Tuesday, May 31, 2011


Gentle Readers,

I already wrote to you last week about how much I enjoyed the season finale of Raising Hope. Since then I've watched the season endings of my other favorite shows, and I even watched the farewell of a show that didn't interest me for 24 3/4 years.

First, second season ending of Glee: Glee is not as good as it was in season one. It lost its edge. It's not as funny. I'm not sure if the creators and writers used up their best ideas during the first season, like Quinn telling Finn she got pregnant in the hot tub and Terri Shuester's fake pregnancy, or if it was so over the top hilarious that some people didn't get it and the producers decided to go a little more mainstream for the second season. Because of that loss, there wasn't as much for Sue Sylvester to sink her fangs into. But I still love, love, love the music, and the show is fun. I found the season finale a huge letdown, but I'll be back for season three.

House has finished its seventh season. House lost its edge a long time ago when House had the competition to replace his team and hired Thirteen and Taub and Kutner, who ended up committing suicide because he knew the show was going downhill because he worked on President Obama's campaign and took a post in the administration. I used to love the chemistry between Cameron and Chase, which certainly could not be replaced by House and Cuddy's fauxmance (I think I just invented a new word). Why do I keep watching? House still has its moments, and I adore a good, gross medical mystery.

Then there's The Office. As far as I'm concerned, this show pretty much ended when Steve Carell left. I enjoyed the way Michael Scott's character developed over the years. He wasn't nearly as obnoxious at the end as he was at the beginning, yet he was still funny. Static characters are a bore, just as stasis is in general. I'll watch next fall because I want to know who the new manager will be.

You may sense a pattern here: Once I commit to a show, I usually continue to watch until it ends for good.

Now, a show I avoided like the plague for 24 3/4 years. Obviously, it's Oprah. I watched her final show, and it actually made me wish I had watched a long time ago because I think I learned something. For the most part, Oprah spent her final show talking about why she did the show and what she learned and hoped her viewers had learned. She said, and I paraphrase here, that we all make bad decisions in life and then we go around blaming everyone except ourselves instead of making changes. Lawdy, Lawdy, Miss Oprah, I do believe you hit my nail right on the head. It's taken almost two years of living alone for me to realize that I made bad decisions in my marriage and then thought I was just as trapped as I was as a child in my parents' home. I should have made changes long, long ago. Both my husband and I blamed each other for our unhappiness. I am lonely, but I was lonely when I was married. I'm definitely better off now, but I don't like the thought of growing old alone.

Oprah also said we all have a calling, and we need to go after it. I thought teaching was my calling, but I'm questioning it because of the loss of my teaching job. Did I lose the job because I'm not a good teacher or did I lose the job because it would be a learning experience? I'm confused and not sure what the answer is. I have to think and ponder and pray and decide if teaching really is my calling; if it is, then I'm not going to let one bad principal get in my way.

I'm not sure where I'm going, but I'm definitely headed somewhere. For now, though, I must stop writing because one of the dogs has such terrible gas that I simply must get out of this room and get some fresh air. Dog gas is the worst.

But I loves me my doggie men.

Infinities of love,


Monday, May 30, 2011


Gentle Readers,

Memorial Day, for most of us, is a day to honor our fallen heroes. But for a particular hate group in my home town of Topeka, Kansas, every day is a day to despise our fallen heroes.

Yes, you may have heard of them before: It's Fred Phelps and his family, who use their Westboro Baptist Church as a front for their campaign against the people they call fags. According to the Phelps, 9/11 was caused by the fags because God was showering his wrath on the people of the United States. And people who serve in America's military are fags, and I'm a fag, you're a fag, everyone except the Phelps family is a fag, fag.

(By the way, they call their church Baptist, but they are not recognized as such by any other Baptist churches.)

I'm not going to provide a link to any of the Phelps' Web sites. You can find their crap if you want. I write this to call attention to their activities in case you are not aware of them, and because my dad served in the military and died on Memorial Day. I know my parents detested the behavior of the Phelps.

The Phelps like to protest. They go out with their signs and call people fags and blame the fags for everything that's wrong. Worst of all, they protest at the funerals of our fallen soldiers. Because of them, President George W. Bush signed a law that prohibits protests within a certain distance of military cemeteries before, during, and after a funeral. But that doesn't stop them from protesting at other cemeteries and it doesn't stop them from protesting at other venues and it doesn't stop them from protesting at other times. They also protest at the funerals of gay people. They were there for Matthew Shepard's funeral, as if his family hadn't already suffered enough.

I've seen some news clips about various ways people deal with the Phelps, and don't think the Phelps are just a Topeka problem. They show up all over the place. In one town, the Phelps obtained permission to picket on a certain corner. So, many people in town showed up and parked their vehicles near the corner so the Phelps would have difficulty getting a place to park their bus, and then the townspeople took over the corner and left no room for the Phelps, who actually gave up and left. When they protest at a funeral, sometimes motorcyclists show up and form a ring around the family and rev their engines to drown out their noise.

Yes, the Phelps family is entitled to freedom of speech. But families should be entitled to bury their loved ones in peace.

I recall Fred Phelps mostly from his days as a lawyer, when I was growing up in Topeka. His antics were always in the news, and eventually he was disbarred for unethical conduct. Some of his 13 children have become lawyers and they now fund the protests with the money they earn from the family law firm, according to an article I read in the Topeka newspaper. Although Topekans hate what the Phelps do, one person admitted that if you want to win your case, you go to the Phelps. It's a shame Kansans don't boycott the firm in a shared commitment to dry up their money.

Recently I watched a documentary about the family called Fall From Grace: Westboro Baptist Church. It was  made by a young man named K. Ryan Jones, first as a short film for a film class he was taking at the University of Kansas in Lawrence, and then it became a full-fledged documentary. As Jones himself says in a DVD extra, he had to try very hard to be fair to the Phelps because "everybody hates them."

As I watched Fall From Grace, there I saw one of the boys, now in his fifties just as I am, but with the same face he had when we were in the seventh grade together. And I saw one of the girls, who was in the ninth grade. I sometimes saw the girl in the ninth grade laughing and talking with other kids, but the seventh grade boy seemed to stick pretty close to his brother, who was in the eighth grade. Those boys looked so sad, and I have never forgotten the miserable and embarrassed silence that fell over the school cafeteria the day those two boys came to school with their heads shaved. Guys did not shave their heads then, and we felt so sorry for them.

