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WAITING FOR SPRING, MUELLER, AND JESUS—NOT NECESSARILY IN THAT ORDER

Do you know what I recently discovered?  Lent has started and Easter is less than 40 days away.  Also, March 1st was the start of “meteorological spring,” which should mean that spring is just around the corner. Then someone said that Mueller should be releasing his report soon.  Looks like if any of these things actually show up, it’s going to be a bombastic spring. But all three of these items (spring, Easter, and Mueller) seem to be in jeopardy, if you ask me—if you really want to know.

Cartoon used by permission: Darkow, Columbia Missourian, Cagle Cartoons

I suppose, as a spiritual being, I should really be getting myself prepared for Easter (I haven’t even thought about giving up a thing for Lent—except maybe news coverage about Trump), but I can’t concentrate because the weather is kicking my ass.  According to Joel Achenbach from The Washington Post, spring is going to be delayed because we’ve entered a polar vortex (“the very cold air mass that normally circulates in the Arctic”), and it has broken “into pieces, with a fragment hurtling south and creating dangerously cold conditions in the Lower 48 states.”  I didn’t need Achenbach to tell me that the world seemed to be coming to an end via the weather, all I had to do was look at the weather map.  Snow where no snow has rarely gone, temps going as low as minus 60 degrees in states other than Alaska, floods and tornadoes wiping out entire communities, and rains coming down so frequently that this year is considered the wettest year on record.  It’s beginning to feel like these are the days of Noah.


Although I’m praising God that I don’t live in Minnesota and the Dakotas (recorded 30 – 60 below zero temps last month), California (mudslides), Seattle (record snow), Tennessee (flooding), Alabama and Georgia (tornadoes from Hell), I am really sick and tired of being sick and tired of rain in Virginia.  It has been raining almost nonstop for over a month, and everything is covered in mildew—including my body.  I got so ill from the weather that I became a walking, hacking, sneezing mucus factory.


Cartoon used by permission: John Cole, The Scranton Times-Tribune, PA

About 2 ½ months ago, it started to rain, and in the midst of all that rain, I woke up with an upper respiratory infection that felt like bricks had been piled on top of my head while I was being water-boarded. No matter what I did, I couldn’t rid myself of the symptoms.  No antibiotics helped.  After 20 boxes of tissues, my nose was stripped raw of its skin leaving it too tender to even touch and looking like I had the beginnings of vitiligo on my skinned bulbous.  Scores of chickens were sacrificed at the altar of soup cauldrons to make chicken soup—Jewish penicillin—and I combed the Earth looking for effective cough meds like a junkie looking for her next fix.  My husband was banished to the guest room to escape my incessant hacking cough, and my friends started making the sign of the cross whenever I came into their presence.  Somewhere in the middle of my snot and sneeze tour, I went deaf (WTF!!).  When I dragged myself into the ENT (ear, nose, and throat doctor), he came at me with a suction tube on one side of my head and a miniature ice cream scoop on the other. The nurse told me (after reviving me from my fainting spell at the horror of it all), that she and the doc had scoped out a candle factory’s supply of wax in the left ear and sucked out six months’ worth of mucus in the right ear—restoring my hearing within minutes.  In the midst of this torture, Punxsutawney Phil didn’t see his shadow and proclaimed an early spring which has turned out to be a big fat lie, and if I ever get my strength back, I shall hunt him down and open up a can of whup ass on him that he’ll never forget. (Nasty-ass rodent!)


Cartoon used by permission: Darkow, Columbia Missourian, Cagle Cartoons

Having nothing better to do in my snotty state of mind (how much snot can a 70-year-old woman expectorate? Turns out that the answer is: 2 tons!), I started meditating on liars—inspired by Punxsutawney Phil.

According to dictionary.com, a lie is: a false statement made with deliberate intent to deceive; an intentional untruth; a falsehood. Something intended or serving to convey a false impression….  Well, clearly my nurse practitioner had lied when she told me the antibiotics and the little translucent cough pills would do the trick and clear my symptoms right up.  In reality, she had no idea her advice would work, but she charged me $234.19 and sent me on my way, anyhow.  I started watching the Cohen testimonies from my sick bed and realized that I was watching a professional liar trying to shed himself of a professional liar who is now our President, while those that still follow him continue to lie to themselves that “Trumpee, Trumpee, he’s our man, if he can’t save us, no one can!”


