Rapier's Wit

Oh, nice still frame! I look like I'm about to heave or I'm doing my impersonation of Jabba the Hutt. This is an impromptu idea. I wanted to give my friends, family and readers something special for the end of the year. Let me know if this version of my randomosity is something appealing for the future. My random blathering takes on a whole new meaning when you witness it live ... or almost live. Happy New Year!

Last year about this time ... actually it was several hours later and the new year, 2008, was about to be rung in ... I wrote about making the new year all about me. I declared it the " year of the Riss ." I vowed to love myself a little more. I promised to be kinder to the woman within the skin and bones that you all know as Marissa. Did I succeed? 2008 turned out to be a very trying year for my family and close friends. We mourned the death of my brother in law. A tragic circumstance for my nephews he left behind. Then, shortly after the burial, Maureen, their mother, discovered a carcenoid that had been assumed dormant grew substantially. Surgery wasn't successful. Chemo was the only course of action. We're blessed that it's working. The tumor is decreasing in size. My nephews have bravely faced what fate has handed them. I swell with pride as I worry daily about them. My dearest friend Tom has had to face the mortality of his mother. It was discovered that she...

One of the grooviest and most down to earth chicks on plurk tagged me to participate in this meme. It should not be difficult to execute. I'm known for my weirdness. Yet, I just like to think of it as my style of normal. "I'm normal. Your expectations of me are simply off kilter." Here are the rules: • Link to the person (Not A Mean Girl) who tagged you and post the rules in your post. • Share seven random/weird facts about yourself. • Tag seven random people and link to their blogs. • Let each person know they’ve been tagged by leaving a comment in their blog. Random Rissness #1 : I have to pluck disgusting hairs from my neck and chin daily. They seem to latch on to Miracle-Gro or Rogaine when I'm not looking! Feeling for vile buggers has become what appears to be a nervous tick. I carry a tweezers with me in case one crops up and starts waving at people at will. Random Rissness #2 : I've been informed that my eyes reveal a lot about what I'm thinking. ...

I am a Christian. If wishing you a Merry Christmas is somehow offensive, with all due respect, tough sugar cookies with sprinkles and icing. This holiday where we celebrate the birth of my Lord and Saviour brings me great joy and sensations of hope. I won't let political correctness stand in my way. This morning I awoke with a memory on my brain that I hadn't thought of in decades. I think what spurned this thought was seeing the DVD of "A Miracle on 34th Street" starring Natalie Wood. It's a lovely movie that epitomizes the idea that faith in an ideal is all we need to believe. At least that's what I walk away with after watching it. It doesn't matter how many times I watch the film, I still get chills and joyfully weepy when they prove in the courtroom that Santa is real ... based on the faith and hope. In the movie a new Santa is needed for the parade. This is where my memory fits in to this post. When I was in 8th or 9th grade, my classmates and I were...

My family is so vast that it's really difficult to pull us all together at one time. So, the holidays are usually comprised of a few. In our family, few is a relative term, mind you. With 10 kids (spouses or significant others), grandchildren (I lost count) a solid 20 means a few. Typically though, it's those of us who live within reasonable driving distance to Grandma's casa. The attendees aren't a guaranteed bunch, but food a'plenty and merriment is certain. I was terribly concerned that the ice storm that hit us on December 18 would deter travelers. Negatory! The Illinois and Indiana dwellers made it safely to Plainfield on December 20. My (step) mom is the hostess with the mostest. It's always a relaxing, easy going time when we break bread there. Something very calming exists when I walk through her front door. I guess it's home. We all exchanged gifts -- letting the little ones have their run first. My nephew G is a toddler and he was so excited for ...

Wisconsin is getting battered with massive snow. Here in Kankakee we were pelted with freezing rain. I offer you proof from my own front door. When I first attempted to open my front door at 7:30 a.m., I realized the inch or so of ice had blocked me in. Thanks to Gary the Garden Gnome and his magic rock salt, I was successful in stepping out at 9:30 a.m. I'm actually a little sad because that was going to be my number one lame excuse for why I was unable to get to work. The bottom photos were snapped from my icy prison. That explains the raindrops you see. Frozen on the glass, mind you. When I was on the porch taking these photos in my pajamas, I heard branches falling in the distance. I nearly pooed myself when a top branch broke and fell from the willow tree that lumbers over the garage. Fortunately, it isn't a big branch and didn't hit the garage roof. My car is parked in there. Brainstorm! My garage probably won't open due to the ice build up. I may ge...

