Concussion

I feel down last sateuday night and my typing id atroucoius. The proff is I''m not editing anything i'm writing., my biggest badeest syptom aside form my headached ia my inability tio use the keyboead proberly. bear with me i shall return when it becomes less of a struggle. I think my mri is scheduled for next week of the week after. the sooner the better. wish me luck , and don't leave forever. thanks!
Carol

I Kissed Billy Joel

It was after the success of "Piano Man" he was hocking "Streetlife Serenade." I had a copy of "Cold Spring Harbor" which proves I was a big fan. He was playing at the Academy of Music, in Philadelphia. Great acoustics, these days only used for more high end entertainment. It's the Opera house used in "The Age of Innocence".

Janis Ian was the opening act, who I also liked a great deal. I loved her songs "At Seventeen"and "Society's Child". The thing I remember most from the concert is the anticipation. Once he came on the stage in his velveteen jacket he wore on his album covers, I remember little else. The encores had been played, and we all slowly headed out the doors to our vehicles.

It was the night of Thanksgiving and it was cold, I had left my family dinner to see Billy Joel live, with no regrets.

My date was 6'3". (this comes in handy later on) As we walked by the side street of the theater toward the lot were our car was parked, I notice the door that was clearly marked with the words "back stage" just like in a movie.
We stood for a moment, looked at each other, and although we really didn't believe that entertainers would actually leave through that door, we decided to stick around. Well, low and behold, out came Janis Ian - she's as big as me (under 5') we joked about it, I told her she's brilliant and I asked for her autograph. She giggled and said "you don't want my autograph, you want the guy in there". That's when my tall friend peeked into the narrow very high windows and saw Billy Joel with about four girls surrounding him. 

Next time that big locked stage door opened we did something crazy. We walked right it.

There I was standing behind Billy Joel (who isn't too tall himself) I was so close I was breathing on his black velveteen jacket. I could smell him. He WAS real. But I stood quietly. While the other girls talked, I listening. Then one girl gave him a rose and he kissed her on the cheek. I made my move....I tapped on his velveteen shoulder, he turned to look at me and I said: "Could I have one of those?"

He said: "Sure" just like that. He kissed me on the lips.

HISTORY WAS MADE! I KISSED BILLY JOEL! ACTUALLY BILLY JOEL KISSED ME.

I was in heaven for weeks.
Two things plagued me for a few years after that.
1. If I had not been with my boyfriend would I have a better story?
2. How could I forget about the camera I had stashed in my coat pocket? 

No More

When I was 18 I met a boy
When I was 21 I got pregnant, and had an abortion
When I was 31 I met a man, the wrong man
When I was 41 I met another man
When I was 46 I got pregnant and I had a daughter
When I was 48 I got pregnant, and it died inside me
Soon I will be 58. No more men, no more pregnancies.

No more.

Isolation Chamber

My new term for my room/bed.

That express train at the dead end of my street sounds sweet at night.

It echos hourly in the dark. Calling me.

I Still Need Mascara

Just because I can't pay my bills doesn't mean I don't need mascara.
It makes me feel pretty.
Anyway how do I pay for a seven dollar item on a two dollar budget?

When I went to the drug store today, to pick some new meds, that were actually old meds, meaning they had been around for years and only set me back three dollars and change.

I walked over to the make up aisle to see if any mascara was on sale. Zero.

I bought a three pack of bubble gum. One for me. One for my kid and one for my co-worker.
It made me feel generous. Besides bubble gum tends to brings smiles out in people.
Which totally trumps feeling pretty.

D is for Dead

Guinea Pig Found Dead:
Reaper Strikes Again on Facebook!


