Wednesday, November 30, 2022
Tuesday, November 29, 2022
Monday, November 28, 2022
Sunday, November 27, 2022
Rerun of an old Battle…
Hi! the unroll you asked for: https://t.co/PLEOISa1bo Enjoy :) 🤖
— Thread Reader App (@threadreaderapp) November 26, 2022
Saturday, November 26, 2022
#Catturdday
No Question @elonmusk 😎🦅🇺🇸
— Mary Gerdt Parler:Alvarita1 (@marygerdt) November 25, 2022
2nd Most Interesting Twit 🧐 (not on your list 🐈):@catturd2 Once Banned from Twitter BE..Before Elon 💙
Elon Musk Reinstated My Favorite Tweeting Feline w/the Heart of a Tiger 🐅😻 https://t.co/Fiq2mAKvlx pic.twitter.com/WMB0EuXJau
Friday, November 25, 2022
Thursday, November 24, 2022
Wednesday, November 23, 2022
Tuesday, November 22, 2022
Propaganda Primer
Thread by @marygerdt on Thread Reader App https://t.co/D0UJQwffHX
— Mary Gerdt Parler:Alvarita1 (@marygerdt) November 20, 2022
Monday, November 21, 2022
Sunday, November 20, 2022
He’s Back!
Late posting again🤦♀️
Good News? 🗞️
Had a Good Sleep 😴
More Good News? 📰
He’s Back
POTUS45 😎🇺🇸🦅
Saturday, November 19, 2022
Friday, November 18, 2022
Friday Night Musik
Sometimes a Great YouTube link just appears 😎
Tgiff 🦅
Frank Watkinson 🎶
Special Version Stones’ Sympathy For The Devil
Thursday, November 17, 2022
I Hope You’re Taking Notes 📝
Rerun old favorite
Wrote for my Mom many years ago ❤️
I Hope You’re Taking Notes 📝
[i wrote this 4 years ago about the time i started blogging. I sent to a friend and lost it. today she sent me the file and i wanted it in my blog memories, multicolored moments, some stinging, some sweet, all good.. this is for mom]
“I hope you’re taking notes”, my mother exclaimed as we settled into a long overdue visit.
“Oh, I am”, I replied.
We have never had too much trouble communicating with each other. No time to beat around the bush, skirt the issue, wallow in subtleties.
I quickly discovered she was mad about “having” to be “placed” in an apartment with my father. But she always said it was OK if we had to place her in a nursing home and this is just an apartment. The light bulb went off in my head. “But this is the nicest senior housing I have ever been in.” I tried to recover from feeling like I had forgotten something. I guess I had. Does she remember when we talked…they had a choice…everyone thought it was for the best. Now I sat across from My Mom, a mad senior, one with nothing to lose, one with a mission to educate her health care professional daughter about the real world.
I remember when I was 5 and going to kindergarten. 3 doors down. So far away. My mother told me then about the real world. You will come here every day. They don’t have your name tag. You are in the wrong classroom. But I liked the other teacher. You will get used to it. You will have to take naps. I thought to myself, what’s a nap?
We often begin thinking things are one way and discover our perception is only that.
My viewpoint. My reality. Seen through My eyes and filtered through My experiences and My learning.
Some will never get to the point of seeing how their experiences shape their reality.
These are the my way or the highway types.
Some are willing to work through the experiences and consider their perceptions may be influenced by past events.
These are people like you and I who are trying to learn all we can in this life.
Then there is my Mom.
Deceptively quiet at times. Deep down a true warrior. Anti-war warrior, shaman princess, student of metaphysics, Esperanto, Rosicrucian, mother of seven assertive “Gerdt” children, Modern thinker, lover of ancient times, Atlantis aficionado, Lover of Omar Khayyam, opera and anything mystical, mindreader, painter, dreamer.
Now do you understand my dilemma?
She is always right (but staunchly left).
She is powerful but gentle.
She is outspoken but reserved.
The conversation turns as it always does (to my relief) to death and plans.
“I want to be cremated” my mother says plainly as she has done since I was a little one.
“I know, Mom.” How could I forget. After all these years hearing it over and over as if I would suddenly forget when the time comes and slip to the mortician. “Embalm her now, I would say. The purple fluid. “
I decide to change the subject.
“I have made a decision too, Mom. I want to be cremated and Fred knows where I want my ashes spread.” There, the conversation has been successfully diverted. Mom can’t say anything to that one. Now she knows how I feel. Or maybe she still doesn’t.
So we go on trying to make conversation about old days and pictures from the past and what they had for lunch or doctor’s appointments to come. Where is your pain today?
