Ask Me First!

Paula Deen’s Savannah Style Porch

Earlier in the week, I was going to write a post about how I wasn’t in the mood to celebrate Christmas this year because of how it’s gotten away from being about the Miracle of Jesus’ birth and the gracious gift of our salvation, an is more about earthly romance, i.e., getting a boyfriend or girlfriend, getting engaged, and/or married, and making sure you either get or give the biggest and most priciest gift.
I got about halfway through the post and decided that I sounded like Debbie Downer and deleted the entire thing. I decided to stop playing the part of Scrooge and instead to go retro and do a small little country Christmas along the lines of how my parents did Christmas when I was a kid – a simple tree, some nice decorations, some sweet treats, and a few modestly priced presents. No need to go into debt.

At this point, your probably asking, ‘What has that got to do with the picture of Paula Deen’s Savannah style porch pictured above. Everything!

For the last two years, even during the controversy, I’ve been trying to replicate that porch, as best I could, given my limited finances and space.

Two years ago, I bought the furniture. Last year, I bought some of the accessories. And they’re not cheap, mind you. And this past summer, I bought planters, flower pots, and flowers, but not the giant pricey ferns, of course.

And when the summer slipped into fall, I changed the décor to one that was more appropriate. Out went the summery petunias and I went shopping for fall foliage in tones of yellows, reds, purples, and oranges.

Yesterday, on my day off, I left home around 11:00 a.m. headed for Walmart to do my usual shopping and hunt for some Christmas décor for the porch that now had a large white wicker chair, two white plastic resin chairs, a white plastic resin table with a clear green plastic leaf shaped tray on it, a sage green set of shelves stocked with bronze planters, yellow watering can, clay duck planters, a plaque that read Home Sweet Home, blue & white faux ‘Ming dynasty’ planters, a black crate full of old telephone books, and a few gardening tools. Also, there was a garden statutory shaped like a little puppy that read, ‘God Bless My little Dog’ that sat beside the big white wicker chair along with more flower pots.

My plan was to take the yellow, red, and purple flowers out of the pots and put in fake poinsettia plants, and also, to do the traditional green garland with large red bows all around the perimeter of the porch.

Well, just imagine my shock and horror when I returned home at around 5:30 yesterday evening to find everything, and I do mean, EVERYTHING gone from my porch. There was not a chair, a plant, a flower, or a twig left on that porch. Nothing. Even the shelving was gone and everything on it.

No, let me correct that. The only thing left on that porch was an old campaign flyer from the November elections and the paint. That was it.

All my hard work, and money, wiped out. Gone. Obliterated.
And in that second as I stood there contemplating what had happened and who had done this awful thing, it occurred to me that this is exactly what had happened in my life. People, who had no business what so ever, making a decision for me had made decisions that had wiped out and obliterated my life. My life, thanks to those decisions, was like that porch. Empty and that was the real reason I didn’t feel like celebrating Christmas.

It also came to me that this is why you’ve had to listen to some deranged freak, at Church and at work, for the last three decades – because someone who’d never met me, never asked how I felt, never asked what I thought, never asked what was important to me, had made an uninformed decision. This is why things are so screwed up. Nobody bothered to ask before taking action.

If someone had bothered to ask, I would have said, “What I wanted was my furniture on my porch! What I wanted was to come home and put up Christmas decorations.

What I got was the realization that I will not be having a little country Christmas, nor will I be making any effort now or in the future to restore that porch or the things broken in my life.

I think I’ll just going to live with that porch the way it is.

And to the thief, if it wasn’t my landlord who took my stuff, Merry Christmas and that stuff will look fantastic with a ribbon of garland and bows. And don’t forget a small pine tree in the corner with simple country decorations.
A Tiny Kitten With A Big Mouth (an empty front porch)

By
Eliza D. Ankum
Author of
Flight 404
Ruby Sanders
STALKED! By Voices
OneThreeThirteen
https://dancingwiththefatwoman.wordpress.com

 

 

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An Update on Two Posts

An update on two Previous posts!

