Happy Independence Day!

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Since fireworks have been banned in the state of Texas we are all going to have to do our part to celebrate without them.   

Fourth of July and fireworks always bring to mind my slutty sister, IdaHo – the best bang in town, but that's another kind of celebration.

Here are a few ideas to get you started or my big bang theory of how to celebrate without gunpowder.

Ø      Shoot off your mouth

Ø      Pop off about things you know nothing about

Ø      Wear all your sparkler jewelry at one time (Ahem, I won’t be wearing that cubic zirconium number I received from my ex.  He told me it was real. Well, he told me a lot of things, but I digress.  Now we know why he is my ex.)

Ø      The only permissible bottle rocket is the firewater in your beer bottle or pop-a-top on enough beers that you no longer care what day it is.

Fireworks have been banned.  It’s too hot for a parade or a picnic.

I am going to celebrate my independence by parading around in my underwear until I plop my lily white derriere into a bathtub full of ice cubes, Drink an All-American Red Strawberry Margarita till I turn blue!

Happy Independence Day!

Hugs,

Sum Sum Summertime Sucks Already

Sum sum sum summertime.  It ain’t officially summertime here until the 21th of June but I am already ready for sum sum sum relief.

I live in Big Thicket, which should be called Big Skillet where we fry up our eggs on the sidewalk from late May until October.   Why?  Just because we can.

 Now I don’t want to sound bitchy but I am.  If you have little delicate sensibilities, you might want to skip this post.

Summer time is supposed to be slow and carefree; a time when you pull off your shoes and dangle your shapely ankles in the clear water of the lake or your backyard pool.  You sip lemonade that appears mysteriously out of nowhere and smile sweetly from under your straw hat.

That is not how it is coming down here at my house.  I’m slow moving, sure, but carefree packed its suitcases and moved to Canada without so much as a kiss goodbye.  My shapely ankles are swollen to water balloon size by lunchtime when the lemonade and sandwich fairy should deliver the goods, but evidently she has moved on as well. 

I know I should be grateful.  I have a roof over my head.  There are terrible disasters everywhere, but I am just a hot self-centered woman trying to escape ridiculously high energy bills and I am not running my air conditioner and that very fact is running my life.

Sweaty Hugs,

Ida Clare

From the “What were you thinking department?” or “So this is how you tweet your wiener, Mr Weiner?”

Anthony Weiner’s wiener is, in fact, the wiener in the wiener picture of the Weiner scandal.  Weiner gate is alive and well in Washington. 

Once the cell phone was invented that could take a photo, a phenomenon began to occur.  Women from the get go, started taking photos of their kids, their friends, the food they are about to have for dinner, their engagement rings, rugs that might match the furniture in the den, art they might want to buy, flowers, puppies, kittens, shoes their best friend needs to buy to match the dress she is wearing to her daughter’s wedding, rock stars at concerts, celebrities at charity events, their neighbor’s horrible yard ornaments, copies of valuable documents, t-ball and soccer games, a beautiful sunset, the kid’s recital, the tomatoes growing in the garden, and events like weddings, graduation, and family reunions.

Men take photos of their wieners..

Anthony (Mr. Bulgy Underpants) Weiner, you have nothing more important to do as a United States Congressman than to be the focus of your own photo session?  Are you smarter than a fifth grader?  Get the hell out of the House of Representatives and go to your house and tweet your wiener all day long if you want to, but not on company time.

Hugs,
Ida Clare

The Rapture Revisited

I know that millions of dollars and millions of words have been spent on last weeks rapture that wasn’t, but I’m not quiet finished with my two cents.

I have had lots of dates in my time and been stood up my fair share, but really…stood up by Jesus?

That goober, Harold Camping being Jesus’ self-appointed spokes man really had my hopes up that some of the most self-righteous people I know where going to go off to their just reward and leave the sinners like me the hell alone.

I’ve got this neighbor who professes to have the inside scoop similar to Brother Camping, and she has zeroed in on me since I am new to the neighborhood.  She spent the good part of an hour hinting around that I was going to be left behind if I didn’t change my wicked ways.

Sister Holy-Roller just assumed that she and I were on the same page of the Bible.  Her page reads like a punishing judgmental critique of the human race not the page that is more about love and acceptance and forgiveness. 

I tried to remember my manners.  She was, after all in my house, drinking my iced tea when she asked me if I was saved.  I told her that I was saved from bankruptcy, a lying husband and jail time when this house appeared out of nowhere and she was free to interpret that any she wanted. 

