My Audacious Truth: In Which I Tweet Agreeably & The Consequence Thereof

I’m here today to share with you, my little moonbeams, something that happened to me, something that made me laugh more than it should have. I’m trying to work up some righteous indignation, but so far I’m stuck on the absurdity of it.

Someone on Twitter has blocked me. Yes, after 10 years of bouncing around in there I’ve offended someone to such a degree that this person felt the need to turn me into persona non grata.

[You might be thinking to yourself, hokey smokes what has happened? Did Ms. Bean have a strong opinion tightly held that she foisted upon someone? Was she argumentative?]

My understanding is that it’s a badge of honor to be blocked on Twitter, so I’m taking this development in stride, trying not to be too prideful about it because I’m a pleasant woman, a bit snarky at times, but always genuine.

And grateful.

You see, the blocker wrote a positive tweet about her hometown. I, the blockee, mentioned that I thought the same thing that the blocker did. I concurred by saying *blah blah blah* about how wonderful it was that said hometown had persevered to overcome its challenges, brilliantly.

The blocker came back and pontificated on the state politics involved in the history of her hometown’s past difficulties. The ones I’d praised the hometown for overcoming.

Then I said the words destined to get me blocked. Yes I said, I AGREE WITH YOU and was blocked for it.

[You might be thinking to yourself, what the fork? Have we come to a time when agreement is tossed aside as quickly as disagreement? What gives?]

Thus from this exchange, for which I’m grateful because it gave me blog fodder, I’ve reaffirmed that no act of kindness goes unpunished.

Plus I’ve also experienced something I’ve mused upon for a long time. Let’s call it my audacious truth.

To wit, there is irony in everyone’s life. Case in point, even when I agreed with someone, they used it against me.

I believe this happens because once some people decide they don’t like you [for who knows what reason], no matter what you say, be it sincere, supportive, or logical, your words will make no difference to them. You are wrong and must be ignored.

In other words, audacious truth be damned blocked.

Waiting For The Inauguration, I Snark + Laugh + Celebrate A Blogging Milestone

Tomorrow is THE DAY when 81,009,468 Americans finally will get to say: “Don’t let the door hit you on the butt as you leave, Donald. You’re fired.”

[Lock him up.]

I tell ‘ya, what a clusterfork these last four years have been*. I’m emotionally exhausted by the hate, intellectually tired of the stupidity, and morally outraged by the greed.

You probably are, too.

However, be that as it may, as we wait for better days ahead, here’s a smorgasbord of four images I’ve saved over the last few months, waiting for the perfect time to share them here.

Why today? Two reasons.

First this is something to do until the adults take over the government tomorrow. And secondly, yesterday was the ten year anniversary of this blog** and I wanted to quietly make note of it.

• • •

I saw this sticker on a car, an old Impala sedan. A bit of fast research and now I know that it’s a way to say “Baby on Board.” I’m unclear if this is new or old urban slang, but it caught my eye on a car out here in suburbia.

Have you seen this sticker before?

• • •

I’m seeing this saying all over the place, however I’ve no primary source for it which is a bummer because it is clever. I realize that attempting to overthrow the government is serious, but this sentiment amuses moi.

Thoughts, anyone?

• • •

When I opened an old family cookbook out fell this newspaper clipping for a drink called a Trojan Horse. One of my ancestors, probably my father, must have saved this absinthe, anisette, and gin drink that is described as: “infiltrates slowly without your knowing it and then hits you all of a sudden about an hour later.”

None for me, thanks. And you?

• • •

Moira Rose of Schitt’s Creek is one of my favorite TV characters. Thus I shall leave her immortal words here as a way of thanking the wonderful people who read this blog. You’re the best.

I’d be nowhere without my own wolf pack, now wouldn’t I?

• • • • •

* Don’t blame me, I voted for the lady with the emails.

** First post is here.

On A Pretty November Day Chatting About Outdoor Furniture While We Wait*

AFTER A WET and thoroughly disappointing October, we’ve finally gotten to the pretty days of autumn.

The sky is clear blue with a few white puffy clouds, the leaves on the trees are gloriously colorful shades of gold and rust, and the daytime temps are in the 60s F.

I like everything about this scenario, so color me relaxed and happy in spite of what is going on in the world.

Nothing has been as I anticipated it would be this year, so why not have a delayed autumn? Maybe even a late winter, too? 