Cartoon used by permission: Steve Sack, The Minneapolis Star-Tribune MN, CagleCartoons

When the Cohen testimonies made me sick at heart, I turned to the coverage of the Vatican’s cover-up through the years about the pedophilia priests in their midst, and immediately erased Pope Francis from my Christmas card list. (Seriously, Francis, I thought you were going to be different than all the other popes, but all you’ve done is talk, talk, talk.  For Christ’s sake:  call the police and throw all those sick pervs in jail.  How hard can that be?)


Cartoon used by permission: Steve Sack, The Minneapolis Star-Tribune MN, CagleCartoons

My disappointment in the current Pope really made me really sick at heart, and I thought I couldn’t get any sicker until I watched the four-hour HBO documentary and Oprah’s follow-up interview on Michael Jackson’s alleged years-long serial pedophilia against two of his victims and scores of other children from ages 5 to 14 or so.  This was after I had grooved to a dance mix of “Thriller,” “Bad,” “The Way You Make Me Feel,” and “Don’t Stop ‘Til You Get Enough” (suddenly those lyrics take on a whole new meaning!) to try and cheer me up from the stories about pedophilia in the Catholic church. Yuck! Being a Michael Jackson fan, how the hell did I miss this?  If these stories are true, M.J. was one sick fuck. 


Cartoon used by permission: David Fitzsimmons, The Arizona Star, Tucson, AZ

At that point, I turned off the television, crawled under the covers in despair with another bowl of chicken soup and my tissue box and made a declaration that I planned to stay there.  I mean what’s the point of trying to get well when humans are such horrid creatures. (Physical sickness causes me to feel really sorry for myself and very agitated with the world at large.  If you look at me the wrong way, I’ll fling my snot at you.  Be glad I don’t have any magic powers or you’d all be turned into fried frog legs.  God may have had his Noah’s flood, but I’d come at the Earth with a zapping power that would fricassee everybody’s ass who got on my nerves.)

Then I was reminded that Easter was coming soon.  I love Easter!  It’s my favorite high holiday. It is connected to spring, and it reminds me that winter won’t last forever, bad people won’t get away with murdering the hearts of the innocents ad infinitum, and that I need redemption and salvation just as much as those that I’m judging.  As I poked my head from underneath the covers, I began to recite this anonymous prayer I found on the Google machine to ease my aching body and soul:

“Our Lord has written the promise of resurrection, not in books alone, but in every leaf in springtime.  No winter lasts forever; no spring skips its turn. Easter is meant to be a symbol of hope, renewal, and new life. For I remember it is Easter morn and life and love and peace are all new born.”—Anonymous

The problem is—with me, as with many others—will we recognize Easter when it shows up?


Cartoon used by permission: Aislin, The Montreal Gazette

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I’m discovering that I have no idea when the madness—physical, political, sociological, or meteorological—will end.  I just know I’m tired of being sick and tired. (To my horror, I just got in a CNN News bulletin on my phone:  FLU SEASON MAY NOT HAVE PEAKED, AND THERE’S ANOTHER WAVE OF SEVERE INFECTIONS UNDERWAY, CDC SAYS.)   What to do…what to do?  Shall I take the chance and come out from underneath my covers and reenter the world?  Shall I look to the sky in anticipation for spring while hoping and praying for the resurrection of Easter to sweep away the dross of winter from our human hearts—from here to the Vatican on down through the Michael Jackson fans who are threatening violence against the survivors of M.J.’s alleged sexual abuse?  I think so, because if I’ve learned anything, hope does spring eternal and winter never lasts.


Cartoon used by permission: Dave Granlund, PoliticalCartoons.com

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WANT TO KNOW MORE ABOUT THE AUTHOR?  Check out her website at www.eleanortomczyk.com

THE AUTHOR’S LATEST BOOKS:  Monsters’ Throwdown, Fleeing Oz, The Fetus Chronicles on sale now at Amazon!

