Joyanna Adams

Nobody's Opinion

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

Christmas Dancing in the Snow With Irishmen

Nobody Flashes

This song simply HAS to be played today…for me.

I was talking to one of the men putting in my patio door today, an Irish looking guy. Our old one cracked into tiny pieces. We had been putting tons of pillows and curtains and boards up to keep the cold out, so we were pretty excited to get a new one.

It’s a three paneled door, and we had been waiting for 2 months for it to be manufactured and then installed. It was only 57 degrees here today, warm for December, so the door installers said they would be coming by 10.30.

To say I was excited is an understatement.

10.30 passed.

11.30 passed.

12.30 passed.

1:30 passed.

2:30 passed.

Where were they? I thought.

And then the head guy called and said they’d be there by 3.pm

3:30 passed, and they arrived at 4:30. It gets dark at 5:pm here, so I was surprised when they apologized, said they had trouble at the first job, and jumped in to repair our patio door, which by the way, is three huge glass panels and takes up a whole wall.

5:30 PM, they got the old frame out…and all of us: the three contractors, my husband, and I…went quiet.

There, underneath the frame, were THOUSANDS of termites.

Quickly we got an old can of termite spray from the house, and Justin, the man in charge sprayed the whole can on top. I ran up to the local hardware store and bought more cans.

What to do now?

Justin said, “Well, we’ve got to put the door up, otherwise you have a whole wall with nothing there. You need to get an extermination, and we need to come back TAKE the door down, replace the rotten wood, and put it in right.

Now, it’s dark out, and getting cold. And I said, “Well, 2017 has NOT been kind to us.”

First, our garage door opening stopped working.

Then, our 64 inch big screen TV, the only one we watch, died.

Then our basement flooded. It was completely finished off. Bedroom, pool room, bathroom…bar…everything had to be repaired. We had to tear out the rugs, rebuild the walls, and put up new drywall.

Then, our oven died. It was a wall oven, and my husband and I had to try to “lift’ the new one in all by ourselves. Labor would have been $500, never mind the expense of a new wall oven.

The electrician for downstairs still hasn’t given us our bill. We had to rewired most everything.

And then…the sewer line backed up. Good thing all the rugs were already torn out. But, because whoever built the house did not leave room for a ‘line’, they had to remove the toilet downstairs to clean out the sewer backup.

Anyway….there was more stuff, MUCH more, it’s just that my mind is trying to BLOCK the rest out.

So, back to the story. I was telling them what a bad year we had. And then, like Christmas magic, we all bonded in silence. The working class. The WHITE working class men mostly, making the world go round, and yet, each day a struggle.

And one young guy shook his head. “Yeah, it was a bad year for me too.”

“Well, make us feel better.” I said. “Tell us your bad deal.”

“My fiancé broke up with me. I found her with another guy.” He has spent $6,000 for a ring. She gave it back but he only got $350 for it when he sold it.

“Her big loss” I said. And I meant it. Then we all told him he was lucky it happened BEFORE the marriage and no kids were involved. Surely, I told him, he would find another.

Just ordinary Americans. These guys were the good stuff. The good stuff that this country was built on. And every time I hear Hillary trash white people, I…well…where’s that termite spray.

Trump, is…so right.

Tonight, I opened a Christmas card from my neighbor who lives three doors down. I was supposed to get together with her, and do something last March, I called her, left a message, but she never called me back.

Being my typical self, I told my husband, “Well, I guess she’s just doesn’t like me.” and tried to just shrug it off. (That never really works, does it?)

But then, the reason why she never called became clear: Our phone number has been changed (she’s right) and she has stage four ovarian cancer most of the year, and is going through chemo.

What’s a few termites compared to cancer?

We sat on the long bus rides to high school together. She is the only girl who ever laughed at my jokes.

Cancer. Horrible.

So, THAT’s why I’m posting these very happy drunk Irishmen.

Join me, and toast! To the Irish Rovers!

To my favorite Irish man! (He knows who he is.)

To all the termites in my house! (Your days are NUMBERED SUCKERS.)