Other students who had known the Phelps for years explained to me that Fred Phelps had shaved his sons' heads to punish them, just as they were punished by having to run to Lawrence from Topeka and then back home again. They also had to sell candy for hours after school to support the church. One of them came to our door once, and my mother said NO immediately. She mentioned afterwards that she knew the money went to the church so she wouldn't buy anything from the Phelps.

What I didn't know was that the children and Mrs. Phelps were severely abused, according to two of the children who have left the family. One of them, Nate Phelps, writes a thoughtful and intelligent blog that I suggest you check out. Nate is interviewed by telephone during the documentary, and he recommends ignoring his family if you should encounter one of their protests. They are definitely attention whores, so cut them dead (figuratively of course). Don't engage them in an argument; don't give them what they want so desperately.

Why do they do what they do? Who knows why such evil lives in the hearts of humankind? Fred Phelps is a sick man and his sickness has infected most of his children. And now his grandchildren, right down to the youngest ones who are barely understandable when they speak, parrot what they hear from their parents and their grandfather, although it's obvious they don't know what they're saying. They are already brainwashed and if someone doesn't help them, it will only get worse.

I found it fascinating that in the documentary one of the Phelps daughters says, My father had 13 children. Hmmmm . . . did he become pregnant and give birth? Mrs. Phelps is never mentioned, I think because her husband's control over the family is so complete.

Thus, I recommend the documentary; I recommend Nate Phelps' blog; and I recommend ignoring the Phelps family if you should ever have the misfortune of seeing them in your town. They have fallen. Don't let them take you down with them.

Infinities of love,


Sunday, May 29, 2011


Carol writes:

Just want to let you know how things are going.
Dee dee went for her 5th treatment Friday but her blood count was so low she had to get a unit of blood instead. She has an appointment for this upcoming Friday for the 5th trearment.
Keep us in your prayers please.

Saturday, May 28, 2011


Gentle Readers,

Last week the season finale of Raising Hope was on and it was wonderfully hilarious. If you haven't yet caught on to the fact that this is the best show on television, then you definitely need to click on the link, where you can find full episodes and some other information.

Anyhoo, I don't want to spoil the last show for you if you haven't seen it yet so I won't tell you too much, but in it, we travel back in time with the Chance family. What were they like five years ago when their Hungry Hungry Hippos game had all its marbles and Maw Maw still had her marbles too?

Jimmy dressed like a reject from Kiss; the girl he now pines for, Sabrina, saw Jimmy dressed that way and she pined for him; Hope's mom started her career as a serial killer with a little advice from Sabrina; and Virginia and Burt stepped in to save the day, as they so often do, when they discovered that Maw Maw was actually a few marbles short of a Hungry Hungry Hippos game.

I loved it, and I'm extremely happy that Raising Hope has been renewed for a second season. I look forward to watching Hope and the rest of the Chance family continue to grow up and down and sideways.

Infinities of love,


Friday, May 27, 2011


Gentle Readers,

I'm afraid I simply must bring to your attention another error I see more and more frequently. YOUR is not a substitute for YOU'RE.



Example of correct usage:

Your dick is so dinky that even when you're holding an entire handful of fishhooks, you can't find the aforementioned Mr. Winkles.

If you feel confused by your and you're, then substitute YOU ARE for the word in question. If YOU ARE makes sense, then you want YOU'RE. It's just like ITS and IT'S. Substitute IT IS to find out if you want ITS or IT'S because IT'S = IT IS.

Get it? Got it? Good.

Infinities of love,


Thursday, May 26, 2011


Gentle Readers,

Oh Happy Day! Franklin finally got in bed with me this morning. He didn't stay long, but I hope it was the first of many cuddle times to come. My sleepy eyes were closed, but I knew it was him because of his sweet little kiss and the feel of his soft fur. By the time winter arrives again, I hope every night will be a three dog night.

We also just might know what breed Franklin is. We met two nice ladies at the park who said, He has to be part Bernese Mountain Dog. He looks exactly like one, only smaller. You go home and look up Bernese Mountain Dog and you'll see.

So, being the obedient pup I am, I looked up Bernese Mountain Dog, and Franklin does indeed look like one, but he's half the size or less.

But then Someone I Love informed me about a discovery: The Bordernese. We have decided that Franklin is a Bordernese, a mixture of Border Collie and Bernese Mountain Dog.

But Franklin doesn't care. He knew who he was all along: a good dog who deserves to be loved.

Infinities of love,


Wednesday, May 25, 2011


Gentle Readers,

If you need a movie the entire family can watch and enjoy together over Memorial Day weekend, then I recommend Secretariat. You won't have to fast forward past anything or put your hands over the kids' eyes and over Grandma's ears.

Secretariat, while not a brilliantly made movie, is certainly inspirational and fun, although I thought gospel music for a horse was a bit cheesy. This is a Disney movie, though.

You will definitely want to point out to the children and some men that the good ole' boys made fun of Penny Chenery for being a lowly housewife who thought she could have a winning race horse, but win Secretariat did. You can also look at actual footage of Secretariat online. I particularly enjoy his win in the Kentucky Derby.

I remember watching Secretariat win the Triple Crown when I was but a wee lass. Every race was thrilling.

With older children, you could also teach them a bit about film making and the fact that true stories are not always the truth. Filmmakers embellish or leave out information to add to the intensity of the story or make it flow more smoothly. For example, Secretariat did not save the Chenery's stable. Riva Ridge had done so the previous year. But it is true that the stud fees for Secretariat paid the inheritance tax when Penny's dad died. Penny Chenery was also one very well educated "housewife."

I guess that makes it a good time to talk about the importance of education, then.

So I think Secretariat can give you and the fam a lot to talk about and have fun with. And oh my goodness, you can also tell the kids not to do what Lola just did -- end a sentence with a preposition.

Shame on me.

Infinities of love,


Tuesday, May 24, 2011


Gentle Readers,

My dear friend LegalMist recently wrote a post about her experience with The Idiot who hit her car. What happened to LegalMist was much worse than my car being hit twice recently, but last night, something happened that frightened Franklin. The two young men who were involved could have been much worse idiots than they turned out to be.

