Damn that Rick

Another debate. Fewer debaters. And Rick Santorum still stands among them.

I've always heard that if there were world-wide nuclear war, the only living thing left on earth would be cockroaches.

I disagree.

It would be Rick Santorum. Rick Santorum, leader of the cockroaches. And damn, wouldn't there be a lot of cockroaches, cuz' ol' Santorum would be telling them how to breed.

Even More Rick

Or perhaps I should say, even less Rick.

I went a full 24 hours earlier in the week without hearing a soundbite or seeing a photo of Rick Santorum. What a joyous day that was.

A day without Rick Santorum is like a day full of:

Sunshine

Pristine snowflakes

Frosted Cupcakes

Chocolatey goodness

Superfast internet connections

Fresh art supplies

Children Laughing

Babbling brooks

Money falling from the sky

Joyful sex

Choice

Love

Freedom

Did I leave anything out?

More Rick

My newspaper has been full of photos of Rick Santorum, in his damn sweater vests, with a microphone in front of his mouth. His pompous face spewing forth Rick-speak. His values, his beliefs, his Jesus. He has advice for all of us, doesn't he?

A few days ago, Planned Parenthood sent a missive regarding the future of women's health and a request for some money. They advised me that my financial help would be a positive thing for the health of America's women.

Guess who's advice I heeded.

Not Rick's.

And that check to Planned Parenthood was the first of the year, correctly dated.

If Mr. Santorum wants to keep talking, I'm gonna keep giving.

Isn't it too early in the year to rant? Hell no!

I haven't written here in a while, what with all of those holidays. And then along came Rick Santorum. I can't write when I think about him. I can do very little with Santorum on my mind.

Yesterday, I found it extremely difficult to pee when I was thinking of him. I had to turn my thoughts to puppies and llamas in order to clear my bladder. I'm NOT making this up.

And today I read that Santorum is calling Romney's religion a dangerous cult. Isn't that the pot calling the kettle black. And we know how Santorum likes to use the word "black."

I've got to purge this Republican primary from my mind or else go completely crazy.

In my thinking, government should be there to avoid chaos, collect taxes for infrastructure and generally do what is best for the majority of the people. Why the hell are those vying for the Republican nomination doing everything in their power to create and maintain chaos, avoid taxation and do what is best for themselves, everyone else be damned? What a ridiculous side show!

I'm just seething at the thought that this beady-eyed man thinks he or others like him have any right to get within 50 yards of my vagina or the vaginas of the millions and millions of women and girls in this country and dictate what they do or don't do. I truly wish aliens would abduct Santorum, probe him thoroughly against his will, impregnate him and force him to produce the product of Santorum and alien DNA even if it would likely kill him.

Forget the economy, forget foreign affairs, forget war, forget poverty, forget disease, forget education, let's concentrate completely on homosexuality and everyone's sister's reproductive organs. This is the way to make progress, right?

Holiday Housewifin'

Well, things to bake and fudge to make and presents to wrap and suitcases to pack and on top of that I've got to get really busy focusing on my dad's and my father-in-law's poor health, so until I'm ready to put the housewife back on the shelf, I shall remain absent.

I'll check in after Christmas.

Happy Holidays to you, whatever holiday(s) you celebrate.

I HOPE IT'S NOT TOO LATE!!!

I usually post this on my art blog, but this year, I'm putting it here!

It's the annual "Send a Real Christmas Card" post.

I'm hoping everyone heeds my advice this year, and hoping that it's not too late:

I received the first card of the season the other day. It was festive and handmade by a child. I loved it.

It's pretty much what a Christmas card should be. Perhaps I should call them Holiday cards, since Christmas might not be the winter holiday you celebrate.

Regardless of what you call them, I do have certain likes and dislikes regarding them.

I like them pretty. Cute is o.k. Religious is fine. Snow scenes, glitter, candles, pop-ups, confetti, musical, trees, bunnies, reindeer, Mary, Jesus, Star of the East, gilded, triple-fold, elves, Santa Claus, Saint Francis, birds, are all just dandy.

If I know you well enough, I also appreciate the annual newsletter. I really do want to know (if I like you) where you went on vacation, who got braces or a promotion or straight A's or knocked up. If granny came to live with you, please tell me. If junior has developed a wheat allergy tell me. If that worthless b@stard has left you for another woman tell me and we'll get together and drink some wine. But please do me a favor. Tuck this newsletter into a lovely Holiday card.

If I like you, I will probably like your children. Granted, they may be pesky at times. I really do want to know about them. I actually want pictures of them. School photos are great. Group photos taken at Walmart are good too. But . . . BUT . . . just insert these photos into a lovely card.

I know how convenient it is to make the photo the card itself. But when I display my Holiday cards, I don't want just photos of kids looking at me. I want to see the pretty cards. I want to take the little photos you insert and put them with the other photos you have sent me through the years. After the holidays, I will file them away with the others from previous years and be astonished at how they have grown. Or, perhaps, your kids will have the honor of being displayed on my fridge for the year. If you send me one of those big ole photo cards, its just going to be tossed. How much room do you think I have to store those big photos? Very little. So those big ole photo cards of your offspring will just get tossed away with half-licked candy canes after Christmas is over. That makes me feel bad. But just not bad enough to create extra storage space.

I also know that no one is going to take my advice. You all went to the photo shop back in early October with your red and green scarves and mittens and posed for your Holiday cards. Too late now.

Hubby and I met up for lunch the other day and we did our Christmas card shopping. I chose bears in the winter woods full of bright red Cardinals. Hubby chose some pop up owls in Christmas hats. Whether the recipients like them or not, we chose cards that say something about us. And it will say something about you -- that we think you're great and we want to make your Holiday even better. And tucked inside will be a little photo of our wonderful, gorgeous, achieving, talented, loving, gifted, precious, awe-inspiring child.

I'm sure I've offended a few people out there. I've probably been furiously scratched from your Holiday card list. Even more likely, you will still send out that big ole photo card anyway, whether or not you read this blog.

I know your children are wonderful, gorgeous, achieving, talented, loving, gifted, precious, and awe-inspiring. Just tuck their photo (or perhaps a photo of the entire family, including pets) inside a show-stopping Holiday card that I will proudly display.

Carol of the Balls

This time of year, that old Christmas tune "Carol of the Bells" darts through my brain and often out of my lips dozens of times each day.

But after unwrapping my Christmas ornaments yesterday, it is all about the balls.

Is it silly that this ornament above (and its gold and green mates) are my favorite ornaments? I have two trees loaded with animal, bird, and Santa ornaments. Ornate vintage balls from antique shops. Lovely ornament gifts from all over the world. But these are the most important.

Back in the winter of 1950, my parents were newlyweds. Newlyweds with little money. My mother went to the five and dime store and brought several dozen boxes of inexpensive glass balls, a bottle of glue, and 3 bottles of glitter. These balls were the mainstay of their Christmas trees until my sister and I came along. Eventually, we loaded up the tree with our own little misguided Christmas crafts. Every now and then, a ball would come crashing to the ground. It still happens.

When my sister and I went off to college, my mother decided it was time for a color-theme tree. Peach and gold and white it would be. The original red, green and gold ornaments were divided up and remained in boxes until my sister and I had our own homes. I'm not sure how many ornaments survive at my sister's house, but I think I'm down to 12-14. I'm hoping to have enough to pass on to my daughter one of these years.

There are still a few ornaments left to hang, mostly these special balls. I'm dreading that awful little smashing sound that is inevitable each year, but I'm off to hang them up and remember the woman that made them.