Nature . . . storms and blood and wonder.

Dear you . . .

Red in tooth and claw.  And wet.  And sometimes wonderful.

Finally posting this month (!) to express unease as a tropical storm swirls around the Gulf of Mexico.  I don't want to wish it on someone else, but I also don't want it here.  Random.  Nature.

When is it not wonderful?  It is not wonderful when you wake up to discover murdered kittens on your porch.   Long story about that.  But in summary, my outside-tame pet (Gato) has produced children.  This last batch belongs to a little gal who did not know how to protect them in the bushes/brush.  She brought them on to the porch she knows.  I let it be.  And overnight, something (probably a possum) did not let it/them be.

So, good morning carnage.

I cleaned up the scene and now witness the confused Momma Cat meowing.

She has survived.  And so has Mr. Gato.  This deal I cut with nature, ever optimistic, thinking the odds were always in my free creatures' favor was naive.  I am still a city girl in a not so city place.

Waiting for the next natural event.

Rest in peace, creatures.
Give it your best shot.
I guess that is all any of us can do.

Talk about a tropical depression.

Shaking it off,
Your Joyce

France . . .

 
Dear you,

To honor and celebrate what France is and inspires, enjoy the words of one of that nation's greatest poets:

Be Drunk

Charles Baudelaire, 1821 - 1867

You have to be always drunk. That’s all there is to it—it’s the only way. So as not to feel the horrible burden of time that breaks your back and bends you to the earth, you have to be continually drunk.
But on what? Wine, poetry or virtue, as you wish. But be drunk.
And if sometimes, on the steps of a palace or the green grass of a ditch, in the mournful solitude of your room, you wake again, drunkenness already diminishing or gone, ask the wind, the wave, the star, the bird, the clock, everything that is flying, everything that is groaning, everything that is rolling, everything that is singing, everything that is speaking. . .ask what time it is and wind, wave, star, bird, clock will answer you: “It is time to be drunk! So as not to be the martyred slaves of time, be drunk, be continually drunk! On wine, on poetry or on virtue as you wish.”

The above is compliments of poets.org I believe.

Carry on.

XO

Joyce

Political Hair!

Dear you:

Please consider these two pictures . . .




The top dude is Sir Johnson of the UK "we are out of the European Union" clan.  And you know who the bottom dude is.

Both have interesting hair in common.  Fluffy.  Crazy.  Strangely albino-like.
And under both of those hair-dos (or don'ts) we can find fluffy, crazy, strangely albino-like brains.
Shared nationalism of the 19th-20th century variety and fear of global anything dance around their gray matter.  Which I have now decided leads to hair-reaction!

Both share rebellious hair.  Those strands on each reactionary head long to fly free!  They want to EXIT those heads they reside on.  GET ME OUTTA HERE!

So, don't blame their hair.
Blame their brains.

And that is as deep as I am capable of being this hot June day, 2016.

XO

Your Joyce

Burn baby burn . . . moments in history and the "student body"

 
Dear You!

Last night, our nation saw Hillary Clinton take the stage as the first female nominated by a major party for POTUS.  I am older, a second-wave 70's feminist, so the moment was huge for me.  But we have so much left to do (in addition to working for Clinton and stopping the silly Donald).  Task:  Erase cultural habits controlling female bodies.  This task may be harder than confronting legal and economic challenges, equal treatment under the law and equal pay/opportunity.  Case in point, please read the linked-story about this young American  woman:

http://www.msn.com/en-us/lifestyle/style/montana-teen-stages-protest-after-school-demands-she-wear-bra-i-was-told-a-male-teacher-had-complained-he-was-uncomfortable/ar-AAgNF8n?li=BBnbcA0&ocid=mailsignout

First of all, what kind of "teacher" is this dude?  The man was discomforted by the student's body?  I don't even need to analyze that for you.  He sounds . . . well . . . like many of my college-teaching colleagues at the final-gig here in PCB.  In that zone, there were women who would critique bodies and designate appropriate attire.  Keep in mind, many of these chicks doing the designating looked like hot messes.  Not the fun kind of hot messes, the "I am repressed and alienated from my body and feel the need to control other females who intimidate me with their lack of repression and alienation" kind of hot messes. 

Next, why should anyone wear a bra if she/he does not choose to?  See the above photo.  Yes, Ms. Dolly needs support :)  But I guarantee you that strong woman has never been forced to wear anything she did not damn well want to.

