1. Thelma and Bleu Cheese An unhappily-married woman gets fed up with, well, everything, so she hops in a car and decides to just drive places and see what happens. All of her girlfriends have mani-pedi appointments that they don’t dare break, so Thelma is forced to take along a bottle of salad dressing to […]
I found this in my search terms: narcissist piano. I did the mental equivalent of shifting from one foot to the other while I mulled that over. What does it mean??? Is it a typo? Is the searcher wondering if pianists are narcissists? Is that an actual type of piano?
I mean, this is the sort of thing that keeps me up at night.
So I did what anyone would do and googled it. At first, google stared stupidly at me. Then it coughed up narcissistic jazz, narcissistic piano bench and Ryan O’Neal.
Does Ryan O’Neal play narcissistic jazz while sitting on a narcissistic piano bench? Is Ryan O’Neal a narcissist? Or is it just his piano? Nope. I think that might be Billy Joel. (Get it? Nudge nudge. Just me and my old piano?)
This is so confusing. Is it an alien piano? It grew up on Mars eating Matt Damon’s poop potatoes?
Oh – I know! It’s a zombie piano. The lid opens and it takes a big drooly bite out of your sheet music.
And I couldn’t find my blog on that google search either so I have no idea why the narcissistic piano wound up in my terms.
The word piano means soft.
And narcissists aren’t soft. Not unless it gets them something. And then they’re hard.
Could the searcher have been looking for something like “narcissists who are soft” and since his first language is Italian, and he’s just learning English, it came out as narcissist piano?
Maybe I’m going a little far with that one …
My ex-narcissist played the piano.
Apparently he would have been Mozart’s doppelganger if he’d had the right breaks in life.
Or something pretentious like that.
I arranged for the piano tuner to come by and spiff up my piano so that the narcissist could play it. It had been in storage but I got it out for him because naturally, the narcissist didn’t have a piano of his own. Most doppelganger Mozarts don’t have their own pianos. True. It’s a fact.
When I came home from work, the narcissist told me that the piano was done. As in finished. Kaput. Toast. Ready for the big dirt nap.
The tuner had told him that the sound board was crumbling to bits. The carpenter ants were coming to take it away.
Then, a few months later, the narcissist asked me for a new piano. I briefly considered it but then decided not to. My financials were feeling the strain of being married to a doppelganger Mozart.
Later, after I had divorced him, I checked the piano myself. It has some little cracks, but everything I’ve read says that this is not a big issue. It sounds okay.
Hummm. I think the narcissist just wanted a new piano.
So there you have it. If someone else googles narcissist piano, there will be an answer.
And a cute picture of Justin Trudeau.
What do you think it means?
Happy New Year! 🙂 I hope 2017 is off to a good start for you!
To begin the year with the right winter flavour (Yup. I know. Some of you are in much warmer climes, and yes, I’m jealous), here’s a seasonal winter picture that I took in my former hometown:
Since becoming a pilot many years ago, I have (obviously) had a big interest in weather and have developed a serious appreciation for its nuances. In this picture, I love the muted, gauzy, exaggerated light of the sun trying to break through a temperature inversion. Later that day, the sun did break through and the frost quickly disappeared.
But that’s not what I want to write about. Really.
I’ve lately been thinking that in blog years, I’ve been around WP for quite some time – four years! – and have been following and reading some of the same blogs for about that long. So today, I thought I would pass on the names of a few of those blogs. They are fascinating and interesting and have stood the test of time. In blog terms, that is. 🙂
So, to those who have stuck to it and kept blogging, despite all kinds of life stuff and no doubt the occasional temptation to just stop, you have my most sincere appreciation.
There’s no award involved and no questions to answer.
I just want to say thank you.
I just want wish you good luck and continued happy posting:
- Ursula at anupturnedsoul.wordpress.com. Ursula is a fantastic writer who will make you think, laugh and cry. She’s had a big impact on how I look at the narcissistic interactions I’ve had in my life, but her writing is about so much more than that. I’ve also learned as much, if not more, from the comment sections of her posts. Drop by for a visit.
- Jenny at http://charactersfromthekitchen.wordpress.com. I love Jenny’s museum visits and travels and her witty humour and great photos. She’s taken me along on some really wonderful day trips. Stop and say hi.
- Nelson at http://oneoldsage.wordpress.com. Right now, my neighbour Nelson (he lives close-by in the Okanagan) is working on a novel-length piece of fiction, but he has shared trips to Europe and his thoughts about surviving cancer, among many other things. He really is “one old sage.”
- Jenny at http://ramblingsfromamum.wordpress.com. Jenny doesn’t publish as much as she used to because she’s been very busy with her elderly parents and she’s also just become a grandmother! 🙂 Her heartfelt poetry is touching and genuine – have a little browse.
- Jill at http://jillweatherholt.com. Jill has just published a book! 🙂 For a long time now I have enjoyed her kind, thoughtful, compassionate posts and comments.
- Caitlin at http://broadsideblog.wordpress.com. Caitlyn is a journalist, traveller, teacher, liver of life and fellow Canadian who lives and works in the US. She writes about many and varied topics and they are always interesting, well researched and well done. Take a look through her archives.