 

Principalities in High Places. During the second week in August I was finally able to get my gas turned back on after forking over $409.00. Yes, that figure is correct. $409.00. Why so much. According to Nicor my gas consumption during the months of January and February (the two coldest months) had more than tripled. My regular gas bill was something like $60.00. But during this January and February, Nicor had billed me in excess of $286.00 a month. And even though I was forking over $70.00 a month since March, I was falling behind in making up the difference.  That’s their story and they’re sticking to it.

So this coming winter, I plan to cover every window with that clear plastic, put up heavy thermal backed drapes, and live in sweats.

 

Second post was My Third Drive-by.  With regards to the list here is what has happened so far.

1. I did not give up my apartment. Rather, I’ve systematiclly gone about making the place homier. I purchased a portal hot plate (which came in handy for heating up water when the gas was off), one of those fancy over priced dutch ovens to sit on the kitchen stove – just for looks –  new sheets, new lamps, cushions for the dining room chairs, and a cut crystal glass to drink my cheap Moscata wine.

2. Yes, my car was tampered with as I predicted. The right headlight went out suddently costing me $142.00 to replace. And my brakes have started squeling. Price quoted. $335.00 to repair.

3. Well, unfornately, my family is not as atuned to The Stalkers/Voices as me and one of my nephews lost his job. A job that he’d held for some 14 years. His firing was well played as usual. But I know in my heart of hearts, that The Stalkers/Voices had a part in it. I’m sure the person he was accused of hitting was ‘planted’ there by them.

I’m trying to practice what I preach and not retaliate. We don’t need more Black on Black crime in the Chicago area.

 

A Tiny Kitten With A Big Mouth

By
Eliza Ankum
Author of
Flight 404
Ruby Sanders
STALKED! By Voices
OneThreeThirteen

 

My Third Drive By

Bullet riddled wall

Last night my apartment building was the victim of a drive by. In other words, someone shot at us. Now I can’t say for 100% that the drive by was aimed at me but I can say that most of the bullets fired were aimed towards the downstairs apartment, i.e., mine.

I remember sitting on the end of the bed, the shots were aimed at the back of the apartment building where the bedrooms are, thinking that the bullets really did sound a lot like firecrackers as they danced up, then down, and across the side of the building. I thought for sure that they’d killed my TV which sits in front of my bedroom window to block intruders.

I can’t say I was surprised by the drive by, it wasn’t my first and most likely, won’t be my last. And because all week long, at my job, ‘The Voices/Stalkers’ have been raging about how much stuff I have in my apartment, how my closet is packed with clothes, about how much money I spend, and how my books are making money.

Usually, that much interest, from ‘The Voices/Stalkers’ concerning my belongings, results in my being fired. But, right now, considering where I’m currently working, my being fired isn’t really an option, unless I do something totally off the wall, which I have no plans of doing. So, I figured ‘The Voices/Stalker’s would resort to their usual methods of operation, when they can’t get me fired, and that goes something like this:

1. Hire someone to do a drive by, thereby insuring them of an ironclad alibi. (A terrifying drive by gets you thinking about moving. An moving incurs a huge financial setback. Because of loosing your rent deposit on the old apartment and having to shell out money for deposit and first month’s rent on a new place, not to mention truck rental, paying someone to help you move, and so forth. That will definitely end the shopping spree for a while.

2. If that doesn’t do the trick, next they’ll mess with the car. A mysterious flat, missing oil pan, or trouble with the ignition.

3. If that doesn’t do, their third moves which usually does work and causes great financial loss and distress, is to trick one of the kids into doing something that gets them arrested. And we always pool money to get them out.

And that’s why, when the bullets rang out last night, I sat calmly watching TV, knowing exactly what was going on. And no, I didn’t call the Police because I knew you’d come out and waste a lot of my time asking me stupid and irrelevant questions like,

“Do you know of any reason why someone would want to hurt you?”

“Have you had any trouble in the neighborhood lately?”

