H is for Humor; A to Z Blogging Challenge

#AtoZchallenge

H IS FOR HUMOR

This post may contain a few slightly offensive words and links to other sites that may use offensive words.

If you get offended by certain words, proceed with caution or click out.

I love to laugh.  I think a sense of humor is one of the most essential elements in a partner, right next to intelligence.  If you're smart, witty, and make me laugh at off-the-wall science jokes, my heart is yours.  But I also enjoy lots of different types of humor.

There's the aforementioned nerd/geek stuff that gets me every time.  Got a good Star Trek joke?  I'll be your new best friend for life.

Saturday night and we're feeling more than "alright"?  Let's tell some dirty rauchy jokes!

Hanging out with the wee ones?  I can do dorky.  Just not too many knock-knocks or I'll knock you out.  Seriously.

My favorite kind of humor has to be sarcasm.  Yes, reeeeally.  :P  I love a snarky comeback, or stating the obvious, or asking how in the actual *** did THAT happen?

LOL Cats.  Ahhh, the kittehs.  Yes, ai lubs de kittehs.

There are a few blogs and websites I like too.  I thought I'd include things that make me laugh. If you go over there, tell them I sent you, and please, don't be an a$$.  I love all three of these ladies!

BLOGS

FOOD GOOD, LAUNDRY BAD

TRIPPING WHILE STANDING STILL

I WANT A DUMPSTER BABY

PAGES

LOL CATS

I CAN HAS CHEEZBURGER

I F*CKING LOVE SCIENCE

So, no matter what your laugh style, it's always better to laugh than to cry.

It's really awesome to laugh UNTIL YOU CRY!

#AtoZchallenge

D is for Diary; Blogging A to Z Challenge

D IS FOR DIARY

I've always kept a diary of some kind as far back as I can remember. I've always loved writing, so jotting down my thoughts, feelings, and personal experiences on paper just felt like second nature to me. I suppose its obvious that I chose "Diary" as part of my blog title. This diary is open to all of you to read. It's not private and that's my choice. I want to tell you about a different diary and how it felt having my privacy invaded and that choice taken away.

This is me in 8th grade, one of four students chosen to learn on this new thing called a computer. #atozchallenge

That's me on the flute, Christmas 1985, post-diary tragedy. #atozchallenge

It was the summer of 1985. I had just graduated 8th grade and was preparing to start high school that fall. I was almost 15. We were living in an old farm house, complete with barn, so I decided to have a good old-fashioned barn dance party and invite everyone from my eighth grade class. To my surprise and teenage delight, many of the "popular kids" showed up that afternoon. (I was, and always shall be, a huge, proud, nerd-band-science-math-geek!) We had Cokes and snacks, hung out in the barn, and I was thrilled when my best friend Sherri showed up.  There was music and lots of innocent fun until...

Sherri was dancing, spun around too fast, tripped and fell right on her face. Blood everywhere. I wasn't embarassed, I was concerned for my friend. My mom called her parents and herded my party guests into the house to hang in the kitchen. That was the idea anyway. While we were busy tending to Sherri and waiting on her parental unit to arrive, my "friends" decided it would be fun to go upstairs and sift through all my belongings. (Can you see where this is going?)

Once Sherri went home, I went upstairs to get my friends and try to salvage what remained of the party. My mom was making snacks downstairs in the kitchen. I go upstairs, turn my doorknob, and...IT'S LOCKED. I knock on the door. Someone asks, "Who's there?" I tell them it's me. There is much whispering ang giggling, then silence. I kneel down and look through the keyhole. I can see everyone sitting in a circle on my bedroom floor and one of the girls is holding my diary and reading it quietly to the group. I am mortified. Shame, fear, then anger wash over me. I start beating on the door, yelling at them to put the diary away and unlock the door. They laugh at me. Finally, I am so humiliated and sad I just cry. This makes them all laugh even more. My mom hears me crying and comes upstairs. She asks me what is going on. When I tell her I am locked out of my room and they are reading my diary and laughing, she changes. Quietly, her face turns red and she goes to my door. With three powerful bangs she pounds on my door with all the ferociousness of the FBI on a raid.

(Thanks to my dad, a police officer, for showing us how to do the "triple knock of terror".)

After the power knocking, my mom shouts to all of them to open this ******** door RIGHT NOW! Someone runs over and quickly unlocks it.

My mom marches in, looks around, and tells the whole room, "You should all be ashamed of yourselves. Everybody downstairs right now. This party is over. Take turns and call your parents to get a ride home or I will be happy to call them for you. You're not welcome in my house again, none of you. Go. Now!"

I have to admit, I was pretty proud of her. I was glad she threw them out. I don't know why I thought they were so cool to begin with. Real friends wouldn't behave that way and I knew they were only at my party because, well, it was a summer party.

Since that incident, I've been paranoid about what I write on paper and where I leave my journals. It didn't help that I later dated a man who routinely went through my things and afforded me zero privacy (his own insecurities). Today, I'm happy and confident (and happily single!) with what I write and where I leave it. It's taken me many years to get to this place of confidence and ease.

I could try to summarize and moralize this story but I'm not. It was just my memory of a time when some really selfish kids did a sh*tty thing to me at my own party.
I'll end by saying the most important part of the whole story:

My mom rocks. 

Thanks Mom.

I LOVE YOU.

A is for Abundance; Blogging A to Z Challenge

A IS FOR ABUNDANCE 

Sometimes, you just know when you've got it good. Sometimes things just align and fall into place so perfectly, all you can do is sit back and count your blessings with tears of gratitude in your eyes. I've had one of those days today. I am thankful for so many things...

Such as:

A dear friend and I reconnected today.
My cat, who had been feeling bad, finally ate and drank without throwing up.
My kids texted me.
I had a few dollars extra in my bank account.
The dogs I dog-sit for were well-behaved today.
The weather was beautiful.

As I sit outside, writing this blog post, I can hear the melodious song of peep frogs, a sure indicator that Spring is here in Appalachia.

I am blessed to have a great home, a fabulous housemate, and the freedom to pursue my passions of art and writing.  I may not be rich in dollars, but I am *rich* indeed.

Abundance is not always material.  Abundance is having a lot of what *YOU* place value on.  I love my work, my freedom, my kitteh, my home life, my friends, my time, my family, and Nature.  Money, sadly, seems like it will always be necessary in our modern society.  It doesn't have to define it or the way you live your life.  I am and will always be a Minimalist.  I have a few items I treasure but I don't attach a dollar value to my possessions. I don't seek to have the *next great thing*.  I don't follow fashion. I'm me and I'm happy to be of an age where I can say, "Take it or leave it!"

Yes, A is for Abundance and I am Abundantly blessed.

For that, I am *Abundantly* Grateful.

Thank you for reading.

Namaste.