Franklin and I were out for our evening constitutional when suddenly two young men, about 16 years old, came around a corner on bicycles. One of them came straight at us and then swerved at the last second. Franklin cowered and looked up at me in absolute terror. I don't care that much about my car being hit, but by God, you'd better not frighten my Franklin.

Fortunately, Franklin stayed with me and didn't bolt. Although he's always on a lead, he's so strong that if he really wanted to get away from me or drag me to the ground, he could. But Franklin is such a good dog.

The two butt heads rode away. I was pissed and upset and I shouted, You scared him. That was really mean.

The one who didn't ride toward us shouted back an apology immediately and I heard him tell the other boy, Hey, go back there and apologize to that lady.

The perpetrator returned and said, I'm sorry ma'am.

I thanked him, but I also warned him that it can be dangerous to frighten a dog. Dogs who are upset might chase a rider and bite his penis off before ripping the rest of him to shreds  bite him. Franklin is fast.

I comforted Franklin as much as possible and we continued toward home, but my poor boy was pretty skittish and unhappy. Franklin is old enough that he might not recover completely from his experiences as a stray. However, he's made progress, and I don't want him to lose ground.

So, kids on bikes, go ahead and ride. It's cool. But don't come at my Franklin or you will have one pissed off Lola on your hands and it won't be pretty if it happens again.

I'll tell Favorite Young Man on you.

Infinities of love,


Monday, May 23, 2011


Gentle Readers,

Since I've bitched and complained a wee bit about schools and teachers and losing my job as a teacher, I thought the very least I could do -- and never let it be said that I don't do the very least -- is to tell you my teaching philosophy.

It's really quite simple: Give the students basic rules to follow, enforce the rules, and then make it all as much fun as possible.

Going to school pretty much sucks. I teach high school, or would if that asshat son of a bitch principal hadn't convinced me I should go elsewhere and of course I told him to go to hell and fuck himself on the way  I wished him well and went on my merry way.

Joan Rivers, before she turned into Dr. Frankenweenie's plastic surgery monster, used to say that there are two people in high school who are happy: the quarterback of the football team and the head cheerleader. I doubt if they're even happy these days.

Everybody is worried about zits, the opposite sex, or even more difficult, the same sex, picking on or threatening someone before someone picks on or threatens you, fitting in or making a show of not fitting in, not having the right clothes, getting a boner in the middle of a class, farting stinkily and/or audibly, having someone to eat lunch with, a way to get to school and get home other than riding the bus, rejection, getting too much attention or not enough, and sex, sex, sex, sex.

These kids have enough to freak them out. They certainly don't need teachers who make fun of them and even call them stupid. One thing every damn teacher did that I really hated was saying There's no such thing as a stupid question and then as soon as somebody dared to ask a question, the teacher would make it clear it was a stupid question. You'd better believe I didn't ask questions.

The Lola Philosophy of Teaching is based on something My Kathy taught me about working with church youth groups: Food, Fun, and Fellowship.

So if the kids are cooperative, they get a cookie or a piece of candy. You'd be amazed at how excited high school students get over a cookie.

Fun can be had in many ways. During my recent albeit brief teaching stint, a girl had a stuffed animal in her backpack. Toward the end of class when our work was done, we played catch with the stuffed animal, me included. Somebody had to glance out the door occasionally to make sure the security guards or administrators weren't headed our way. It was fun and we connected and the kids saw that even though I made rules, I wasn't a total bitch.

But an even more important way to have fun is to make assignments fun. So many people have asked your Lola over the years, Why do they always pick the most boring books for us to read in school? We had to read The Scarlet Letter and I hated it.

And your Lola always replies, It's not The Scarlet Letter that's boring. It's the way you were taught that was boring.

So imagine your assignment is to read The Scarlet Letter. The first thing Lola does is ask the class to --  Put yourselves in Hester's place, but you're still high school students. You're standing in front of the entire school on the stage of the auditorium and your boy/girlfriend is forced to try to make you reveal a secret. Revelation will get your boy/girlfriend into sooooo much trouble. So you keep your mouth shut and take the heat yourself. Then you have to walk around with a big red letter A for a-hole on your clothes, and you're the only one who has to wear the red A. Some of your worst fears are realized when every time you go someplace, as you pass people, they whisper about you and you know what they say is nasty. Plus, you have a little kid to take care of all by yourself.

The class is then assigned to write a journal entry about how they feel as High School Hesters. Discussion ensues.

An interesting assignment to which you can relate is a fun assignment.

The Scarlet Letter has all sorts of good supernatural, cool shit in it that high school students could enjoy on top of all the good stuff about keeping secrets and how eventually, people forget why Hester wears the A on her clothes and they say it maybe stands for Angel. So you can see that feeling like an asshole (Lola wouldn't actually say a-hole or asshole - I'd just make sure the students knew what I was thinking) in high school doesn't have to be a feeling that lasts forever. This too shall pass.

Then there's fellowship. Although we aren't going to pray together or read the Bible together (and I do believe in the separation of church and state and keeping religion out of public schools), fellowship is achieved through the shared experiences we have in class, doing the assignments together, having fun together, and knowing you can come to Ms. Lola's class and she won't ever call you stupid or let anybody else call you stupid because Ms. Lola rules.

Kids will get upset about having rules to follow, but ultimately, they're glad the rules are there to protect them.

And that, my gentle friends, is The Lola Philosophy Of Teaching.

Infinities of love,


Sunday, May 22, 2011


Gentle Readers,

This is Carol's response to an email I sent her asking how the chemo is going (remember her daughter Dee Dee has multiple myeloma).

Bless you, 
So good to hear from you.
Chemo is going well, she has had 4 treatments so far without too many side effects. She is up and around throughout the day but she rests a lot too.
I'm glad you have talked with our young friends. I like to keep in touch with them. Please give them my regards.
David is out front beautifying the front yard. It looks so nice.
All is well, God is still in charge,

Saturday, May 21, 2011


Gentle Readers,

Being the wordaholic and grammar maven that I am, watching the news or listening to almost anyone talk is hell for me.

I try really hard not to let shit bother me too much and I seldom correct anyone. The English language must change, but I don't think I have to change with it. For example, I absolutely cannot bring myself to use impact as a verb.