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REFERENCES

https://www.washingtonpost.com/weather/2019/03/04/historically-cold-march-temperatures-are-freezing-large-part-lower/?utm_term=.72a3d2e4e9af

https://www.washingtonpost.com/national/health-science/spring-put-on-hold-as-storm-rolls-across-us-and-polar-air-arrives/2019/03/02/2cacafe2-3d0d-11e9-a2cd-307b06d0257b_story.html?utm_term=.d5196785a7e1

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Eleanor Tomczyk and “How the Hell Did I End Up Here?” with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

 
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Posted by on March 9, 2019 in Uncategorized

 

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Keep Calm and Try Again

Do you know what I’ve discovered?   Something called a Polar Vortex slammed into my region (actually all over the country except for Hawaii) the last couple of days, and it took a bite-sized stability chunk out of my New Year’s resolutions which had only been up and running for two days.  I’m freezing, and no matter how many hot beverages I consume, I cannot stay warm—therefore, I am cranky and consuming carbs (to get warm) by the bucket load just to be able to think and function.  *My 2014 New Year’s Resolutions are:  Be Happy and Eat Less Carbs (notice I didn’t say the “D” word; I’m trying a more subtle approach—maybe my body won’t notice it is being tricked this year).

Cold Front Bill Schorr Cagle Cartoons

Used by permission:  Bill Schorr, Cagle Cartoons

As I was bitching and complaining to myself about my already failed 2014 resolutions, my husband (WW) came into the kitchen and announced he had just heard on the radio that most people fail their New Year’s resolutions within 48 hours of making them because their resolutions are usually too expansive and complex.

ME:      How can wanting to be happy and eating less carbs be too expansive?

WW:     Because all it took was a slight change in your environment and back into the cheese puffs you fell.

ME:      Don’t forget the mulled wine . . . But if one doesn’t make expansive goals, how will anyone’s dreams come true?  Last year I made a resolution to write and publish my book Monsters’ Throwdown, and I accomplished it.  http://www.amazon.com/Monsters-Throwdown-Odyssey-Discovery-Series/dp/1493616099/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1389234831&sr=8-1&keywords=eleanor+tomczyk

Polar Vortex Nate Beeler The Columbus Dispatch

Used by permission:  Nate Beeler The Columbus Dispatch

WW:     Actually, you made a goal to write your first book three years ago and just finished it last year.  Anyway, I didn’t hear the entire program, but I assume it would help to make two kinds of resolutions:  one simple and one complex, like your beloved carbohydrates.  I talked to our grandson today and even as a five-year-old he has two New Year’s resolutions:  His Simple Resolution—to get more play dates with anybody in kindergarten from here to California; his Complex Resolution—permanently and consistently “get over” on his mother whom he deems to be his arch nemesis.

ME:        I heard he’d managed to accomplish his simple New Year’s resolution and had set up at least one play date by stopping a total stranger-mommy and her son on the way home from school.   Without consulting his mother, he accosted the stranger-mommy and said:  “You need to give my mommy your cell phone number so I can have a play date with your kid.” The woman was so flabbergasted that she immediately turned over her phone number to him.  Now that is determination!  Did you ask our grandson how his complex resolution was holding up?

WW:     I tried, but he can’t come to the phone right now because he’s been grounded by his mother.  Apparently, she told him that he couldn’t take his chipmunk dolls (Alvin and Theodore) to school, but he decided that now was the time to turn into Baby Stewie from Family Guy and run inroads against his nemesis, The Mommy.  So he stuffed Theodore down the right sleeve of his coat and purposely left one of Theodore’s arms sticking out, while snugly hiding Alvin in the right sleeve—completely out-of-sight.  (Simon had been discarded at the last minute—there are only so many places a five-year-old body can hide smuggled goods.)

