Joyanna Adams

Nobody's Opinion

Nobody Remembers a Loving Father in Paskistan

Nobody Remembers

I had the most delightful talk with a computer tech today, and he was from Pakistan. And it had nothing to do with politics, or computers, or the fact that his opinion was that I had been hacked.

No, it was about children. During the time I always have to wait on the phone, for things and programs to load when someone is trying to help me with a computer, I always try to start a conversation with whomever I am talking to.

“So, do you have any kids?”

“Yes, I have two. One is grown up, and the other is just two. And I grab him and kiss and kiss and kiss him, and he tries to get away, but I just laugh because he WILL be kissed!” He laughed as he explained to me how he is in control and the child just has to put up with it.

It was so endearing.

The man spoke excellent English. It was so great to hear a man talk about the dear love of his child.
I told him he sounded like a great dad. I told him a story about my father….

“When I was about three, I came upon my first real hill. I asked my father if I could go down the hill and he said, ‘Yes! Run as FAST as you can…go!’ So, off I went, down the hill running as fast as I could, and then the panic set in, I started screaming, and I couldn’t stop,”I CAN”T STOP!!” And I got about a third of the way down, and the rest of the way, I fell, and just rolled about fifteen times. I remember getting up really mad and my father was laughing so hard.”

THAT was my first lesson with the power of gravity.

“Are you hurt?” Ask my dad. “No” I said. And he just kept smiling that great big grin that I loved.

Of course he knew I wouldn’t be hurt, but I didn’t.

The tech was laughing too, and then…he told his own story.

“When my daughter was very little, she always went over to the hot Iron and wanted to touch it. We had to watch her constantly, because we were so afraid, she’d burn herself. So, one day, I made a plan. I turned the iron down to just warm…so that it was just enough to show her it was hot. I sat on the couch and pretended not to see her, and sure enough, she went up to the iron and put her whole palm on it. It didn’t burn her of course, but the look on her face was priceless, I will never forget it. I felt very proud of myself,” he said laughing again, “And I enjoyed the moment immensely because she never touched it again.”

“That’s a wonderful story.” I said.

The sheer joy we were both having bringing up our own memories, just remembering, made the terrible news that I had been hacked just seem…unimportant.

“You know, I feel sorry for people who never have children. They will never experience the very precious memories that only a child can give you.” I said.

He didn’t say much, but what could he say? The truth sometimes doesn’t need an answer.

Tonight, as I write this, I can say that I truly feel sorry for all the aborted children, now that we are finally talking about the subject, and just how many people don’t realize that life IS about those moments. Being a good parent. Teaching the child with love.

A child is the most priceless gift anyone can ever wish for.

We talked some more and found out we both became kids around children.

“Yes” I told him.” If there is a four-year-old in the room, I become four. I leave the boring adults and explore the world all over again with a child. I really don’t care WHAT the adults think about me at that moment.”

Both my husband and my son find it annoying that I will play peekaboo with the nearest child wherever I am. It’s embarrasses them.

I really don’t care.

He did the same. I found… a kindred soul across the sea. Who knew? Usually the India tech guys are so…serious. Maybe God knew I needed bad news mixed with reality.

Good Karma.

I don’t know if I will ever talk to this tech again. But, somewhere in Pakistan, is a small child who will probably never remember his father kissing him relentlessly, but I will bet all the gold in Nancy Pelosi’s Chinese vault that he will grow up to be just like his dad.

Intelligent, loving, successful, and rich in priceless memories of kisses that he once hated.

What a joy it will be to that young man to remember his father’s kisses, and to miss them.

February 7, 2019 Posted by | Life | | Leave a comment

My Most Wonderful Christmas Treat

Nobody Flashes

Okay. I know this first sentence, according to all the “How to write.” courses given in every classroom in the world is supposed to set up the subject that you will read ahead, but guess what?

Tough!

I’m not in the mood to be boring. I don’t even want to work that hard today. I drive myself crazy enough.  Okay? Okay.

Instead, I want to randomly tell you about most favorite Christmas present this year. One that I have already gotten.

Remember I told you that my beloved dog Koko died not long ago? Well….

