Let's All Have A Pajama Party! With Pie!

Last weekend, I stepped out of my comfort zone. I was dared to do it. So, the kids could have pie.

I went out to the Winn Dixie one night to get the kids pie, in my jammie-pants. KC and my wife said people do this ALL the time. It isn't like going to a snazzy restaurant in just your underwear, and accidentally running into Christina Aguilera on break from shooting a music video. Er, Christina would probably be wearing just her underwear, too, in that case.

Anyway, I went to the store about 30 minutes before closing wearing a hoodie and my Guinness pajama pants. I walked all over the store looking for a pecan pie, but ended up with just the pumpkin. And, y'know what I saw? There was a guy, about 20 years old, wearing his pajama pants. They were plaid. Not my style, but hey! I was hip! That never happens! I was wearing pajama pants in public! I even added a little strut to my parading around the Winn Dixie.

The next morning, it was about 50 deg. F (10 deg C). We were headed to the beach to clam (another story), but stopped off at the Dunkin Donuts. It was much too cold to be wearing anything as light and comfy as jammie pants. Oh, sure, there was the young woman wearing capris and a halter top. And the two little girls wearing matching tutus. One was bare foot.

Three young ladies (Two barefoot! In a restaraunt! --well, a donut shop) strolled in wearing pajama pants! They must have been around 20 yrs old, looking young, and much too hip for me to be talking to.

*** Here's a tip for all those married men out there. Do NOT point out to your wife how attractive the pretty, young lady's Tinker Bell jammie pants are. How they are light green, with Tinker Bells in various poses, and "Tinker Bell" written on them in fuschia with hearts. And, how well worn they look. Your wife will tell you she knows what you're REALLY looking at, and finish your damn coffee. ***

Anyhoo--

I got to thinking. (WAIT! Stick with me! I wasn't thinking that hard!) What if my wearing pajama pants in public is NOT hip (or cool, or sick, or damaged, or whatever the kids are saying), but just an old fart dressing too young? A cisvestite (That's a word, right? I saw it in a book.).

So, I won't be doing the pajama pants in public again. Unless someone out there needs a pie some night. That's right. Mild-mannered Tinkguy is really Pieman! Delivering pies to all good citizens, wearing his pajamas! Who wants pie?

Where Do Thoughts Come From??

It's not the cartoon angel and devil on my shoulder. It's not my mind sifting through a cosmic stream of consciousness. It's not the way you look tonight. (Unless... heh, heh, what'r yer wearing?)

The mind is a tool. (I've been told I'm a tool, but I digress. My mind is like that.)

A tool. That's it. It is not the seat of a soul, nor the unruly monkey trying to guide me to an early grave. It's like a snazzy calculator. And, it's programmable! Sure, thoughts are the product of mind. How the thought comes to me, and disappears is the mystery. Like a wave.

Say I'm looking at a kitten, or a flower, or the way you look tonight, and I notice I have this thought, "Gosh, it/you are easy on my eyes." The kitten, flower, nor you put that thought in my head. Nor the next one that follows: "That kitten/flower/you would look great in my living room." And, guaranteed there are more thoughts that follow. How I'd get it/you there, what to feed it/you. Cats are good, flowers are best, all else is bad.--

I thought these thoughts were correct, just because I thought them! THAT'S crazy! And, maybe they will loop over and over. In a rut. Some thoughts that many, many people have, like: "I'm shy," "I suck at business," or "You look really great tonight." (Well, that last one IS right. You do look awesome tonight. Is that a new shirt?)

It's my senses taking in info, putting them in my mind-tool which makes snap-judgments of raw data at 1/16th of a second, THEN playing them, or replaying them. What if I could just think and stop the auto snap-judging!?! Take thoughts as only raw data? Like a bubble blown by a child floating through my mind.