- Ross at http://rossmurray1.wordpress.com. Another fellow Canadian, Ross is a humourist who lives in Quebec. Until recently, he was a regular contributor to CBC’s Breakaway (http://www.cbc.ca/breakaway). Like Caitlyn, he writes about many topics, and he’s always enjoyable, acerbic and witty. He’s also published a book!
- Ned at http://nedhickson.com Ned lives in Oregon and is a very busy man. Take a look at his blog and you will see what I mean, but you will also enjoy his gentle and self-deprecating humour and commentary. Ned was also one of the very first bloggers I followed.
- Mark at http://exileonpainstreet.com. Mark’s posts are eclectic, varied and genuine. He shares his visits to New York’s museums along with journal entries from his callow youth and other observations about life and such. He’s always a fantastic read.
- Christopher Martin at http://christophermartinphotography.com. Christopher is a truly gifted photographer whose nature and wildlife pictures are amazing. He takes many of his photos in the Alberta foothills of the Rocky Mountains. Right now he’s doing a series on the snowy owl; last spring I spotted one of his photographs (it shows an elk being hunted by wolves) in The Globe and Mail (http://www.theglobeandmail.com). You can find the wolf series of photos on his blog, but be aware that they also show wolves doing what wolves do best.
So, if you aren’t already familiar with these blogs, go by for a little visit – you won’t be disappointed.
Do you have some long-time follows that you would like to share?
At this time of year, there’s always a fight with the fruitcake gods … or whatever, so I dug up this old piece 😉 from three years ago.
I have an uneasy relationship with fruitcakes.
You know, the stuff you eat. Well, I suppose you eat it. I mean, from what I’ve heard, no one eats it. It gets shoved into the back of some cupboard, or into the corner of a freezer, and there it stays until is discovered, like an Indiana Jones artifact. You have to dig it out with a pick.
And by then, it will have acquired the density of a hockey puck.
But my questions is, if so many people hate it, why does it keep showing up on store shelves? Somebody must be buying this dreck.
And what about the people who make them?
If you stop and think about it, there’s an awful lot of fruitcake around at this time of the year, and if you can find one person who says he or she likes it, then you’re farther…
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Take a look at this great post that was originally reblogged on Nutsrok.
Originally posted on warning:curves ahead: This morning, as I was perusing my Facebook timeline, I happened upon an article that a lovely friend shared. It was entitled “24 Things Women Should Stop Wearing After Age 30”, and it triggered Maximum Eye-Rolling from everyone who took the time out to read it. Written by Kallie Provencher…
Please check out this great post from Ross Murray. Ross knows how to really capture the essence of the main event that will be taking place for us Canadians on Monday.
2. Check for structural damage.
3. Be prepared for aftershocks and gloating.
4. Deal with any minor injuries, including cuts, sprains and ideological collapse.
5. Take two minutes to weep in silence behind closed doors so as not to alarm the children.
6. Eat a healthy, nutritious breakfast, because breakfast is the most important meal of the next four years of fear-driven dogma and social alienation.
7. Listen to the radio for further instructions. If it’s CBC Radio, you better make it quick.
8. Stay away from downed power lines, washouts, Twitter and Facebook.
9. If you begin to hyperventilate, take a plain paper bag, open it, fill it with large sums of 50-dollar bills and mail it to the member of the Senate representing your region.
10. Try to find out who is the member of the Senate representing your region.
11. Stock up…
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In July, we sold our house in preparation for a move next year. We packed up all our stuff and trucked it to a rental. I whined about that a couple of posts ago.
However, life is not always orderly nor predictable (nor should it be). In late August, the opportunity for a great job came up. I interviewed, and a couple of days later I accepted their offer.
The job was 1000 km. away in the Okanagan Valley of British Columbia. Wine country. Some of the best wine in the world.
I was on my way west (even though I’m not a young man) inside of a week with my car packed to the rafters, my poor Rudy dog parked in a kennel and my dear M left on the prairies to finish up a work contract.
Now I live near all those wine grape vines you see in the top photo.
After finding a long-stay motel to reside in and starting my new job on August 31, I immediately got sick. Go figure.
There was sniffing, snorting, blowing and wheezing. A cough that came out of my bootlaces. A jackhammer headache that doubled in intensity every time I coughed. Aches and pains in my muscles that could have been caused by digging the equivalent of the English Channel tunnel but weren’t. I sounded like a four-pack-a-day, 60-year smoker. If I laughed, I broke into a cough. Sneezing turned into a chain of mini-eruptions with attendant lava flow. I was feverishly hot and cold at the same time.
And through it all, I kept working. New job and all that. I was the queen of hand sanitizer, giant tissues and elbow coughing.
Then it started to go away.
I started to feel better.
I started to get cocky. I’m like that.
Then I started to feel really, really bad. I woke up one morning feeling like I needed to get the bolt in my neck tightened.
Which would have been all fine if my name had been Frankenstein.
But it’s not.
I decided to investigate by taking a look in the bathroom mirror.
I looked like I was wearing a turtleneck sweater with an inflation device inserted into the neck part.
The side of my neck was swollen from my ear to my shoulder and the pain that accompanied it was intense. My tonsils were swollen. My ear ached and crackled. I could hear everything inside my mouth but nothing outside.
A secondary infection had taken up residence. Yum.
It’s still not gone but I’m about to start my second round of antibiotics, for which I am eternally (and internally) grateful.
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