First: I have to explain what Koko did to set this up:

Before we got Zippy, that’s our other dog, Koko’s first companion was a shih tzu named Nikki. Koko, being the pup at the time, would forever pick on poor Nikki. Every time we’d see Koko pick on poor Nikki we’d say to her:

“Someday, Karma is going to get you back Koko. Just you wait!” Basically, she bullied the sweet-natured Nikki every chanced she got.

After Nikki passed away, the biggest surprise (next to the continuous election of Nancy Pelosi), came upon us. Koko went into a deep depression.

How could this be?

There wasn’t a day that went by where Koko didn’t pick on Nikki. We thought she HATED her, like real siblings. Like I’ve hated my older brother when we were kids— every time he jumped on top of me, sat on me, pinned my arms down helplessly and lightly slapped my face all the time laughing…..

You know that sort of bullying. The harm done is mostly…annoying.

After three weeks, I couldn’t take it any longer.

“We’ve got to get another dog for her.” I told my husband.

So, out we went out one day, Koko in tow, to different animal shelters. We would pick a dog, walk them both around the outside of the kennels, to see if Koko got along with any of them. But it didn’t matter. Nope. She could have cared less.

We came home, still worried about her. She was STILL sad. Clearly, this wasn’t going to work.

“I know!” I said in one of my rare eureka moments…” We’ll get a puppy and tell her she’s the mama!”

Humans can be so stupid. Like the inventor of the “unisex bathrooms” I thought I was onto something.

Here’s where GOD, or synchronicity takes over. My husband has always wanted an American Eskimo. Don’t ask me why. It came to him while we were driving around looking for a pet store to buy Koko a puppy.

“I’ve always wanted an American Eskimo.” he said…making a right turn onto one of the many thousands of glutton streets of fast food lanes in the nation.

“Really? You’ve never told me that.” I said. A conversation that never came up in any moment of sex.

Who knew?

And guess what? The very FIRST pet store we went to in a mall, there were TWO small American Eskimo puppies. Brother and sister.

“Okay, but we are NOT spending more than $300.” I told my husband. I’m the keeper of the financial gate, and I was adamantly FIRM about this. “Okay. That’s the boundary. No more than $300.”

The two puppies were brought out, and there I was, watching my husband lie on the floor with these two adorable little white fluffs, and ONE of them wanted to play, with him. The ‘sister.” And then, she would turn around and pick on her smaller brother.

I should have seen the future in that moment. But no, all I could see was the happiness on my husband’s’ face.

You know where this is going. I stood at the register, and not only paid $500 for the pup, but food, a collar, shots, and probably a year’s subscription to puppy training at the puppy gym on Rodeo drive, and a trip to Paris for fashion puppy pictures.

The proud papa walked out of the mall, a star. Everyone wanted to pet the adorable puppy.

When we got home, I started in on KOKO.

“KOKO! You’re a mama! Oh…look how cute your baby is!” I said.

Koko had never seen a ‘puppy’ before. (That’s what I told myself) but clearly, she remembered HER mama, because she really did start acting like a mama. She would use her nose to make a wonderful bed for her ‘pup’. She would constantly bark at that little pup. And play with her, and then…she did the one thing that most mammas will do: She started hiding away her food.

At first, I thought it was to be able to be a good mama. You know, starve herself so that she made sure she had forever a stack of food for her child.

But, Zippy never lacked for food. In fact, she would eat EVERYTHING in sight. Put it in front of her, and she ate it up like a small vacuum with feet. 

Once we left her at a kennel while we went on a trip to Vegas and when we got back, they said she ate all the other’s dog’s food too, and wanted more money for their loss.

Another thing: The reason I thought this was why KoKo was hoarding food like a squirrel was because I remembered my mother, when we were young, would cook a chicken and eat the gizzards.

“Mom! There’s no chicken left for you!” I would say when I was a kid.

“I LIKE the gizzards” she would say.

Yes—mom sacrificed for us. She made sure her family ate first. Dad, and my brother and I ate the chicken dinner, my mother ate the gizzards. It’s a wonder she didn’t die of gizzard cancer.

No, she didn’t ‘hide’ the chicken, but just the same. She was being a good mother. Was Koko storing food for her and her baby’s future?I’ve often thought about this when I see the STARVING babies in Africa and the mothers look plump, but that’s another blog.

When Zippy came into our lives, that’s when Koko started stashing food. I’d give Zippy a dog treat, and she’d devour it, right then and there. Koko, would gently take it in her mouth, and off she would trot.