Or silence as the 24 hour news channel stirs up the elders. War, gas prices, political failures, government conspiracies, snafu’s. The golf channel with it eternal 18 hole game. The food channel.
Is it time to eat again?
We take a ride up the river road. One of my favorite places on the planet. The bluffs north of Alton remind me of a day this was all under water. When the planet was covered with water and we were all sea creatures.
We stop at the Wilton Hotel, an old family style restaurant/hotel with fresh fried chicken, homemade sausages and pickles. We get a pound of asparagus at a roadside stand. I envy the woman who sells it to us. She lives out here in the middle of nowhere and makes her living working the land. She has a peace on her face that farmers have. No money, maybe, but that extraordinary peacefulness. She may not even know I am looking at her like that. She may not think her life is so special. "Maybe I could take a vacation sometime", she thinks as we drive away. "Instead of picking this damn asparagus every day."
We get on the Brussels ferry, a 10 minute ride across the Illinois River. I get out to smell the river air. I close my eyes. Feel the motion of the ferry underfoot. Hang onto the railing. I envision the days when people rode the riverboats and played cards and traded and traveled these rivers. A short little trip but I try to prolong it. Hold on to the memory. Can’t I stay forever?
Before you know it we are on the other side.
Before you know it we are back on the plane to go home.
Short visit. So short.
I mindlessly chew the handful of peanuts they gave me and try not to cry on the plane. When I left home years ago, I was eager to find my own way, a new world, a place where no one knew me, or had preconceived ideas about me. It was a bittersweet memory like now. Leaving my parents, wondering if this was the last time, wondering why Vermont was where I landed. Why so different after all than Illinois.
But when the green mountains appeared on the horizon it was as if they said,
“Welcome back, we missed you”, just like the first time.
10 minutes to ground I pulled out my paper and started writing. I heard my mother’s voices say ”I hope you’re taking notes…”
“I hope you’re taking notes”, my mother exclaimed as we settled into a long overdue visit.
“Oh, I am”, I replied.
We have never had too much trouble communicating with each other. No time to beat around the bush, skirt the issue, wallow in subtleties.
I quickly discovered she was mad about “having” to be “placed” in an apartment with my father. But she always said it was OK if we had to place her in a nursing home and this is just an apartment. The light bulb went off in my head. “But this is the nicest senior housing I have ever been in.” I tried to recover from feeling like I had forgotten something. I guess I had. Does she remember when we talked…they had a choice…everyone thought it was for the best. Now I sat across from My Mom, a mad senior, one with nothing to lose, one with a mission to educate her health care professional daughter about the real world.
I remember when I was 5 and going to kindergarten. 3 doors down. So far away. My mother told me then about the real world. You will come here every day. They don’t have your name tag. You are in the wrong classroom. But I liked the other teacher. You will get used to it. You will have to take naps. I thought to myself, what’s a nap?
We often begin thinking things are one way and discover our perception is only that.
My viewpoint. My reality. Seen through My eyes and filtered through My experiences and My learning.
Some will never get to the point of seeing how their experiences shape their reality.
These are the my way or the highway types.
Some are willing to work through the experiences and consider their perceptions may be influenced by past events.
These are people like you and I who are trying to learn all we can in this life.
Then there is my Mom.
Deceptively quiet at times. Deep down a true warrior. Anti-war warrior, shaman princess, student of metaphysics, Esperanto, Rosicrucian, mother of seven assertive “Gerdt” children, Modern thinker, lover of ancient times, Atlantis aficionado, Lover of Omar Khayyam, opera and anything mystical, mindreader, painter, dreamer.
Now do you understand my dilemma?
She is always right (but staunchly left).
She is powerful but gentle.
She is outspoken but reserved.
The conversation turns as it always does (to my relief) to death and plans.
“I want to be cremated” my mother says plainly as she has done since I was a little one.
“I know, Mom.” How could I forget. After all these years hearing it over and over as if I would suddenly forget when the time comes and slip to the mortician. “Embalm her now, I would say. The purple fluid. “
I decide to change the subject.
“I have made a decision too, Mom. I want to be cremated and Fred knows where I want my ashes spread.” There, the conversation has been successfully diverted. Mom can’t say anything to that one. Now she knows how I feel. Or maybe she still doesn’t.
So we go on trying to make conversation about old days and pictures from the past and what they had for lunch or doctor’s appointments to come. Where is your pain today?
Or silence as the 24 hour news channel stirs up the elders. War, gas prices, political failures, government conspiracies, snafu’s. The golf channel with it eternal 18 hole game. The food channel.
Is it time to eat again?