Yesterday I wrote about some differences between American English and English English, mostly so I could use beaver, twat, etc. in a post, and I don't believe I mentioned spelling. Americans like color, neighbor, and so on, while Brits like colour, neighbour, and fannies.

Lately, however, on some American news programs I've seen adviser spelled advisor. Advisor is the British spelling. Has the AP style book changed its stance? I sincerely doubt it. I think the people doing the graphics for the TV newscasts just don't know how to spell.

A news program with a crawl across the bottom of the screen is pretty much unbearable for me because my eyes are drawn to the words, not the talking heads. I see spelling mistakes and factual errors in those crawls all the time.

So I seldom watch. Instead, I get my news from Dogs and Jeans.

In addition to like and yaknow, an overused word that gets to me is hopefully. I think I have mentioned this problem before, but like a nose that's ripe for picking, I can't leave it alone.

Hopefully should not be used to modify a sentence; that is, hopefully is taking the place of I hope. Some modern grammarians are beginning to accept this usage.

I can't take it. I really can't take it.

But I'll continue to try not to say anything when I hear it.

Infinities of love and correct grammar,


Friday, May 20, 2011


Gentle Readers,

Someone I love who is not my child yet calls me mom and doesn't want me to write about her has provided me with interesting information about the different uses of the English language in the United States and England. Not My Child earned a master's degree in England and returned with British Boyfriend.

N.M.C. told me about little things like a cell phone being called a mo-bile (long I), and an advertisement is an advert. She no longer experiences bad moods or anger; she's cross, but only occasionally.

I also heard Emma Watson (Hermione in the Harry Potter movies) talk about an error she made after starting school at Brown University. She went in the school bookstore and asked for a rubber.

Emma wanted an eraser.

I think I find it most interesting, though, that N.M.C. and British Boyfriend informed me recently that in England your fanny is not your rear end. The fanny is, uh, shhhh, send the children out of the room, a lady's private parts or twat or vaginal arena or vijay-jay or the c-word or pussy or snatch or genitals or beaver or bearded clam or quim. 

There. I think I've gotten that out of my system.

I'd never heard of bearded clam or quim before. I found them in my beloved Roget's Super Thesaurus. Perhaps those are other British expressions. But fanny is listed as a synonym for butt.

Anyhoo, fanny certainly gives new meaning to the expression "my aunt's fanny," which I intend to use far more often, especially if I get another teaching job, because I shall giggle privately when I say it. And of course, some women (I've never met one - they are always in movies) proudly bear the name Fanny.

I wonder if some screenwriter knew what was what when dubbing a character Fanny.

I suspect so.

Always look for the naughty in people.

Infinities of love,


Thursday, May 19, 2011


Gentle Readers,

I wonder if anyone other than me is old enough to remember that bouncy, cheerful Gilbert O'Sullivan tune with the bouncy, cheerful lyrics that went something like this:

In a little while from now, if I'm not feeling any less sour, I promise myself to treat myself and visit a nearby tower. While climbing to the top, to throw myself off . . .

And so on and so forth. I had no idea when that song was popular during my youth that is was about depressed, miserable people. It sounded so freaking happy.

Anyhoo, Alone Again leads me to today's topic: I live alone, and that's fine with me.

Nobody looks over my shoulder and judges me. I have two bathrooms all to myself. I can bathe in one and shit in the other.

It's mine, all mine, and I like it like that.

Of course, the dogs are here. But living with dogs is not the same as living with people. The dogs are always happy and in love with me. Harper has disappeared a few times, but he doesn't intend to be cruel. He's adventurous. Dogs never ask for money and they don't want the keys to the car. Mine are very good about peeing and pooping in the yard.

I miss my children but not so much that I want to live with them. They need their independence, and for the first time in my life, I have mine. I quite often wake up in the morning, and even though he's been gone a long time, I wonder where my husband is. Why isn't he in the bed next to me? Then I remember and I feel the loss for a few minutes and let it go.

I can have as many dogs in bed with me as are willing to jump up and join me. If I can't sleep and I want to watch a movie at 3 a.m., I can. Nobody wakes me up by snoring when I've finally fallen asleep, and I don't wake up anyone with my snoring because dogs don't mind snoring. I get to use the computer when I want. No one turns on the TV when I'm reading.

I'm not alone again, but I'm alone.

And it's all good Mama.

Infinities of love,


Wednesday, May 18, 2011


Gentle Readers,

Why lie?

I can tell you why I have. There's Why, no, I can't tell you've gained weight. And there's Wow, I love your outfit. That color is great on you.

I also lied to protect myself as in I didn't touch that dish. I don't know who broke it.

However, I was never the kind of mom who lied to my kids in order to get them to do things. Long, long ago, I had a terrible pain in my stomach and side and my mom told me to eat the square of Hershey's chocolate she had brought me. I was six or seven years old and something told me this was not Hershey's chocolate, but I was under orders and I ate the thing, which turned out to be Ex-Lax. I had an emergency appendectomy later that night.

You may ask, Are the two related? I don't know, but I suspect Ex-Lax is to blame for many of the world's problems.

As the lies continued over the years, and I became more and more jaded, I decided I would not do the same thing to my kids. So it really pissed me off when they went to school and guess who told them lies?


This child, not mine but somebody else's yet for some reason she called me mom, came to me during the fifth-grade anti-drug education program and said Mrs. Blugblug tells us over and over that sooner or later we'll be at a party and someone will come up to us and give us something and tell us to take it and it will be drugs. I responded, Never in my entire life has anyone given me drugs at a party and ordered me to take them. Furthermore, when I was in high school and some of the boys I knew smoked pot, they went out of their way to be kind to me and share with me and say it wasn't necessary for me to smoke any, so I joined right in I never smoked any.

That kinda reminds me of one of my favorite Sex and the City episodes when the police catch Carrie smoking a doobie and she gets out of it by showing the officer the post-it note that Berger used to break up with her. My boyfriend broke up with me with a post-it note. Waaah.

But, ah, I digress.

That same kid I knew had a teacher who yelled at the class all the time about how they'd better be ready for the state's standardized testing and it was extremely important to do well, blah blah blah. She was sick of being shouted at day after day and the stress had her teary eyed and upset constantly. So I told her the truth: You don't get a score on the test. It's meant to judge the school and the teacher so do whatever you want.