Looking for a place to hide it. It was as if she was on the most important mission in the world. A mission…to find the most hidden hiding place she could.

And boy did she hide food. Under the couch, IN the couch, in back of lamps, in corners, under rugs…

For the rest of her life, Koko did this. I never saw her eat a treat, only food from the table. I would be cleaning the house and I would find, sometimes over 50 treats all gathered behind some lamp. If Koko was a human stashing money, she’s have been as rich as Bill Gates.

Most of the time, I would throw away half of those treats, so as not to attract bugs…but I could not find it in myself to deprive her of her bounty.

People would come over and I would have to say, “Just ignore that. That’s Koko’s stash.” We won’t go into sanitary conditions right now…I happened to love my dog. Enough.

Anyway, I never, ever, ever saw Zippy hide a treat. Ever. What we did see is that Instant Karma is real.

Zippy grew up and took over Koko. As Koko aged, I figured she now hid the food for herself, being as Zippy was, the ultimate diva.

Nevertheless, She was the Warren Buffet of food supply. If a disaster hit, and the house fell upon us all, we could reach out with our arms and find a milk bone, within arm’s reach, thanks to Koko.

Then Koko passed away. I started cleaning all the rooms, Finding the treats and putting them in the trash. I had them all cleaned up, …as far as I knew I had gotten every single treat ever hidden. We are talking hundreds.

Now, here’s where it gets interesting:

About a week after KoKo passed on, I bought some brand new tennis shoes. They were lying right near the place where I get dressed every morning, and low an behold, one morning, right in plain sight, placed inside in one of the shoes…
Was one of Koko’s dog treats.

I KNOW Zippy didn’t put it there. I also know I didn’t put it there.

I thought…” Is this a present from my darling Koko?

Come, on….She’s dead. How COULD she do this, I said to myself. 

I forgot about it, tossed out the treat and went on my way.

Then two days later, my husband, who keeps HIS tennis shoes downstairs in the basement, came upstairs and said—

“Guess what? The strangest thing…I found one of Koko’s dog treats in my shoe this morning.”

I had NOT told him about what I had found a week earlier. So, he didn’t know.

One treat, you could say maybe Zippy did it. But Zippy never hid a treat in her ten-year-old life.

And Koko, NEVER put a treat in any of our shoes before.

You tell me.

Was that a present from my sweet departed Koko? Telling us how much she loved us? That she was still around.

Call me a fool, but THIS is the way God shows his face.

There are forces out there, that make us think that souls, even dog souls, maybe do exist pass the body, and I’m here to tell you that for whatever reason, I believe that was my Koko’s way of telling us she loved us.

KoKo was the best mama Zippy could have ever had, and most precious companion to me.

She helped me through many a night while I was caring for my bed ridden mother.

She was one of a kind, and I never saw another dog even look like her.

Yes, Koko left us both a love treat.
A treat forever etched in my heart.

I’m going to start hiding my chocolate…no wait. Just kidding.

What I really want to say is: Only a dog or a pet can stay with you for years, and be the one in your life that will teach you how to love…endlessly.

I’ve never trusted anyone who doesn’t like dogs. They are simply God’s gift to man. (And women, and kids, and let’s even put transsexuals in this too.)

There is no ending to this. Only….this Christmas I’m putting back some of her treats in her favorite hiding places.

I want HER to know, we too, are still here…to love. And we will miss her until we die.

And Koko, if you are reading this….Zippy misses you too. Trust me. The food bowl is just not the same.

 

 

December 22, 2018 Posted by | love, Uncategorized | | 1 Comment

Nobody Wishes Everyone: Happy Thanksgiving!

Image result for Happy thanksgiving images

Nobody Flashes

Everybody! Have a great day of joy and peace! Eat, Drink, and Drive carefully!

Joyanna

November 21, 2018 Posted by | Just life | | Leave a comment

The Sweetest Sounds

Nobody Flashes

I love birds. My first pet was a duck and I was absolutely heartbroken when it got eaten by some wild creature who broke into it’s outside pen one night.

Yes, Flapper became, probably some mountain lion’s dinner.