• • •

WE’VE BEGUN TO carry some of the outdoor furniture inside, storing it in the basement like we do.  Instead of taking one day to move all the outside furniture inside, we’ll do it in dribs and drabs.  Rather like the way in which leaves drop from the trees in the fall.

We’re also talking about taking the bold step of ordering some new outdoor chairs and a rocker to add to our outdoor furniture collection.

I only mention that we’re thinking about doing this because the estimated delivery time for this type of composite Adirondack-style furniture is 3 months [or more].  Therefore, if we want these items by next spring [or summer], we must order them soon.

In other words there will be waiting involved;  and isn’t waiting the subtext of 2020? And today?

• • •

* It’s up to you, my gentle readers, to decide whether the wait mentioned in the title of this post is for furniture delivery OR for the polls to close today ending [I hope] this dreadful presidential election. Comment as you see fit.

Good Morning To Everyone Except WordPress, My Frenemy

Et tu, Brute? 🤓

Entirely against my wishes in one of the most difficult years of my life, WordPress, my now former friend, has stabbed me in the back by stealing my favorite classic editor. This is no way for a friend to act.

Here’s the dealio. One week after sending me the annual renewal bill for this personal blog, WordPress has dumped their new unwanted editing system on my account. They call it the block editor; I think of it as the blockhead system.

I don’t want this new editor, nor do I need this change. I’m already living in a daily state of confusion and angst without this added burden in my life. This begs the question: would a true friend make my life more difficult during a pandemic? Just so they could get their jollies at my expense?

I’d say ‘NO.’ However as of yesterday I’m being forced to learn a new way to write + edit my blog posts, showing me how little I mean to WordPress. Not that I’m surprised, mind you. I know I am, we all are, pawns in WordPress’s game.

BUT it does bring home the fact that social media companies, all of them, do not have our best interests at heart. They manipulate us into communicating in ways that primarily serve their purposes, not our own.

Will I continue to write a blog in a system that makes more work for me? Truthfully, I dunno. I don’t have to keep a blog, I do it for fun– and let me clue you in, learning a new editing system is the opposite of fun for me.

I’ve no doubt that I can learn how to use this blockhead editor, but I resent having to do so this year because, as we all have learned in 2020, life is too short and precious for stressful sh!t that detracts from living happy and healthy.

Not cool, WordPress. Not cool. 🤨

[At this point I’d like to add an image to this post but I don’t know how to do so. That sentence makes me sad… sadder, I suppose. Also, I have some posts written ahead but I don’t know how to publish them now that I’m in block editor hell.]

As September Ends, Learning About The Color Orange + A Colorful Poll Question

I went out the front door to walk down the driveway to the mailbox.  I saw this Monarch butterfly flitting among the zinnias.  When I came back from getting the mail he was still messing around in the flowers.

Realizing I had a photo op I hurried inside, got my camera, rushed out to where the zinnias are thriving, and snapped this photo.  It is a tribute to the color orange: orange flower + predominantly orange butterfly = coolness.

[To be clear, this is a tribute to the natural occurrence of the color orange, not the peculiar shade of make-up worn by our so-called President. That orange is icky and weird. Like him.]

• • •

For snorts and giggles I researched the color orange.  Here are five fun facts to know and tell.

According to Smithsonian Magazine when it comes to crayons, “Crayola has at least 16 different names for what most of us would call ‘orange.'” [Link HERE]

According to Canva’s description of the meaning of the color orange, “it communicates activity and energy and encourages socialization.” [Link HERE]

According to Interactive’s description of people with an orange aura, they are: “Overall, thrill-seekers, daredevils, and people who tend to life in the fast lane.” [Link HERE]

According to Jewelry Shopping Guide’s description of orange gemstones, they symbolize: “joy, sunshine, warmth, creativity, happiness and a touch of the exotic.” [Link HERE]

According to Brides.com’s guide to wedding flowers, there are 19 orange or coral flowers you can use in your wedding palette. [Link HERE]

From this random research I’ve concluded that the butterfly in the photo is the color of the crayon named ‘Mango Tango’;  he is social, an active and energetic thrill seeker who likes sunshine, creatively making himself happy, while visiting a flower not suggested for an orange wedding bouquet.

• • •

While investigating the color orange I got thinking about favorite colors.  Everyone has one– or at least I assume they do.  I made this poll question hoping to find out which color is the most loved one among my gentle readers.

Answer the poll question, then chat about orange, or any color, in the comments below.  I’d love to know your favorite color– and why, of course.