... to my son. He's always surprising me with the wonder of insight and compassion. There are days when I feel like I've done nothing right. Then, I come home. Proud - Steven Curtis Chapman

My morning started with quite a conundrum. In fact, it was awful. Not only did I feel that I didn't get enough sleep -- thank you Alka-Seltzer Plus -- I couldn't make coffee! DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS TO A CAFFEINE ADDICT LIKE MYSELF!? Sorry for all the caps. I'm tense. Or, at least I was ... that is, until I turned to my personal wealth of information. Plurk. Yep. Blah, blah, blah. I'm bragging up on my pleeps on Plurk. I put the water in the coffee maker. Then, it happened. THE HORROR! I remembered I used the last coffee filter YESTERDAY. I went to the grocery store after work YESTERDAY. It was snowing. All I had on my mind was getting in and out of that place before traffic got heavier with idiots. Oh, the creamer found its place in my basket. Bagels, cream cheese, chicken, bananas, marshmallow fluff. You know. The essentials for any gourmet. Yet, never did the coffee filters plunk themselves into my cart. Damn it! I posed this issue on Plurk. The first suggestion ...

I know I've said this before, and it's likely I will discuss it again; there's more to the Internet than porn and shopping. My life has been enriched thanks to this world wide web. That's not to say I haven't met my share of stinkers. After all, I don't hide the clunker dates I've had thanks to online dating sites. I haven't done that in a while. I think I'm due, but enough about that for now. I am addicted, so to speak, to a social networking site called Plurk. I suspect it's like Twitter, but I don't use that site. I can only have one fixation at a time and Plurk is my flavor for now. I shouldn't say "for now" as if it's just a flight of fancy. I'm sticking with it as long as they'll have me. Today is Tuesday. Tuesday is all about kindness. Many of the people I have friended on Plurk write about kindness on their blogs. Sometimes it flows easily. Other times they admit it was a struggle. We're all human. Go fig...

While taking my lunch break at work on Thursday, I was reading TIME magazine. It was the December 8th issue, to be exact. There was a lot of chattering going on, but there was a particular item that caught my attention. "Person of the Year. Time asked prominent individuals, including former Persons of the Year, whom they would choose for 2008." I'm sure it comes as no surprise that President-elect Barack Obama leads the poll. Whether you agree with America's choice, his overwhelming lead in the TIME poll isn't shocking. In this issue, the following were asked their choice: Rudy Giuliani : Barack Obama Queen Rania al-Abdullah: The waiting billions (Millennium Development Goals) Cory Booker: Barack Obama Peter Ueberroth: Single mothers and grandmothers Did you catch that? Peter Ueberroth (recent U.S. Olympic Committee chairman of the board and former baseball commissioner) wants me to be TIME magazines Person of the Year. On behalf of all the fascinating, ...

My son is wonderful. He has compassion and understanding for the human condition well beyond his 14 years. As proof, I offer you this: Mancub: " Mom, I know you don't have a lot of money to give me gifts on Christmas Day, but I want you to know that I get a present from you everyday. You ."

Everyone has a theory or tale about Santa Claus. He is most often thought of as the Coca-Cola creation. It doesn't matter where you're from. You all have had your variation on the fat man in red. There's never been a question that the jolly old fella is generous and resourceful. I, on the other hand, had the honour of living with Santa Claus. Oh, I had no idea at the time. I never spied the red velvet suit. Nor did I get a tickle by the mass of snowy white beard. I never had reindeer doody duty, either. The following story was written by my father. He submitted his theory on Santa Claus to our local newspaper, The Kankakee Daily Journal. I'm unable to give you the exact date (Maureen would know.) I can recall him sitting at our family dining table lamenting over the proper way to honour his perception of Jolly Old St. Nick. His glasses perched on his nose; looking over the top of them as I tromped about disturbing his train of thought. He'd say very little, b...