From there I went into parakeets. I’ve had one or two of them most days of my life. So, this story is sort of funny…

Friday, I was sitting at my computer when I heard a very loud squawking. You see, I have four parakeets and here’s the problem:

You buy these birds when they are babies and you can’t tell what you’re getting until they reach puberty. I ended up with three green males and one yellow female. Everything was going fine, until, I suppose they all reached puberty, and then, the fighting started.

No, the boys were not fighting over the female. SHE was attacking THEM. She was relentless. And Friday, she really did it. She bloodied my oldest male almost to the point of losing his eye. A real Hillary Clinton.

Needless to say, after visiting my vet, who knew about as much about birds and my TV cable repair man, I went out and bought her a brand new cage…and supplies…we are talking about $200.

I spent the whole day designing that cage so that she could sit NEXT to the boys and not harm them. I talked to some expert who said I might just have a “mean” bird, but I don’t think so…she just wants love. And she gets pissed when she doesn’t get it.

I know a LOT of women like that and they can be ruthless.

By the way, her name is Corona because we bought her during the last eclipse, which might explain why she’s so ‘strong.’

But, here’s the punch line. After I got the two cages side by side, I stayed and watched the birds for a few hours. They are in the kitchen so I had lots to do, and I wanted to see which one of the boys would miss her the most.

And guess who did?

The guy she beat up. They were BOTH trying to get next to each other.

This is so much like human life….I just have to laugh. Really. What can you do? Seriously.

Of course, you know this means I have to somehow pick out a bird to put in HER cage so she’ll forget about him. I want to get a girl, but I think I’ll have to try to get a boy, because if she beats HIM up, I can always put him in the cage with the other boys.

If I get a female, I’m back in the same hole.

I barely have room for the kitchen table now. Another cage? I’d have to knock out a wall.

I just wanted you to know why I didn’t do my Nobody Reports on Friday, so now I can report….

Nobody Reports that I had a major distress going on. Cabby looks like a parakeet Freddie. and I had two doughnuts in one day from the stress, and half a bottle of Tawny Port.

I think I got the better deal.

Why do I like birds so much? They sing like angels. Nothing in nature is as sweet as the sound of birds.

As you listen to this bird sing to the baby, how can you deny that birds truly are wonderful visions of God?

Damn the fields of Windmills.

Let the hurricanes have them all. Leave us our sweet little souls of songs.

Please.

September 23, 2018 Posted by | Life | | Leave a comment

Koko.

 Nobody Flashes

She was 18.

She was my tear kisser.

She was my best friend, for all those years.

Silent. Happy. Eating with me. Sleeping with me. Teaching her “pup” to obey and be a good dog. Following me from room to room. Begging for her favorite snacks in her last days: Cracker Jacks and White Fudge Cookies. Dancing…running…filling my life with joy.

She died on National Dog Day. Fittingly I thought.

I wrote, a VERY long blog last week,  but I’m not sure I will post it. It takes a while to get over the loss of any pet or person you hold dear, so I’m just posting a picture…someday I will post that blog.

But not today.

Today, I am still missing her, so it’s important that I enjoy the life that IS all around me. To remind myself that the pain will pass. Slowly. While other memories build. Others still alive and seeming more important than the day before.

Koko. So much-loved. And trust me, worthy more of praise than most all of our politicians.

 

September 2, 2018 Posted by | Life | | 3 Comments

The Key to a Happy Baby is a Silly Dad

Nobody Flashes

Nobody does it better than Dad.

 

August 3, 2018 Posted by | Life | | Leave a comment

Damn Yankee, Rubber Ducky, Damn Liberal.

Nobody Cares

I was watching an old rerun of Gone With the Wind tonight, and put it on my bucket list to make my SON watch it someday. His favorite program is South Park, so you can imagine how hard this it going to be. Sadly…the American culture has affected all the millennial and gen-xers, and getting them to pay attention is not easy. Our schools have purposely dumbed them down to mind-numbing stupidly, and this started happening a long time ago. The children in 1776 were more educated than most of the kids in schools today.

But it’s not just the kids who are being brainwashed…it’s half the population.

Anyway, as I said, I was watching a scene where Scarlett is talking to Bret as Atlanta burned all around them in the distance, and she turned and said with utter hatred “Damn Yankees.”

The reason I thought of this scene was there is a lady at my daily pool swim that absolutely hates me. Is the next civil war already here?