We take a ride up the river road. One of my favorite places on the planet. The bluffs north of Alton remind me of a day this was all under water. When the planet was covered with water and we were all sea creatures.
We stop at the Wilton Hotel, an old family style restaurant/hotel with fresh fried chicken, homemade sausages and pickles. We get a pound of asparagus at a roadside stand. I envy the woman who sells it to us. She lives out here in the middle of nowhere and makes her living working the land. She has a peace on her face that farmers have. No money, maybe, but that extraordinary peacefulness. She may not even know I am looking at her like that. She may not think her life is so special. "Maybe I could take a vacation sometime", she thinks as we drive away. "Instead of picking this damn asparagus every day."
We get on the Brussels ferry, a 10 minute ride across the Illinois River. I get out to smell the river air. I close my eyes. Feel the motion of the ferry underfoot. Hang onto the railing. I envision the days when people rode the riverboats and played cards and traded and traveled these rivers. A short little trip but I try to prolong it. Hold on to the memory. Can’t I stay forever?
Before you know it we are on the other side.
Before you know it we are back on the plane to go home.
Short visit. So short.
I mindlessly chew the handful of peanuts they gave me and try not to cry on the plane. When I left home years ago, I was eager to find my own way, a new world, a place where no one knew me, or had preconceived ideas about me. It was a bittersweet memory like now. Leaving my parents, wondering if this was the last time, wondering why Vermont was where I landed. Why so different after all than Illinois.
But when the green mountains appeared on the horizon it was as if they said,
“Welcome back, we missed you”, just like the first time.
10 minutes to ground I pulled out my paper and started writing. I heard my mother’s voices say ”I hope you’re taking notes…”
Wednesday, November 16, 2022
Tuesday, November 15, 2022
Imposter? Impersonator? Is it Possible?
Late Again…
My 5:30 am est
My daily Ritual Blog Post.
I had been thinking about How the Internet is a Cesspool.
Crap, Garbage, Murky Waters.
Watch where You Step 😲😵💫🤐🤥🫣🫠🫥😎
A Nobody might say they’re Somebody.
Fishing, Hooking, Sizing up.
Bait, Yank,
Caught.
Timeless Lessons:
Monday, November 14, 2022
Sunday, November 13, 2022
Gaslighting Chapter 2
Tweet from Down Under 🦘
At the heart of heart disease: serious gender inequalities at every stage of care https://blogs.unimelb.edu.au/sciencecommunication/2022/09/22/at-the-heart-of-heart-disease-serious-gender-inequalities-at-every-stage-of-care/
My comment:
Dr. Giovanni introduced Me to Gaslighting. It is found everywhere in Healthcare. https://traveloguefortheuniverse.blogspot.com/2022/08/gaslighting.html Patient complains of symptoms/pain and dismissed by Dr. or not heard by Dr. I was a Nurse many years and now a patient. Patients also have a Responsibility to Report Symptoms. Women often in a complex role-caregiver, Mom, Job. Women may be in denial, may not feel a thing. I explained to My Husband. My Stepson died of a cardiac arrest at home. Young People don’t have collateral circulation. They drop dead. You Doctors Don’t see them except pathologists.
Saturday, November 12, 2022
#Caturday
Dagen Bucklesby
&
Catturd2(tm)
</
If you want a book as a Christmas gift, hope you'll consider my sci-fi novel - Rabbitskin.
— Catturd ™ (@catturd2) November 5, 2022
Around 30,000 books sold now - not using Amazon.
- Two child prodigies travel to another planet and fight for the survival of the universe.
Sold only here 👇https://t.co/cdOjSL8jEe
Friday, November 11, 2022
Friday Night Musik
This week a Special You Tube Link
Ringo Starr’s All Starr Band.
So Many Great Musicians ❤️😎
Rick Danko R.I.P. 🙏🏼🍁
Thursday, November 10, 2022
I’m Late 🫣 #TBT
#TBT
Flashback to 2012.
Tuesday, November 6, 2012
Election Day (U.S.)
Election Day U.S. style,
"The public"
who is us,
"gets to vote"
which mysteriously transforms to an electoral college representative,
"they are given every opportunity"
some more than once or even posthumously,
"to show their freedom"
to be taxed silly,
"their patriotism"
can you believe there are people so disillusioned,
they do not vote at all? I do.
"In One Nation"
still is one,
"Under God"
hold on, someone is offended already,
modify to:
"Under your all powerful one, multiple ones, or non entity of empty nothingness"
"So we may elect a chosen one to lead us from despair
and deliver us to Blissful Utopian Synergistic Splendiforousity."
(I added that last line...now go vote, it does make a difference!)
