I should give this a try.
BTW, you do not have to pick a Joanie Hoffman blog, because I know both my blogs are loved, right?

Me and my Dad, and a question, of course.

This is me and my Dad, Bill, a long, long time ago.
And this picture is a lead in to my next H.I.T. question below.

What is the story of the phrase "who's your daddy?" Where did it come from? What does it mean? Check Google, or Wiki, or the Urban Dictionary , if you want to, but I'd really like to see what your own thoughts are.
Please. and Thank you.

Ta da! we are open for business!

This is a clue....

Tell me why, please, you have posted pictures of your feet on your blog. Thanks!

And/or see more here.