Yes, we, the swim ladies of the noon-day sun are divided between liberals and conservatives, and since I have the smartest mouth, I’m the “Damn Yankee.”

The discussion in the pool today was all about some black students who were picked up by the police downtown and mistaken for another group of black students who left an I-Hop without paying their bill.

My nemesis had a strong opinion on this:

“The cops were racially profiling them because of the color of their skin!” she said, with her mouth wide open and disgust foaming on her lips. And she looked right at me when she said it.

Okay. I had to laugh. I only said I didn’t think it should draw such hysterics and it was NOT a national emergency and was blown way out of proportion. The kids lost a few hours of their day.

Basically, I gave the cops a break. Maybe they made a mistake, but so what?

This happens ALL the time. Instead of feeling sorry for the restaurant owners and the waitress, the white lady in the pool was outraged at how the poor black students were accused unfairly.

I wanted to say that white people are being accused of being racist “unfairly” every minute of every day, but I didn’t.

If I had been in that group, I would just be glad they got it straighten out. And I would be glad that I was attending one of the most expensive schools in the nation. I would have been smart enough to know that St. Louis has one of the highest black populations in the nation and almost ALL crimes are done by…blacks.

Hopefully they will learn some math in college.

She was getting very angry at me, when I pointed this out, so I laughed and said, “Hey, I’m staying out of this.”

Fast forward a few minutes…the kids were getting ready to jump in the pool. Adult swim was over. T.J., a really adorable little boy of four, wanted to get into the water and get on my ‘waterboard.”

“Can I get on your board?” he asked his little blue eyes filled with excitement.

I have a soft spot for T.J….because his father and my son grew up together. His father was always in my home growing up.

“Sure! Hey, come on.” I said, and helped him on the waterboard. I was going to push him around.

That was it. My nemesis couldn’t take it any longer…at the top of her lungs she yelled…

“He can’t use that! It belongs to the pool. It’s against the rules!”

The little boy got so scared he jumped out, I turned around and said mockingly

“Oh, sweet Jesus!! I’ve committed the biggest sin! I’m a sinner! I’m a sinner!! Lord, Lord…I’m going to hell!”

Everybody laughed, which pissed her off even more.

Let me add: She goes to church every Sunday. So much for “cherish the little children.”

There was about 40 other kids in the pool, all jumping around. Clearly, there must have been Russians somewhere in my bathing suit.

I’m not sure what to do about the hatred this lady has for me. She doesn’t know me at all, and I’ve been really nice to her, in fact, she lives right across the street, so the last thing I want is a fight.

And I tell myself she is just been listening to all the garbage on the news and hasn’t got a brain. But, let’s face it…. we see it in the news every day.—-The hatred. Sooner or later, we are not going to sit by and take it anymore. Us DAMN YANKEES.

Speaking of damn Yankees: Some Marine came into my husband’s work today. He said he worked in intelligence…and people didn’t know it, but WWIII was coming soon, and it was going to be the worst thing that ever happened. Right now, I am wondering if I can even get along with my neighbor. Right now, the best weapon is laughter, but if she hurts that little boy again…
I just might have to pull out my rubber ducky and squirt her.

DAMN LIBERAL.

Now, I know Nobody Cares about my little life in the pool, but I have to wonder…

It this just happening to me?

July 18, 2018 Posted by | liberals | , , | 2 Comments

Nobody Flashes 

I am still in awe, and feel just like it’s the first spring of my life, when spring appears.

The absolute miracle of nature…that after a long, cold winter, as if by some kind of mysterious magic, and this year, it only took about 10 days…the earth transforms into a luscious garden of green delight with flowers of every color popping in with such intense splendor, I can only thank God I still have the eyesight to see it.

Put down that cell phone and enjoy. Spring, is much too short…I could use a whole month of it. 

 

May 19, 2018 Posted by | Life | | 1 Comment

God VS Darwin: Who Wins in the DNA department?

Nobody Flashes

a FUN Sunday school lesson….

Enjoy!

April 21, 2018 Posted by | God | , | 2 Comments

Who Needs Calvin Klein?

 

Nobody Flashes

Okay. I have trouble sometimes with this, “We all evolved from a single cell amoeba that crawled out of the ocean” theory, when I see such wonder as this:

Is this overkill? Or what?