She smiled and we never talked about the test again. I have no idea if she made an effort on the stupid test or if she blew it off.

Now, a story about a kid who definitely belongs to me, but this was not a case of the teacher lying. Favorite Young Man was in first or second grade when he brought home a letter from the PTA warning students and parents that a certain item enjoyed by children was, in fact, a means of giving them LSD. I'm not going to say what it was because I don't want to get this hoax fired up again. It was around for years, and there wasn't even an internet then.

I called the PTA person who had distributed the letter and told her nicely that this was a hoax and I had read about it in Newsweek. She actually argued with me and told me it never hurt to warn kids about drugs. I said that when we warned kids, we should be telling them the truth because if they find out we're lying then they have no reason to believe us in the future. She said, Well it came from the state police.

So I called the state police and mentioned it to the bored guy who answered the phone, and he finally said, Oh yeah, we did get something that said blahblahblah isn't true.

But nobody ever made a retraction or explained it was an error.

Years late, a member of a county-wide Citizens Advisory Committee (to the schools) informed me that they were going to announce they would advocate that students had to wear uniforms to school. Then when people complained, they were going to say Let's have a dress code instead, and get what they wanted by lowering their demand.

She told the wrong person. I said, It's never wise to begin an endeavor with a lie.

I think it's one of the few times someone listened to me because no announcement came from the committee, and if one had, I would have been all over it with the truth.

Yes, I've lied. I've lied to protect other people and myself. But when my bank accidentally deposited $1000 in my account twice and I had only made one deposit, I alerted the bank.

I feel as if I've rambled quite a bit today. I guess the morals of my story are Don't let lies get out of control and Just because information comes from teachers or the police, it isn't necessarily true. And if you get caught smoking a doobie, tell the police your boyfriend used a post-it note to break up with you.

Why doesn't spell check recognize doobie? Isn't that a common usage?

Anyhoo, teachers who frighten and harass and harangue students with lies are out of control.

Maybe I failed as a teacher because I was too honest.

Infinities of love,


Tuesday, May 17, 2011


Gentle Readers,

Long ago, I worked with someone named Fuckin' Larry. When my employment with a particular company commenced, I foolishly believed this young gentleman's name was simply Larry.

Thank God everyone set me straight.

I learned by simply listening.

Where's that Fuckin' Larry? That Fuckin' Larry is never at his desk. Nobody can ever find that Fuckin' Larry.

But when I began each day's toil, it was Fuckin' Larry I asked when I needed help with a problem. He was always nice and friendly and came to help me immediately when no one else would. I soon noticed that much of his time was taken up by solving everyone's problems.

That's why Fuckin' Larry spent so little time at his desk. So the next time I heard a manager complain about Fuckin' Larry, I pointed out that Fuckin' Larry's real job had migrated. He had been transformed into the office savior. The manager had to admit it was true.

I hope I was of some assistance to that very kind young man by pointing out that he was Helpful Fuckin' Larry.

But I still like the name Fuckin' Larry, and were I of childbearing age, perhaps I would pass on that name to a son. Maybe I can convince my children, should they ever get around to presenting me with grandchildren, that Fuckin' Larry makes an excellent moniker.

Obviously memorable.

Infinities of love,


Monday, May 16, 2011


Gentle Readers,

I've been involved in two hit and runs this year, and, no, I didn't hit, nor did I run -- well, o.k., there was that old guy on the bike -- no, never mind.

First, my car was parked in front of Favorite Young Man's house. During the night, someone hit the driver's side hard enough to dent it and scrape the paint. I know the car was red because my car had red streaks on it.

But that's all I know about the car. I know nothing about the driver except he/she was a jerk. No one left a note or pounded on the door to provide insurance information and beg for forgiveness.

$1300 in damage.

Then recently I started to back out of my parking space at the grocery store and suddenly I noticed that the person behind me and to my right had also started to back up. I was first, but no matter, the other driver kept coming in spite of my quick honking. I tried to put the car in gear and move back into my space, but I didn't have a chance. The other car kept coming and hit my bumper.

I got out of my car, but while other shoppers on foot and I watched in astonishment, the car pulled away.
I called the police, but no one was able to read her tag. We aren't going to find her -- unless I happen to run into her the next time I visit the store (tee hee). Fortunately, she didn't do much damage. Just a little cracked paint on the bumper. I know it's not enough damage to exceed my insurance deductible so I decided against filing a report with the police because it would go to the insurance company and I don't want them thinking I hang out in crazy places where it's easy to hit my car. I don't really go anyplace wild, and yet I'm starting to wonder if everyplace has out of control drivers who simply do not care.

When I took the car in to be checked after the first hit, the insurance appraiser told me she used to see one, maybe two, hit and runs in a month. Now she sees multiple hit and runs every week.

I think that says something about us as a society, and I think it says something about our economy.

And it's disconcerting for your careful driver Lola to be hit twice in a few months. I can't stay at home all the time. Kibble simply must be purchased.

Infinities of love,


Sunday, May 15, 2011


Gentle Readers,

I love the book series The Chronicles of Narnia by C. S. Lewis. I didn't read the books for the first time until Favorite Young Man was eight years old. A lovely friend gave us the entire series and explained to me that they were allegories. I read the books aloud and everyone listened. Even the youngest member of our family, not quite two years old, learned to say Dawn Treader.

Now I enjoy the movies based on the books. The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe has me in tears every time I see it when Aslan, the lion who symbolizes Jesus, gives his life to redeem Edmund, and thus, all of humankind. It really personalizes Christ's sacrifice for us. Aslan is simply beautiful. I don't know if he's a computer creation, and I don't want to know. His majesty is amazing and lovely, and he has the voice of Liam Neeson.

Since then I have also enjoyed Prince Caspian, and most recently because it's fairly new to DVD and I can't really afford movies in theaters, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader. I saw it last week and absolutely loved it. The quality of these productions is superb. They are suitable for just about all ages (might be too frightening for children younger than five, but you know your child better than I do), and if you want to teach children more about the tenets of Christianity, here's a great opportunity.

Furthermore, the young actor who plays Caspian is hotter than a firecracker, and the younger actor who plays Eustace is suitably obnoxious. The Voyage of The Dawn Treader is Eustace's coming of age and coming to Christianity story, while Edmund and Lucy bid us farewell for now.