I like it best when my mind is OFF! Crazy, I know. But, when I drew, all I did was draw. My brain wasn't chattering away about housework, politics, or the way you look tonight. (Seriously. You should be in movies, or selling me something.) I knew a musician who said the same thing happened when he played. The thoughts stopped. It's happened when I beat on my little drum player. (I don't care that I suck at drums. But, that's not my point.) And, every now and then, when the house is quiet, and I've got the pattern down-- knitting. Sometimes, doing the dishes. Scrubbing the floor. Walking for awhile by myself. And, just sitting.

It's not the thoughts that are good or bad. They are just thoughts. And, I'm just sick of having them all the time. I gotta go knit.

I reckon I've bored you enough. So, what do you think?

Mnemosyne's Kiss

My wife, boy and I were rushing through the public access to Neptune Beach last night. The Space Shuttle Endeavor was going to be launched. At 7:50 in the evening, the beach was dimly lit by a moon, a smidge on the waning side, but slathered in layers of cloud. Sea foam flopped along the sand, over our feet. Looking south, into the strong wind, was a dense sea spray fog. I left my hoodie in the car. I was a little chilly. Dangnabbit wind. Small groups of folks huddled around their mobile phones, connected to the NASA site. T minus 5 minutes.

I had brought my binoculars. I don't use them much any more. Star gazing, sometimes. Tonight, it was more cloudy than starry. Nothing really to point the binoculars at. There was a small, greenwhite pin-light near the ocean's horizon, about 5 degrees north of east. Through the binoculars I can see subtle shades of black of the fishing ship's shape.

There was a tanker. It was underway without lights. Creeping blacked-out city on waves. Safe passage through the Gulf. Socolddamnwind. Balls to 8 watch again. So tired. No stars. Socolddamnwind. Glow. Off starboard now. Water ablaze. Tanker. Thrashing souls. Screams in my head. So, so damn #$%&ing cold. Damn wind.

"Daddy, can I see?" my boy says, tugging at my pants. T minus 2 minutes and counting.

"Huh? Um, there's nothing to see out there. But, sure." I put the binocular strap over his head. "Y'know, your dad used to do this for a living."

A hoodie would have been nice.

O! Say, can you see O's?

Obama. That's the answer.

The Fed. Gov't should license Obama! Take Obama's name, his head, his logo, and put it on EVERYTHING! Official Obama merchandise!

Wake up to a bowl of Obama-O's! Fortified with vitamins, minerals and hope! Don't think you can eat a whole bowl? Yes you can! And, each box has a free Obama bobblehead inside!

Obama T-shirts, tote-bags, towels. Obama coffee mugs, coin sets, and collector plates. Obama sun screens for cars. Obama teething rings for babies. Obama temporary tattoos for the tweens!

Obama's family sauerkraut recipe. Obama soap-on-a-rope. Obama pajamas!

And, not only does the Fed take the profits and put it toward the national debt, but all this stuff could be American made!

Save the US Auto Industry! Just put Obama's face on the hood of all the models that won't sell!

Obama (TM) is just the thing to get the American economy moving again! Heck-by-golly-gee-willikers! I'm betting all these goods will sell fast over seas! His international appeal is phenomenal! He might even be bigger than John Lennon! Imagine there is no more trade deficit!

Man, I've got to get a message off to Senator Bill Nelson. This could pay for two crappy wars, a bail-out of a corrupt banking system, and two skeins of sock yarn for every man, woman and child in the world! Maybe even some U.S. healthcare thrown in!

sigh

Some days I wonder what Pam would do.

America: Time for a REAL change

So, when we were in New York City, my wife and boy and I were sitting on a bench. We were on a subway platform waiting for the next train.

Then, my wife and boy slipped off the bench, and they just disappeared into the crowd. I couldn't do anything to stop them! When I looked to my other side, I realized I was sitting next to (*gasp*) a lesbian! I had heard rumors back then gays and lesbians could destroy families like that. I had no idea it would happen so abruptly. Fortunately, I was able to shoo away the vile lesbian with the pocket New Testament I keep handy for just such emergencies.