So, here I am in 2016, happy about last night's moment in history and student Juvik's stand.  Here's to Clinton and Juvik . . . and, most importantly, to all those male students who stood with Ms. J. and wore bras on top of their shirts!  How hilarious.  How strong.  They are mighty good men!

Cheers.
XO

Joyce

June 1 - hurricane season begins and status flex continues!

Dear you . . . Observe, please:

This photo (thank you Google images) can be found if you search "Inlet Beach FL".  The old pier, or what remains of it, has been there since I visited the family beach house as a child.  The creature, however, is something I have never encountered in this zone.

What is this gorgeous deer-thing doing here?
What on earth is his chance of survival?

Identify, identify.  I do.  What am I doing here?  What on earth are my chances of survival?

It is gorgeous still.  The Gulf is warm and I dove into it with gratitude today.  I work retail; I work online.  I hustle in happy singularity.  But the strange non-city-life problem continues.  Yes, the population is dense.  Very few green spaces remain, which may explain why the deer is on the beach.  But the community is non-existent.  Good luck connecting with anything that is not "family" targeted, whatever that means.

So, here I am.  On the beach.  Like the deer, I admire the beauty.  Unlike the deer, I think too much.  Today's thoughts are about change; not actual growth-change but vanishing acts. What was here yesterday is gone, or crumbling like the old Inlet Beach Pier.

1.  I have not seen a healthy group of pelicans flying over the Gulf in a while.
2.  My favorite outdoor cat-pet (Coco Loco) disappeared over the Memorial Day weekend.
3.  Our beach is eroding.  Stroll over the walkway to the coast in front of my home and you will see a cliff and a sharp drop-off into water.
4.  One of my silly summer pleasures, So You Think You Can Dance, now features CHILD competitors.  Gone, the struggle between hot, adult dancers.
5.  My zip code is changing and so will my two thousand pieces of ID and account information.  Yes, now Inlet Beach will have its own exclusive zip code.  Please.

Hurricane season is here and I suppose I can only hope we dodge a "big one".  That is a change nobody wants, disaster.  If one hits, big, the last poles of that crumbling pier will surely fall and I will move on to god knows where.  Perhaps I will follow the pelicans and Coco Loco . . . wherever they are.  None of us really knows what is up next.  That is wonderful.  That is sad.  That is fabulous fact!

XO

Happy June :)

Kisses,
Joyce

Quick geography lesson!

Dear you.  Study this map from bigthink.com:



Enough said!

To quote a song from years past "the comedy is that it's serious".

Ciao for now!
Joyce

April surreal showers!

Dear You!

My life in customer service has truly limited my blog-time, so here we are in April already.  (I suppose I should change my blog promise to a monthly record.)  And here I am in "people pleasing" purgatory.

My escape from professor-world at the strange (very) local college was enabled by retail employment.  But this recent wage earning adventure is losing its appeal, at times.  Some days are total bad-fit situations.  Working at an old style department store here in PCB, I have learned that in this part of the country, "nice" is more important than efficient.  I am not "nice".   Check.  I have also learned that many customers are . . . confused and/or confusing.  I do not handle mental confusion well.  Checkmate.

Inspired by the photo-joke above, my list today shares ten mind-blowing questions I have been asked while "in service":
1.  Do you work here?  (This asked while I wear a name tag and am on my knees organizing shoe boxes.)
2.  Do you have a bathroom?  (Yes.  I have several. In my mansion.)
3.  Do you have matching mother-baby daughter shoes?  (What?  Does Mom want to wear white plastic baby shoes or does Daughter want to wear ultra-mini versions of office pumps?)
4.  Can I pay for this here?  (I am standing at a cash register with my arms extended.  Having just said "I can help you here.")
5.  Am I too old for these shoes?  (Do you want to date them?)
6.  Am I too fat for these shoes?   (I don't even know what that means.)
7.  Can I return these pants?  (Whatever.  But those pants have been worn countless times -- see ketchup stains -- and our store has not carried that brand of britches since 1990.)
8.  Do you like working here?  (Really?)
9.  Are you hiring?  (Yes.  Yes.  Yes. Always.)
10. Do you mind watching my kids while I go to the sock department?  (Yes.  Yes.  Yes.  I definitely mind.)



The experience.  The story.  The occasional paid bill.  Those little big things make my time "in service" amusing and bearable.  However, I share this advice:  Worker beware!

Meanwhile, HAVE A NICE DAY!  AND COME SEE US AGAIN!

XOXOXO

Truly yours,
Joyce