flightless hag

A chronicle of the adventures of birdwoman: a lonely, talentless freak who wanders the internet in search of entertainment.

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Location: Philly

I'm a 40-something married white female, survivor of weight watchers, avid reader of pulp. Dogs (not cats), extreme right (handed, not politics), ENTJ, alto, wanna-be knitter.

June 30, 2013

The Lisp Runs In The Family?

It is a well known (and well made-fun-of) fact from my past: I had a pretty horrible speech impediment when I was a tyke. It was so bad, they had me in the lowest level academic classes my first 2 years of school. Not joking.

So when my kid can't say his "S" or, rather, at this point, is TOO LAZY to say his "s", I feel for him.

I really do!

But it's gone too far. I suppose someone may have been  making fun of his baby talk, a la Buddy Hinton. (Come on, you remember, repeat with me!: Baby Talk, Baby Talk, It's a wonder you can walk! Seven silver swans swam silently seaward.) But he's now channeled Peter, not Cindy.

Yesh, he actually ish talking like thish.

And I am making fun of it by saying "Porchopsh and appleshaush, that'sh shwell."

Just call me Buddy.


We had an interesting day yesterday. I just got out of school this week. Was supposed to take my mom up to my sister's for the summer swap, but had to take the family roadster to the shop first. It wouldn't go more than 40 miles an hour before it started shaking. There was apparently a problem.

So, 2 days and $1500 later, the car is fixed and road ready! But my brother had already absconded with my mother, leaving me free to go to the family picnic.

Now, first off, I must give props to my family. Every branch of my Dad's family, be they Smiths, Vannesses, Gramentos, or Hathaways are all universally accepting and friendly folks. A better bunch of people to hang out with you'll not find anywhere. But I HATE driving. So I wasn't looking forward to the trip, which is 2+ hours one way.

On the drive home from the shop, I had felt some "squishyness" in my breaks, but thought it was just me being a nervous, bad driver.

John agreed.

So when it felt squishy again at the beginning of the trip, I told myself I was being stupid.

Of course, I drove UP the turnpike (the family farm is up in the mountains, so it's uphill the whole way) I kept thinking about having to go DOWN the big hill on 115. There are all these "runaway truck" ramps. I really, really don't ever want to find out what they're like!

So, I exit, and the brakes are feeling MIGHTY squishy, and then all the sudden... THEY'RE NOT THERE! The brake light went on and I rolled into a parking lot, right at the top of the big hill on 115. I hadn't really put any gas to the engine, so it wasn't too bad stopping with almost no brakes. But it scared the LIVER out of me. Of course, my kick @$$ family came to the rescue. One of them even had a trailer and towed me and fixed the brakes.

Pretty lucky, eh? Or blessed, I guess?


Speaking of the Appalachian Mountains (my family is in the Endless Mountain section - or was that just something they made up when they split the middle school houses?) (Again, repeat with me, you TAMS graduates: ENDLESS MOUNTAINS! (susquehanna)). I always wondered WHY the mountains are still there! I mean, they're from the original protocontinents. They're linked with the Atlas mountains in Africa. But they should have eroded away by now, as they've been extinct for hundreds of millions of years!

They once were the size of the Alps and the Rockies. But wind and water took them down.

So why aren't they shorter? Why are they still mountains?

Geologists think that there's a reason they're still around. It seems that erosion actually helps a mountain find its most stable structure. The unstable stuff gets weathered away, and the strongest mettle is left behind.

In other words, that which does not kill us makes us stronger?

And that's my deep thought for the day.

Don't step in it!


June 24, 2013


So, this morning my mother was talking to me before I went off to school. Random subjects, this that, and then, tangential to the conversation, she said, "I would like to know what happened to my cousin John."

Well, his name was very common, but his sister's wasn't. So I looked up the sister and found her through her son's wedding announcement. I did a person search and got a phone number and address. Now, we all know that the white pages on the 'net aren't the most reliable. Especially when you're talking about older folk who go off to live in yonder places.

So, I got to work. Last day. NOTHING to do. I decided to attempt to call my mother's long-lost cousin.

Sure enough, the phone number was correct! I identified myself, and who my mother was. She answered, "Oh, I remember her, she was the same age as my brother."

And my heart fell. I caught the past tense. I could hear her voice choking up.

"Oh, is he no longer with us?"

"No, he just died yesterday. We're planning the funeral today."

Spooky, right? Almost like John was saying goodbye to Mom?

So, as I was sitting in the front of the school letting folks in ( I had nothing else to do!), I chatted with a few folks, and shared my spooky story, and what do you know? Both of them, independently, had equally spooky stories. Coincidence? Twilight zone? I don't know. But it sure was spooky.


June 09, 2013

The evolution of humor

So the dirty bird clan went out to dinner and a movie last night. Who would have believed that, right?  We went to see Now You See Me, which was pretty fun. Even John kinda liked it.

The theater we went to - the only one with an 8pm showing - has one restaurant next to it. It's a Max and Erma's. Besides having good burgers, which they do, they are one of those Eye Spy restaurants. You know, they have so much crap on the walls that to keep your kids from being bored while you get the burgers made you play eye spy? There was a goldfish. An upside down airplane. But the one that made me giggle was the one behind John's head: 

Now, I saw this, and giggled, so Stinks looked where I was looking and started giggling. He's 12. John then wanted to see what was funny, turned around and chortled a little bit. Moth looked over and was like, what's funny? He's 10. So, Dad says, Yes, that DownLine NewCastle is really funny!! Tim looked briefly confused but then agreed.

He's such an innocent little tyke!! (of course, Sean explained it, and then Tim guffawed. Innocence shattered!)

Fast forward a few minutes to our waitress coming and going a few times. She was really nice. But after she was out of earshot, I said to John, "Wow, she as a really interesting tattoo." And I snickered. He looked at me and we both snickered more. You see, she has the zodiac symbol for Cancer on her NECK. But if you know what that looks like... Let's just say, unless you know it is the zodiac symbol, well... it's advertising something WAAAY different. I only know it's a zodiac sign because I googled it this morning. I thought she was advertising something waaaay different:

Anyhow, Nosy Nelly (aka stinky) (moth is snoopy sally) chirps in with "what is her tatttoo?" Dad, being clever like he is, answers "It's a really big butterfly!!" To which our almost-teen does the Rogers Eye-Roll (TM) and says, "that's not funny! You guys are weird."

Fast forward a few more minutes, and we get our really tasty burgers. Delivered by our July Baby waittress. Before she's out of earshot, Stinks pipes in with "what's so funny about sixty-nine?" (so I guess he hasn't learned that in middle school yet.)

The people at the next table were quite amused, I'm sure. Even more so when Dad answered that people who advertise this number are members of a club that like to abuse animals.

So, Moth doesn't know what big nutts are, Stinks doesn't know what's funny about a 69, and I have the equivalent humor of a late-middle schooler. No surprises here!

And now, I must cleanse my body before I go cleanse my soul. This mind is beyond any surfactant. But what the heck, 2 out of 3 ain't bad.