Actual Facebook Post
Dale's post: We lost our little guinea pig, Rocky, today. He was a sweet little boy and will be surely missed by all of us. RIP Rocky xoxo
1 person likes this (?)
Diane: SO SORRY TO HEAR THAT. HOW ARE THE KIDS TAKING IT??
Darcy: Rocky was lucky to have had such a great family to love him while he was here... ♥ RIP Rocky, so sorry Smith crew.. xo
Dale Smith: We all are taking it hard...Rocky was a sweetie... He always greeted me every morning and every night. every time he heard my voice, he would sqeak a greeting. I will really miss him.
Debbi:  I know how you all feel. they are like family
Doris: Sorry Dale
Della: Sorry to hear that Dale! Guinea pig, cat, dog, hamster, what have you...they're all a part of our family and are missed when they are gone. The "tough" part of loving a pet! Hang in there!
Dale Smith:  Rocky was a very interactive member of the family...loved to be held and cuddled.
Dale Smith: You're right Della. They are all treasured members of the family. My 'babies' are all very special to me (us).
Dale Smith: Thanks everyone...It has been a rough day...
Dorothy: Dee never said a word when she cameover??
Dina: awww, sorry guys. i know how attached we all are to your piggies.
Dana:  Awww, so sorry gf!
Demi:  so sad - I am sorry
Donna:  OH sorry to hear about that...its hard to lose a pet.
Daria:  I'm so sorry to hear this Dale. He was a charmer for sure. I'm so glad I got the chance to meet him. I know how much the Smith family loves him and it sure did show!! RIP Rocky. If there is anything we can do for you, we are here for you all! Sending our love and prayers during this sad time. XOXO
Last comment I could stomach to copy: How sad! :(


Two days later I found myself at PetSmart watching a Guinea Pig behind glass still wondering what all the fuss was about.

More posts about Facebook: In your Facebook Death and Facebook

Interview Attire

I was recently coached by an employment recruiter as to the proper attire for an interview.

I had a pair of black dress pants which I wear to almost everything. Funerals, lunches with dignitaries, other interviews. I thought if I could find a top to go with it that would be peachy. I went to the mall and tried on a million things. I don't really enjoy shopping. I am thrifty by nature and like to use things up before I buy something new. The venture seemed successful and the next day I texted pictures to the recruiter of what I had purchased. The response I got was an emphatic NO! I received a detailed text of what I should wear. The consensus was:

A sweater set with pearls.
Who am I? June Cleaver?

So, I returned to the store where I purchased the less than elegantly perfect interview attire and keened my search. I tried very hard to step out of my box. I pulled things off of the racks and carried them to the nearest mirror. Too hip, too square, too young, too old, not me! Finally feeling dead ended and drained, I started to ask the advice of fellow shoppers. I shared the June Cleaver pitch and my new friends gasped at the thought

I took my new choices and went into the dressing room.

There as I tried on my four selections I again enlisted the help of the women in their stalls. They came out one by one, timid at first, but once they saw my exasperation they took me to their bosoms and extended big girl advice. God Bless them everyone! They all really liked a casual trendy suit jacket, which I wasn't completely sold on. It needs something one women said, "pearls" she uttered. My shoulders slumped.

I choose one trendy, not really me but not so obviously not me that I wouldn't feel like a jerk, blousey knitted top thingy. Then feeling positive, I ventured on to find the perfect top for a second interview.

The day of my appointment I had no clue where I was going and needed to use my GPS for the first time. My interview went well and I walked out of the building feeling confident, sure my attire was no hindrance to the impression I had made. After receiving positive feedback from the recruiter, my second interview blouse hangs limp, tags still attached. Waiting, along with me for the final word.

I spoke to my recruiter yesterday...
Today I will head to the mall to return the second interview top.
Or maybe not.
I kinda like it and it doesn't require pearls.

Feeling Like A Criminal

Last week on the twenty eighth day in a month of thirty one I realized my drivers license was due to expire. This year I was given strict instruction that I had to appear IN PERSON. DO NOT RENEW ON LINE. Naturally I waited until the last minute (almost). They open at 8 am, I arrived at 7:50am.

The doors were open when I arrived and the line had about ten people. I inched my way up only to find out that the two point ID I had with me was not the correct copy, luckily I was carrying a bank card and insurance card which allowed me to meet the new six point system of identification requirements needed for proof of mere existence. I was given the number eleven handwritten on a 3x5 card and asked to sit and wait.

