Norman is Missing

Norman, our lab, stepped out for a run last Thursday and has not come back. This will be his fifth night away and it is not lost on me that it has been below freezing for a couple of those evenings. Everyone is positive he is out visiting with a girlfriend. I'm not so much. I miss the little feller. He's the friendly neighbor all of the neighborhood wishes we were. He is the ambassador for the Ruffin family. Everyone loves him even though he chases their cars. (He's not a tire biter, he just wants to race your car, he thinks he can beat you.) He'll walk with you and your dog or while you're riding your bike. He'll come sit on your porch or play with your kids. He'll come keep you company while you rake your yard or plant flowers. He's been known to jump in just about anyone's truck thinking it's time to go camping. Please keep your fingers crossed that he breaks up with his girlfriend soon.

Time for a PSA:

Below is the poster that used to stare at me in the hallways of my highschool back in the early 70's. I came across it the other day.

I used to think, "god, what an ugly woman." And while I don't think I look like that today, my lungs do. I smoked from the time I was 15 until I was 32. My sister and I used to ride around before school and roll cigarettes in notebook paper, YES NOTEBOOK PAPER, because we weren't old enough to buy cigarette papers. Well maybe that wasn't tobacco but you can imagine the toll that thick paper takes on your lungs.

17 years of smoking up to 2 packs a day. I have not smoked for over 22 years now but this last Christmas I got pneumonia again for the 2nd or 3rd time in 5 years. I have a form of COPD called bronchial asthma. I use an emergency inhaler and/or nebulizer 2 or 3 times a week. Normal oxygen saturation in my lungs is about 95%, whereas most people are 99% or 100%. I'm not looking for sympathy or anything. I just ran across that picture on the internet and remembered being so smug when I was 18 years old, thinking that would never be me. God has had a way of slapping me awake here in my fifties. I can hardly wait to get to 60.

January is just about over and I've just about finished the books for the "empire." My paralegal duties are wide and vast. I also do books parttime at home for a couple of Mr. G's wealthier friends. Friends that can't just dump receipts at the CPA's office. Friends whose income arrives in a post office box (like his) and reaches over seven figures. I hate this part of the year and will be glad when it is over. I have not even begun to gather my taxes. Jim and my taxes are much simpler. A few years ago I had to get Mr. TurboTax to help me and last year I had to actually hire an accountant to help me. I don't know that we're making more money as opposed to me losing brain cells. Sure would like it if Mr. Obama would simplify the tax structure. THEN I would really vote for him.

Ruffinism for the day: Did you ever notice that when you put the words "The" and "IRS" together, it spells "THEIRS?"

The Wagon

MY INAUGURAL POEM

Well

I wasn't darning

Nor praising the day

Nor patching a tire.

I don't do wooden spoons or boom box.

I won't take the bus or cross the dirt road.

I refuse to take out my pencils.

Didn't pick that lettuce and pulleeese no cotton.

However, I did work today,

which is what all of us pulling the wagon

have been doing for years.

It's the idiots in the wagon that are

making the load too heavy.

Let's dump the wagon.

Everyone in it except the Rev. Joseph Lowery,

who is a true poet:

work for that day when black will not be asked to get in back,

when brown can stick around...

when the red man can get ahead, man;

and when white will embrace what is right.

Now folks, THAT'S a poem.

DVR Stands for Desire vs. Reality

We've had our DVR for quite a few months (ok, we're not cutting edge) and I really haven't thought about what a great invention it is. Yeah, it's great to watch Oprah or Devine Design when I come home for lunch instead of All My Children. But just lately, I've discovered the TCM/HBO advantage. Why not be able to watch Harvey (my favorite movie of all time)

or Arsenic and Old Lace or even Bye, Bye Birdie (which I recorded this weekend)

instead of your basic Monday-Friday fare. My gosh, I'll never be on time again in my life. Total personal fault.

Meantime, Happy Martin Luther King Day. I'll be at work, I work for the private sector that does not recognize this holiday. Of course, he does not recognize President's Day, Good Friday, Memorial Day, etc.

Ruffinism for the day: Do something helpful for someone else on Martin Luther King Day. I'll be helping Mr. G.

Golden Globes Outrage

HE OVERDOSED, HE COMMITED SUICIDE, HE OFFED HIMSELF. Have these people gone mad? How do you celebrate someone like that?! How do you give them an award posthumously and act like they're any normal human being. Have we all gone daft? Are we finally in Gomorrah?

The Golden Globes are about outstanding... OUTSTANDING ...achievements in the television and movie industry. When did falling asleep after taking too many drugs naked garner you the highest honor of your peers?

I'm sorry, the joke is on me. He's a buffoon. He left a family of some kind in agony. He's a fucking asshole, not an icon, people.

And while I'm at it, I thought I might give a shout out to Laura Dern who played Catherine Harris in RECOUNT. Her final statement on her award was this: "I will cherish this as a reminder of the extraordinary incredible outpouring of people who demanded their voice be heard in this last election so we can look forward to an amazing change in this country." Laura, guess what? We do not give a flip about your politics...shut up and entertain.

I'm sorry, that was quite refreshing.

Steven Spielberg has a body of work. Kate Winslet has a body of work. Hell, even Miley Cyrus has a body of work. You can vent, tell me I'm a jerk, just don't tell me Heath Ledger deserved a Golden Globe over any of these guys in his category:

Tom Cruise – Tropic Thunder
Robert Downey Jr. – Tropic Thunder
Ralph Fiennes – The Duchess
Philip Seymour Hoffman – Doubt

Ruffinism for the weekend: Weekends don't count unless you spend them doing something completely pointless. ~Bill Watterson

Prospero Ano

At 54, one looks for attainable goals, not new years resolutions. Of course you have to take into consideration that my 54 is anyone elses 64. I admittedly have rode myself hard and hung myself up wet...continuously. My immediate New Year's resolutions are as follows, to-wit:

1. Ride my fantabulous brand new 3-speed powder puff blue bicycle (notice pedals set foward
of wheels=total comfort) 3 times a day. Ok, once a day.
2. Swear off cheese...that isn't havarti, monterrey jack, cheddar, or american.
3. Quit lobbing imaginative grenades from my dashboard at people who don't know how to drive - note to
self, check into front loading torpedos.
4. Pay my bills on time...have you noticed that once you pay all of your bills online, all of a sudden
there is no hurry...I may be a day late but I can always power up the old computer and pay
instantly, therefore you get complacent. Chevron thinks I'm too complacement this month.
5. Get my ducts cleaned because even the stuff under my bed has dust on it.
6. Pray for the price of pine trees to go to $10,000 per tree, we have 47.
7. Become invaluable.
8. Forgive.
9. Forget.
10. Accept yourself...done.

Happy New Year everyone.