"The public"
who is us,
"gets to vote"
which mysteriously transforms to an electoral college representative,
"they are given every opportunity"
some more than once or even posthumously,
"to show their freedom"
to be taxed silly,
"their patriotism"
can you believe there are people so disillusioned,
they do not vote at all? I do.
"In One Nation"
still is one,
"Under God"
hold on, someone is offended already,
modify to:
"Under your all powerful one, multiple ones, or non entity of empty nothingness"
"So we may elect a chosen one to lead us from despair
and deliver us to Blissful Utopian Synergistic Splendiforousity."
(I added that last line...now go vote, it does make a difference!)
Wednesday, November 9, 2022
Multiple Sclerosis & Obesity
From The Mouse 🐁 Doctor 🧑⚕️
My Comments…
This hits close to home 🤦♀️
Obese when a child. Sugar was my obsession.
We always had enough food & still constantly reminded My Parents lived through the Depression, Starving kids in China…
I went on Ozempic at age 60+ for new diagnosis type 2 diabetes. Have lost over 40 pounds.
I asked Dr. Does it make me full faster? She said it delays stomach emptying-that’s how it works. I eat half as much as before. I finally realized before Ozempic I was Never Hungry and Never Full. My Sister said our obese Mom had the same feelings. On sugar replacements Splenda. Junk food aisle at store Full & Marketed to Kids. There’s more to obesity than what You See.
Tuesday, November 8, 2022
Tomorrow the Work Begins Again & Again
My search for Truth
I wrote this in 2010
Is it going to be like this forever?
Monday, November 1, 2010
Tomorrow the work begins Again
The Politicians have offered their pitches and promises,
Tomorrow the work begins.
But, instead there will be a party,
a celebration or consolation.
At the end, pumped up supporters will fall exhausted,
down to the ground.
Win or lose,
The Politicians, sleepless euphorics, still buzz with the vibration
of all their monetary adoration,
a compensation, a self affirming confirmation.
They kissed the babies and bad breathed housewives,
They courted supporters, promised away their lives,
Cut the tax, Raised awareness,
Fights for apple pie, Mom and fairness.
At the end of that long election day,
The politician breaks down, on his knees to pray,
Prays his promises will not be broken,
That his constituents mind be aptly spoken.
So do not forget your promise, politician though you are,
Tomorrow begins the work,
Again,
the end
so far,
so far.
Tomorrow the work begins.
But, instead there will be a party,
a celebration or consolation.
At the end, pumped up supporters will fall exhausted,
down to the ground.
Win or lose,
The Politicians, sleepless euphorics, still buzz with the vibration
of all their monetary adoration,
a compensation, a self affirming confirmation.
They kissed the babies and bad breathed housewives,
They courted supporters, promised away their lives,
Cut the tax, Raised awareness,
Fights for apple pie, Mom and fairness.
At the end of that long election day,
The politician breaks down, on his knees to pray,
Prays his promises will not be broken,
That his constituents mind be aptly spoken.
So do not forget your promise, politician though you are,
Tomorrow begins the work,
Again,
the end
so far,
so far.
Monday, November 7, 2022
Fear Courage & Poetry
Fear
My Heroes Rode Horses
Reins in their Teeth
Fighting the Bad Guys
Relentless Pursuit.
My Heroes Wrote Poetry
More Structured Than Mine
No less Expressive
Explaining Life’s Lessons
One Word at a Time.
My Hero, JFK
His daughter my age
I didn’t understand why
Her Dad was killed
In the Prime of His Life
I miss Him Still.
Sunday, November 6, 2022
Sunday Music Link
The Weight Band - I Shall Be Released https://t.co/goWn7oCokL via @YouTube Beautiful 🙏🏼❤️🎸😎
— Mary Gerdt Parler:Alvarita1 (@marygerdt) November 2, 2022
Saturday, November 5, 2022
Friday, November 4, 2022
Thursday, November 3, 2022
Wednesday, November 2, 2022
Chief Twit adopted a Cat… 🐈⬛
Give @catturd2 Citizen Journalist Standing.
— Mary Gerdt Parler:Alvarita1 (@marygerdt) November 1, 2022
Elon Musk 😎 Conservative Voice equal time.
Jack & Paraga violated Section 230.
Twitter edited tweets,took away followers/banned Conservative Accounts. Bots accounts amplifying Liberal Ideals. Out of Balance. 1 winged Bird can’t fly. https://t.co/MO1QZ3SmtH pic.twitter.com/vlCfK9650i
Tuesday, November 1, 2022
All Saint’s Day 2022
A Zentangle for Today
Mandela 321
Coloring Book Ready
ElonMusk set the Bird Free 🦅
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