All of which would make you sound stupid (Have I had any trouble in the neighborhood, lately?) and inept (Really, you don’t that you have a crazed freak screaming up the neighborhood?).

So, I decided not to call you sparing us both that. But I will tell you my true and honest answer to those two questions. “They shot up the place because they knew they could get away with it, because you, the Police, allow it.”

A Tiny Kitten With A Big Mouth

By
Eliza Ankum
Author of
Flight 404
Ruby Sanders
STALKED! By Voices
http://onethreethirteen.wordpress.com

 

Floyd Mayweather’s Comment on Women’s Clothing

 

Really? This for dinner out with family in a restaurant

Concerning Floyd Mayweater’s comment. I don’t thing Mr. Mayweather was speaking to any rapist mentally. No, I think he was referring to that perfect storm of bad taste that happened on Father’s Day. It was HOT and a holiday. And a lot of women, skinny, fat, young, and old, took that as an opportunity to show a LOT OF SKIN! There was very little modesty being exhibited. There were times on Sunday that I wanted to say to a woman that, ‘you know the designer of that piece of clothing never intended it to be worn outside the home.’ Ladies, please more Michelle Obama and less Rihanna. #elizabook.

http://elizabooks.wordpress.com

Are You Happy America? Money

Paper Dollr Bill

Here’s something to think about.

In her book, Bird by Bird, Ann Lamott writes that she call the United states, The United States of Advertisement.

And I firmly believe that all that advertisement has us broke.

Take for example, a few years back, when the United States economy was doing well and there was actually a surplus, in order to sell ipads, ipods, laptops, and smart phones, the advertising world had people in the United States chirping the phrase, “A Paperless Society.”

Everywhere you went in offices all over the country you heard that phrase, we moving towards a ‘Paperless Society.’

There was only one thing we forgot.

OUR MONEY IS MADE OF PAPER!

By

Eliza Ankum
Author of
Flight 404
Ruby Sanders
STALKED! By Voices
http://onethreethirten.wordpress.com

 

 

Are You Happy?

Are you happy? 

Or do you even know what that means?

What makes you happy?  Is a flower, a certain, a person, a song, where you live, what you own?  Or is happiness a state of mind? 

Can you be happy alone?

Or do you have to the Madison Avenue New York Advertising Firm of happiness?  As in, I’ll be happy when:

I’m married

I’m single again

The kids grow up

When there’s the sound of children in the house

When I’m slim

When I’m curvy

When I look like her

When I look like him

When I have what they have

When I can get rid of all the reminders of happier times

When I have a car

When I don’t have a car note

When winter is over

When the heat of summer is over

Will I be happier in the next life?

Part 1 of Are you happy?

A Tiny Kitten With A Big Mouth

By
Eliza Ankum
Author of
Flight 404
Ruby Sanders
STALKED! By Voices
Onethreethirteen

 

 

 

Sausage and Cheese Pizza with Extra Cheese

I live in Maywood, Illinois sometimes known as Murderwood, Illinois.  But according to recent polls we might have to give that title over to Chicago. 

With that said, there has been a lot of talk out in Maywood,aka, Murderwood about our not being able to get a major supermarket chain to put a grocery store in the area.  I really don’t mind that so much because I shop at Aldi’s most of the time any way and Aldi’s already has a store in Maywood.

What is really yanking my chain is Pizza.  There is NO PIZZA DELIVERY IN MAYWOOD. 

Madam Mayor and Trustees, forget about the darn supermarket for awhile and start solving the of NO PIZZA DELIVERY IN MAYWOOD

I think you should first concentrate on why neither Pizza Hut, Dominos, or Papa John will deliver a pizza to Maywood? 

And by the way, you can’t get Chinese food delivered either!    Now that’s true discrimination.

And finally, no sit down restaurants.  Only fast food chains that won’t deliver!

A Tiny Kitten With A Big Mouth

Manys Thanks to Justice John B. Simon
Former Mayor Richard Daley
You’re both my finest inspirations