We all sat and stared at the empty booth for the first thirty minutes or so, then a women appeared calling number's one, two and three. It took about one hour to complete the first three people. Apparently our proof of mere existence needed to be questioned one last time. There was no help in sight, by this time the inmates were talking to each other. I was sure someone would share Facebook information.

Before the fourth set of three number's were called a second person came out to help. When my number was finally called, number twelve and I had our very own individual license giver-outers. The two of us decided to be cohorts in crime and not renew our photos, therefore speeding up the laborious process for the remaining convicts. While waiting in the trenches I had had a conversation with number thirty one, who had at least a two hour wait. It was the right thing to do.

While we were standing waiting, number twelve mentioned that being there made her feel like a criminal, I had to agree. The whole burden of proof process was very uncomfortable to me also. I have to admit I was very relieved when I was given the okay and told I could leave.

Unfortunately I also noticed that morning while walking to my car that my inspection sticker said six. We were at the end of the seventh month. On my way to the inspection station I bought a tin cup.

Alone in my Bed part deux

It's been a couple of years that I am alone in my bed. It's been dandy - but the past few days I've been waking up feeling lost and a bit blue. In the middle of the night I miss the toe touch, the arm rest or the hand rub. I miss the quiet little "good morning" or "you up?"

I don't miss fighting over blankets.
I don't miss no room to sprawl.

But once in awhile a little cuddle would be nice.

The Boy

There is a boy I work with, by boy I refer to an eighteen year old. He resembles a young Paul Newman, but for green eyes. From his work persona, he seems like a good kid. Does his job, helps when he sees the need without being asked, quiet. He has a steady girlfriend of quite some years whom he seems to be thoroughly in love with. He wants a career in art, God bless him.

What draws me to this kid is his freedom of speech, at least to me, when we are speaking alone. He has no inhibitions being complimentary to me, even though I am old enough to be his Grandmother. No, I'm not attracted to him, he is a child. I am fascinated by him, I watch this behavior in an almost clinical way.
I wonder at what point in time, when a boy becomes a man, does he start to hold back his thoughts?

I've had very little experience with men who compliment women with such ease. I see it in movies, but most of the men I've encountered have excuses why they cannot give so freely. Scarred by past relationships, fear of rejection or humiliation. Just generally not comfortable with saying what they are thinking or seeing no reason why they should.

When his girlfriend stops by work he tells her he likes her shirt, she looks cute. She seems to take it for granted, I don't even hear a thank you from her lips. It looks as though he is given nothing in return, but what do I know? Maybe this will cause him to stop giving as he matures.

The other day I was just going through my daily routine, when we passed each other. He said "We're you goin lookin all pretty?" It made me giggle. I had gotten my hair colored but had no make-up on, nor was I wearing anything other than my normal work attire. For every women this boy encounters through-out his entire lifetime...I hope he never losses this charm, sincerity, and ability to give simple compliments.

How many lives could he touch, how many frowns could he turn around, how many days will he have the ability to "make" for someone along the way? What a loss it will be if he ever grows up.

Still Insecure After all These Years

I met my old lover 
In the mall last night 
He seemed so glad to see me 
I just smirked 
And we talked about some old times 
And we shed ourselves some tears
Still insecure after all these years 
Oh, so insecure after all these years 


I'm not the kind of gal 
Who tends to socialize 
I seem to lean on 
Old familiar ways 
And I ain't no fool for love songs 
That whisper in my ears 
Still insecure after all these years 
Oh, so insecure after all these years 

Four in the morning 
Watchin movies, yawning 
Longing my life a--way 
I'll never worry 
Why should I? 
It's all gonna fade 


Now I sit by my window 
And I watch the cars 
I fear I'll do me damage 
One fine day 
But I would not be convicted 
By a jury of my peers 
Still insecure after all these years 
Oh, still insecure 
So insecure 
Still insecure after all these years