I recommend you watch all three of the movies out so far, whether you have children or not. They are excellent.

Infinities of love,


The C. S. in C. S. Lewis stood for Clive Staples, but Lewis was commonly known as Jack, certainly a more friendly and accessible name.

Saturday, May 14, 2011


Gentle Readers,

I was the one who felt blue after watching today's movies.

The first, Country Strong, was fairly enjoyable for a while although I'm not a country music fan. I really like Gwyneth Paltrow, though, and she was pretty good as a country singing star fresh out of rehab -- too fresh out of rehab to go on tour.

Singer Kelly Canter and her manager husband James (Tim McGraw) are not in a good place, and I don't just mean the tour bus. James, as a manager, has no problem taking Kelly out of rehab a month early; taking her to Dallas, where she had a terrible experience, to perform; and issuing orders to her that are ultimately to his benefit. James is even poorer husband material. He's physically and emotionally unavailable, but blames Kelly's problems on everyone but himself. When he shares a brief moment of intimacy with Kelly, he quickly retreats to leave her wondering and wandering.

The conclusion of this movie is really a downer. What I guess is supposed to be a happy ending for two characters doesn't score very high on the pleasure scale because what comes immediately before it is too overwhelmingly sad. It almost completely spoils the movie.

McGraw is the only country singer in the movie, but he doesn't sing. That's fine. I don't know if he's good anyway. If you really love Paltrow or McGraw or country music, then you might want to see Country Strong, but I don't recommend it.

After getting down in the dumps with Country Strong, I watched Blue Valentine. Big mistake. I shouldn't watch two sad movies in a row.

Blue Valentine chronicles the burgeoning romance between Cindy (Michelle Williams) and Dean (Ryan Gosling), intercut with the tale of their disintegrating marriage. At first I had trouble figuring out what was going on, but I caught on after a bit. It just didn't grab me, although I thought Williams and Gosling gave excellent performances.

Part of the time I was bored; part of the time I was depressed.

It seems that the director used some interesting techniques, however. For example, Williams and Gosling didn't know each other well, so first they filmed the scenes when Cindy and Dean meet. Then the two actors went off and lived together for about a month and did mundane stuff like going grocery shopping and picking fights with each other. Then they came back and shot their scenes as a married couple.

If I had listened to the DVD commentary, I might have liked this movie better, but I just didn't have the energy for it after watching two sad movies.

I hope Netflix sends me something upbeat later this week. I can appreciate a sad movie when the performances blow me away or the director shoots the film in some interesting and unusual way.

But I prefer happily ever after.

Infinities of love,


Friday, May 13, 2011


Gentle Readers,

I am concerned about the number of people I hear describing something they don't like by saying "it's gay," "that's gay," "you are so gay."

I'm especially concerned because I've fallen into imitating what I've heard and two or three times I've described something as gay.

First, I have to make sure I don't make this mistake again.

The relationship to homosexuality is obvious, and I have no problem with gay people. So, I must avoid the gay put down, just as I have already avoided saying that something or someone is retarded. That's rude too.

If you think I've overdoing the political correctness, well, too bad. I don't agree.

Thus, I ask you, all my gentle readers, to please watch your language. It's fine to say you don't like something, but let's try not to offend people in the process. If you wonder whether it's o.k. to use gay or retarded, then try substituting "black."

If it's not o.k. to say black, then it's not o.k. to use other labels that are traditionally considered denigrating.

Infinities of love,


Thursday, May 12, 2011


Gentle Readers,

Before we talk movies, we must again talk followers. The lovely Mrs. Tuna from Working Woman's Guide to Dinner or If I Cook Chicken A La King One More Time I'll Kill Myself has joined our merry band of followers. I believe you will find Mrs. Tuna to be absolutely charming. I cannot resist a woman who not only writes an amusing blog but also provides a recipe. Furthermore, the recipes look pretty easy and delicious. I can't wait to try some. AND Mrs. Tuna's profile photo is that of an adorable dog. 'Nuff said.

But now, we're off to the showI have for your consideration two movies fairly new to DVD. Let's begin with Black Swan, which is easy. Don't bother with it. Your Lola watched it for you so you needn't waste your precious time on it.

Remember when I worried that my dear Annette Bening might be cheated out of an Oscar for The Kids Are All Right? Well, Annette wasn't merely cheated. She was totally ripped off. Anybody can play a psycho paranoid delusional ballerina as Natalie Portman does in Black Swan, but not just anyone can create a sensitive and subtle portrayal as a woman whose partner has cheated on her with the sperm-donor father of their two children as Annette does in The Kids Are All Right.

I really detested Black Swan as it reached its climax and pretty much turned into a freak show. I also disliked Barbara Hershey's extremely unpleasant whining whimpering control-freak mother act.

Have you been scratching yourself again? What a disgusting habit. Get over here. Even though you are an adult and a success at what you do and I'm a failure I'm going to make up for my inadequacy by controlling you and living through you. I'm going to cut your fingernails and then when you look to the side of your bedroom while masturbating you will see me asleep in the chair! No privacy for you, bitch.

Yuck! Took me back to the old days when I was a ballerina and people always hung out in my room while I masturbated. We ballerinas get no respect and no privacy. Thank God I gave up the world of dance in favor of blogging.

Pleasantly, our second movie turned out to be a light comedy that I enjoyed immensely. I don't think The Tourist was a big success critically or commercially, but I loved it and I recommend it highly. Although it's a light comedy, don't turn off your brain. It has all sorts of interesting twists and turns and lovely scenery, including my husband-to-be, Johnny Depp.

Angelina Jolie is as beautiful as ever. How many kids does that woman have now? They certainly don't keep her from looking great.

I'll tell you the beginning of the plot, but I can't say too much because it's very important to let the movie unfold naturally. Johnny Depp plays a -- guess what? -- tourist named Frank Tupelo who teaches at a community college. Then he meets a beautiful woman on a train, and she is played by the ravishing Angelina.

Before Frank Tupelo knows what bit his balls he's involved in intrigue and chases and a little violence, but it's all good, Mama. It's fun and not frightening. Johnny and Angelina don't have quite the chemistry that Angelina and her beloved Brad had in Mr. and Mrs. Smith (love that movie), but Johnny and Angelina still work well together. Johnny can't help it if he's not Brad. Actually, I like Johnny better. Johnny and I have THE BEST chemistry in the world. He just doesn't know it yet.