The symmetry alone…marks proof to a higher intelligence involved here.

But, that’s just my Nobody Opinion. 

 

April 14, 2018 Posted by | Life | | 1 Comment

Nobody Flashes the GOOD News

Nobody Flashes

The doctors told them to ‘get rid of a few’….in the womb…

They said, “Nope, we’ll take our chances.”

Fantastic

March 24, 2018 Posted by | Just life | | Leave a comment

Nobody’s Gitmo Time: Stage Four

Nobody Flashes

Hi again.

By now, you are saying (You know who you are— I can COUNT you on one hand and a pinkie): Well, where ARE you Joyanna? You said, just last week: “God willing” that you would be back on Monday. You weren’t. What happened? Wasn’t God Willing?

Did your absence have something to do with the last of the White Rhino’s dying off the planet?” somebody out there might ask.

No. And politically speaking, after hearing about the last omnibus bill, that might not be a bad idea—

No, it had to do with my Nobody’s Gitmo Time.

Let me explain in one sentence: “If you can’t get to Stage four, then it’s Nobody’s Gitmo Time.”

I’ll explain Stage four in a minute. First, we must get through stage one, two, and three.

Basically, I’ve been tortured.

It’s not a pretty thing when you find yourself lying on the floor, and saying to yourself, “Damn. I did it again.” Fall that is. I’ve been falling lately, not because I’m clumsy, no, it’s because I’m usually in stage four sleep and I’m trying to walk.

Do NOT compare me to Hillary. She’s usually awake when she falls. No, this is ‘stage four’ lack of sleep torture.

Not sleeping Joyanna? Big deal. Go take a nap.

I can’t nap. Too much caffeine. You see, I can’t sleep, I can’t nap. The REAL Gitmo would be a vacation to me right now.

Why are you not in bed you might ask? Because, for the last four months of my life, I have been tortured by experts that even the toughest of Gitmo CIA operatives would be jealous of.

And that main CIA operative in my house’s name is: Koko.

My little 17-pound dog was named after the famous gorilla who could use sign language, because at the time she was literally dropped on our doorstep, I had much more important things to do beside name a dog. KOKO the gorilla was on the TV at the time I was changing my mother’s diaper–therefore I shouted, “Let’s name her Koko!” And went back to diaper duty.

But Koko is MUCH smarter than her namesake. She doesn’t even need opposing thumbs. She has a bark that tells me everything she needs. A bark SO LOUD that car alarms go off, TV’s turn on, and ground hogs turn over in their holes when she opens up her little mouth.

She can’t hear her own bark because, you see, she’s 17, and deaf.

She’s also blind.

The vet says: Hey, if a dog can still smell, she’ll be fine!

Fine for the dog. Torture for the owner. As you can guess…my VET is a democrat.

Let me go on to say that Koko has a great heart, but her back hips are giving out. And every night, she wakes up, around 2 or 3 am, and barks SO loud that I literally rise from the bed like Linda Blair in the exorcist.

So far, my husband has not noticed this elevation.

Big deal? Yes, because you see, she sleeps at the end of the bed and I must get up out of my sleep and lift her up, take her to the back-patio door, and gently take her down the two steps outside. Otherwise, there is a big mess on her bed, or on OUR bed, and that means an entire day of laundry.

I’m so tired, I usually don’t bother to put shoes on. Snow? Who cares? Cold? Hey, I’m dead to the world.

So, being that at 3am in the morning I am in stage four sleep, sometimes, I trip going to the door in the dark, and I’m thinking: “I’ve fallen! Do I HAVE to get up?”

Now, let’s review: Stage one is the first 20 minutes of sleep. Then…Stage two. That lasts around an hour, where people usually dream. Stage 3 doesn’t last long and frankly, nobody really remembers it, but Stage FOUR! Oh, that’s the time, around the third to fourth hour, when the brain reboots, the immune system repairs all the damages done doing the day, and gets you ready for the NEXT four hours. And then it all starts over. Every night. Unless you are a turtle, that’s what happens.

Most people go through two stage fours a night. Not me. I never make it to even ONE.

If ONLY I was a dolphin.

If you are awakened in the lovely sleep stage of one or two, then you wake from either a dream of, in my case, pythons or tornadoes, or a lovely dream. I dream of designer homes of the rich and famous where I am the rich and not so famous. I can design the BEST bathtubs in my dreams.