And to President Trump! May he defeat the swamp with swiftness and bold American bravado.

God bless the Good King of Christmas!

And God bless all you who read me, and wonder when I’m going to drive myself crazy.

I’m already there…dancing in the snow with Irishmen.

Thank you for your help, and your kind emails.

I don’t think I could have made it through 2017, without you.

Okay…another glass? These guys are too much fun!

God bless freedom loving people on the planet wherever they are! The tyrants will be defeated.

They always are…so…

Tonight, I dance with the drunken Irishmen.

Care to join me?

 

December 16, 2017 Posted by | Life | | Leave a comment

Nobody Loves You Like A Dog

Nobody Flashes

Dog lovers will love this.

It’s got to feel good to come home to this much love.

Enjoy!

December 15, 2017 Posted by | Life | | Leave a comment

Nobody Flashes: A Father’s Wedding Gift…Laughter and Wisdom

Nobody Flashes

I was going to wait until Sunday to post this, but after reading my columns all week, I think a good laugh is in order.

This father is great. You can bet, that when “God” takes this father, they will need to find a bigger church.

If you haven’t seen this: You’re missing one of the greatest father’s wedding speech of all time:

Enjoy!

(Thanks to Tom Beebe)

November 24, 2017 Posted by | humor | , | Leave a comment

Salvador Mundi VS Ketchup

Nobody Flashes

While the universe was obsessed with sex scandals, other fun news was happening.

It almost seems impossible, that a Leonardo Da Vinci would show up out of nowhere, and depict the most famous person in all of history: Jesus Christ, but it did.

This painting was thought to be a hoax and once sold for $60 dollars, and then, it was discovered that it was the real deal and a Russian bought it, and paid about $174 million for it, so he made a nice profit. Somebody bought it for $450 million.

Since Mona Liza is the most famous painting in the world, Jesus certainly gets the bigger bang for the buck.

Gasps rippled through the Christie’s auction house. And then cheers. “Salvator Mundi,” a 600-year-old painting by Leonardo da Vinci, had just sold for $450 million.

Most of us have seen a lot of picture of Jesus, but even looking at it on the internet, I have to say, it’s probably my favorite. Still, why would the Russian sell it?

Fake or not, it’s beautiful.

And then you do have the real fake…a painting that has what I like to call it the “Hillary Clinton” effect. It’s a painting done with Ketchup. A painting that even a 4-year old could pull off, and some fool paid $50 million for it.

So, what FOOL paid $50 million for a canvas of Ketchup that he could have done at home for under $50?

I guarantee you, it was a liberal fool, because THIS is how the liberals described it:

Red is the colour of wine, but also of blood, and these canvases encompass both the sensual pleasure and violent debauchery associated with the god. This contrast is echoed in the paintings’ combination of euphoric loops that soar upwards and vermilion floods of paint that ooze and cascade down the canvas. The unfurling gestures of these paintings were made, like Henri Matisse’s works in old age, with a brush affixed to the end of a pole, which lends them their vitality and scale.”

Well, I have ketchup ooze and cascade down my hamburger too. What a bunch of BS hooey. Sounds just like a liberal: conning you to buy their paintings just like they con you to buy their politics. With big fancy words of description meaning absolutely nothing.

And these people rule the world.

I want to know who bought both paintings, don’t you?

I HOPE the Vatican bought the Da Vinci. It should be among the most valuable treasures. It should stay in Italy.

And the Ketchup? Well, one thing for sure…it wasn’t President Trump.

Now, if it had been GOLD cascading….

November 17, 2017 Posted by | Life | , | Leave a comment

Before Hurricane Irma, There Was Donna, and My Dad

Nobody Knows

I called my best friend from childhood yesterday because of the news of Hurricane Irma.

Janet lives in Naples, Florida… the town I grew up in. We were best buds all through grade school. Funny how your grade school friends never seen to leave your heart— Right? I adored Janet because she would laugh at me whenever a horse stepped on my foot. We’d go horseback riding a lot.

“Move your big foot!” she would yell, and then laugh at my pain.

