Sunday Scribblings " OUT OF THIS WORLD"

Painting can be a wild and crazy process!
This little angel is in art heaven and no longer exists.
She is the before version of the one below.

My little cyber soul mate angel wasn't happy with her atrocious blond mop top.She didn't appreciate being put in a pink circle either.Before she dawned the green dress, and changed to brunette tresses, she sported an unflattering silver dress that she demanded to be removed. All she needs is a coat of flexible varnish, she'll be ready to be released.

Maybe it's not actually me that's crazy, perhaps it's the artist within!
Sunday Scribblings " Out of this World"

Lately I have felt like I am OUT OF THIS WORLD alright. My sleeping has switched from night to day and well that’s all I’m gonna say about that!! When did the world become such a stranger?

This week I learned what a tramp stamp is. What a nasty word for a lower back tattoo. Nice permanent label considering it’s pretty difficult to have it removed. Are men ever referred to as tramps? I’ve never heard it! Even though it’s 2008 and the Americans have the possibility, not the probability for the first women president, we’ve still not evolved enough!

Rarely do you hear me rant about the accomplishments of women over the last three decades. Although it may trickle it into a poem or two, it’s not likely my strong opinions would sit well with my male blogging friends. But I bet they wouldn’t mind hearing what a dumbass I was tonight.

I went for dinner with a friend, we stopped for groceries afterwards. My car is still kaput. We moseyed through the store, chatting along the way. My friend bought an elephant. Not a real one of course. But you never know…. because I DO feel like I'M OUTTA THIS WORLD!

What the hell happens to us when we get old? I swear crazy sets right in, ready to reside permanently. I bumped into Vincent; I was his very first customer on his cashier training shift three weeks ago. I felt like Micheal Keaton in Mr Mom where his kids old shirt keeps turning up in the laundry portraying his redundant life. Here I am again, on my day out of the asylum, grocery shopping. Whoop de do! One hundred sixty five dollars later, we left the store. My two recyclable bags jammed full, along with the bad grocery bags. (Note to self, bring more of my own canvas bags next time.) I never expect my friends to take me shopping; when they do, I expect to pick up only a few things. Yeah, that never happens. Meanwhile we are happily chatting away while loading the car with groceries. My buddy relays her experience the other day in our favorite pharmacy, how she was so concerned about finding the right makeup Concealer that she accidentally bought the sample. I couldn’t stop giggling, she was about to finish the story, but first I wanted to return my buggy.

While escorting my cart back to it’s post, I continued repeating the makeup scenario over in my mind, escalating my laughter. For humorous affect I added YOU KNOW YOU’RE OLD WHEN, unremitting in my head, just like a crazy person. You see, I love to laugh! I retrieved my coin from the buggy, proceeding back to the car I open the passenger side door. I’m startled to see someone sitting in my seat. The woman looks at me horrified. It took a few moments for me to compute the situation. There sitting in the seat wasn’t anyone I knew. I looked at the drivers’ side; my friend had morphed into a stranger too. Then I realized…YOU’RE OLD WHEN….you open the door to get in the car and everyone is a stranger, and you don’t even have Alzheimer’s disease.

I scurried next door to the correct red car, by now the people I almost joined realized I wasn’t going to rob them. Instead I was just some nut job with mistaken car identity syndrome. I threw up my hands laughing; I thought they’d roll down their window to join me in laughter. Then it dawned on me, I AM STRANGER DANGER! Probably still in shock from my car accosting episode. They’d have no part of me, eventually they too started giggling in their car. My friend and I laughed hysterically to the point of tears….Again; YOU KNOW YOU’RE OLD WHEN…… the highlight of your Saturday night is trying to find the right car seat so you can get home, before you wreak anymore havoc!

I’d sure love to hear that woman’s take on the story….what would yours be? Thanks to my dear friend who I had a marvelous time with. She knows I have embellished my shopping disdain as an attempt at humor!!! Thanks a million for bailing me out once again, and getting me home safe….although I can’t guarantee that I am SOUND. After all I am OUT OF THIS WORLD!