ME:        Oh yeah, his mommy told me about this.  Little Dude sauntered to the front door—replete with backpack—on his way to the bus stop, when his mother noticed a Chipmunk hand peeking out of his coat sleeve as if it were waving at her.  When she demanded that Little Dude cough up Theodore, our grandson dutifully protested (screams, flailing of arms, and gnashing of teeth) about the toy being taken away but finally acquiesced to proceeding without the contraband, knowing that Alvin was well hidden in his other sleeve.  Then, just when our grandson thought he’d gotten away with it, he heard his nemesis scream:  “LITTLE DUDE—WHAT DO YOU HAVE HIDDEN IN YOUR OTHER SLEEVE?  TURN IT OVER BUSTER!”

WW:     Did our daughter tell you what his punishment was for the attempted ruse?

ME:        Yep, loss of a play date.  I’m afraid it is back to square one for our pint-sized smuggler.

New Year's Resolution Dolls

WW:     This proves the point of the radio show:  stick to small goals and stack them up, and if you slip up (or get caught), it won’t be such a hard thing to pick yourself up and start again.  Want to lose weight?  Go for 10 pounds at a time, rather than 50.  Pound by pound, the overall goal will be achieved.  Want to win friends and influence enemies by showing off more cool stuff at the kindergarten show-and-tell?  Try schmoozing your nemesis with a subtler strategy so that she’ll let down her guard—perhaps by eating some dreaded vegetables every once in a while to make her think she’s really in control.  Ideas like that.

ME:        Okay, Mister Confucius, since you’re so smart, what are your simple and complex New Year’s resolutions?

WW:     My Complex New Year’s Resolution is to cruise to Hawaii before the end of the year.  My Simple Resolution is to save money by using smaller sections of paper towels, using less hot water, turning off lights when they are not needed, and turning down the heat to conserve energy.  I’m starting a “Hawaii or Bust” fund with my savings.

ME:        Do you plan on taking me with you to Hawaii?  Because I just used two rolls of paper towels on the hot chocolate I spilled all over the floor in my attempts to warm my innards; I turned the furnace up to 80 two days ago to thwart the Polar Vortex freezing my ass off; while you were away on business, I turned on all the lights to ward off the Boogey Man and kept them on 24/7, and I’m about to jump into a hot shower and stay there until Jesus comes back because I’m just that frozen!

Frozen John Darkow, Columbia Daily Tribune, Missouri

Used by permission: John Darkow, Columbia, Daily Tribune, Missouri

I am discovering that much as we Americans would love to have a perfectly shaped comet ride of our spiritual, emotional, and physical growth in life, that journey is more like an erratic dance:  two steps forward, one step back; repeat; stop; and start again.  We owe it to ourselves, our families, our communities, and our world to want to “do better.”  The beginning of a new year is as good a time as any to implement admirable goals.  The point is not to give up at the first Polar Vortex slam and try, try, try again!

*My “Real” New Year’s Resolution for 2014: Simple New Year’s Resolution—to treat others the way I want to be treated; Complex New Year’s Resolution—to be the change I want to see in the world!

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“Another fresh new year is here . . .

Another year to live!

To banish worry, doubt, and fear,

To love and laugh and give!

― William Arthur Ward

 “’That which does not kill me makes me stronger’ is not a law of the universe. What it can be, if we so choose, is a resolution.”—Julian Baggini

“New Year’s Resolution: To tolerate fools more gladly, provided this does not encourage them to take up more of my time.”—James Agate

“How few there are who have courage enough to own their faults, or resolution enough to mend them.”—Benjamin Franklin

“We will open the book. Its pages are blank. We are going to put words on them ourselves. The book is called Opportunity and its first chapter is New Year’s Day.”― Edith Lovejoy Pierce

NEW YEARS MEME STAR  TREK end

REFERENCES

http://www.washingtonpost.com/blogs/tom-toles/post/news-years-resolution/2013/12/20/56d6c300-69a2-11e3-ae56-22de072140a2_blog.html

http://www.washingtonpost.com/local/shiver-or-shrug-on-a-bitter-cold-day-the-ultimate-rorschach-test/2014/01/07/22633f48-77be-11e3-b1c5-739e63e9c9a7_story.html

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Eleanor Tomczyk and “How the Hell Did I End Up Here?” with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

 
15 Comments

Posted by on January 9, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

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