Sunday, November 27, 2011

Silent Grandma is wise.

There was a buddha named Buddha Never Disparaging. His story is one about not disparaging others. His story is one about taking the high road at all times. I am not the Buddha Never Disparaging. My life is simutanenously filled with the Ten Worlds. In a single moment I feel all of life; the hell, hunger, animality, anger, humanity, heaven, learning, realization, bodhisattva and Buddha. It's not a bad thing that in a fit of anger I am still aware that my own buddhahood exists. In a fit of realization I am still aware of my own hunger (for things like money or the creature comforts it allows). At every moment all things are there if I merely open my thought waves to it.

But Buddha Never Disparaging is one of those buddhas that walked on this earth and didn't say anything rotten about anyone. He is the quintessential Buddha most people consider buddhist. He is the eastern answer to "turn the other cheek". If he's it, I'm not a buddhist.

I know my grandmother, the quiet one, was really a buddhist and was able to practise the axiom, If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all. Someone, stop me before I speak again.


Primed, and a second coat of primer over the shower, and a good coat of latex to finish it. I was done painting the bathroom by 11:55 pm last night.

Tip for painting - turn off the thermostat and let the house cool down when painting. Fresh air would have been nice...but it's too cold out for that.

NFL wont let my game be televised today? What kind of off the field ruling is that?

Saturday, November 26, 2011

Ego voicing it's tantrum

I'm concerned at the resistance I get from life. I'm concerned that it takes so much time and effort to make things happen. I'm concerned that when my plans don't go according to plan my feelings get hurt. My pride is bruised. My ego has a tantrum.

Acceptance is hard too. To sit back and not worry about when things will happen, or if they will happen is difficult too. Acceptance seems to take more stamina than my efforts to make things happen. Patience is not a virtue, it's a marathon without a finish line.

It is difficult to me understanding why life would put up such resistance to ideas and projects that are inherently good. To accept that it is not up to me is tantamount to defeat.

I get the surrender part. I get it. But, life didn't like my ideas? That hurts a little bit.

Bathroom Saga (rated G - but with violent thoughts)

Maybe I should name this post differently. "Bathroom Saga" contains so many preconceived notions: farting is always fun, steamy mirrors with finger drawings of smiley faces, or maybe squeaky music and kitchen daggers through the shower curtain. It's not going to be any of those. This is my whiny post about how I had plans and life just doesn't work very well with my plans. I thought I had really good plans, something life would want to go along with. But no. I just wanted to paint my bathroom. I wanted to paint it on my four day weekend (that wasn't). I've been fighting mold on the bathroom walls for a year now and I'm just getting tired of it. I notice that each time I go after the mold with vinegar, baking soda and a nylon scrubby pad more paint comes off. It's a homemade remedy that takes off everything actually. Rather effective at removing. Not so effective at preventing.

The upshot is, I want to paint the bathroom. This long holiday weekend would be perfect. I would have a four day weekend, or so I thought. I called upstairs to the manager of this four-plex last Saturday and asked about bathroom paint and said I'd paint it if he'd come up with the goods - Kilz, painters tape, paint and stuff. He was pretty excited that he has all this stuff and rollers and paint brushes too he said. But ya know, he adds, the paint is going to have to warm up (it's was pretty darn cold last weekend, hanging around freezing for several days). I assured him we can set the cans of paint in my hallway this week cause I want to paint on Friday after Thanksgiving and there's plenty of time for paint to warm up. (Is anybody catching the part of this post that says right now it is Saturday...almost noon...) I didn't hear from this guy upstairs all week. I texted on Wednesday night to ask if there's anything happening with the was a very nice text I thought- lots of honey in it. No reply. I left another text Friday night - some honey, but some vinegar. No reply. So this morning when half my day is gone - I no longer have four day weekend but a measly day and a half like any other weekend, I call up there (I'm done texting) and he has the gall to say, "Let me get up first and I'll unlock the closet to see what I got." (10:30 this morning - we don't share the same time references; by entire weeks, never mind by hours). It's finally almost noon. I have bathroom paint and Kilz and rollers and brushes and tape in my hallway. I now get to wait some more while it warms up.

I feel that I'm supposed to be thankful that all this is offered. I'm concerned that I'm supposed to be thankful I even have a bathroom that should be painted. But instead I am spitfire mad that the lazy jerk upstairs can't even open the supply closet a week ago, when it was a weekend - I'm not asking for anything special. I have some truly terrible thoughts about what I think of him and his paint and the attitude (I orignally wrote exactly what I think, but ya know...he's just a stupid guy getting a really good break on his rent by being the go-to guy for the 4-plex - I hope he's really good at his regular job because he sucks at this job - oops there I'm starting up again, stop now young lady.)

Ya' know, if someone offers to do your job, I'm just of the belief that it'd be really smart to hand them the tools to do it while the iron is hot. Right now...I'm really hot...and it aint' good.
Watching paint warm up
Is kind of like watching grass grow
Without any movement.

Is that a hiaku?

Friday, November 25, 2011

Where the Sidewalk Ends

Amid all the Thanksgiving greetings I received by text yesterday Thing One sent a disheartening text, "I just got pulled over." She was on her way home from catterwalling all night at a friends to pick me up so we could head out together for massive food consumption and football watching at a friends. My brain considered all the options. The truck is registered and insured. She stayed at her friend's last night so as not to drive after drinking - so she must be sober. Maybe the cop pulled her over because she's cute. I dunno. I gave it awhile. Eventually, I texted back..."Everything ok?" Response, "yep, on my way now."

I was using the facilities when she got home. The shouting through the door, "Whatcha get pulled over for?"

"I'll wait for you to come out. You need to read this."


They use pink no-carbon paper for citations in this city. The infraction...driving on the sidewalk. Whut?!

It seems Thing One was having a hard time deciding which gas station to use when she pulled out of the driveway of her buddy's house. Finally deciding the filling station behind her was closer she attempted to do a u-turn. But the wheel base was too wide to complete the turn without either making it a y-turn or using the sidewalk. She chose the sidewalk just in time to see the cop car at the curb just ahead of her.

It also seems the officer spent a lot of time trying to figure out what to write a ticket for. He chose, according to him, the lowest offense as he didn't want to mess up her good driving record on Thanksgiving. It's still a $50 fine. We are giving thanks and would like to remind everyone that if you don't like the way she drives, stay off the sidewalk.