My mother's laugh was infectious. She possessed poise and beauty; yet, underneath lurked the pain of a child who lost her mother at a young age. Beneath the bobbed strawberry blonde curls was the mind of thoughtfulness and intellegence; a woman who longed for motherhood. She attained motherhood eight times over. I'm the youngest of her brood. The "caboose" of the Family Rapier. Today marks the anniversary of my mother's birth. She left this earthly place in June of 1981. For many years I struggled with anger. I now understand that it was easier for me to hate her for leaving me. It made the pain seem less excrutiating. For years I held on to the aspects that were negative. I was scarred. Today, I remember my mother for the many loving things she did. People felt important and loved in her presence. I miss her terribly. I miss the way she gave Christmas an extra cozy touch. Music always filled our home. Whether it be good times or bad, a song could b...

So, in the post right down yonder I said that today was a day where I'd observe people being kind and compassionate out in the wild of day. Meh, I didn't get much observation time in beyond watching chemicals drip into my sister's body via I.V. I arrived at Casa Maureen around 11:00 a.m. After petting the dogs and exchanging in a little chit chat with Kris, we departed in the cold, rainy muck of the day. We made a drive-thru side trip for a bite and an eggnog shake. Sis was craving one and knew after the chemo treatment she'd be too sensitive to the cold to enjoy one (a side effect of this particular treatment is hypersensitivity to cold.) I'm unsure when we arrived at the Loyola clinic, but the ride up took about an hour --sissy chitty chat time. More sissy chatter in the waiting room. They were readying things up for the drip, drip, drip. The same male nurse I met the last time I took her came to get us. His name is Craig or Greg. I'm bad with names, but he is...

Today I am taking my sister to her chemotherapy treatment. That's not the act of kindness I'm going to discuss. She's my flesh and blood. It's a moot point whether or not I'll accompany her on my day off. Laundry, blogging, housework can wait. Time spent with a loved one cannot be put on the back burner. 'Nuf said. I haven't gathered my thoughts about kindness I have witnessed or performed myself. I don't want this to be about me. Instead, I am taking a journal with me today to make notations of simple acts of kindness and thoughtfulness. Then, when I return, I will share them with you. Quite often, I find, people aren't making an overt effort to be nice or kind. It's part of their nature to do so. I hope I have a ton of things to share with you. God Bless.

I have learned that fraternizing with co-workers means playing with fire. I don't know how it is in other places of employment, but in my particular setting, there is pettiness and loads of tit for tat mentality. Bonding friendships can be hazardous to one's career and peace of mind. Due to my supervisory position, I am particularly susceptible to having my words and actions contorted. I am not a manager, but associates are still considered subordinates. I have to watch my back. Admittedly, I have slipped and shared more about my personal life than I ought to. Doing so leaves me open and vulnerable. Color me human, I suppose. I haven't gone out drinking or partying with co-workers for the very reasons mentioned above. Proof of such ignorance sits in my personnel file. Dropping the f-bomb frequently when angered and sharing details of sexual liaisons while off the clock; yet with a subordinate proved to be both foolish and detrimental to my mental well-being. For that, I am...

Hypothetically, I am going to let off hypothetical steam about a hypothetical place of business where I hypothetically work. In my little ranting storybook tale, it appears an associate felt she was unjustly treated, and rather than handling it like an adult, she opted to desperately try to make a mountain out of a mole hill. What I believe to be the original issue could have been nipped in the bud. Yet, this woman chose to let it go. Well, it would seem she did. That is until recently. Now, in my little corner of the world I don't believe one bad turn deserves another. She's one who spouts off things like, "Karma will kick her ass." "That'll get you in the end." The problem in her thinking is that her vindictiveness is not going to reward you with karma down the road. After much speculation and mild attacks of anxiety, our minds were put to rest today. No one was fired. Harsh words weren't even exchanged. In our theoretical dilemma we were merely g...

I was driving home the other day and this song came on the radio. I immediately started wigglin' my tuchus in my heated leather seat. The mood of funkiness I had was totally exorcised from my head. I was transformed and feeling the kind of funk that's good! When I arrived home, I had to look up this Michael Franti guy. How I hadn't heard of him before is beyond me. The band name "spearhead" was ringing a bell, but I was clueless none the less. Myspace provided me with all the tunes I needed to get hooked. Youtube provided the visual to share. In natural form for me, I emailed my favorite music critic about the aural medicine I received -- Sean Daly . This took place over the weekend. Imagine my delight when I logged on to his blog yesterday. I read MY NAME and partial credit for alerting him to this song. Go me! Yeah, I high-fived my badself. Sean is always very generous in giving me props when it's deserved. He hadn't heard the song yet and declared that ...