What I really wanted to say was, “Obviously, I have not been saved from nosy neighbors like you,” but I refrained. 

I’m ever more hopeful that Harold Camping had his wires crossed last weekend and his October re-launch date will beam Sister Holy Roller up to Jesus’ Stairway to Heaven on the twenty-first.

Please Jesus, don’t be a no-show.

Hugs,

Truth In Advertising

Maybe it's just me, but in my forty some odd years on the planet  I have heard many more lies than I have truths. I have had husbands lie to me, supposed good friends, the clergy, politicians, teachers, elders, family members and assorted other acquaintances. Hey I would be lying if I said I never told a lie.

Sorry George, but I didn't believe you either.

or that other George, but that's pretty much a given.


I know that it takes a certain amount of lying to navigate this world.  Little white lies as they are called, are mandatory if you actually want to have any sort of social life. So we cruise along on this journey, mixing just enough of the truth so we can feel good about ourselves and telling a little white one here and there to make our friends feel good about themselves.

What brought about this discussion of truth telling is a video that I came across. It's refreshing...Drink Up...  

Hugs and Kisses Ya'll

Squirrely In Big Thicket

It’s a great day in the neighborhood here in Big Thicket.  No gunfire and the head of the Humidity dept must have taken the day off so I have spent most of the morning simply gazing out the window.  I find it much more entertaining than gazing at the TV.

Right after I first moved here, I took an old bird cage and turned it into a bird feeder.  I just took the door off and hung it right outside the window of my office where I sit and peck at the keyboard while I watch the birds peck at their food and each other.

 Today the birds had a visitor show up for a place at the table. Rocky (isn’t that what you call all squirrels), decided he would break bread with his fellow neighbors.  I didn’t see Bullwinkle lurking around but he would have had a field day chewing on my un-mowed yard.

 When Rocky’s little brother showed up, the birds decided they would grab a bite somewhere else and left the pickings to Rocky and his friend.

After a while Rocky told his buddy to take a hike and he ate until his heart was content and his little tummy was full.

He gave me one last look and said he needed to go check his nuts.  I do have a number of pecan trees in the yard, so I’m assuming he was referring to a stash somewhere.

Well that’s my story and we have come to the end.

 The moral of this story is that some days you feel like a nut and some days you feel like bird seed.

Hugs,

Erasure Alert!

Don’t get me started.  I am seeing red.  Have you heard about the stupidity of the two Hasidic Newspapers who Photoshopped Hillary Clinton and Audrey Tomason out of the picture of the Situation Room during the Ben Ladin Raid?

One Orthodox Jewish newspaper, Der Tzitung and one weekly magazine, De Voch were admitting that both publications do not publish photos of women. In a statement about the controversy it caused, Der Tzitung said it follows this practice "because of laws of modesty” and that they do not print any photos of women because they “could be considered sexually suggestive.”

Well, Excuuuuuuuussssssssee Me!

Here is an open letter to the editors of the Der Tzitung and De Voch,

To: Misogynist Religious Zealots Nim Node Editors:

I feel sorry for you if can’t trust yourself or your readers to withstand the image of a woman so much that you are compelled to erase her from a photo that you want to publish in your newspaper/magazine.

How do you live in this world?  How do you restrain yourself in the presence of women? Let me guess. You blame women.  Ever since the story of Eve, you and your kind have been blaming women for causing you to sin and I for one am sick of it.  As I see it, the real snake in the Garden of Eden was under Adam’s Fig Leaf.

From the beginning of time men like you have played the, “Look what you made me do, card!” which has allowed you to shirk your responsibility for your own wicked behavior.  It is this sense of entitlement and blaming that has enabled crimes against women to exist from the archaic past to 2011.

In the name of religion, men have a get out of responsibility-free-card.  Women are inherently evil.  They tempt men.  They make you do what you wouldn’t normally do if women weren’t being women, according to your kind.

In the past, men who blamed women burned them at the stake.  In some countries, where women are still considered to be property, it is permissible for men family members to burn their women to death who don’t conform or who have been besmirched by another man.

You may state that your religious beliefs are sacred and will be upheld.  Well, Bozo, your religious beliefs are wrong if they discount, devalue and approve of erasing half of the worlds population.   As Hasidic Jews, don’t you know how it feels to have someone want to erase you from the planet?  Shame on you.  You should know better.