But I really like The Tourist. It's a great DVD to watch when you want to relax but not be so relaxed that you have nothing to think about and no plot to follow.

Now I bid you a fond farewell, but not without saying welcome, welcome, welcome, Mrs. Tuna.

Infinities of love,


Wednesday, May 11, 2011


Gentle Readers,

Before I get into how loose and nasty we are, we must welcome a new follower. It's a hot dad named Trooper Thorn at http://hotdads.blogspot.com/, whose photo you can see with those of my other followers, except LegalMist, who hasn't posted lately and is a mere shadow of her former self. You can also find the Super Trooper, who is extremely amusing, blogging at some other sites, which I trust you to be smart enough to find yourself once you've clicked on the link I provided or you can click on his photo. Welcome, welcome, welcome Trooper Thorn!

I find it very interesting and highly amusing that for someone with a "mere" (I value each and every one of you, Darling Followers, so don't be confused by my use of the word mere) nine followers, I get a lot of hits. I find I am increasingly popular in Slovenia and South Korea, so I say God bless you Slovenians and South Koreans and keep on comin' on.

Now, loose and nasty? Nah, that's not really what I want to talk about. Cheap and rude is my topic today because I was over at The Restaurant Managers Rant. The manager says that Sunday morning shifts are the worst in restaurants because church-going people have high expectations but are low tippers.

I posted a comment mentioning that I am a Christian and I typically tip 15 - 20% or more, especially since I rarely order an expensive meal so why shouldn't I give some extra money to that hard-working server?

However, the restaurant manager received many comments agreeing with him and stating that people who go to church are indeed cheap and rude.

I feel terrible.

I don't like it when Christians go out of their way to make Christians look bad.

I admit I have gotten pissy with servers a few times over the years, but only when the service has been really, really bad. I prefer to write something on a comment card or on the receipt. Or, if it's absolutely necessary, I say something to the manager. I also sometimes write compliments on the receipt.

On Mother's Day, Favorite Young Man and I went out for a nice meal. The food was great, but the service was extremely slooooooow. We waited a long time for the server to bring the check. He didn't, but he brought food to the next table. When he walked by, I asked for the check.

We continued to wait.

No check.

So, finally we went up to the cash register, and there our server was at a table near the front, serving meals to a very large group.

Favorite Young Man and I told the cashier we needed our check, but we didn't complain. It wasn't a big deal. I think they had more business than they expected to have at 3 p.m. on a Sunday. Normally, when F.Y.M. and I go out at mid-afternoon, the restaurant is dead. I think the server simply had more than he could handle. The gentleman at the cash register apologized. I replied, It's not a problem. Then I left the same tip I usually leave.

Please don't stereotype Christians/church attendees. I often go out with other Christians and I have never seen a single one behave in a disrespectful manner or leave a tiny tip. My Kathy, in particular, is generous with absolutely everyone.

However, if you go out to eat after church and this message has made you think you could be nicer and more generous, then please take the spirit-filled feeling you enjoy in church and carry it with you into the restaurant. Be as friendly and kind as you can be while your server brings you your meal that you now don't have to cook and serve yourself. Then when your tummy is full and you know you can go home and take a nap, please leave a generous tip for your tired server who can't go home yet.

My Brother and Sister Christians, we must watch ourselves and let the world see the love in which we believe.

Infinities of love,


Tuesday, May 10, 2011


Gentle Readers,

I would appreciate it very much if you would be on the lookout for an error that I see more and more frequently. It's almost to the point that I can say it's ubiquitous.

Please watch the transition here from correct to incorrect. I hope it explains how I think we arrive at incorrect.

Correct: Would have - - Should have -- Could have 
I would have cut off Larry's balls but he apologized when I went to get the scissors.

Correct but not as precise: Would've -- Should've -- Could've
I should've cut off Larry's balls, but he ran away when I approached with the scissors.

Incorrect: Would of -- Should of -- Could of
Stop! In the name of love - - before you break my heart. Think it o-o-ver.

See where we've ended? We've moved from a correct word to an incorrect word, and I think it's because of  the spoken Would've, Should've, Could've. That VE sound seems to cause many listeners to believe it is OF. Thus, it leads writers to an incorrect word. The word should be HAVE, not OF. I see OF employed more and more frequently in place of HAVE.

Also, please watch out for "reasons why." It's redundant. You don't need "why" after you've written or said "reasons."

Your Lola is always looking for ways to help you improve your clarity and also enjoys being the dispenser of knowledge that has passed over so many innocent people's heads.

Infinities of love,


Monday, May 9, 2011


Gentle Readers,

Franklin and I are playing a new game called Doggie Toy Sneakery.

Here's how to play: Leave the back door open because the weather is nice. The dogs can come and go as they please, enjoying their well-fenced back yard.

However, Franklin has a hidden agenda. He takes the doggie toys to the back yard and leaves them there. I bring the doggie toys in and put them on the family room floor.

Franklin takes the toys to the living room, pretending he will play with them there. Then, when I'm not looking, he sneaks them to the back yard.

I sneak them back in and put them in the family room.

This game can continue all day and provides hours of fun.

But somehow, Franklin is winning. He is ahead by two because that's how many doggie toys I can't find.

The dogs are definitely taking over my world.

Infinities of love,


Sunday, May 8, 2011



DeeDee update: Carol is with DeeDee, who is hospitalized. She will let me know how DeeDee is when she can. Thank you so much for the many responses to my requests for prayers.

Infinities of love,



Thank you, thank you, thank you. We are here , all is well. Dee dee started chemo today. So far so good. Delay is not denial, keep praying.

Wednesday, May 4, 2011


Gentle Readers,

On May 2nd I asked you to pray for my friend Carol's daughter DeeDee, who has been diagnosed with multiple myeloma. I've received many responses; please know that Carol, DeeDee, and the rest of the family appreciate your thoughtfulness.

Today I'll publish Carol's prayer for DeeDee. Carol, who is usually so eloquent in prayer, is having difficulty finding what to say. I think the Bible verse she quotes makes an excellent prayer.