I am blessed. For several weeks my front right tire has been slowing losing air. I'll stop by the gas station and fill'er up with air and go about my business. I know neglecting such a thing isn't wise, but single mom on a very tight budget here. Still it's not an excuse for not taking care of my vehicle. In the past week or so I have had to fill the tire more frequently. I was certain it could wait until payday. Every dime I have is tied up with nagging utility bills, insurance, fuel, etc... My supposition about said tire was wrong. On Monday afternoon I went to my car, and as usual took a look at the tire. I hadn't driven it on Sunday. Sure enough, it required air. The filling station with the free air is only a couple of blocks away. With air gauge in hand, I removed the cap, turned on the air compressor and started filling ... and filling ... and filling. It was no use. I had overextended my luck. I don't know if the frigid temperature had anything to do wit...

Far Side cartoon by Dave Larson Earlier today I stated in a post that I had the kookiest dreams. I said I had three, but I can't remember the third one. I knew I should have written it down when I woke up. Oh well, I brain farted. At least it wasn't a shart! I would have forgotten all of my Thera-Flu induced dreams. ***************** Riss, the Obamas ... and John Edwards ****************** It's obvious I was in my home, but it wasn't exactly like the place I'm living in now. The doorbell rang, which doesn't work in my current home. I opened the door and gasped at the vision standing before me. Three people stood on my porch: President-elect Barack Obama, his lovely wife Michelle and John Edwards. I welcomed them and stumbled over myself with salutations, "Mr. and Mrs. Obama, it is not everyday the President-elect and his wife grace me with their presence, but add in the Vice President-elect .... ooh, sorry, Mr. Edwards. My bad." With that I screwed u...

This morning I awoke from the kookiest dream. In fact, I had three separate, totally unrelated odd dreams. I'm not sure if it's the onset of illness or the effects of doping up on Thera-Flu before bed. I had intentions of writing about those dreams and allowing you, the reader, to dissect my psyche. I might still do that, but later today or perhaps tomorrow. Instead, I am going to share with you a quote that had my eyes welling up with tears. This is yet another item shared by a friend on Plurk. Quotesnack is spearheaded by Ablereach . She is a lover of the written word and revels in sharing her love by utilizing CafePress' quotesnack section. I feel it's necessary to give her full credit for today's post. I am not well read; nor am I a voracious reader. However, such quotes always make my hunger for reading increase. I may be 43, but I'm far from completing my education in life. I will stop my rambling and simply put forth the Ralph Waldo Emerson qu...

November 24 marked the 1 Year Anniversary of WILDHAIR . I honestly didn't realize the exact date I first embarked on this blog. Prior to blogging on blogspo t, I had been writing and posting on Myspace. My hope by writing on blogspot was to gain a greater readership by broadening the spectrum. With over 12,000 hits, I suppose that wish came true. Although, the appeal of my writing hasn't caught on like wildfire. I admit I am not a writer, but I do relish putting my thoughts and perspective out there for others to peruse. While looking back at my posts for some inspiration, I read a memory that was amongst the first posted on WILDHAIR . It fits in with an earlier query about the traditions we honor each holiday season. Many of our family traditions unfortunately died when my mother passed away. It's sad, but our emotions and minds had become as scattered as the locales of my siblings. New people were brought into the fold and new traditions began. It is, by no means, a jab a...

Black Friday. Daunting term. I realize it supposedly marks the first massive spending day for the holiday season. This day, in theory, will stimulate the economy and encourage everybody to shop and spend their children's college fund (if they are so fortunate), or yank money out of their 401k to shower their family and friends with tons of gifts. If you're like someone I call Blondezilla, you buy loads of goodies for yourself to and you, at age 44, call your daddy and ask him to put more money in your account to cover the checks you wrote *giggle*. Barf! Black Friday. Black Plague, Black Flag Ant & Roach Killer. Black Bart, Black Pearl the Pirate Ship. You get the point. The biggest day of shopping has an ominous tone in my world. I do not enjoy shopping. I might splurge from time to time at Bath & Body Works when they are having one of their mega clearance sales. I will partake in a ridiculously marked down pair of shoes or boots. I am not a brand or designer name de...