You should see them.

But to be awakened night after night after night after night, after night, after night, after night after….(for three months straight, or has it been six?) when I’ve just gotten into stage four?

Total torture. Putin would tell you. (The Russians have perfected sleep deprivations torture.) Your body, doesn’t want to move. Your arms feel like they are being held down by Michael Moore who is actually grinning: Your legs feel like the great wall of China. They simply refuse to budge.

Hillary Clinton herself could be standing by my bed with an axe and I’d turn over and try to go back to sleep.

And once I get up? I don’t DARE cook breakfast. I can’t get near a stove until at least 4pm.

But…. let’s get back to 3am. I’m just beginning to fall into Stage four sleep, and I hear– BARK! BARK!
I somehow manage to lift her down, stay awake 20 minutes while KoKo does her stuff, sniffs the house, drinks some water, gets stuck behind a corner, where I have to find her and rescue her, and then, I hear the bark: I WANT BACK UP.”

So, I pick her up and put her back in her bed.

It takes her a good five minutes after turning around to find a good spot. I finally get to fall back asleep…BUT…in just two hours…I’ve passed through sleep stage one, two…three…and THEN….

The clock turns to 4am. My husband wakes up. He turns the TV on. The other dog is barking and up. I don’t have to move, but I cannot go into stage four for another 45 minutes until he leaves at five, and I’m FINLLY in stage four, and….

BARK! It’s 6 am! Wake up! BARK BARK BARK!! BARK BARK BARK!!.

Both dogs. Get up! Get up! Feed me! Let’s play! 

This has gone on for four months straight. Add to that the fact that every other night my husband snores loud enough to launch the new Russian missile over Joe Biden’s house, and even the radio in my ear doesn’t drown THAT out, I cannot even get to stage two on those nights.

Try sleeping on a transistor under your back and your ear tangled up in wire. Try making it through the day when you are actually worse than a Zombie in last night’s Living Dead Episode. Try remembering why you are AT the grocery store.

And then, after going through the day half asleep, try writing a coherent blog right before bedtime.

So, you get it.

I have had no REAL sleep in over four months.

And here’s the kicker.

You cannot make up sleep. Nope. Whoever told you that is lying to you. The only thing you can do is take bucket loads of caffeine and make a lot of spelling mistakes. Which I do all the time, AS YOU ALL KNOW, but then again, so does President Trump.

I don’t think it’s just Congress and the democrats that are torturing our President.

I don’t think he gets enough Stage four sleep either.

Now, you might think I’m lying. But I swear, the LAST memory of myself ever having slept a full 8 hours (which is what I really need) and waking up feeling just marvelous, was in the year 2000. Yes, I remember it well. Seventeen years ago, almost to the day.

I was in Naples, Florida at a friend’s house, visiting. And I was….ALONE.

But, I don’t want to be alone. I have a wacko blind and deaf dog whom I cherish, a husband whose snore I’m sure I would miss despite the torture, and a brain that might not ever recover.

Anyway, any sane person, who’d had been sleeping properly, would not post this.

But, at the moment, I am not sane, I’m just…. tortured, and I don’t want to lose what little following of my blog that I have.

So, I just wanted to let you know: I’m thinking of joining the CIA where I too, can learn how to torture.

I have not disappeared.

I’m just…….in Nobody Needs Deep Sleep Gitmo.

Where I am losing sleep— but gaining my sense of humor back.

I guess you really have to suffer in life to enjoy it. That’s all I have to say about it.

Only to add…Nobody’s Perfect. Someday, sleep will come. When I’m dead.

Until that time…I’ll write when I can.

March 22, 2018 Posted by | humor, Life, Uncategorized | , | 2 Comments

Nobody Takes a Break

Nobody Flashes:

Once a year usually, I just have to give myself a break, to take care of myself, life, my family.

My own soul.

This is one of those times.

God willing, I will be back next Monday.

Everybody have a great week. And for the few of you who do read me,

Thank you…Thank you.

 

March 11, 2018 Posted by | Life | | 2 Comments

How Precious is Life…

Nobody Flashes

The many celebrations and reminders of how precious life is ….

 

March 3, 2018 Posted by | Life, Uncategorized | | 1 Comment

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