Janet lives alone now in Naples, and laughed about my concern with Irma seeming to hit. The reason being, that Naples has NOT been hit with a really powerful Hurricane since Donna.  Somehow, while Miami got Charlie, Andrew, and so many others, Naples was always spared.

Janet just laughed. “Hey, we are all used to Hurricanes down here.” She said. “And my house has all the latest Hurricane building codes.”

Janet worked all her life in real estate, so she knows a lot about the building codes.

“But hey, remember Hurricane Donna?” I said. “Naples is due.” She just laughed.

Yes, we both remembered Hurricane Donna. It was 1960, and we were both kids. I remember my father had told me that at certain points during Hurricane Donna, the winds hit up to 200 mph. At least that’s was the report, back then. The records now say that wasn’t true, but then again, my father was a X Sea-Bee and he wouldn’t make that up. He must have heard it on the radio at the time. 

I also remember my dad laughing and telling stupid jokes, as we huddled in our little tiny one-story house, to ride out the storm. He told us that he had designed the house to withstand hurricanes. And we had a big front glass window in the living room, which of course, was boarded up. He wasn’t worried one little bit. He went around smiling, all through the storm. Closing windows at certain times, opening others at certain time.

All through the rain hitting the house, and the howling wind, I secretly wondered if he was crazy.

My father spent the time putting golf balls into plastic drinking cups on the living room floor during the first part of the storm. My mother on the other hand, was minute by minute, close to hysterical.

The contrast couldn’t have been more noticeable to a kid. Which parent had it right?

You see, we watched, from my bedroom window, our next-door neighbor’s house’s roof VERY slowly, being peeled away from its foundation…and it took quite a while. It wasn’t like a tornado, no, Donna’s wind peeled that roof like it was a sweet delicious apple to enjoy. It took a good half an hour for that roof to finally fall on the front lawn.

June, the lady who lived there, was a Seminole Indian, and one of my mother’s best friends, so that’s probably why mom was unhinged…and June was 9 months pregnant.

After the roof was destroyed, we watched through our bedroom window as June, and her husband Arnie (Full blooded Italian) and their two small children, were holding on to each other, bending against the hurricane, step by step, trying to get to our house. Sometimes they got knocked down by the wind. Each step took them a good minute…. but they NEVER let go of each other. Just two people walking to our house in the middle of a Hurricane that powerful is probably one of the most amazing feats of strength I’ve have ever witnessed.

Arnie was a good 200 pounds, and he held on to his young 5 years old son’s hand, Ricky, pulling him through the air, as the kid’s feet didn’t even touch the ground, with his right hand.

With his left hand, he held tight to his wife, June, who had their little girl Lindie in her left hand, and in her right hand, she had a huge trash bag full of…food. The huge bag of canned food probably helped them all from getting blown away.

It took them a good 30 minutes to walk across the pavement to our front door, in 150 MPH winds.

I remember my mother screaming at her to put down the food! Of course, June couldn’t hear her. She did NOT let go of that bag. She wasn’t going to ask for food from my mother.

They weren’t the only people seeking refuse in our house. We had many families come from all over. I remember It took about five men just to close the front door, after they arrived. People were everywhere.

As soon as June got through the front door, she collapsed. My mother kept telling me that she was afraid that she might have her baby. She was running from room to room… unhinged.

Like I said, my mother was hysterical.

But not my dad. When the eye came he turned to my brother and I and said, “Hey, want to go outside and walk around?”

“YEAH…yes!” we said with delight. (Probably trying to get us away from June and my mother.)

Of course, when we went out our back door we saw that ALL The trees surrounding our property had been completely leveled right down to the ground. It shocked me terribly. Today I recognized that same scene from Russia being hit by a comet in Siberia. They were…really…flattened. Hundreds of pine trees, palm trees, every tree…. flattened.

But then, I saw my brother scramble up a log and start balancing and climbing, and it was FUN! We played for about 45 minutes, hopping from tree to tree, and my father kept telling us that we were in the middle of the eye, as we asked him about the quiet, and he just walked around and calmly looked at the damage.