OH, COME ON!!

Florida passed Amendment 2: The Marriage Protection Amendment that states a marriage is between one man and one woman. California passed Proposition 8 saying the same thing.

Love is love is love. "It's the only thing there's just too little of." So, stop trying to stop it. Love is like spring, a hurricane, or, um, a god(dess). Why all the hate, Califlornida? And twenty-some-odd other miserable states.

Someone told me that homosexuals won't get into heaven. Well, who died and made you king/queen of heaven? It's not for YOU to judge, if I recall. Maybe some gays and lesbians (and me) don't want to go to your heaven anyhow. The music probably sucks. I hear Peng-lai is quite nice. And, we're not in heaven, folks, but in the land of the free.

Handy work

Ah, a special time of year! When the air turns crisp, and the heating ducts are burning off the dust. Time to huddle under a hand-knit afghan (remind me to make one of those) around the TV and watch all the toy commercials. Kids tugging at their parent's sleeve, saying "I want that!"

I like the toy commercials for another reason. I like watching the hands that make the super hero action figures fly. The hands that make Barbie dance. I like the doll commercials best, because the hands make Barbie's head cock just a little to make Barbie look like she's listening, or twist slightly to show off her glittery salon quality tresses. What tiny, subtle movements are barely added to the shot to make the doll seem alive.

And, sometimes these hands don't belong to the kids you think are playing with the toys. Sometimes you can barely see them.

I imagine the hands walking into an audition, and the director telling the hands to give their best walk, and the hand saying they can play younger. May be the producer asks if the hands are comfortable with full bare-knuckle shots.

My Pen Knife

So, have you ever misplaced something? I mean, you JUST had it. You swear up and down you just set it down for a second, and now you can't find it! You look for this something in the same place at least seven times. Then, when you turn around, THERE IT IS! It's in the place you thought you left it! It must have been sitting there all along.

Well, have you thought this: Maybe you didn't misplace it! Maybe the "lost" thing was NOT sitting where you thought it was all along. Maybe it was borrowed. Borrowed by the fay.

Oh, go ahead. Laugh it up. Leave your comments below that I'm nuts.



But, it happens ALL the time to me. The item the fairies have been borrowing quite a bit lately is my pen knife. I keep it in my left front pants pocket-- when it's not being borrowed. It is usually returned to my pants pocket a day or so later. Just this past Saturday I found it in my knitting bag after about four days missing. The knitter sitting next to me wondered why I was giggling, but I didn't tell her.

And, now my pen knife's gone missing again. And, I don't mind. I just smile, and know the pixies are about. Some night, though, I'll be lucky enough to spot them borrowing. You let me know if you catch one, won't you?

I Knit and I Vote

Being a knitter, I am totally confused on which candidate to vote for.

Obama's logo reminds me of a ball of yarn:


And, McCain's logo looks like two knitting needles and a stitch marker!


Which is more important to my knitting? Yarn or needles? AAAUGH! Politics is so polarized, so brain-numbingly complicated. I can't imagine what voting in America would be like if we had more than two political parties.

Wait. What's that? Nader? Keyes? You mean there are THREE socialist candidates (Gloria LaRiva, Brian Moore, and Roger Colero)? Ted Weill from the Reform Party? Shoot, I remember the Reform Party from way back. And, there are scores more!?!

You mean I can vote for Joe the Candidate?

Why hasn't the media told me about these folks? (Though, I DID see Nader debate a parrot.) But, seriously, I don't know where they stand on the issues knitters hold near-and-dear to their hearts. Where do they stand on left-leaning increases? Artificial fibers? Can we get our country off its addiction to foreign-spun yarns? Circular or DPNs? Is there a League of Knitting Voters I could ask for a pamphlet?

I am going to the voting booth wearing a blindfold. This is not going to be pretty.