Thanks to the hilariously creative ladies at Plurk, I have this meme to occupy me. Yeah, I'm looking at you Cajunvegan , CitizenJaney and AsKatKnits . TEN things you wish you could say to TEN different people right now: 1. Maybe if you hadn't lied you wouldn't be in this predicament. 2. Hypocrite! Party of YOU! 3. I hope karma bites your ass hard, you vindictive bitch! 4. Please, stop breaking my heart. 5. Seriously, get over yourself. 6. When I grace you with my presence, it has nothing to do with liking or respecting you. 7. My life would be meaningless without you in it. 8. I thought you were a compassionate guy. I realize you're nothing more than pathetic. 9. I might be fat, but you'll always be a c**t. 10. You really do enjoy the sound of your own voice, don't you? NINE things about yourself: 1. I like very few people. 2. I got hit in the head by a merry-go-round when I fell off. I have a dent in my skull as a result. 3. I was 18 the first time I flew on a...

The following is a recipe our doctor at work shared. I'm pretty certain his wife made it the day he brought it in, but oh wowsers! I could have eaten the entire thing. I think with larger pieces of chicken it would be a most scrumptious casserole. The Ingredients for No Bones Chicken Wing Dip 1 pkg (8 oz.) cream cheese, softened 2 cups (16 oz.) sour cream 1 cup blue cheese salad dressing 1/2 cup buffalo wing sauce (Louisiana) 2 1/2 cubs shredded, cooked chicken 1 block (8 oz.) provolone cheese, shredded crackers, pita chips, celery, carrots -- whatever you like for dipping In a large mixing bowl, beat the cream cheese, sour cream, salad dressing and buffalo wing sauce until blended. Stir in chicken and provolone cheese Transfer to a greased 2 qt. baking dish. Cover and bake at 350 degrees for 25-30 minutes or until hot and bubbly. Serve warm -- yields 6 1/2 cups.

I was checking out the vids on youtube because I was avoiding kitchen duty. The chili I made in the crock pot and consumed is settling heavily in my gut. Perhaps it was the second piece of corn bread. No matter, I have no desire to move. While on the most popular video uploading site known to man (perhaps just me), I thought I'd find inspiration for a Thanksgiving post. My initial consideration was to share a pictorial montage set to the tune "Over the River and Through the Woods ..." You know the old standard song. No one knows the words beyond the introduction. The rest is just hummed or, in my case, made up to suit the mood. With consideration to the knowledge that I am, by no means, a standard kind of girl, I thought of this little catchy song: Now, before you go screwing up your face and say, "Marissa, what the hell does that song have to do with giving thanks? You screwball woman!" Let me explain. Man-cub and I are compadres. We travel together often. A...

All day I haven't been able to get Schweaty's Balls out of my head. I blame Not A Mean Girl . On plurk, she informed us how she'd been up until 2:30 a.m. making various candies. That includes peanut butter and coconut balls. To which, I replied in that plurk "Schweaty Balls?" On NAMG's blog post for today, she talks about how this exhausting tradition is what gives the holidays meaning. Without all the candy making there'd be an element missing. She inquires as to what traditions we hold dear around the holidays. I had to really think hard and I still came up with only one reply: I show up for dinner and drinks when invited. Pretty stellar stuff, huh? My childhood memories always involve traditions or expectations put forth by my mother. Every Thanksgiving our family alternated being host with our aunt and uncle. I preferred going to their house because 1) it seemed like we were really going somewhere even though they only lived across town 2) my cousin h...

This was sent to me by my sister's dearest friend Kris. I'm fortunate to have her as a friend and confidante, too. She never fails to send me such things on days like today. Today was a very frustrating workday. It seemed those who are expected to be informative and professional lost all comprehension and ability to serve the customer. Perhaps it was just my perspective and I'm being a bit harsh. I can only say that from my point of view, I was asked inane questions and interrupted numerous times. This, in turn, caused my own work to be delayed and I was left rushing. When I rush and can't concentrate, mistakes are made. When I am derailed, and keep in mind I'm a slave to the clock ticking away, I get irritable and unfriendly. I'm curt and dismissive. My psycho vein visible throbs on the left side of my head. It's not pretty and people eventually get the idea that it's best to seek the help of someone who isn't me. I have a job to do. One hour to do ...