We were having so much fun, and didn’t want to go back in, but we also knew that the storm was coming back.

Dad wouldn’t lie.

The good news is, the last hour went by quickly, and after the storm had passed, all the men in the town went out to help survivors, just like they do now. Naples had been demolished. Ft. Myers, just 30 miles north, had lost 75 percent of its buildings.

And June did not have her baby that day, but delivered another daughter two weeks later. My mother recovered.

All of Naples was rebuilt, and our house remained untouched. The trees grew back. Years later, after we had moved to Missouri, I went back to the house that I grew up in Naples, and couldn’t believe how really small it was. The house that my father designed to withstand a hurricane and that had protected a neighborhood, had a small kitchen, a living room, a carport, (which did not blow off) three small bedrooms, and one tiny bathroom, which scorpions loved to hang out in.

(Good thing my feet didn’t touch the ground sitting on the John.)

Now I’m more frightened of tornadoes than hurricanes. In fact, all through my 20’s I had nightmares about them. The lesson from Donna: Hurricanes you can plan, and survive—tornadoes, can take you by surprise.

Many times in my life, I often wondered how my dad had the fortitude to be so calm, and brave, and confident in Donna, while everyone else was in panic.

It wasn’t because of ignorance…no. He knew we would all be safe, and that’s because he prepared, and because, he had served as a Sea-Bee at Iwo Jima, and other battles in the War.

A Hurricane compared to picking up dead buddies on the beach? To World War II battles? To my dad, Donna was just a bad day in paradise.

I never saw my father sacred in his life, except one time: When his grandson came home from the hospital.

A man can be brave in war, in hurricanes, but powerless when someone he loves is ill. Look at his face here…that’s my dad, scared for the future of his grandson. 

But that’s okay, that sick baby grew up big and strong, and idolizing his grandfather.

And one more thing: I realized that my father that day gave me a great lesson in how to deal with life: stay strong, stay upbeat, and fight the storm with courage. Help your neighbors.

It’s the American way.

And I’ve always did that, in my own worst scary disasters of life.

And THAT’s why fathers are so important. They teach us more HOW to face life.

With unspoken daily courage, and a good sense of humor.

So—- good people in Texas and Florida…just stay alive. Be prepared. Be smart. And hunker down till the storm passes.

In fact, I suggest, putting a few golf balls.

September 8, 2017 Posted by | weather | , | Leave a comment

Nobody Prays

Nobody Prays

President Trump declared this a National Day of Prayer.

So, this nobody prays for all the lonely hearts and the suffering going on today in Texas. (And the rest of the country for that matter.)  Let’s hope that the strength of God and the people of Texas pull through this.

If you don’t believe in God, then I feel sorry for you.

It’s much like…never having a child.

Unless you experience his (Or it’s spiritual) presence, you really never know what you’re missing.

So, I’m saying a prayer…that God helps us SAVE America.

And can I also pray that John McCain, Paul Ryan, and Mitch McConnell…get voted out?

Come on. Okay, how about term limits?

I’m taking Monday off, because my husband and I will be nailing 2x4s’s to concrete walls. We will have the usual. “WAIT..did you measure that before you installed it, and what do you mean I don’t listen to you?” husband and wife conversations that always make the day…less boring.

Everybody have a great Labor Day Weekend! I’ll be laboring, as most Americans will, and will see you back here on Tuesday.

 

September 2, 2017 Posted by | Life | | Leave a comment

Happy Fourth of July!

Nobody Flashes

You know where I’ll be tonight…underneath the fireworks…underneath the moon and stars.

This IS my favorite holiday!

Everybody have a great day…no…have a fantastic one!

God bless America…and stand beside her….and guide her….(you know the rest.)

(Yeah, you HAVE to have music with the fireworks. It’s a must.)

If she managed to survive Obama, and the Clintons, she can survive anything.

That’s my nobody opinion and I’m sticking to it.

 

July 3, 2017 Posted by | Our Founders | , , | Leave a comment

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