I'm finding it hard to find the right words for prayer right now but I keep repeating the scripture Romans 8:28: We know that all things work together for good to them that love God and are called according to his purpose. Because of that I know there is good in this somewhere, I just have to trust God to show me the way.

If you aren't praying for DeeDee and her family yet, then please do so, or if you don't pray, then please send positive thoughts their way.

Infinities of love and prayer,


Tuesday, May 3, 2011


Gentle Readers,

I have two movies for your viewing pleasure and amazement. Both are excellent.

The first is The Fighter, starring Marky Mark (he'll always be Marky Mark to me even though I never knew what he did other than model undies for Calvin Klein). Based on a true story, Marky Mark plays Micky, a boxer who is getting down to his last chance. Micky tells his drug-addict and formerly successful boxer brother Dicky, played by Christian Bale, that he can't train Micky anymore because Micky really wants to succeed.

Micky and Dicky come from a big Boston Irish Catholic family and they have a metric fuck ton of sisters. This Bitch Pack is led by their mother, played by Melissa Leo. The movie is dramatic and moving and exciting, and the Bitch Pack -- who might be tougher than their boxer brothers -- cracks me up. I love Melissa Leo with her too tight pants and helmet hair leading the crowd.

So what will happen? Will blood prove thicker than water and will Micky take Dicky back? Watch and learn.

The Fighter was nominated for the Academy Award for best picture and Christian Bale and Melissa Leo won well-deserved best supporting actor Oscars. After I watched the DVD of this movie, I thought, Wow, this is so good, how was it beaten?

Then I watched The King's Speech and I knew why it KO'd The Fighter. What a cast. My beloved Colin Firth was so incredibly good as Prince Bertie who becomes King George VI and fights his stammer with the help of his beloved wife, Queen Elizabeth (Helena Bonham Carter), and his speech therapist, Lionel Logue (Geoffrey Rush). My beloved Colin won best actor and Bonham Carter and Rush, who were nominated for Best Supporting actors in their roles, were as worthy of wins as Christian Bale and Melissa Leo. I really don't know how the voters decided.

So both movies have great acting, involve a family struggle, have a battle, though of different sorts, and are moving while also having moments of hilarity.

I think what put The King's Speech on top is the way director Tom Hooper shot it. Technically, it's quite interesting and the technical aspects add to the strength of the film. My beloved Colin Firth is 6'3", while Bertie was a rather small man, very slight. Hooper often shoots Firth from above to diminish him, not only in size, but to diminish him as a person. He looks very small and tense and worried and not at all kingly.

In one shot, Bertie and Elizabeth are sitting together on a couch. Elizabeth sits up, sits forward on the couch, while Bertie sits back, huddled down. Hooper also quite often shoots Bertie so he's in one side of the frame and the rest of the frame is a blank wall -- negative space. The wall suggests the blankness of Bertie's life and his feelings of uselessness and fear. Bertie IS a blank wall until his speech starts to improve.

Wow, two great movies and they are available on DVD now. Be sure to listen to the commentary on The King's Speech. It's quite interesting.

Infinities of love,


Monday, May 2, 2011


Gentle Readers,

We need your help. My friend Carol has learned that her daughter DeeDee has multiple myeloma (bone marrow cancer). Please pray for DeeDee.

You can pray, ask your friends and relatives to pray, ask safe strangers to pray, ask any congregation to pray. If you aren't someone who prays, then please send positive thoughts to DeeDee.

If you would like to write a prayer or a message to DeeDee, I will pass it on. With your permission, I will publish your prayers.

DeeDee needs a miracle!

Infinities of love,


Dear Lord, our Father, 

We ask that you send healing and comfort to your daughter DeeDee. Be with her in this time of great need. Please help her doctors know the best treatment for her. And please help her family. Give them the strength to do everything that DeeDee needs.

In Jesus' name we pray.



Gentle Readers,

I rejoice at the death of no man, but I'm not so sure Osama Bin Laden was a man. I think he was a demon.




Gentle Readers,

Again, blame Sandra at http://www.absolutelynarcissism.com/2011/04/makings-of-facebook-profile-picture.html for my use of whore in my title.

I write to you at this moment because I have just had a most interesting idea.

If things ever get so bad that I'm totally broke and going to be thrown out of my house, I will convert to Catholicism and become a nun. I will live in the convent and be given some nun job to do, perhaps trying to help whores, and meals will be included -- kind of like those all-inclusive resorts. I like to sing so I can be in the nun choir and we will entertain, just like in Sister Act.

I tell ya, sometimes I have such fucking good ideas that I just don't know where they come from. God, I guess.

Infinities of love,


Sunday, May 1, 2011


3-year-old Reese : 
'Our Father, Who does art in heaven,
Harold is His name.

A little boy was overheard praying:
'Lord, if you can't make me a better boy, don't worry about it.
I'm having a real good time like I am.'


After the christening of his baby brother in church,
Jason sobbed all the way home in the back seat of the car.
His father asked him three times what was wrong.
Finally, the boy replied,
'That preacher said he wanted us brought up in a Christian home,
and I wanted to stay with you guys.'


One particular four-year-old prayed,
'And forgive us our trash baskets
as we forgive those who put trash in our baskets.'


A Sunday school teacher asked her children as they
were on the way to church service,
'And why is it necessary to be quiet in church?'
One bright little girl replied,
'Because people are sleeping.'


A mother was preparing pancakes for her sons, Kevin 5, and Ryan 3.
The boys began to argue over who would get the first pancake.
Their mother saw the opportunity for a moral lesson.
'If Jesus were sitting here, He would say,
'Let my brother have the first pancake, I can wait.'
Kevin turned to his younger brother and said,
' Ryan , you be Jesus !'


A father was at the beach with his children
when the four-year-old son ran up to him,
grabbed his hand, and led him to the shore
where a seagull lay dead in the sand.
'Daddy, what happened to him?' the son asked.
'He died and went to Heaven,' the Dad replied.
The boy thought a moment and then said,
'Did God throw him back down?'
A wife invited some people to dinner. 
At the table, she turned to their six-year-old daughter and said,
'Would you like to say the blessing?'
'I wouldn't know what to say,' the girl replied.
'Just say what you hear Mommy say,' the wife answered.
The daughter bowed her head and said,
'Lord, why on earth did I invite all these people to dinner?'